La Havre, France

If my mother’s memory serves me correctly, this port was the point of embarkation for many of those members of my family that emigrating from Europe to America so many years ago. Both on my Mom’s side and my Father’s side most likely.

It’s Sunday, and the archive – along with the rest of everything in Europe – are unfortunately closed. The maritime and La Havre history museum, however, was open, and I considered my pilgrimage complete by visiting that place. It held a considerable number of model ships, which I find increasing interesting lately. Also, there were a number of posters advertising “Transatlantique” trips – something my ancestors might well have seen before jumping across the pond themselves.

I went to lunch with another pianist, Chris, who was worth his weight in gold today. The french are certainly not as “english-friendly” as the scandinavian countries and I have to admit I would have been totally lost today without his translation of the menu. I probably would’ve ended up with a big piece of uncooked butt steak and 6 bottles of expensive french wine if he weren’t there.

But as it ended up, we have a great lunch of mussels, french fries (no, they do not call them french fries over here), and white wine. It was a great meal and reasonably priced.

The cafe was located along the beachside here in La Havre, a 40 minute walk in the scalding french sun from the ship. These beaches are not the famous beaches that were stormed during the D-Day, but they are not far from those beaches – perhaps 30-60 minutes away by taxi.