Singin’ in the Rain – Our Once-Tired Gates Now Have a New Look
Our front gates were in need of a facelift. When we bought the house, they looked fine. But we thought that a little bit of freshening up would help us to put our stamp on the place. So, during a spate of good spring weather, we got out our paintbrushes and changed the color from green to grey. Sounds a bit boring, I know. But we had to contend with the quite limited range of colors we are allowed to use by the Mairie because we are in a historic district of the town. Still, we think it looks rather nice. Subdued, but dignified. And shiny.
The Old, Uninspiring Street View
It has also become glaringly apparent that people have a difficult time finding us. The house entrance is set back from the street, down our short driveway and courtyard. And there is no street number at the sidewalk. I can’t tell you how many delivery drivers and others have called us in dismay, searching in vain for our house. A while back, we tried to remedy this by putting up a nice big 32 plaque above our front door. But it made little difference. It’s quite hard to see from the street – especially at night. And now that we have guests coming in for our holiday rental all of the time, we felt having a clear indication of our presence was even more important than ever.
The solution which we hope will ameliorate the problem arrived a couple of days ago: two plaques for our gates. We ordered them from a small family foundry on Etsy. They are cast aluminum. Made to order. A pretty slick little operation in the U.K. We love them because they have a traditional, hand-crafted form and finish to them. Just right, we think, for an old house on an even older street. I put them up today after making a quick trip to the brico (home improvement store) to grab some aluminum bar and brass bolts to make improvised mounting brackets.
The New Plaques
We’re happy with the new look of the gates. And now our street number is directly out front, streetside. Hopefully our address will be much more apparent and we will be easier to find for our holiday rental guests. And it is nice to give people an idea of where La Tour Desnos is hiding. It’s easy to see from the park, but it’s entirely hidden from the street. Most locals don’t even make that connection.
Even little changes can make big improvements to your home. A little paint, a couple of plaques, and a couple of hours of effort are all it took. It’s a great feeling to tick off yet another project on our very long list of things that need doing. On to the next one!
Whim. Such a great word. I like the sound of it. Whimsical, whimsy – those are good ones too. Good, woody sorts of words.* Words that will take you far in life. Perhaps even lead you to discover unexpected and lovely things.
Today, on a complete whim, we decided to take a short drive to the east of us, in search of two sites. To be honest, we had earlier planned to visit a town much further away. But we slept in. A lot. By the time we roused ourselves out of bed, it was much too late to get there and back in time for Saxon’s afternoon walk. We didn’t have the heart to break our dog’s schedule. He’s very punctual. So we hastily picked a couple of alternates and headed off , not really knowing what we were going to find.
Should I Stay, or Should I Go? – A Confusion of Signs at the Trailhead
First on the agenda was an allée couverte, or dolmen. Just one of a multitude of prehistoric megaliths dotted around western France, the Dolmen de la Contrie is a burial chamber constructed sometime between three to seven thousand years ago. This particular dolmen is located Mayenne, in a wood just north of the town of Ernée. Not the easiest place to find, we followed country roads to a turnout with some aging signs which may, or may not, indicate that one is allowed to walk through private property 100 meters to the site. We were a little apprehensive, but marched down the trail which leads pleasantly through a stony wood bordering secluded pastures. It was hot, so we were glad of the shade as we trampled onward. Not a soul was about. Not even a cow.
Over the River and Through the Woods
The trail emptied into a small, open grove of ivy-covered maple and beech trees. A small, clear brook gently burbled around the edge of the grove. There, in the center, stretched the line of massive,carefully laid stones like an ancient dinosaur frozen in time. Impressive. Awe-inspiring. Astonishing. Take your pick. We’ve seen several of these prehistoric megalithic structures now, and still they do not fail to immediately bring us to a stunned silence. It is simply stupefying how clever and industrious our prehistoric ancestors could be. I cannot really articulate why, but it somehow feels important to witness their efforts, to marvel at their accomplishments. It’s a humbling but satisfying experience. And only 20 kilometers away from home. How lucky is that?
Burial Chamber of the Neolithic Rich and Famous (click on each photo for a larger version)
From the dolmen, we hopped back into Ernée where we slightly crashed a funeral in order to use the public toilettes by the church. We were appropriately discreet and I think we managed not to offend anyone. Needs must. Slinking away, we dashed into a boulangerie where our sad faces convinced the baker to make us an after-lunch jambon et beurre (ham and butter on baguette) sandwich which we shared in the car.
Pausing at the Garden Entrance-That-is-Not-an-Entrance
Our next target was a garden: Le Jardin de la Pellerine. Classed as a jardin remarquable it’s only 18 minutes by car from our house. We have passed the sign pointing to this garden a number of times on our way to other places, but had not before given it much regard. Still, it was intriguing. And this time we thought, “Why not?” So, a short twist through the small village of La Pellerine and then a couple of kilometers amongst the open, undulating farmlands beyond, one comes to a lovely cottage surrounded by beautiful hedges and trees.
Numbered Signs and Bedazzled Arches in the Garden
Initially, we weren’t sure if we were in the right place. The French, it seems, excel in the art of subtlety when it comes to marketing. They are, in our experience, so subtle as to be positively enigmatic. Therefore the signage here (to the extent we could find it) was diminutive and somewhat confusing. But we eventually managed to work it out and we soon found ourselves at the garden’s welcome desk where we were met by yet another notice scrawled on the table: “Je suis dans le jardin … Follow the numbered signs.” Casual-cool, we supposed. We shrugged our shoulders and continued on, looking for sign number 1.
Beautiful Ornaments in the Jardin
As it happened, the numbered signs pointing the way through the various areas of the garden were very regular and clear. We had the entire place to ourselves and enjoyed a tranquil meander through countless garden rooms. There was a gentle breeze bringing us a myriad of floral perfumes and a ever-changing chorus of birdsong as we feasted on the visual delicacies of carefully curated herbaceous borders. The color palettes of each space are generally subtle and very pleasing. This gardener is not aiming for the botanical fireworks of the great château gardens. No, she has wisely painted her canvas with the gentle, classically calming colors of the french countryside. It is beautifully accomplished.
Garden Gnome
And it spreads over several acres. With her home firmly, organically situated in the center, La Pellerine expands into more open lawns, a charmingly shabby-chic conservatory, ponds, water features, bridges and woodland paths. The owner/designer has created an oasis of shaded and sun-dappled tranquility midst the vast hectares of open farm fields which surround it. The effect is magical and we thoroughly enjoyed our visit there.
The Cottage in the Distance
It was only at the end of our tour when we met the owner. She accepted our money for the entry fee with complete nonchalance while chatting with us and sharing her lovely dog, a wirehaired pointing griffon. She was quite happy to have her belly scratched – the dog, that is.
Chic Greenhouse
On all counts, our whims had paid off handsomely today. In the space of an afternoon, with minimal driving, we had sparked all of our senses and returned home feeling all the happier for it. And, we had discovered a couple of hidden gems, cultural sites which are well off the beaten track but deserving of greater attention. That, in my humble opinion, is a good day in France.
Pond, Bridge, Cottage, Person, Woman, Man, Camera, TV
*Name that Monty Python sketch. If you can, you’ve just had a very happy thought indeed. You’re welcome. If you are unaware of Monty Python, you have my sincere condolences.
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.
The Commercial and Tourist Hub
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.
Our Second Choice Was First Class
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 House of Dior
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 Peak of Tulip Time
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.
A Refreshing Break
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.
A Casino on the Shore
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?
Finding Our France 