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Days 40 through 43 of my grandmother’s 1936 trip through Europe. (Previously: Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10.)

Saturday, Aug. 1st [1936], Orleans

Left Tours this morning for Orleans where we arrived about noon. After getting settled in our rooms and having lunch we started out to see the city. This is the city that Joan d’Arc saved from the British and so it has many statues and church built in her honor. First we saw the statue in the market place which is supposed to be the finest one built to her memory. From here we went to the Joan d’Arc museum which houses many thousands of pictures of her and the war implements and flags used in her time. This museum is housed in what used to be the home of Agnes Sorel the most beautiful woman of France. From here we just wandered about the city and visited a church and then went back to the hotel. Walked after dinner & wrote letters.

Doris mentioned Agnes Sorel in the previous entry too, she seems to have liked her. The statue she looked at in the market is probably this one, by Denis Foyatier. Also on this day, the opening ceremony of the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin, sometimes called the Nazi Olympics due to Hitler’s successful employment of the Games as a grand piece of pro-Germany propaganda. From the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, “Most newspaper accounts echoed the New York Times report that the Games put Germans ‘back in the fold of nations,’ and even made them ‘more human again.'” Three years later, of course, Hitler invaded Poland. (It occurs to me we’ve seen a pale imitation of this same strategy quite recently, with Vladimir Putin invading Crimea right after accruing international goodwill for the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi.)

Sunday, Aug. 2 [1936], Biarrritz

Left Orleans after breakfast and after a short ride to Les Aubrais changed trains and started on our long journey to Biarritz. As there were no seats in the second class compartments we had a 1st class on all to ourselves. We walked thru the third class cars which are simply terrible. I would certainly hate to have to ride any distance in them. The seats are just straight wood benches. The car was just loaded with people standing in the aisles and sitting and lying all around, eating, smoking, and hollering. Just like steerage on a boat. We spent the day, knitting, eating (as we had brought our lunch along this time just economizing for a change. Not that we don’t know how to. Our money certainly is low.) talking and sleeping. We arrived in Biarritz about 7 and were certainly glad to find a man, who spoke English, meeting us. We’re staying at a very lovely hotel run by people who can understand us. That is the grandest part. We were quite thrilled to find that our mail had been sent from Paris. It just made the day and night. After a very late supper we wrote awhile and ten went to bed very tired after the long train ride.

Les Aubrais is the train station in Orleans. While Grandma was congratulating herself on knowing how to economize, in Berlin, Hitler was personally congratulating Olympic medalists until Cornelius Johnson, an African American, won gold in the high jump. The consensus response from the Olympic committee was that Hitler–who had almost inspired a boycott of the Olympics by initially forbidding participation by Jewish athletes–should congratulate all medallists, or none of them. He chose the latter option.

Monday, Aug. 3 [1936], Biarritz

Got up this morning about 9:30 after the most terrible night I’ve ever spent. We got in bed last night all set for a good night’s rest but were soon convinced that this was just not to be. The flies and mosquitos were simply terrible. After about 2 hrs. Bert & I finally switched on the light to find ourselves just one mass of bites. Our faces and arms were so swollen we hardly recognized one another. For 2 hours after that we did nothing but kill the damn things and tried to sleep the rest of the morning (4-6) with light on swatting anything that came near us. It was terrible. This morning after breakfast we walked around the city, which is very lovely and very clean. The cleanest place we’ve hit in France probably because of so many tourists. We did a little shopping and after lunch Marie and I walked about and looked at the beaches and beautiful coastal life. About 4 we all went down to the beach for a swim in spite of the unsettled weather & showers. It was a frothy beach nestled in among the rocks with a lovely view of the reefs just a short distance out in the sea. After dinner we went to a movie. The original English version of “The Ghost Goes West” with French subtitles. It surely was a treat to be able to relax and understand the picture. We acted like regular nuts clapping when the American flag was shown in the news reels. Real true Americans, that’s us. Went back to the hotel and talked but not before we made sure the room was sprayed with fly tox and the windows shut tight.

The Ghost Goes West was a British supernatural comedy in which some rich Americans buy a Scottish castle and move it to Florida, only to discover they’ve brought along its resident ghost as well. In the Olympics, Jesse Owens won his first of four gold medals on this day, tying the world record for the 100-meter dash.

Tuesday, Aug. 4 [1936], Biarritz

Slept late this morning as our pals the mosquitos didn’t disturb us. After a busy morning washing & mending Jo & I went walking to see the aquarium which wasn’t open as it was almost one o’clock. All places in France, department stores included, close their doors between 12-2 for lunch. Business or no business those Frenchmen must eat. After the lunch the sun came out so we went down to the beach again where we spent a few hours lying in the sand and swimming. We have had so little sun since we’ve been traveling that it’s a real treat. Had an early dinner and then did our packing and to bed early as we have to leave at 7:30 in the morning.

Not a hugely eventful day in my grandmother’s life, but the day Jesse Owens won gold in the long jump, an event in which he’d already set a world record the year before that would stand for 25 years.

Days 38 and 39 of Doris Stein’s trip around Europe in 1936. (Previously: Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9.)

Thursday, July 30 [1936], Quimper – Tours

Walked around the town this A.M. saw some of the pottery and interesting spots but the place was so dirty and smelled so that we couldn’t enjoy it. We left at 2:30 after a terrible commotion at the station trying to fine out train. No one there spoke English and we had an awful time, just got on as the train was pulling out. Our guide from the trip thru Normandy was on the train still as dirty as ever. He kept us company for a while and just before he got off he took a large bottle of “Evening in Paris” perfume from his pocked and rubbed it all over his dirty hands. (Typically French). Long train ride uneventful till we changed at [illegible] then met some American fellows who talked with us a few hours. Gee! it was grand for a change. Changed trains again at St. Pierre de Corps, arrived at Tours completely exhausted and we so pleased to find the hotel man waiting for us. He was so pleasant and helpful we felt better immediately. Lovely Hotel with English speaking people. Late supper, bed almost immediately afterwards.

After the last entry my mother reminded me of a moment from 56 years later in Doris’s life. I was ten years old, with my parents and grandmother at a fancy restaurant in Rome, where Grandma was displeased that the menu was in Italian. My mother was able to translate for her, but Grandma continued to insist there should have been an English version, tut-tutting about the ways of foreigners until finally my mother ended the conversation with, “Mom, we’re the foreigners!” So, with regard to her feelings about non-English speakers at least, my grandmother remained quite consistent.

Friday July 31 [1936], Tours – Chateau Country

Up at 7:30 and after breakfast in our room we started off on a sight seeing tour of the chateaus of the surrounding country. The first one we visited was Loches Castle. It is a very intersting place but a bit weird because of some of its horrible dungeons and implements of torture. Its church is very beautiful and has four pyramid spires the only ones of their kind in a church in the world. The castle is built completely of chalk with no foundation at all. Agnes Sorel’s body is buried here. Our next stop was the Chateau of Chenonceau. An interesting place because of the beautiful tree lined walk of about 3 blocks that leads up to it and the lovely formal gardens around it. the Chateau itself is completely surrounded by water and not particularly beautiful inside.

From here we went went to Amboise a chateau built in the top of a hill it has now been bought by the house of Orleans and is used as a home for old servants. There is a beautiful little chapel here “St. Hubert” in which the body of Leonardo Da Vinci is buried. From the gardens here you can see the whole country side and up and down the river. Had supper back at the hotel and spent the evening writing as usual and to bed early.

Doris’s spelling in this entry had serious issues, which were harder than usual to figure out because Googling possible place names near “Tours” quickly becomes an exercise in frustration. Without the descriptions of things like famous graves, I’m not sure I would have been able to decipher them. The châteaux she visited: Loches, Chenonceau, d’Amboise. I was not previously familiar with Agnès Sorel, but it seems she had great influence with King Charles VII, was the first officially recognized royal mistress, and started a fashion for going about court bare-breasted. She’s the model for this contemporary painting by Jean Fouquet, The Virgin and Child Surrounded by Angels.

It’s been a few years, but I’m reviving this project at my mother’s request. These are days 35 and 36 of my grandmother’s journal recording her trip through Europe in 1936. For these entries she’s in Brittany. Here are the previous parts: Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8.

Tuesday. St. Malo – Dinard July 28 [1936]

Slept quite late this morning as we knew there was no hurry as our next stop was just across the river. Repacked our suit cases & shipped on back to Paris then walked about the town, passed the fish market & vegetable markets until the odors got so bad we just had to go back to the hotel. After lunch we left by boat for Dinard. Upon arriving we couldn’t find any one to meet us until we were just about at the hotel. We were so burned up we sat down and wrote to Paris & told just what we thought of their offices. Dinard turned out to be a most delightful little bathing resort with a beautiful beach & loads of interesting shops. If the money hadn’t been so low I’m sure we would have bought things there. We spent a delightful evening walking along the beach & then went up to our rooms & discussed the great contrast between St. Malo and Dinard. The two cities are so close together & yet so different.

Not a lot to note here. Though on that same day, Doris’s hometown newspaper the Chicago Tribune published an interview with Francisco Franco synopsized on Wikipedia thusly: “[H]e claimed that his government was neither monarchist nor fascist, but ‘Nationalist Spanish’, and that he had launched the rebellion to save Spain from communism. When asked what form his government would take, Franco replied it would be a ‘military dictatorship’ with a plebiscite later on ‘for the nation to decide what it wanted.'”

Wednesday, July 29 [1936], Dinard – Quimper

Left Dinard about 8A.M. and after a bit of griping between ourselves about the tip we had to pay for the wine and jam, went to the bus station from where our trip was to start. There were to be just the four of us and a lovely elderly English couple, who were very lovely to us all day. We traveled thru some beautiful hilly country (Brittany) dotted with small farms and chestnut trees. Our first stop was to the little town of St. Brieuc where we went thru the open market. Where they were selling fish; live chickens and rabbits; butter, cheese, and all sorts of clothing. Each person has their own little stall covered with an awning. We saw many of the women dressed in black skirts, black velvet blouses and little lace caps that just perch on the tops of their heads. This is the native costume of Brittany. the little caps differ in different section of the country. Our next stop was Le Huelgoat where we had lunch at a very lovely way side inn. After lunch we went thru a beautiful grotto, climbed down way under the rocks and watched the water rushing by thru little crevasses in the rocks lower down. Along the way we saw many women washing their clothes along the river banks and using flat stones as wash boards and scrubbing buckets to get the clothes clean and then they throw them over the hedges and on the grass to dry. Stopped at an old church “Chapel of Hunboat” which had an old calvary in the court yard and a lepers porch. Our bus had a flat tire in a little God forsaken town called Loqueffret, which has about 100 inhabitants. I should call it God forsaken because it has a very old church which we visited. We climbed up to the chapel clock which was running perfectly but never did succeed in finding the face. Our next stop was Plaeyben [sic] where we visited another church. This was interesting because of the Arch of Triumph in the court yard which had a very beautiful Friezes around it and the tomb for bones which was just to the right of the church. At about five we stopped at a little inn and had tea and crepes (small thin pancackes) as our English companions just had to have their afternoon tea. From here we went to a very colorful fishing village Duarnenez where they pack sardines. As we got there the fishing vessels were just coming in and it was a lovely sight. The boats with huge blue and green nets hanging over the sides and the men all dressed in brilliant orange, red, blue and salmon colored suits. With the silvery sardines lying all around the docks it was as colorful a picture as any artist could paint. We arrived in Quimper and after a terrible fight with the bus driver over a tip which we refused to pay we went down to dinner to find the dining room rather a smelly place and with the windows facing a perfectly lovely looking mens comfort station. These dirty Frenchmen. Our hotel was the nearest thing to a prison that I’ve ever been in. The corridor walls were all stone, the floors cement & just a window every few feet so that it was dark and damp all the time. The rooms were clean and we had a bath but you just had a feeling that all of the white paint had been put on over dirt. It’s a miserable feeling. After dinner we walked about the city and then went upstairs and wrote for a while.

It’s “These dirty Frenchmen” which really stands out, but I’m also amused by my grandmother’s defining “crepe” and constant haggling over tips. I’m reminded that at the very start of the journal there’s a list of proper tips for different services on her cruise ship. Here’s a picture (source) of some traditional Brittany costume, including a variety of the lace headdresses, just as Grandma described.