Saint-Mandé

Hi everyone! after a horrendously stressful week of exams (4 to be exact,) with much crying and existential dread, it was time for a break. Luckily my lovely friend Madeleine invited me on a small weekend trip to her house in normandy, about a two hour drive from Paris. I took the metro to her house and we set off in the family car, accompanied by loud singing and many creative French road rage expressions.

Madeleine's house is very similar to the one we have on LDI. It's small, charming, and well-decorated, with a different pattern of 70's wallpaper for each room. (Plaid for the kitchen, green for the living room, flowers for the bedrooms.) The house has only two floors and a basement, where the family stores drinks, garden tools, and walnuts. The house itself is filled with old wooden furniture, comfortable beds, and family memorabilia, with oil paintings of sailboats on the walls. When you enter it, it feels like a warm hug, like the house is saying "welcome weary traveller, I know you've come a long way. Life here is simpler than the one you left behind." It also has a wonderfully large collection of French Asterix and Obelix comics. (If you know, you know.) After a brief trip to McDonald's for sustenance, I passed out under a thick cotton comforter and had the best sleep of my life. No light pollution and noise makes for a deep, delicious rest.

Madeleine's brother Gabriel and her grandmother Elisabeth woke up before us. Elisabeth speaks no English but she is such a warm, hospitable woman who clearly loves having guests. That morning, after a breakfast of jam, toast, and nesquick, we set off for the town of Bayeux to see their cathedral and a 1,000 year old artifact called the "tapisserie Bayeux". It's a spectacular hand-embroidered tapestry that measures a whopping 70 meters in length and depicts the Norman conquest of England in 1066. It served as a kind of medieval comic book, educating the largely illiterate peasant population about the important historical event. An accompanying museum gave details about the restoration and the many times it was almost lost in history. The cathedral and town offered us a cute little walk during which I learned more about swearing in French than history.

After that we headed to a place called the point d'hoc, an important military outpost for the Germans during WWII. The barracks and bunkers are mostly intact (you can even enter them), and you can still see the places where the cannons and machine guns were mounted. The landscape is dotted with deep craters left by American bombs that are now overgrown with lush grass. These remnants of war offer a stark contrast to the beautiful expanse of blue ocean that greets you just over the edge of the cliff. There's a stone monument there commemorating the 77,000 Allied troops who lost their lives during D-Day and the resulting Battle of Normandy.

It began to rain. We sprinted to the car and drove to our next stop, a home-depot adjacent store called "Jardiland", to buy supplies for the work we needed to at home. Once we got there, we helped Madeleine's dad and uncle remove the clusters of invasive mistletoe from the family's orchard of fruit trees, which include cherries, applies, pears, and quinces. Mucking around in the grass with buckets reminded me so much of home. Madeleine showed me their vast garden, the stream out back, and the house of a neighbor that they don't like.

After a short break, grand-mère called us to dinner with a steaming plate of coquilles-san Jacques (Brittany scallops), white wine, and crusty bread. A lovely apple tart and lively conversation followed. After dinner, Madeleine and I headed upstairs to watch a movie called "fatal bazooka", a popular French comedy about a rapper who falls from grace. A cultural experience that saw us both fall asleep at the end. A lovely day and a restful sleep, there nothing that I love more.

Sunday morning was, well, sunny. The perfect weather for our last planned activity, which was to visit the beach. Madeleine drove us through a cute French seaside town and showed me her great-grandmother's old house, only to find out that the town was hosting a marathon that blocked thru access to the beach. After finding a hole in the runners, we crossed and walked down the beach boardwalk to the shore, lined by a stately hotel and bistro. We sat down on a large beach towel in the sand and picked up shells while staring out at the misty blue sea. Watching the waves unfurl on the shore and chatting with Madeline was so peaceful and serene that the hours ran away from us. After awhile we packed up our things and took a meandering walk back to the car, which we drove to the carwash (a cultural experience in itself that I won't get into). We were called home for lunch soon after.

Lunch was grand-mère's final piece de resistance before our departure in the afternoon. First, she served us a slightly pungent paté that looked like head cheese, and smoked brittany sausage, with more baguette. But the real star of the show was a dish called boudin, which is basically congealed pig's blood encased in its own intestine. We have something similar in Germany so I wasn't too alarmed, but it would have been enough to make any vegan shake in their boots. I had less of a problem with the flavor and more with the texture, which is like blood jello. When eaten with strong horseradish mustard, however, it's actually quite pleasant. We cracked walnuts from the basement stores and drank Coca Cola until grand-mère emerged from the kitchen with more apple tarts. Nap-time followed. Before I knew it, it was already time to head home.

The ride home was largely quiet. Grand-mère pointed out the stables where the famous racehorses are bred (apparently the prince of Monaco bought one) and pastures with grazing sheep and cows. I learned that the word for water tower is "chateau d'eau", which literally means water castle. Madeleine and I both took a nap, and when I woke up we were already almost in Paris. Of course, it was grey and traffic-filled, like it always is. I wished in the back of my mind that we could have stayed longer, but it was enough to have been once. When we said goodbye, Grand-mère gave me a kiss on both cheeks and wished me well. Madeleine brought me to the metro station and hugged me. I got on the train and I was staring out the window something strange happened. We crossed the Seine, directly by the station next to the Eiffel Tower. The clouds broke and a ray of sunlight shone through, illuminating the tower and a river filled with boats and people in a beautifully picturesque scene. There was an audible murmur, and a child shouted out "look outside!".

Paris is a city designed to be marveled at. It is beautiful thanks to the careful design of architects and tasteful people. But it is still capable of moments of spontaneous beauty that are not preconceived, like when it greets its residents with a moment of rare sunshine. Or perhaps it knew I was returning, and wanted to say "I may have more rats and snobbish people than Normandy, but I am still your home."

a bientôt everyone. See you next post :)Read more