June 4 Rouen

 By the time I had arrived at the Rouen Rive-Gauche train station, I was pretty mad at myself. I had no cell service, no contact with anyone. I was dragging along too many bags, but everything was necessary. I’d repacked so that the heavier items were in the roller bag, saving my aching shoulder, but I was tired. The roller bag was too heavy, even after doing months of weightlifting. I feared I’d blow out my back or my shoulder and nobody would be around to help me. It was my own fault, my stubborn independence and “I’ll do it myself” attitude I’d had all of my life. Maybe, just maybe, that came from a place of arrogance, not independence. Perhaps I should start asking for help.

The Rouen station is gorgeous, with a tall glass ceiling and pristine floors and walls. It looked recently remodeled. I found out most of the town had undergone a refurbishment, and it glowed. Since I had no map and no GPS, I got lost on purpose. After an hour of happily rumbling over cobblestone streets and exploring, I stopped at a swanky hotel and asked where the Gustave Flaubert hotel was located. She gave me a beautiful tourist map, walked me outside to the corner and pointed to a paved street, and I was off to the old center of town. One person set the tone for my entire visit to Rouen. They like tourists, especially ones who ask for help in French.

A contemporary church had a market under its wings: flower store, fish market, fruits and veggies, just like old time France. I wandered down an alley to find the Litteraire Hotel Gustave Flaubert and walked into a 4-star dream. Pristine, quiet, and friendly, the staff greeted me warmly, helped me with my bags, changed my room to a quieter hall after seeing my exhaustion, and brought me a fresh carafe of water. Accessible meant my shower had no walls, but it was perfect. Peaceful and quiet.

I asked where I could find a restaurant that served authentic Canard Rouennaise (duck), and they said only a few places still make it. You should go to La Couronne, but you’ll need a reservation. The Crown? Sounded great. An old school restaurant just around the corner from my hotel, I practiced my French and asked if they had a table free at 7:00.  They were pleased to have me, and I returned to my hotel to shower and change into a dress.

A young woman seated me in the people-watching corner, with a brocaded velvet drape to my right. To my left, I listened to a family from Texas talk. Actually, the parents talked but the kids were on their phones. The waiter used perfect Texas twang English with them. When he came to me, I asked him where he had studied English and he said he had family in Dallas. He loved watching the show and talking like Larry Hagman. He approved my dinner selections and sent over the Somme for the wine selection.

In the large round table in the middle of the room, two French businessmen were wining and dining two Chinese couples. All were speaking broken English, and it seemed the couples were considering an investment in a new hotel. Drink after drink arrived over the course of the evening, but I didn’t see any handshakes.

The sommelier arrived with a wine list. I didn’t open it, and asked instead, “Could you help me pick one?” He was delighted. I described what I liked, but said I would trust him. (Thank you for demonstrating this, my dear bff.)

He brought a terrific 375ml bottle of a 14-year old Côtes du Rhône. Perfect with the first course, perfect with the duck, and perfect with my pastry of caramel and dark chocolate. I ate as slowly as I could, tasting the tart chicory and mesclun, the buttery puff potatoes, then the savory duck. The sauce was made with local apples, one of the culinary things Normandy is known for, and thickened with something I hadn’t tasted before. I decided I would learn how to make this. Surely somebody had made a YouTube video. I had a demi-tasse of decaf espresso, and listened and watched for awhile. I felt more relaxed than I had in a week of traveling. Rouen felt special already.

The next morning, I learned the sauce was thickened with the blood from the baby duckling that had been suffocated then cooked in its own blood and apple puree.

The beat-up-myself-talk started, but I forgave myself. “Hey, I tried something from the local cuisine. Anybody could have made this mistake. It could have been worse.”

I’m on vacation. Rouen is waiting. Would my DNA start tingling in my cells, since I’m 14% from this area and a descendant of King Rollo, if one can believe Ancestry.com?

I had no plans for this first full day in Rouen, so I consulted my tourist map and made a checklist. One by one I visited the important places. I bought a one-day all access pass and began at the incredible Joan of Arc interactive museum. Held in the archbishop’s palace, the filmography and history were riveting. I heard many more details about Joan’s life, most disturbing of which was the fact three soldiers spent the night inside her cell, while two others guarded from the outside, before she was burned at the stake in the morning.

The exhibit was organized around the first trial and conviction of Joan, heavily influenced by the presence of the English, and the second trial of rehabilitation, conducted solely by the French and witnessed by her mother. The actors and script were great. Perhaps being in the middle of the burning scene was a bit much, but it was very effective.

On to the Gros Horlage and more steps up and down to examine the clock tower. Loved the architectural piece and the amazing engineering of the actual timepiece. Great views up and down the main drag, also called the Gros Horlage. I made friends with a man and his silver pit bull. They rest underneath it every day, collecting spare change. I wonder if he’s an actor or an artist playing the part of an unhoused person? He was so clean every day and had a sparkle to his eye that made me wonder. Maybe he’s actually a security guard? He would be a good character in a novel…

The Museum of Wrought Iron and several others were closed on Tuesday, which nobody had informed me of when I bought the ticket, but I had an enjoyable visit to the cathedral. The facade is perfectly clean ow and workers are about 75% done cleaning the copper steeple tower. The bottom is green and the top is black, so it’s interesting to see how much soot has adhered to its surface over the years. I walked down to the Seine, which isn’t as important to Rouen as to Paris. If only I had cell service I could have rented a bike and toured the river path for miles. None of the rental bikes had a way to unlock except for the use of an app. Alas.

Breakfast at the hotel was filling but predictable. I wouldn’t buy it any more. For dinner, I shopped at monoprix and bought a vegetable tray. I think I’m done with traditional French food, although the cheese dip was delicious.

Tomorrow, a trip to Giverny on a direct train to Vernon. There, I can rent a bike without an app.