Kris and I both woke feeling sick, but since we had to be out of our cabin by 0800, there wasn’t much we could do. We hunkered down in the lounge of the River Baroness with other late-departing guests. I wrote; Kris slept on the floor. At noon, we took the subway to our hotel, where we dropped off our luggage.

While waiting for the 1400 check-in time, we walked about 2km to a seven-days-a-week pharmacy. Using our rudimentary French skills and a pocket phrasebook, we hunted for flu remedies. Fortunately, a nice young man behind the counter noticed us flailing about; he came out to help us.

On our way back to Hotel Muguet, we took a detour through a vast outdoor market beneath the elevated train tracks along Boulevard de Grenelle (near the Metro stop). It was very cold, so we stopped to eat at Tribeca, though I wasn’t very hungry.

After checking into the hotel, we took our medicine, climbed into bed, and watched videos on the iPad. We fell asleep early.

During the night, the River Baroness docked in Paris, near Parc André Citroën.

Despite feeling sick, I rose early to join Mark and the ship’s fitness expert (and masseuse) for Nordic walking to the Eiffel Tower. The morning was cool and misty, but the walk felt good. Beneath the tower, we paused for calisthenics. Soldiers with machine guns watched us stretch.

Later, Kris and I enjoyed a three-hour bus tour of Paris with a local guide. This was much better than the disastrous hop-on/hop-off tour we’d taken the week before, in part because there was no traffic. Plus, the guide actually knew the city, and his passion showed. We stopped at several locations, including the backside of the Champs de Mars, where we had a photo op with the Eiffel Tower. For my Crossfit friends back home, I did double-unders:

After the city tour, we joined a group for a whirlwind pass through the Musée du Louvre, one of the largest art museums in the world. We saw almost nothing. We blitzed through to a handful of major works, including:

• Venus de Milo
• Mona Lisa
• Winged Victory

The tour was fine, but at €59 each, it felt expensive. It just whetted our appetite for more.

The pyramids outside the entrance to the Louvre

A gallery inside the Louvre

The Venus de Milo

It’s tough to photograph the Mona Lisa behind its protective glass, but the crowd is just as fun

After the Louvre, I walked about 6km back to the ship. Again, this solo stroll through a big city was one of the highlights of my vacation. (Just as my walk through Rome and my run through Venice.) I returned just in time for dinner with the gang of young folks from the night before. I still felt sick, so Mark gave me some Claritin. Bless his soul.

At dinner, Kris began to feel sick too.

Today, we took a vacation from our vacation.

I felt sick and tired, so we slept late, skipping the excursion to Monet’s garden at Giverny. After sleeping late, we slept some more.

In the afternoon, Kris stayed in bed, sleeping and reading. I sat in the lounge and watched the French countryside slip past. I chatted with the other passengers.

In the evening, we ate with Mark and Terri (from Vancouver, B.C.), Bruce and Michelle (from Australia), and Roger and Barbara (who, while 65, seemed only 45). We were the young folks on the trip. It was a fun meal.

On Thursday morning, Kris and I joined a bus tour to the coastal resort town of Étretat. The long drive through French farmland was beautiful. Plus, the day was cold, windy, and wet. I loved it.

There wasn’t much to see in Étretat. It’s the sort of place where you’d spend a relaxing week or two — but not an hour. Still, we browsed a small market, where I let a saleswoman talk me into spending €65 for a new Stetson waxed cotton cap that’s a size too small. It was worth it: I love the cap. (In fact, I just realized I don’t know where the cap is at the moment, and it’s putting me into a bit of a panic.)

The bus then wound through the French countryside to Le Havre, a major seaport. Our path through the city was disrupted by the strikes/protests about retirement reform, the same strikes/protests that plagued our entire stay. Eventually, however, we made it to our destination: Manoir D’Apreval, an apple farm outside Hornfleur.

We toured the apple cider operation at Manoir D’Apreval, and then enjoyed a light lunch, which included Calvados, an apple brandy, as well as a variety of local cheeses.

Manoir D’Apreval, where we toured the cider farm

Barrels of Calvados, an apple brandy

After lunch, we spent an hour walking through Hornfleur, exploring the shops.

By the end of the day, however, I was exhausted. I felt sick. My throat was sore. I thought about skipping dinner, but persevered. After eating, though, I went straight to bed. I slept and slept and slept.

After just a couple of days, the boat was driving me crazy. I’d felt cooped up in Italy, but that sense of confinement was nothing compared to the river cruise. At least in Italy, we were walking most places, and if I needed to escape to be on my own, I could. That wasn’t true on the River Baroness. I was trapped on a ship full of old people.

So, on our second morning in Rouen, I rose early to join a small group for Nordic walking:

Our small group walked for about 2km, stopped to do calisthenics, and then walked 2km back to the boat. As we walked, we chatted. I got to know Mark, from Vancouver, B.C., and Roger, who is 65 but looks 45. By the end of the cruise, Roger had become a sort of role model for what I want my fitness level to be like in 25 years!

After breakfast, we took a walking tour of Rouen, a city the size of Salem, Oregon. The tour was short and slow to cater to the old folks. We saw the medieval downtown area, the shopping district, and the place where Joan of Arc is supposed to have been burned at the stake.

Kris loved this McDonald’s, which is housed in a centuries-old building

Later, Kris and I did some shopping on our own. Kris bought a (men’s) scarf, and I hunted — unsuccessfully — for Peanuts in French. Apparently Charlie Brown and Snoopy are a hit in Rome, but not in Paris. We spent a lot of time in a French supermarket, marveling at all the stuff that’s different from home. (We do this in every country we visit, by the way.) I was particularly impressed that you could buy fine Scotch whisky from a grocery store.

We spent the rest of the afternoon resting on the boat. In the evening, we watched The Da Vinci Code, so now I can finally say I know the story.

During the night, the River Baroness moved north to Rouen, a Salem-sized city in France’s Normandy region. In the morning, all of the passengers boarded buses for the two-hour ride to the D-Day Beaches.

On the morning of 06 June 1944, the combined Allied forces (including not just the United States and England, but also Canada and France — and in the weeks following the initial landing, troops from Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Greece, and the Netherlands) assaulted German positions on five Normandy beaches spread over 50 miles of coastline. For many young Americans, the most notable depiction of this landing comes from Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan.

The Allied forces suffered about 10,000 casualties (including 2,500 American deaths) during the assault, and the German defenders experienced between 4,000 and 9,000 casualties. Over the next few months, these numbers grew significantly. Now the beaches (and a few surrounding areas) are designated as war memorials.

Kris, storming the beach at Normandy

Our group spent the day visiting Omaha Beach and the American Cemetery, with a side trip to view the Bayeux Tapestry.

I loved the Bayeux Tapestry

The Bayeux Tapestry isn’t actually a tapestry, it’s an embroidered cloth — though the difference is lost on me. Though its origins are unknown, many believe it was created during the 1070s, just ten years after the events it depicts. The 225-foot (68 meter) tapestry (or embroidery) illustrates the events leading up to the Norman conquest of England, including the Battle of Hastings. The individual scenes tell the story, which is spelled out in Latin along the border. Some geeks — and I’m one of them — consider the Bayeux Tapestry to be the first comic book. Because of this (and because Professor Nolley referred to the tapestry during our History of the English Language course at Willamette University), this has been on my “must-see” list for over twenty years. It did not disappoint. Even Kris, who had never heard of it before our trip, thought it was amazing.

After visiting Omaha Beach and viewing the Bayeux Tapestry, we had about 75 minutes for lunch in the quaint village of Bayeux. No problem, right? Kris and I decided to have a proper sit-down meal. Big mistake. In France, restaurants don’t hurry their customers. In fact, much of what we take as customary in the U.S. is considered rude. As in Italy, you must ask for the bill; the server doesn’t just bring it to you. And meals all have a leisurely pace. Such was the case in the restaurant we chose. It didn’t help that the place was busy. Our simple lunch stretched on and on until we thought we might miss our bus! Fortunately, the waiter sped up the process when Kris explained the situation to him in broken French.

After lunch, we visited the American Cemetery. The place was poignant, as expected, with a sea of white marble crosses. But we felt rushed. Plus, we wished we’d started in the interpretative center (which our local guide had warned us away from), which added depth and color to the experience. Security at the cemetery was very tight — tighter than even at the Louvre or Vatican.

The American Cemetery is filled with a sea of white crosses

On the way back to the boat, the bus got stuck in traffic. Yet another French traffic accident. I know people complain that Italian drivers are wild, but we found French traffic to be much worse.

Back on the boat, we ate dinner with Sharon and Parl. Parl is a big, friendly man, a retired machinist who now owns his own limousine. “I never retired,” he told us. “I just work for less money!”

Overnight, the River Baroness docked in the commune of Les Andelys, about 100km from Paris. In the morning, the passengers came ashore for a short hike to the ruins of Château Gaillard, a medieval castle (built by Richard the Lionheart) that overlooks the River Seine.

Les Andelys, with our ship on the river

I was mostly unimpressed, although I think Kris found the view stunning. For one thing, I thought our tour guide was from the same dull, humorless school as Luca, our guide in Florence. She was like an encyclopedia, but I wanted something more personal.

Mostly, though, I marveled at the alarming physical condition of our companions. True, we had to climb 300 feet to reach the castle, but our pace for that half-mile walk was very, very slow. It was like taking an easy stroll up a bluff to get a better view of the countryside, but many folks struggled. On the return to town, I heard people complain about how tough the walk was and how after this much exercise, they could eat anything they wanted for the rest of the day.

This was alarming. It was a wake-up call. Though I’ve lost a lot of weight this year and am in good physical condition now, I can’t capitulate. I can’t return to what I was before. I need to stay healthy and active so that in twenty years, I’m not complaining about simple hikes.

Back in Les Andelys, Kris and I stopped at a convenience store — or the French equivalent, anyhow — for coffee and cigarettes. While she ordered an espresso, I bought tobacco. (Note for those who don’t know me in Real Life: I don’t smoke regularly. In fact, I smoke hardly at all. But I do like to have fun cigars and cigarettes around for the 5-6 times a year I do smoke.)

And here we had a little cultural communication breakdown. Because we were speaking English and the shop owners were speaking French, and because Kris was doing one thing and I was doing another, she thought I’d paid for her coffee when I bought my cigarettes. I hadn’t. So, as we were walking away from the store, the owner had to run outside and holler at us to come back and pay. (I’m sure that he and his other patrons were thinking, “Stupid Americans!”) It was embarrassing — but not much. Mostly, it’s a funny story to tell our friends.

Back on board, we ate lunch as the River Baroness set sail. In the afternoon, we sat on the deck, soaking in the sun and watching the beautiful French countryside float by. I smoked one of my new cigarettes. (The rest will probably last me a couple of years!)

A typical French home along the Siene.

In the evening, we ate dinner with Richard and Deana Sansing. Richard is an accounting professor at Dartmouth. He seemed unimpressed with both Custom Box Service and Get Rich Slowly! I, in turn, thought a some of his ideas were academic and theoretical and not really applicable to the Real World.

After dinner, we attended a fine violin concert:

We slept late because we didn’t have much planned for this Sunday. After breakfast, we packed our bags and boarded the metro to move to the boat for our river cruise. In the process of packing, I discovered I’d lost my wireless keyboard (which I brought for my iPad). I’d used it in Rome, and took it out on the train to Paris — which is probably where I left it.

After dropping our bags at the River Baroness, Kris and I decided to kill some time by wandering around the city. We took an impromptu stroll through the neighborhoods near Parc André Citroën. The streets were quiet on this warm Sunday afternoon in early autumn. We saw an old man biking lazily down the middle of the road, a young boy carrying home two long baguettes, and a gaggle of teenagers giggling about something. But no tourists.

Along Rue Saint-Charles, we stumbled upon a street sale. The neighborhood folks were out in force, selling their Stuff and browsing the crowded sidewalks looking for treasures. It was fun to see a Parisian rummage sale, looking at the things the French wanted to part with with.

Kris used her mad French skillz to buy a pair of chaussures for €3.

Kris posted to Facebook about her shoe-buying adventure.

On the way back to the River Baroness, we strolled through Parc André Citroën Park, which is really rather lovely.

The boat set sail at 17:30, heading up the Seine toward Normandy. During dinner, we mingled with the other passengers. Though Kris got on well with people, I felt out of my element. Of the 120 other tourists, we were certainly among the youngest. Most were in their 60s or 70s — even older than those in our Rick Steves tour of Italy.

After yesterday’s long walk, Kris and I slept late. We ate a quick breakfast of croissant and coffee (or hot chocolate, in my case) on Rue Cler, then tried to buy tickets to Versailles. Tried to buy tickets.

Before we could get to Versailles, we had to buy tickets on the RER, the commuter line that runs to the outskirts of the city. This oughtn’t to have been too tough, but we made it so.

Our ticket-buying adventure
First, we tried the self-service ticket machine. No dice. When it came time to pay, my credit card wouldn’t work. Unlike the rest of the world (including France), the U.S. hasn’t adopted the chip and PIN system, so the machine couldn’t accept my card for payment. (You can use U.S. cards at most places in Europe — but not all of them.)

Because our cards wouldn’t work, we tried to scrounge for enough cash to buy the tickets — but the machine only accepted coins. The balance due was €6.20, but we only had €5.20 in change. No problem!

There was a ticket office right next to us, so we went inside to buy tickets from a human being. (Or to get change.) But the ticket office was closed, so we were out of luck. No problem!

Nearby stood one of the ubiquitous Parisian newsstands. Kris went over to get some coins — but the vendor wouldn’t break her bills. In fact, he wouldn’t even let her buy anything to get change for the machine. He refused to sell to us!

Flummoxed, we tromped across the Seine to another newsstand (one standing almost directly above the point in the tunnel where Princess Diana lost her life). I bought a copy of the International Herald Tribune (an abridged English-language international version of the New York Times). Or three. “Troi, monsieur?” asked the puzzled vendor. “Mi dispiace,” I said, substituting Italian for French. Oops.

In any event, we got the €2 coin we needed, which gave us enough to buy tickets for the train. We tromped back across the bridge to find that the ticket office was now open! We conserved our coins (they’re very useful in Paris) and bought tickets with cash from the man in the office — which gave us even more coins in change.

That trauma over, we finally boarded the train to Versailles. For twenty minutes, we sat across from a young man who was hacking and wheezing and looked pale as death. This came back to haunt us in a few days… (Foreshadowing!)

The palace of Versailles
In the village of Versailles, we ate a small lunch before heading to the palace. We bought a fresh, warm baguette at a bakery in town, which we combined with some goat cheese Kris had brought. I also ate my new favorite: pain au raisin (or raisin bread, which I wish I could eat for every breakfast). We dined in a lovely little park, watching the locals and the birds.

After lunch, we toured the palace and gardens of Versailles. For one hundred years, this was the capital of the kingdom of France. It was also a symbol of royal decadence. When the French Revolution came, the palace was seized by the people, before eventually becoming home to Napoleon. Though large (well, enormous is a better word), beautiful, and opulent, the palace seemed somehow hollow, as if it were all glitter and no gold.

Part of the palace’s exterior

The Hall of Mirrors in the palace of Versailles

The gardens, on the other hand, were spectacular. We spent hours wandering the property. At one point, we ate yet another mediocre French meal. That was forgotten, however, as we resumed our stroll of the grounds. It was impossible to see everything — there are over 800 hectares (2000 acres or three square miles) of gardens.

Looking down the park at Versailles toward the Grand Canal

Kris strikes a classical pose

The highlight of the day came when the 300+ fountains put on their show between 1530 and 1730. We had two hours in the warm sun to watch the displays. Often, they were literally like fireworks with water. I did my best to capture them, but neither video nor photos did them justice. And two hours wasn’t enough to see all of the fountains we wanted.

It was amazing.

One of over 300 fountains in the gardens at Versailles

The mirror fountain at Versailles was just like fireworks with water

If you go to Versailles, go when the fountains are on. They’re on for festival days and summer weekends. It’s well worth checking in advance to be sure you get to see the display. I’m not kidding.

Here’s a two-minute video that features highlights from our day at Versailles:

Back in Paris, we spent our evening at the laundromat. We had to decipher the instructions, which were oblique even when translated to English. With the help of a young French man (who didn’t speak English but could tell we were lost), we finally figured out how to buy soap and get the machines started.

Clean clothes in hand, we packed for the next day’s transfer to our river cruise!

Strickly speaking, this isn’t good English. The laundry video has another funny misspelling.