“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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
Finding Our France 