As a kid, before ever setting foot on French soil, I had two very distinct images of what I imagined the country to be like. One picture I had was a quiet and rainy scene near the Eiffel Tower without tourists or those pests who aggressively jingling souvenir keychains in your face. There was a just a couple smooching (wearing berets, of course!), and Madeline and her classmates shuffling by in a pack in their little yellow hats.
The second image I had was of fishermen up north (although I didn't know it was north) on an overcast day, wearing pea coats and striped shirts eating seafood on a dock, and listening to jazz. Jazz? That's kind of specific, I know. My father was a jazz drummer by night and my grandmother was a jazz singer here in Paris, so jazz was a big part of my life on my dad's side of the family.
Having done the kissy Eiffel Tower scene several times, I had been itching to experience my nautical fantasy, complete with striped shirts, hats and shellfish slurping. I wanted it all! Apparently I'm not as mysterious as I think I am (okay, I'm not mysterious at all), and this is somewhat of a reoccurring subject because for our annual autumn getaway, Séb offered me a weekend in Normandie to do just that. On this gorgeous fall weekend this faux-risienne and her beau set off to the storm the coasts of Normandie! Finally!
The first stop on our tour was the quaint village of Honfleur.
Ahoy.
Yes, I said this several times during our trip.
Oyster corpses.
I mauled these suckers like a beast.
Jolie France, indeed.
Séb never fails to find street art.
Of course there was a Space Invader in Honfleur.
Do you know how many striped shirts I own?
About 25. I'm obsessed.
I really held back from adding to my collection.
Look guys!
I'm totally storming the coasts of Etretat!
Brrr. It was cold.
Good thing I had my little beret to warm me up
while looking out onto one of Etretat's famous natural arches.
A natural cave formed below the cliffs.
I have to admit, I was a little creeped out in here...
..and then Séb shared that the Germans hid out in here during WWII.
Yeah, that did it for me.
Peaking in the cave before escorting myself out.
So "villagey".
To end our Normandie getaway, an impromptu photo shoot in my striped shirt (that I inherited from the late Jacques O'Lantern)
in Le Havre just had to be done.
Last looks out onto the beach...
...before heading back home, crossing the Tancarville Bridge.
It was a mini version of the Whitestone Bridge!
...and just like a kid, I was depressed to leave.I heart Normandie.
The ride home was long as we sat in three hours of holiday-end traffic. Apparently everyone else in France had nautical fantasies that they too needed to live out before the year end. French radio didn't help much either in curing the side effect of fatigue and boredom that comes from the monotony of riding the break pedal. In fact, the radio made it absolutely impossible with its non-stop radio "chat" and the rotation of the most random American pop songs. Phil Collins fans really should move to France. To be fair, we did hear my favorite Gainsbourg song "Elisa" four times. God, I love that song. I wonder why...
It truly was a fantastic end to my two weeks vacation, but now the kids are back in school which means so I am. I hope you all had a lovely weekend! At for the last time, for nostalgia, Ahoy!
