We are bound for Honfleur, but first, a stop by a field of Colza or rapeseed, to get photos beside the swaths of yellow dominating the French countryside. Colza, a bright-yellow flowering plant, is cultivated mainly for its oil-rich seed.
Honfleur is a very picturesque village by the sea, whose streets are lined with houses cast in timber and plaster, and shops that sell a lot of caramel candy, calvados and other stuff that are a tourist’s stash.
We find street parking and after leaving our bags with the affable and courteous Benjamin at the Le Fond de la Cour, we walk under a fine drizzle in search of a late lunch.
The artisan boulangerie and salon de thé Eric Kayser catches our eye. Curious about the label artisan boulangerie, I learn that to be called an artisan boulangerie, a French bakery must have its bread baked on the premises using traditional, often handmade techniques. The branch we visit is also a salon de thé, a tea room, which explains the seating area where we eat our pastries and sandwiches.
Cesar sees his favorite pastry – chocolate eclairs, and the rest of us get sandwiches. There is an Eric Kayser in the Philippines, but it is nothing like this. The one at the Rockwell Power Plant in Makati is a small section carved off a wall near the supermarket, with no space for baking or eating on the premises. It is simply a display and sales outlet.
Adequately nourished, we stroll down to the 15th-century Sainte Catherine’s Church, a vaulted timber structure erected by shipbuilders. I feel like we have stepped into the pages of medieval France.
Inside, we discover that the church has two naves, with the first built in 1460, and the second in 1496 to accommodate demographic growth. Its timbers reach up to ceilings shaped like the insides of a ship’s bow.
I see a large portrait of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux at a side altar and am amazed to learn that the church houses her relic. On January 2, 2015, the 142nd anniversary of Sainte-Thérèse of Alençon (her birthplace on January 2, 1873), the sacred reliquary with a kneecap of Sainte-Thérèse was installed at the Church of Sainte Catherine.
We say our prayers and leave, immediately coming upon what seems to be the belfry across the cobbled street. The bell is said to be so heavy, it had to be separated and set on a tower away from the all-wooden church.
We stroll along the harbor, and I come face-to-face with “Khadine,” a bronze sculpted male figure with part of his torso missing in front of Galeries Bartoux Sainte-Catherine. I later learn it is one of French sculptor Bruno Catalano’s ‘Voyageurs’ or travelers – sculptures of men, women and children moving forward, luggage in hand, with substantial sections missing.
I am tempted to enter the gallery, but I am intimidated by the expensive-looking artwork and sculptures, so I pose for a picture with “Khadine,” asking that my image be captured in the missing part of his torso.
As I like to tell it, “He consumed me, and I lived to tell the tale. He, on the other hand, did not come out whole.”
There are many more art galleries along Honfleur’s cobbled streets; thus, the monicker ‘Town of Artists’, as well as the museum of Honfleur-born, French landscape painter Eugène Boudin, who is considered one of the forerunners of Impressionism. The artist wannabe in me is excited, but we come upon the museum gates too late. It is closed for the day.
Ellen wants us to experience Honfleur’s famous creperie, so we stop at La Petite Chine along the Rue du Dauphin for some calvados tea, coffee, quiche and brioche. Whatever happened to the crepe? Hahaha.
It is a very charming salon. I am amazed that Sinika chooses Calvados tea. My daughter is more adventurous than I am in terms of trying out food.
The sun comes out, so we take to the streets to shop. Sinika and I are charmed by the window display of home décor boutique L'univers de Lou. It's a bit pricey but Sinika gets a pretty little Bukowski stuffed toy.
Ellen and Cesar go crazy buying sardines inside the Conserverie la belle-iloise, a family-owned cannery since 1932. The tin cans are a pretty sight and when both emerge with bags, I cannot help but wonder if they have enough airline baggage to accommodate the weight.
We take so many pictures around the Vieux Bassin (Old Basin), and it is there that Ellen tells me that Hôtel de Ville means City Hall. There is one overlooking the Vieux Bassin and the word 'hotel' makes me think it is one of the more expensive ones given its location and size.
All the walking has us famished and we are grateful that Benjamin had gotten us a reservation at Côté Resto, a rather upscale restaurant by the side of the Sainte Catherine Church.
Our table is on the terrace or terrasse, which is the outdoor seating area. The awning is up, and the area is enclosed in glass presumably to protect diners during cold, rainy nights. We are especially glad when the servers set up and light a patio heater which, coupled with white wine, keeps us pleasantly warm.
My order of grilled fish, venerated (black) rice & cream of shrimp is tasty. Sinika surprises us by ordering the Grilled Octopus, Jalapeno, mashed potatoes, fine herbs & lime which she declares delicious. Ellen and Cesar get sea bass (catch of the day), mashed potatoes & brown butter.
We walk off the alcohol back to our bed and breakfast. Ellen looks at her Smart watch and declares that we have taken close to 10,000 steps today.
That should get us all fitfully sleeping tonight, never mind if the toilet is located near the door, separate from shower and sink facilities at the far end of the room. In France, we adapt.
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