Lundi, à Caen.

A travel day was in store for Foo and her trusty caretaker, but not before knocking back a few espressos with Fred at Le Nustrale. The freebie he tossed in before departure sent them on their jittery way.

An easy two metro swing found them at Gare St. Lazare with enough time to grab a baguette sandwich before climbing aboard train #3307: destination Cherbourg via Caen. They whiled away the 2-hour trip by reading and viewing the grand countryside, cloaked in large, ominous thunderheads as far as the eye could see.

Hopping off at Caen they walked to Hotel de la Fontaine; a cold wind underscoring that l'hiver had arrived and l'automne disappeared. A heavy downpour drove them into a cafe but it had run its course by the time Bobbers finished his espresso.

The hotel was nice and in centre ville which is predominately pedestrian streets. Dumping their bags, Foo shouted "Je desire une sable!" so it was cookie time.

After vectoring in their location, Bob decided to walk to the Memorial museum which was located on the outskirts of town beyond the Périphérique highway. Now mind you the chef d'hotel was quite kind, orienting Bob with a map—strongly advising he take Bus #2 to get to the Memorial. But in true Bob style he reasoned, "Looks like an easy walk, no need for the bus."

WRONG! 45 minutes later after traversing the hilly landscape in the freezing and driving wind, they arrived at the museum. This was only a recon trip, so Foo smartly pointed out where they could catch the #2 bus back into town. But Noooooooooooo...Bob said, "It's all downhill from here!" and forced a fit-to-be-tied Foo to hop all the way back to Caen. Bob was amazed at how well Foo seemed to have mastered the French language, even if those words can't be repeated here.

The bright spot on the return trip was that they passed what looked to be a promising restaurant to get some Spaghettis à la Bolognese for le diner later that night—a Foo favorite when looking to warm the tummy after a long day of walking adventures.