Going to the continent meant changing time zones, so we’d lost an hour overnight. We had the luxury of sleeping in, which we did until 9:30. With no windows or any other source of outside light in the cabin, we had no way of knowing whether it was noon or midnight. Obbie woke up with a case of the sniffles, probably from too many days in stuffy enclosed spaces like buses and ship cabins.

We took in a light breakfast at the coffee shop, and took a walk around the deck outside for some fresh air. Then we sat down at some tables on the starboard side of the ship to watch the French shoreline come into view and slide past us. When the captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker telling us we were pulling into Cherbourg harbor, we went to our cabin to pack our bags.

The crew didn’t know (or wouldn’t tell us) from which part of the ship we’d be disembarking. Through the window on the starboard side, we could see a gangway being aimed at a hatchway on deck 6. We stood by the open hatchway, breathing the cool French air blowing through it while we watched workers lining up the hatchway with the gangway.

Some French-speaking college girls with Swiss passports engaged in rowdy horseplay, and if we hadn’t been tolerant we’d have been annoyed. When the mating of gangway to ship was complete, the girls ran through the hatchway and we followed them out of Ireland and into France. As we marched down the gangway whistling the French national anthem, we were greeted by annoyed backward glances from the college girls.

We were taken by bus to a “Ferry terminal”. We passed some uniformed officials as we came in, but they showed no interest in seeing our passports. The “terminal” was little more than a big waiting room, with absolutely no tourist information service.

There’s a TI in town, and the local bus can get us there… exact change only. So we need French money. There’s no money machine, so we had to spend $20 bills to buy French francs from a money changing office. With bus fare in hand, we found our way to the TI.

We were matched with a private B&B owned and run by Jean-Claude. The helpful folks at the TI gave us his address, phone number, and a map with good directions to his place. Behind his own house is a courtyard and a guest house with two bedrooms above a common kitchen and living area.

Jean-Claude is a retired policeman, and on Tuesday he had a meeting at the old station. He walked with us downtown, showed us the Farmers’ Market in the central square and generally helped us get oriented.

We told him how we’d noticed the station from the bus while we were on our way into town. Above the door are big letters reading “Hotel de Police.” Jean-Claude told us that sometimes someone would come into the station trying to book a room. “We have rooms, but they are not very well heated.”

We’ve been told that Cherbourg has the largest artificial harbor in the world. A massive wave of European emigrants left for America from Cherbourg. Today Cherbourg remains an important freight and fishing port; and local maps indicate a sizable military installation nearby.

Most tourists are pilgrims to the nearby D-Day landing sites, or they are passing through on the ferry (as we were). We walked back for another look at our ferry, which was still parked at the dock where it left us. On the way we watched a swing bridge open for a passing fishing boat. We ooh-ed and awe-ed at the French sculpture that seems to fill every empty space on the exterior walls.

Breakfast in France is different than it was in Britain and Ireland. It started with vastly superior coffee. The rest of breakfast consisted of a croissant, bread (those long sticks of French bread, cut up into manageable lengths), butter and jam. It may not sound like much, but it stayed with us through much of the day, and it was a welcome change from the meat-heavy breakfasts of the last three weeks.

We’re quickly learning some other things about eating in France. The sit-down restaurants close between the end of lunch and the beginning of dinner, and dinner doesn’t start until 7pm. So the only sit-down meal we had in Cherbourg was a “breakfast” we had in the early afternoon on Tuesday.

Our best food in Cherbourg came from a charcuterie in the vast pedestrianized area in the center of the city. A charcuterie is like a deli, with lots of different salad specialties. The proprietor did not speak or understand any English, so we did a lot of pointing and miming and smiling and illustrating amounts with our fingers. We thought her food was great, but the only way we were able to say so was by coming back the next day.

We really enjoyed our time in Cherbourg, as everyone we met was very kind to us.