Les Belles Vues de Granville

Posted on 09/05/2023 by John Kocan

Junior Fashion Icon – Dior in His Granville Garden

“It’s only an hour away. Why haven’t you been there yet?” All of our French friends in Fougères are surprised/bemused when we sheepishly admit that we have yet to visit Granville. Cherie and I would exchange looks, acknowledging to each other our private misgivings about this town: casinos, congested beaches, hordes of tourists, souvenir shops as far as the eye could see – that was our impression. Not really our kind of thing. But our friends are always enthusiastic on the subject. Hmnnn … were we missing something?

Valerie’s visit gave us the impetus to give Granville a look. It’s always fun to share new places with her. So, off we went, north from Fougères to Avranches, and then west along the coast of the Baie du Mont-Saint-Michel. Well-trod and not particularly interesting highways all of the way. Then, by a circuitous route through the outskirts of town, we ended up in the center of our destination. Parking wasn’t too difficult to come by. But this was the middle of the week during the run up to high season, so I imagine the ville becomes much more congested as the summer months roll on.

Cliffs and Beaches – Granville’s Got a Lot

Aaaah, there it was: the long, broad stretches of sandy beaches flanked by the blue waters of the bay on one side and on the other side, like a bank of barnacles, was the cliffside, encrusted with buildings. I had to admit, it was striking. Grand. Scenic. Immense. Even from the lower parts of town, the views out to the ocean are sweeping. The weather was mild and there were a number of hardy souls taking advantage of the conditions to swim, paddle board, windsurf and sail. Oh, sailing! I felt the pull myself. Granville is one of those places that compels you to engage with the sea. But we had other things in mind for our visit that day. Like lunch. Sailing would have to wait. Perhaps another time.

Wandering in to the lower town’s busy commercial streets, we admired the many restaurants, bars, bistros and cafés. A nice variety. We made our way to a restaurant specializing in couscous dishes that we had spotted earlier and sat down inside. The menu looked excellent. Fortunately, Cherie asked our server about the presence of fresh coriander (cilantro, as we know it in the U.S.) in any of the dishes. Pulling a slightly puzzled face, he responded, “Yes. It’s in everything.” Oh. Cherie is allergic to fresh coriander. Not in an emergency ambulance kind of way, but even a small amount of those soapy green leaves causes her great digestive upset. We tendered our apologies and made for the door.

Around the corner was a nice épicerie with a small restaurant tucked away inside: La Pulpéria. We were pretty hungry by now, so we ducked in and sat down. With our wine, an excellent local cider, and water, we enjoyed a fine meal, looking out on to the busy pedestrian street outside. While we ate, Granville got on with the business of daily life and welcoming a steady stream of tourists – jobs for which the town is ideally suited.

The three of us only had one specific site we planned to see in Granville: le Musée Christian Dior, the childhood home of the legendary fashion designer. The house where he spent his early childhood is perched high on a cliff overlooking the seaside. Surrounded by beautifully laid gardens, this moderately sized home was purchased by Dior’s father who owned a large fertilizer company. Christian was born there but the family only lived in Granville for a few years before moving to Paris. Nevertheless, like many well-off Parisians of the time, they continued to take their summer holidays in Granville.

The Dior house is surrounded by pleasant gardens. Christian himself was a keen gardener and he designed several aspects of the landscaping which are still on view today. The flowers were in full bloom – all of them bursting to compete for attention. And the grounds enjoy some spectacular views out to sea. It must have been a soul-satisfying place to live. Not to be forgotten, there is also a nice teahouse featuring a wisteria-clad terrace on which one can enjoy a civilized cuppa.

Fashion, Accessory and Archival Displays – the Dior Museum (click each photo for a closer view)

The Dior house is entirely given over to a museum. If you are keen to see how the family lived, you will be disappointed. But the many exhibits are well-curated and present an interesting look at the designer’s creative and professional life. Scores of dresses and accessories are on display. Fans of haute-couture and the Dior brand will be thrilled by the depth and breadth of the collection. The man’s originality and skill cannot be denied. It was amazing to see how radically Dior altered the course of clothing design and how his innovations are still so strongly reflected in the clothes we wear today. Gardens, fashion from the past, and extraordinary seaside views: we enjoyed our visit to the Dior house.

A Monument to Savagery – WWII German Gun Emplacement

Of course, when in Normandie, you’re never far from reminders of the Second World War. Situated at the northern entrance to the Baie de Mont Saint-Michel, Granville was ideally suited to defend against an Allied invasion. There are still remnants of the gun emplacements and military installations put in place by Hitler’s forces. Just above the casino, on the Point du Roc, are the remains of concrete bunkers, gun emplacements and barracks. Considerable effort was put into reinforcing this fortified point by the German army. But it was all for naught. The Nazis ultimately abandoned Granville without a fight after the D-Day invasion in June, 1944.

Views of Granville’s Old Town (click each photo for a larger view)

Towards the end of our visit, we made our way to the old, upper town on the Point du Roc, or Cap Lihou. This turned out to be our favorite part of Granville. Beautiful, old buildings with stone, render and timber-frame façades, a medieval gateway, a lovely old church, and lofty views over the harbor and far out to sea. What’s not to like? We pretty much had the old town to ourselves. I love it when the locals far outnumber the tourists. It feels much more like an actual place where people live year-round and everybody has a true interest in what happens there on a day-to-day basis. The Point du Roc felt like that kind of place.

While up there, we stopped at a bar situated in a lovely square. It was getting a little hot and cold drinks seemed like just the ticket. Typical for a French bar, everyone was sitting outside at a dozen or so impossibly thin metal bistro tables and chairs ranged haphazardly about the ancient cobbles – there wasn’t a soul inside. Even the bartender spent most of her time in the square, taking drink orders and chatting away with locals. She seemed reluctant as anyone to be within. A couple in their seventies, sitting next to us, were habitually ignoring each other: he distractedly glancing at a newspaper, she mulling over her book. They proved to be a nice quiet buffer zone between us and the rest of the bar’s customers, all of whom were talking, gesticulating, and laughing in that inimitably relaxed way the French have been born with. I wish I had it in me. But I don’t. I do admire it though.

In this very pleasant atmosphere, within this unlooked-for square which so generously unfolded itself to us like a springtime gift basket, we enjoyed a real moment of tranquility. We sipped at our drinks, chatted away (to the slight consternation, I thought, of the older buffer couple next to us) and let the joie de vivre permeating this place gently wash over us. I’ll never stop saying it: it’s the simple things that give us all the most happiness.

And that was it. Our visit to Granville was a success. And much more enjoyable than we had thought it would be. Yes, there are the endless shops and restaurants clamoring for the tourist trade, the casinos, and the crowded (albeit beautiful) beaches. And if that’s your thing, then you’ll love Granville. But this town also offers another side: beautiful views, an elegant museum, clifftop gardens, and an old town where traditional French life has persevered through the ravages of seaside weather, wars, occupation and the rush of progress to continue celebrating the good, small things in life. So, why haven’t you been there yet?

Thanks for visiting with us. See you again soon!

You Can Find Relief in the Dior House Gardens

A Little Night Music

Posted on 06/05/2023 by John Kocan

Darkness Begins to Cloak *La Tour Desnos*: View From the *Parc du Nançon*

Saturday. We had just returned home to La Tour Desnos after a nice meal out at a friend’s restaurant up the street. The air was clean and cool, but not cold. A lovely Spring evening. So I walked into the séjour (living room) and opened one of the doors to the little balcony which looks out over the Parc du Nançon below. As I swung open the door, I was greeted by the sound of a strong, confident female voice accompanied by a jaunty accordion. There, below me in the park, was a clutch of perhaps fifty revelers gathered in front of a pair of musicians as the glowing light of dusk was slowly giving way to the night. Traditional French music filled the air as it soared in rich waves up to the top of our tower.

What a surprise! A small, informal concert in the park, virtually at the foot of our home. And the music was, at least to my American ears, that kind of arm-swinging, head-bobbing, sing-along, smoky cafe style that is so quintessentially French. To such a degree that I felt compelled to search the crowd for Hemingway sharing a drink (or two) with Picasso and Gertrude Stein at a little bistro table while puffing away at their cigars and Gauloises. I’m almost certain they weren’t there, but it was a nice image that I had concocted in my mind’s eye.

Both the chanteuse and accordion player were top-notch, really talented. So much so that I stood there, on our little balcony, for the next hour, transfixed, swooning with pleasure at the way the music had so taken me. I listened contentedly as the tunes rolled by, clapping my appreciation along with the crowd below as each one finished. The shadows slowly crept in, darkening the scene at my feet. And our resident host of small bats began to fly about the tower, indulging in a moving feast of insects as they careened through the air. The music played on with that particularly French combination of angst and verve.

But nothing lasts forever. Except perhaps Twinkies. At length, the singer closed her last song with a crescendo and the accordionist gave a final flourish to end the evening’s entertainment. The crowd of cheerful listeners began to disperse. And I, with bittersweet reluctance, watched them all go into the night. The park was once again quiet, apart from the excited but hushed voices of a few stragglers who, like me, were unwilling to let go of the musical high. But they were soon gone as well. Eventually, I left the balcony and closed the door, content to have such a special memory of life in France. How lucky I felt to be living here where such magical serendipity seems to happen with such astonishing regularity. My hope for you, dear reader, is that you, too, may someday chance upon your own special memory of a magical moment in France. I promise you that it’s not difficult. You just need to be here.

Until next time, here’s a little taste of the evening:

For Your Ears Only [click to play]

Ducking Underground – les Grottes de Saulges

Posted on 04/05/2023 by John Kocan

Now THAT’s an Old House! – Rochefort Cave

Le printemps (spring) is in full swing. Lashings of rain are broken by days of limpid blue skies and freshening sunshine. The first flowers have already come and gone and most of the trees are already robed in this year’s new line of greenery. So what better way is there than to celebrate this rejuvenating season than to crawl into a hole in the french countryside. Bien sûr.

Where’s Her Work Visa? – Valerie in Her Element

Cherie’s mother, Valerie, has come to visit us once again. We therefore put her right to work. As you do. In our defense, she asked for it. Seriously, she literally asked us what she could do to help out. Our work on fixing up an old apartment and turning it into a holiday rental continues. And that kind of work is right up Val’s alley. She loves it. Don’t ask me why. But we’re not ones to look a gift mother/mother-in-law in the mouth so we gratefully let her loose on the place. With her help, we’ve accomplished quite a bit. So much so that we are fast approaching completion. Thanks, Val!

Valerie has been laser-focused on renovating the apartment. But Cherie and I finally had to cry for mercy. We needed a break. So we have been taking a day off, here and there, to reenergize ourselves. And what better way to recharge than an afternoon tea? We returned to le Patis in Landivy [see our recent post here] for the full Monty: buckets of tea, sandwiches (without the crust, of course), scones with cream and jam, and scrumptious little cakes. It was so good, but so filling I swore off any more food for the rest of the day.

Our next break was more ambitious. Hoping for no rain, we travelled east to the beautiful lands of Mayenne and the town of St. Suzanne (about which I wrote in more detail in our post here). As you know, we love this little town. And it didn’t disappoint this time either. The weather was lovely and the ville was impossibly picturesque as we wandered its worn cobbled streets, explored the ruins of the Norman keep, and meandered the path encircling its ancient ramparts amidst wildflowers humming with bumblebees and tiny lizards sunbathing on the honey-colored stone walls. Sublime.

Moving on from Sainte-Suzanne, we made our way southward to a rocky gorge near the village of Saulges, about halfway between the large towns of Laval and Le Mans. There, in the cliff faces of the gorge, sit several caves (or, grottes, as they are known in French). A few of these grottes have been utilized by hominids (homo sapiens and, probably, homo neanderthalensis) for at least 29,000 years.

Are they Judging Me? – Artifacts in the *Musée Préhistoire*

In this gorge on the river Erve is a ticket office and small museum which houses a nicely-displayed collection of prehistoric artifacts. It was interesting to have a close view of the various stone and bone tools used by the early humans who lived here, as well as their items of adornment (beads, pendants, etc) and other bits of evidence of habitation in this valley. It’s with recurring astonishment when I’m reminded that these people lived alongside rhinoceroses, leopards, and mammoths. How different the landscape must have been!

There is a restaurant next to the museum, so one can plan on having a meal here. We had already eaten lunch in Sainte-Suzanne so we didn’t try it. Lots of picnic tables throughout the valley as well – great places to enjoy a leisurely lunch or snack in a peaceful and beautiful setting. There are also a few hiking trails.

Cherie and Val at the Entrance to Margot’s Cave

But the stars of the show are definitely the cave tours. Two caves (Margot and Rochefort) can be visited. These guided tours can be reserved online or at the ticket desk in the museum. Unfortunately, we only had time to visit one cave (Margot), but it was well worth it. With a small group our knowledgeable guide took us through the ancient, water-worn openings of the cave system, giving us an informative overview of the grotte’s geology and history of human habitation. She pointed out four gravures (figures scratched into the calcified layer covering the limestone) on the walls, rendered by the hands of humans who used these caverns many thousands of years ago. A wonderment to behold. Witnessing these representations forms such a profound visual connection between us and our ancestors – from their eyes to ours across the millennia. It really makes you think. Which is a good thing, in my opinion. There’s far too little of it these days. Thinking, that is.

Can You Spot the Rhinoceros? – Prehistoric *Gravure*

Something you should know if you’re considering a visit to the Grottes de Saulges: the cave tours are not a walk in the park. If you are a practicing contortionist, then this is right up your alley. But for those of you who find bending and crouching difficult or painful, this might not be the way you want to spend an hour underground. Try the subway instead. Sturdy shoes are highly recommended and avoid wearing white – it’s wet and muddy. You are not allowed to touch any part of the cave surface in order to protect the gravures and rock formations as well as minimize the introduction of pathogens to the several species of bats which winter there.

The Living Rock

[N.B. Photos are strictly forbidden inside the caves. Those included in this blog are from their website.]

The ceilings of the passages are sometimes low and irregular too. At one point we had to shuffle through a small opening with a muddy puddle directly underneath it while bending over nearly double. Kind of a reverse limbo, but without the tiki torches and Caribbean music. I’m happy to report that the three of us traversed all obstacles well, but there were a few in our group who struggled a bit. Consider yourself, intrepid adventurer, forewarned.

We emerged from Margot’s cave more thoughtful, enriched, and grateful to see the open sky above us. It had been an altogether good day. Lucky, lucky us. We try to be mindful that our ability to immerse ourselves in beautiful and historic towns, grand estates, mighty castles, dramatic countrysides, vibrant cities and, yes, even dank and dark prehistoric caves, is a true privilege. Something that far too few people ever get the chance to experience. We hope that, in sharing our journeys through our blog, we can spread the joy just that little bit further. Thanks for reading and stick with us for more humble little adventures in France. Take care!

Finding Our France

A New Life in the Old World

Monthly Archives: May 2023

Les Belles Vues de Granville

A Little Night Music

Ducking Underground – les Grottes de Saulges