Posts Tagged With: history

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Normandy Biking Day 1 – A Tale of Two Invasions

After a lag day / risk-mitigation buffer day between Malta and Normandy in Chantilly, France, we headed early the next morning to CDG to pick up Thomas and Lisa from their red eye that departed Atlanta the evening before. (We did not, in fact, need to head out early the next morning, as noted in the Chantilly post. Because one of us is an idiot).

From CDG, we headed to Bayeux in Normandy to kick off some kick ass biking.

Bayeux is home to a pair of invasions, albeit separated by a millennium. The first, by William the Conqueror (or Billy the Conq, as David Crowther would say) occurred in 1066, and the invasion rolled out east to west: the Norman conquest of England.

Our very first activity after checking into our hotel was a visit to the Bayeux Tapestry to check out this 1000-year-old graphic novel depiction of the invasion.

It did not disappoint (other than the museum’s insidious approach to keeping the viewing line moving using the audio tour prompts to move you forward to the next scene much sooner than you would have liked).

Taking photos was prohibited, but WolfeStreetTravel is nothing if not an opportunistic, determined, scofflaw.

The penultimate caption about Harold Godwinson:

Aaaand, the ultimate Harold caption, right above the infamous arrow in the eye:

Infamous – and inaccurate, apparently. The earliest known account of the Battle of Hastings (which, of course, is what’s being depicted above) states only that Harold was killed. It does not say how. Moreover, it seems that the arrow in the Bayeux tapestry (which also is not actually a tapestry but an embroidery), was not part of the original 11th-century stitching, but part of a 19th-century restoration. According to an 18th-century drawing of the tapestry, the arrow originally was a spear and the dude holding it was actually a spearman. Harold most likely is the ax man on the right who has just been slain. All of this and quite a bit more is from this fascinating article on Medievalists.net.

After being prodded along the entire, 70-meter length of the tapestry by the pushy audio tour, we exited and headed to another of Bayeux’s 11th-century sites: Notre-Dame de Bayeux, built in 1079.

Consecrated in the presence of Billy the Conq, himself, the cathedral was the original home of the Bayeux Tapestry.

It’s considered to be the finest example of Norman-Romanesque architecture in the world.

And it was consecrated by Odo, William’s half brother and the most likely patron of the Bayeux Tapestry’s creation.

Dinner our first biking night included a little celebration of Lisa’s (the other Lisa) new job.

Pretty good French cuisine to start this leg of the trip.

Night falls on Bayeux and the cathedral. Tonight we rest. . .

for tomorrow we ride!

Perfect weather for the first day of biking in France.

The Longues Abbey, which was founded 1168, peaked in 1257 with 22 monks and four priories, declined in 1526 during the chaos of the Hundred Years’ War, was trashed by Protestants in 1562 during the Wars of Religion, and finally was disbanded by the Bishop of Bayeux in 1782.

The absolute highlight of the day was the WWII, German Longues-sur-Mer coastal artillery battery.

Which brings us to the second invasion, this time west to east: the Allied invasion of Normandy during WWII, a millennium after the Battle of Hastings.

The Longues-sur-Mer battery shelled Allied naval forces off Gold and Omaha beaches on June 6, D Day, but was damaged by Allied shore bombardment the same day.

It was captured by British ground forces on June 7 and played no further part in the Normandy campaign.

The battery is the only one in Normandy to retain its original complement of guns.

Heading to the coast.

And the battery’s fire control post.

On the coast, the remains of Mulberry Harbor B off Arromanches, named Port Winston. The two Mulberry harbors were designed by the British to be towed across the channel during the Allied invasion of Normandy.

“The Mulberry harbours solved the problem of needing deepwater jetties and a harbour to provide the invasion force with the necessary reinforcements and supplies, and were to be used until major French ports could be captured and brought back into use after repair of the inevitable sabotage by German defenders. Composed of floating but sinkable breakwaters, floating pontoons, piers and floating roadways, this innovative and technically difficult system was being used for the first time.

The Mulberry B harbour at Gold Beach was used for ten months after D-Day, while over two million men, four million tons of supplies and half a million vehicles were landed before it was fully decommissioned.” (From here.)

And just up the hill, the town of Arromanches. (With another WWII military artifact – we were delighted to come across these (mostly tanks) everywhere we rode our first 3 days of the tour.

A Mulberry dock pier, codenamed “whales.”

Memorial to the invasion of Gold Beach here in Arromanches. A British beach, obviously.

Heading out of town to our next WWI site.

Passing a cool church with an even cooler tree on the way. (A little reminiscent of the even awesomer trees on either side of the church door in Stow-on-the-Wold during our Cotswolds road trip.)

More WWII hardware on the coast! This is One Charlie, a British Churchill AVRE engineer tank that landed at Graye-sur-Mer on D-Day with the 79th Armoured Division, became stuck in a flooded crater, and was used to help support a makeshift crossing; four of its six crew members died, and the tank was recovered in 1977 and has stood as a memorial ever since. The ashes of its driver, Bill Dunn, were scattered at the site in 2014.

And even more hardware – a Sherman in town as we head to lunch.

Super cool rotating canal bridge:

Our first taste of Normandy oysters in Courseulles-sur-Mer. Freakin’ amazing. This would be the first of dozens and dozens we’d enjoy down the coast as we proceeded through our trip.

And moules, natch.

The Canadian cemetery in Normandy.

Very serene and impactful.

Back in Bayeux at the end of our first day of biking.

Very cool half-timbered medieval house in town.

Yesterday’s cathedral looming over centre ville.

And, we soon learned, it was France’s national Day of Music – Fete de la Musique – where every town in France explodes into dozens of little tiny desk concerts.

Including Bayeux.

The locals were definitely digging it! (Aided, we’re sure, by the high-octane Belgian trappist ale, Delirium Tremens.)

Pretty good start to this leg of the trip!

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Normandy, Normandy, France | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

Turkey and Back to Greece: Cappadocia Part 6 (the Final One) – Göreme Cave Monastery

As you may have discerned from the flurry of recent (but paradoxically still dated) posts on a trip back in September 2022, we’re trying to get our act together and get WolfeStreetTravel.com up to date. (@wolfestreetravel on Instagram is always current, for what it’s worth, inasmuch as we post there in real time during our travels.)

With that context, this post mercifully is our last one on the Cappadocia leg of the Turkey / Greece trip, before we pivot to the trip’s second leg in Greece. (We’re trying to address the entirety of the remainder of this trip before we take off soon for another long jaunt in Europe, when where posting will once again cease for a while. Upon our return we’ll get to the other four backlogged trips (which will have grown to five by then).)

Our flight departing Cappadocia for Athens took off in the afternoon, so we spent the morning of our last day wandering through the Göreme Cave Monastery complex down the road from our base town. Founded in the 4th century on the instruction of Saint Basil of Caesarea, this complex of monasteries, nunneries, churches, and chapels existed for a thousand years. It was far and away the coolest of the troglodyte settlements we visited in Cappadocia for reasons that will immediately become apparent.

There were so many structures here to appreciate – predominantly cave churches – that it became a little overwhelming to take everything in. One delineation of cave church decoration helped us contextualize things, though: did the cave feature rudimentary symbols and patterns (representative of the iconoclastic era) or were the walls and ceiling drenched in richly illustrated frescos of saints and other religious themes that characterized the post-iconoclastic era? The former represented an era in the 8th and 9th centuries, when while the Byzantine church found religious images to be idolatrous, and the latter were created later, when the iconophiles won out in arguing that these depictions were acceptable – and even desirable – for enlightening the illiterate (similar to western European medieval church frescos and, later, stained windows).

The first church we encountered (which we forgot to identify for later review) exemplified the iconoclastic style:

Just red ochre symbols and patterns:

But that was just the beginning.

St. Barbara

The iconoclastic style also adorned the raw rock walls of this much more ornately decorated cave church.

Decorated almost entirely in red ochre geometric designs and religious symbols, every soffit, cornice, and pendentive (triangles supporting the domes) are embellished.

These mostly are manifested as triangles, checks, lightning-bolt-looking things, and Maltese crosses.

Oh – and there’s a boxing pheasant on one end of a barrel vault in St. Barbara? Or something? Definitely the most amusing yet mysterious of the images.

Below the boxing pheasant, of course, is a very post-iconoclastic images of Saint George and Saint Theodore. Not sure what to say about this juxtaposition.

Whether iconoclastic symbols or lush paintings, we found these churches to be so compelling because of the incredible age of the art and the palpable presence of everything so present with you, where you could reach out and touch a symbol that a monk applied to an arch more than a millennium ago.

Our hometown is old and, with a founding date of 1749, we pass by centuries’ old buildings and artifacts every day. Hell, our house is 100 years old. But St. Barbara dates to ~1100 (don’t ask how to reconcile how this falls after the iconoclast era), and being so casually close to religious art that old and yet so accessible elicited a pretty palpably powerful feeling of awe.

Dark Church

At the opposite end of the spectrum is the foreboding-sounding “Dark Church” (so named not for serving as the unholy site of arcane acts and an upside down cross, but because the only illumination of the church results from a small window in the church’s narthex). As a result of this paucity of sunlight, the paintings inside have been remarkably preserved.

The Dark Church definitely had the most ornate exterior. While the other churches’ exteriors were simply the rocky hillside, the Dark Church exterior featured a carved façade, including a series of keyhole niches with Greek crosses.

The entrance:

Very different interior from the iconoclastic churches!

The central dome features the very Byzantine Christ Pantocrator image and the four archangels (Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, and Azrael) occupy the four small domes surrounding it.

These paintings all date from the latter half of the 11th century.

Amazing that this work from 1100 years ago still remains, unaltered, to appreciate:

Snake Church

Although the Snake Church clearly demonstrates full illustrations representative of the post-iconoclasm period, it nonetheless also represents something of a transition in its liberal use of simple drawings and symbols, including on the outside of the cave church:

“The mural painting on the left has five figures—St. Onesimus standing in a red robe, Saints George and Theodore on horseback, and Saints Constantine and Helen holding the True Cross.

The figure nearest the door is St. Onesimus, mentioned in the New Testament letter Philemon. He was a first-century slave who escaped from his master in Colossae (near modern Pamukale/Denizli). As Onesimus was hiding in Rome, he encountered the apostle Paul and became a Christian. To restore their relationship, Paul sent Onesimus back to his master Philemon (who happened to be Paul’s friend), requesting forgiveness. According to church tradition, Onesimus was later martyred, as symbolized by the white cross that he holds.” (From here.)

Inside, along one side of the nave, can be found the reason behind the name: an image of Saint George and Saint Theodore slaying a dragon, here depicted as a snake (you can make out the scaly body on the right bottom and the tail on the left, but there’s not a lot left to make out of the head):

More of the mix of iconoclastic and post-iconoclastic imagery on the barrel-vaulted ceiling of the nave.

At the far end, a rudimentary apse with Jebus on the lunette above:

And a cool checkerboard pattern above the entrance:

St. Basil’s Chapel

“The left wall has two panel icons. The tall image on the left is St. Basil the Great, the famed bishop of Caesarea (d. 379 AD) who defended Nicene Orthodoxy and pioneered Byzantine monasticism.

The larger square image is St. Theodore on a red horse, spearing a snake. His clothing mimics Roman military attire, but has subtle Persian designs. Theodore Stratelates (“The General”) was martyred in 319 AD in Pontus (northern Turkey).” (From here.)

“The large, square icon is St. George riding a white horse. He was a Roman officer from Cappadocia who died in the early 300’s, in Nicomedia (the first capital of the Eastern Roman Empire, modern Izmit).” (From here.)

The coolest aspects of St. Basil’s though had to be the tombs. In a cave. (Cave graves, if you will.) The acrosolium (arched recess with grave) below was part of the original church design:

However, twelve more were later carved into the stone floor of the church – adults in the middle and infants on the side:

The occupants of the cave graves are unknown. This one was reminiscent of the crystal skeleton in the ATM cave in Belize.

On our way out, a familiar sight over the valley:

Cappadocia complete! From here, we hightailed it back to our place in Göreme, grabbed our luggage, and headed to the airport – and thence to the Greek Cyclades island of Paros.

Categories: Istanbul, Cappadocia, and Paros, Turkey | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Turkey and Back to Greece: Paros Part 3 – The Final Reckoning (Or, Parikia, a Lighthouse Hike, and the Linguistically Exact Opposite of Paros)

The final post on the Turkey and Back to Greece trip (finally!). And just in the nick of time: we’re hitting the road (and the Adriatic Sea) tomorrow, and so won’t be posting any of the other backlogged trips for a while. These are all the long trips (versus week-long trips that we responsibly posted immediately after getting back from each), and include the following:

We’ll eventually post the detailed content on each of these trips here on WolfeStreetTravel.com; in the meantime, we’ll be posting pics in real time during two upcoming extended trips over the next 5 months @wolfestreettravel on Instagram, if you’re interested.

Back to our final post on Paros. . .

Although we chose not to stay in the largest town on the island (for reasons obvious here), we nonetheless headed to Parikia one day during our stay on Paros as a day trip.

Very cool, bustling burg. With equally cool, wooden-framed bikes to boot.

The absolute most intriguing site in town has to be the Frankish Castle.

Built by the Venetians in the 1200s on the site of the town’s ancient acropolis, the “castle” (actually the remains of a tower that was part of a castle wall) was constructed Jenga-style using the vestiges of classical temples from around the island.

Little remains of the original fortification, and nearby structures incorporate what remains into their own walls.

One of the three “Mavrogenus’ Fountains” found around town. ” Nicolaos Mavrogenus was one of the prodigal sons of Parikia, Paros Island main town in the Greek Cyclades. Missing his native Aegean and as Wallachia governor decided benefit his hometown providing a public drinking water supply [in 1777]: three beautiful marble fountains.” (From here.)

And another (we never came across the third):

Finally getting a gyro at a local place in Parikia’s port (the empty plate would soon be filled):

The Byzantine-era church complex of Panagia Ekatontapiliani (The Church with 100 Doors):

According to tradition, the church currently has 99 doors and a secret, 100th door will open when the church of Hagia Sofia in Constantinople become Orthodox Christian again.

The original church dates back to 326, during the reign of Roman Emperor Constantine, and purportedly was founded by his mother, Helene (whose sarcophagus we came across during the micronations road trip).

We think the church elders employed third graders to carve the church’s tombstones:

In the 6th century, Byzantine Emperor Justinian enhanced the church and added a dome.

Another view of the Frankish Castle as we head out of town.

The best hike we experienced on the island took us to the Korakas Cape Lighthouse at the northwest tip of the island.

Another field trip, this time a short ferry ride to the polar opposite of the island of Paros: Antiparos (it’s just a smaller island than Paros).

With a really picturesque main town:

Bye, Antiparos.

And bye, Paros, and Cappadocia, and Istanbul. Trip posts complete!

Categories: Greece, Islands, Istanbul, Cappadocia, and Paros | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

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