History and Context

We finally caved and are spending the night in a hotel. It cost €39 and I booked it from a McDonald's, because McDonald's is the only place that consistently has free Wifi. So now I sit in a bed. I just showered in a private shower. I have internet that functions at a reasonable speed. And there is even a T.V. These are luxuries that I appreciate as a nomad. You should appreciate them as well because a solid internet connection means you get a bunch of photos as well as a map I've been meaning to put together for a while. 

Seine-Maritime is the highlighted departments and one of the five departments that make up the region of Normandy.

Beginning with a couple of maps to give you a little context of where we've been and were we're going. Until yesterday we have spent almost every hour in the department of Seine-Maritime, one of five departments that make up the region of Normandy. Seine-Maritime is the highlighted region on the map of France seen above. Below is a zoomed in map of Seine-Maritime (click on it so you can actually see it)

A little background of where we've been.

1 - Rouen is the city where we had our flat and stayed for the first two weeks.

2 - The city of Neufchâtel-en-Bray where we played our first tournament.

3 - Head this way about 50 kilometers and you hit Mouratoglou Academy where we played tournament #2.

4 - Yvetot, locale of tournament #3. 

5 - About 50 kilometers further east was the city of Tourly, tournament #4. 

6 - The city of Yvetot, tournament #5. 

7 - The village of Yainville where Pascal lived isn't on the map. But it was in this area. We stayed here for two nights.

8 - Saint Vallery-en-Caux where we camped for two nights.

9 - Close to Saint Vallery is Veules-Les-Roses where we played tournament #6. 

10 - About 100 kilometers southwest is the city of Caen where we went to 'The Memorial' and to the north of that are the D-Day beaches where we have been for the last two days.

Now we are in the city of Rennes, it's about 170 kilometers southwest of where we camped last night. We had a very busy day today that began around 10:00. We made the one hour drive from Courseulles-sur-Mer to Colleville-sur-Mer, which is the home of Omaha Beach and the Normandy American Cemetery. Omaha Beach is the most infamous of the five D-Day beaches as the biggest loss of life took place here. About 3,600 Americans and at least 1,000 Germans.

Casualty approximations at the five different D-Day beaches.

The entrance to the American Cemetery in Normandy.

A view of Omaha Beach from the American Cemetery.

When we got the American Cemetery we wondered around the memorial for about an hour reading about various parts of the Normandy battles and watching a couple of interesting movies. It's worth noting that after mentioning yesterday that the French memorial in Caen was not particularly thankful of the Americans' effort in the war, this American museum was quite different. A video we watched showed several French historians talking about how grateful the French were when they saw there 'American liberators'. We also learned that just after the D-Day invasions the American's relentlessly bombed the city of Caen because it was a German stronghold, and in doing so killed about 5,000 French civilians. Perhaps this is why the museum in Caen didn't speak too highly of us. 

A fallen soldier's gun and helmet.

A monument at the American Cemetery.

The view from a monument at one end of the cemetery.

There are 8 plots, all about this size. 

Eventually we made our way out to the cemetery which was pretty amazing. You really have to see it yourself to understand it's impact, but you definitely leave with a lot of respect for those who died here. After walking around the cemetery for a while we took a short path down to Omaha Beach, which is a beautiful beach that is completely open to the public, and waded into the water. It's pretty cool to step into the water, turn around, and face the same hills that American soldiers faced some 70 years ago. Finally we grabbed some lunch in the tiny village of Colleville-sur-Mer before inspecting some old German shelters that overlooked Omaha Beach. 

Of the approximately 9,500 soldiers buried most have a Latin Cross marking their burial spot...

...but there are also about 150 Jewish soldiers whose burial spots are marked with the Star of David.

The rows and columns were very, very straight. 

A final view of the crosses, Omaha Beach in the background.

Eventually we walked down a short path to the beach.

What American soldiers saw when landing at Omaha Beach. 

Some sort of German bunker.

You could go inside some of the bunkers. 

It was actually pitch black in here, a bit creepy. 

After spending nearly 4 hours at the cemetery and Omaha Beach we decided it was time to hit some tennis balls. We traveled 20 minutes to the relatively large city of Bayeux in search of the local tennis club. The tennis club that popped up in the GPS led us to the middle of a round-a-bout. The directions I found online led us to a pool. And when I called the club and asked for directions we found ourselves cruising down a street when I finally spotted some courts out of the corner of my eye. But these courts were not the club's courts. These were public courts that were literally made out of asphalt. Since we'd already spent 45 minutes searching for the club we figured we might as well hit here. It was highly interesting. There were one foot tall plants growing in the court and large cracks that would cause the ball to ricochet in all sorts of directions. It was some serious street tennis. Frankie, being the hood rat that he is, felt very at home. 

Inspecting the courts.

Hood rat Allinson ready to ball.

We hit for an hour or so before going to the center of Bayeux, a town that I thought was really cool. It was too bad we didn't get to spend more time here. We grabbed some dinner at Subway because the kebab shop we wanted to go to only accepted cash and neither of us had any, before finally making the two hour drive to Rennes. Now I'm quite tired I will go to sleep in my lovely twin bed and sleep like a king.

They spoke English. That was very appealing.

I thought this city was awesome. Frank said it reminded him of Salamanca. He talks about Salamanca likes it's the greatest place on earth. I will be the judge of that soon enough.

No comment needed.

-Max

History: 101

Before I get into today's post I thought I'd add a picture and video that I couldn't upload the other day. The picture is Frankie hitting with one of the local kids. By the end of the tournament the parents of this kid (and his two brothers) really liked us and told us if we come back next year we have to stay with them. They also gave us some sweet Veules-Les-Roses Tennis Club T-shirts. And the video is of the trophy presentation. The guy who walks up to accept the trophy is the guy I lost to.

Frank balling.

Trophy presentation.

Onto today. We're in the little town of Courseulles Sur-Mer at a nice little campground. Yesterday we spent most of the day in Caen visiting 'The Memorial', which is the biggest French museum dedicated to World War II. We thought it was going to be focused on D-Day itself, but it wasn't at all, and instead was a 3 hour walking tour of the entire story of World War II. 

Entrance to 'The Memorial'

They had this quote from Eisenhower in front of the entrance.

It was pretty cool experience, albeit slightly frustrating for two reasons. First, all the text is initially written in French, they have translations into English and German, but the translations are not good. It's as if someone just copy-pasted the text into 'Google Translate' and took whatever it spit out. You would think at a nice museum they could hire someone to do solid translations. 

The beginning of the U.S.'s involvement in WWII.

Several stars indicating one was Jewish.

An SS officer's uniform.

A U.S. infantrymen's uniform.

The second frustrating part, wasn't all that frustrating I suppose, just a bit interesting. When you learn about World War II in the United States you get the idea that America stepped in and saved the day. But either that's not entirely true, or at least the French choose not to portray it that way. Instead the French proudly talk about the victories of the French army, which were essentially none, and sort of gloss over the United State's involvement. There were tons of plaques talking about the proud actions of a single Frenchman who derailed a train with 10 Germans on it, or another who snipped a few communication wires throughout the country. As well as several plaques depicting President Truman as a bad human for dropping nuclear weapons because the United States was supposedly in peace talks with Japan. Admittedly, there was some mention of thanks to the United States, Britain, and Canada, but it was less than one would expect, but it was still not what we expected.

U.S. Employment Service poster.

German condom. He-he.

Hitler's Dead! And the war is pretty much over.

Funny thing I forgot to mention is that right before we went to the museum we had just driven about two hours and were quite hungry. We parked at the museum and Frankie suggested we go inside because there was probably a cafeteria where we could eat (there was), but I thought we should walk around the town and find a local establishment. Being it Monday in France, everything was closed except for this little bar and a supermarket. Again Frankie suggested the supermarket, but I was feeling the bar. I really should've listened to Frank on either of his two suggestions. The bar was without a doubt the seediest place we've been in our time here and was probably the first time in France I didn't feel entirely safe. There was horse racing being played on the T.V. and various men, and some suspicious looking women, smoking, drinking, and betting on the horses. Despite ordering some version of hamburgers, our food took about 45 minutes to arrive and one of Frankie's patty's was very, very firm. I'm thankful that we weren't killed inside the establishment by all the French construction workers who were giving us the stink eye, or killed by the food once we left. But we live to fight another day.

The town we camped in is also the location of Juno Beach, a beach where a troop of Canadians landed on D-Day. The fighting wasn't all that vicious and the Canadians had taken the town of Courseulles Sur-Mer in a matter of hours, but it's still pretty cool to be here. As opposed to Caen museum, the resident's of Courseulles Sur-Mer are quite fond of the Canadian's efforts as there are Canadian flags everywhere.

A monument at Juno Beach, right near where we camped.

And another honoring the Royal Winnipeg Rifles.

Later today we're headed about 45 minutes west to the town Colleville Sur-Mer where the famous Omaha Beach is located. The American cemetery is here and we've been told it's pretty amazing. After we are going to go for a long drive south to La Tranche Sur-Mer where are next tournament is located. We should play tomorrow or the next day, but they haven't called us to give us our match times quite yet. Aur revoir!

-Max

Veules-Les-Roses: Day 1 and 2

Okay. Lots to share. We just got back from the beach, which was quite nice. A random thing we've noticed over the last few days is that it seems impossible, or at least stupid, that the Allied forces invaded France in Normandy because every beach we've seen has sheer walls of cliff every where you look. However we learned a useful little tide bit of information today. From Etretat to Dieppe, an 120 kilometer stretch, there are these cliff formations and towns only appears in the small valleys that form between cliffs. This stretch of land is known as the Côte d'Albâtre, or the Alabaster coast. The allies invaded further west near Caen for several reasons, one of them being that these giant cliffs don't exist.  

Panoroma of a big storm that hit us in Saint Vallery en Caux.

Chilling at the beach. Not a bad place to be after getting your butt kicked. 

Anywho, I played in the semifinals this morning and lost quite bad. But let's start from the beginning. We played our first rounds of the Veules-Les-Roses tournament yesterday, Saturday the 3rd, at 10 in the morning. I played the weakest player I've played in my time in France. A 4/6 who really didn't have any interest in being on the court. He had some good strokes but made tons of errors and I won 6-2, 6-0 with relative ease.

Another view of the club.

Frank had a match tougher matchup. He was playing a 2/6 who on August 15th is headed to Georgia to play Division II tennis for a school he either couldn't pronounce or we couldn't decipher. The practice of French players going to the U.S. to play is a bit strange, but I'll explain that in a bit. Another aside before getting into the match was despite the club's beauty, the courts were awful. The surface is what is referred to as 'classic clay' and is really just carpet with a few kernels of sand on top which makes it incredibly slippery. Throughout the tournament players were falling all over the place and it was really quite dangerous. Especially since the edges of the court had at thick coat of sand so if you slid from the interior of the court to the exterior, your shoes would stop and you would tumble forward. I almost took a nasty spill into a concrete barrier but luckily managed to grab the fence first. 

On to the match. I get the sense Frank doesn't enjoy waking up before 10 because in his first set he looked sluggish. He was playing okay, but to compete against good players on clay, or whatever this surface was, you can't be sluggish. He got broken early and couldn't get it back and lost the set 6-3. In the second he looked much sharper. The set stayed on serve until a tiebreak were Frank went up 6-4. On the first set point the kid just light up a 2nd serve return for a forehand winner. And on the second set point, they had a brilliant ally where again the kid roped a forehand winner. Frank lost the next point on a silly error and found himself serving down 6-7. He hit a 1st serve off of the line which the kid poofed over the net and called out. After some examination of the mark he decided it may have been in and insisted that they play a let instead of giving Frank the point. It's sort of common practice to play a let on close calls over here, but some people definitely take advantage of it. Frank lost the point and lost 3-6, 6-7(6). It's disappointing to lose a set when you have set points, but the kid just played unbelievable for the last 4 points of the tiebreak. 

After the match we went back to Saint Vallery en Caux to grab our stuff and take down our tent. While we were there a young boy Frank had met while doing laundry the day before began to attack us with squirt guns which was pretty funny. Eventually we evaded the French assault and returned to Vueles-Les-Roses for my 18:00 match. You would think they'd be grateful considering we saved their butts in World War II, but alas. I was playing the same 1/6 player that Frankie had lost to in Yvetot. My backhand was feeling good, and considering this lefty's tendency to hit everything to the backhand of right handed players, I liked my chances. I came out playing well and getting very lucky. I think I got 4 let cord winners in the first 3 games. My French opponent was not pleased. I went up 3-0 in a hurry, then 4-1, then 5-2 and finally I held to win the first 6-2. 

At first Frank's friend just wanted to play soccer.

But his little brother was quite vicious...

...like seriously vicious.

But my opponent held strong. He came out much sharper in the second, making few unforced errors, and making me earn everything. After hitting so many backhands my wrist was starting to tire and every other changeover I was popping an ibuprofen. My liver can thank me later. We stayed on serve for a while before he had a break point opportunity at 3-4, 30-40. We played a long point which ended in a fortunate sequence for me. I came to net and stuck a forehand volley down the line. He got there in plenty of time and chipped a ball to my backhand side. I had slid into my forehand volley so my recovery was poor and I did my best to get to the next ball. I couldn't hit a normal volley so I did a little flick with my backhand and fortunately it went in for a winner. I held serve a few points later and we stayed on serve until 5-5 when I finally got a break. I went up 40-0 in the next game, double faulted my first match, played a terrible point on the next, and finally played a solid point to force an error and win the match 6-2, 7-5. My wrist was so sore after the match that I was certain I'd be unable to hit backhands today (and I was pretty much right) but this was without a doubt the best and most consistent my backhand has been since my injury.

They sell mattresses at the flea market...I don't understand.

What happened after my match can only be described as extremely odd. Over the course of the day we'd befriended this 14 year-old Frenchman named Matt. He's French only by blood, but was born and grew up in Winchester so is really quite British. He was a really cool kid and as the last match was finishing, Matt and the tournament director, some 17 year-old French kid, invited us to stay and have a drink. We said sure, why not? They then informed us we couldn't have a drink until the last match finished, but that was fine, a bit odd but no big deal. As soon as the last match finished and the players departed the club, techno music blared from the clubhouse, and scores of 14 to 17 year-old kids appeared from all directions and a party began in the clubhouse. Apparently the tournament director had the club to himself for the night and not 5 minutes after the last ball had been struck there were 20 teenagers drinking beers and smoking cigarettes throughout the tennis club. It was very odd, and incredibly funny. We really wanted to stay just to see what was going to transpire, but unfortunately we could not. We had to find something to eat and find a place to sleep. Matt had offered to let us stay at his grandmothers but apparently she had fallen earlier in the day and was not well. After this offer fell through the tournament director said we could camp in his backyard, but after asking his parents that was also not allowed. During my match today, his dad came up to Frankie and apologized profusely saying it had been a bit too late for us to set up our tent. So unfortunately we had to leave, hit up a kebab shop for dinner, and found a nice little camping spot (for free) on the cliffs above the ocean in Veules-Les-Roses. Earlier in the day Matt had told us that Veules-Les-Roses had recently been rated the sixth nicest city in France, and it was nice, but I didn't think it any nicer than any of the other coastal towns he'd been in.

Veules-Les-Roses Coastline.

The real oddity about Matt was his life dream. Above all else, and I really mean this, his life dream was to be a journalist in San Antonio, Texas. He repeated it to us a number of times and loved the fact that Frankie was from Texas and would soon be going to school in San Antonio. I suppose his obsession with San Antonio was acceptable because he loved basketball and France's finest player, Tony Parker, plays on the Spurs, but still this dream of his was quite odd. Especially considering how adamant he was about it. 

We woke up this morning at about 9:00, ate several croissants, and made our way to the club for my 10:00 match. I was playing a 24 year-old -2/6 player named Xavier. Xavier had apparently made it the quarter-finals of the French Junior Championships some years ago and had played Division 1 tennis at Troy, some school in Alabama. He could definitely play, but I knew at the very least I could play with him. But I came out playing terribly. I suppose I should do a better job warming up because the first six games were over in 20 minutes and I hadn't won one of them. It didn't help that I couldn't hit a backhand without fear because it was very tender from using it so much the day before. The second set was much better, but I still lost 6-2. I was not too happy with the way I played, but the guy I lost to won the tournament with relative ease and I can't be too disappointed with my best result to date. 

Right now we're hanging at the Veules-Les-Roses country club, Frankie is hitting with some of the juniors, and I'm blogging away. Tonight we will sleep at the same campsite before making our way to Caen and Arromanche tomorrow. As mentioned, those are the two cities with the biggest monuments to D-Day so I'm pretty excited. 

Our campsite in Veules-Les-Roses

Before I go, just a quick aside about French players coming to the United States to play in college. It's very odd. How it works is that they pay some guy about 2000 euros to sent demo videos to a collection of American coaches. If the coaches are interested they contact you and eventually offer you a scholarship. The thing is, the kids here have absolutely no idea what they're getting themselves into. Xavier, the guy I lost to, said he did very poorly on his SATs the first time he took them because he didn't speak English. So he just payed someone else to take it for him the second time, aced the test, and was accepted on a full scholarship to Troy. But after a year he hated the coach, because he'd never met him, hated Alabama, and simply left. The kid Frankie played barely knows where he is going to school and has no idea how class selection or anything really works. It's all a bit sad and it seems the only people the system is good for is the middlemen and the coaches. The middlemen get paid their fee and the coaches get a good player for at least a year. Xavier told us whenever he hears of someone preparing to pay a middlemen he tells them to stop it and just find the schools you like and contact the coaches yourself. Which while difficult, seems like a much better idea. 

Streets of Veules-Les-Roses

Nice little sunset.

Sorry I've been bad about daily updates. But I'm doing my best.

Until tomorrow (hopefully).

-Max

Laying Low

Back on the couch at the Yvetot Tennis Club blogging away. This place is becoming a second home. Which wouldn't be all that bad because Pascal basically runs the place and he treats us like kings. But we had no intentions of being here today, we just sort of ended up here. The day begin at Camp E'tennemare in the small coastal village of Saint Valery en Caux (pronounced 'cow'). We found a nice little campground for about €10 and decided to stay there for the night because we were under the impression we were both playing Saturday morning in the even smaller coastal village town of Veules-Les-Roses, which is only about 10 kilometers away. We swam in the ocean for a little while and sauntered around the cliffs before heading back to our campsite and setting up our giant tent, which due to it's size and complexity takes at least 20 minutes. After conquering the beast we wandered back into the city and had dinner at a fine kebab shop, which is basically the French equivalent of an American fast food joint. Right after dinner we got a text from Gustavo informing us that Frankie actually played Friday at 15:30. 

St. Vallery en Caux from the cliffs above the town.

The view of the cliffs from the very rocky beach.

A view of the cliffs from the cliffs. How meta.

We asked someone to take our picture. They did a poor job.

Just as an aside, they do have the real equivalent of American fast food joints here, like McDonalds and KFC, but they are considered luxury eateries and are quite expensive. For example a Big Mac meal at McDonalds will run you over $10, and 20 McNuggets is closer to $13. It's a crying shame. Thus we frequent kebab shops, which are quite cheap and very delicious. 

This morning we woke up and did our laundry by hand in these giant sinks, which for some reason is an absolutely exhausting task. At about 14:00 we made the short drive to Vueles-Les-Roses where after a bit of difficulty we located the club. The club is tricky to find because there are giant stone buildings surrounding the courts, which makes it hard to see from the road. 

Aforementioned giant stone building surrounding courts.

When we went into the clubhouse we met this older woman who was the tournament director and a younger guy who spoke English. After some conversation we found out that apparently she had given Gustavo bad information and Frankie actually does play tomorrow in the morning. Instead we asked if we could just hit some balls and practice but she said it would be €12, and said so with some distinctive French attitude. We opted to pass and instead drove 30 minutes back to Yvetot where we knew we could hit for free. 

We have some intricate lines hung for drying clothes.

PP Tennis 4 Life!

So we both play tomorrow at 10:00 and if we win we would play again in the afternoon. After this tournament our plan is to head West to the towns of Arromanche and Caen. These two towns are quite close to the Normandy D-Day Beaches and have the biggest museums and monuments to the event, so it will be really cool to check those out. Following our visit to these memorials we're going to start making our way down the Western coast to play a few tournaments. Before we head back into the heart of France to play some more. Hopefully we can time it well and end up near Spain around the 28th so we prepare ourselves for La Tomatina. I'll try to update tomorrow to let you know how the tournament goes. 

Umm...the toilet was small....perhaps intended for children...this picture makes me uncomfortable.

-Max