Houlgate, Deauville, Trouville

I have been extremely lazy since I got to Normandy.  My activities, besides a single trip down to the lake in St. Fraimbault and a drive to the market in Gorron (which I could not find) has been sleeping, eating and watching TV.

But yesterday I roused myself enough to take a drive to Houlgate on the coast, which ironically is almost due south of Brighton.  It was listed as one of the most beautiful towns in Normandy and I can attest to that fact.

While Brighton has a beach of pebbles, Houlgate has a very wide (at low tide, I assume) sandy beach.

There is even enough room for horse riding.

Like a lot of the Normandy beaches, Houlgate has changing rooms at the beach.

That picture gives you a bit of the flavor of the town's biggest asset--its architecture.  The buildings appear to be a combination townhouse and alpine chalet.  Here is a sample.

Every street is filled with these types of homes.  There are other buildings of course, like this gorgeous church

and what looks to be some official building though I could not find a sign.

The town is beautiful from the beach.

I walked into town and it seemed like everyone was heading in the same direction, so I followed.  What I came across was what seemed like an inside market--and it was that.

But when you walked through the building and out the back door, the market continued with a huge number of vendors selling anything from whole roasted chickens

to hats that all said "NY"

to jewelry, clothes, anything you could want.  The market went out the back door of the inside market, to the next street, down that street and around the corner.

I walked again in the direction of the beach and by the time I got back, 1:30PM or so, everyone was gone.

Houlgate looks like a lovely town to spend your vacation in.  There are sidewalk cafes....

this one giving a little jibe to the English visitors with its remembrance of when the Duke of Normandy conquered England.

 There were clothing shops and souvenir places and grocery stores, all within two blocks of the beach, which also had restaurants and bars.

I decided that this was my chance to stick my toe into the English Channel, so I did.  It was a lot easier going than in Brighton, though a lot longer distance to get to the water's edge.

And while the beach was sand, not pebbles, it was still hard to walk on because of these hard ridges that I assumed were made by a fast receding tide.

I got into my car--which I had just parked on the street near the beach--and started to leave town.  But I just had to get this shot out of my car window--much to the chagrin of the guy behind me, I'm afraid.  It was just so beautiful

I really have to get back to Houlgate--for a longer time, maybe.

As it was I wanted to explore Deauville and Trouville.

Deauville was once known for a very well-attended film festival and when Sue and I visited there many years ago, we thought the place had an air of pretentiousness.  Perhaps it still does, but I have to say, I really liked the beach there.  First of all, I could park right along the beach road for about $2.  And the beach itself is quite lovely, if a lot more commercial that Houlgate.

On the right of that picture is a huge lineup of changing rooms.  The fun thing about them is that they are named as well as numbered--with the names of film stars and directors.

And on the beach there are umbrellas to rent--with curtains to keep the sun out completely, if you like.

There is a restaurant on an old boat

near the place where you can park your yacht.

I sat down at one of the many bars and had a glass of wine.

Deauville seems more family friendly than it did when I was here last.  There is even a miniature gold course near the beach and pony rides.  But it is definitely on a much larger scale than Houlgate, as seen by these massive buildings on street that parallels the beach.

I also wanted to see Trouville, which I understood had overtaken Deauville as the place to be for the cool French.  I drove there but it was so crowded I did not get out of my car, not that I could have found a parking space.  This was the first town in Normandy that I thought was really like Paris.  There were sidewalk cafes and bars all up and down the street that went along the inlet that separates Trouville and Deauville.

And the buildings look a lot more that those you would find on a Paris street.  One other attraction might be the huge casino on the beach.

At this point, I was beginning to think about returning to St. Fraimbault, but I do want to come back to Trouville and explore it on foot.

Paris--and London--revisted

This is the problem with writing a blog a week after the fact.  You forget some things--and maybe for good reason.

There were two things I wanted to add to our story in Paris.  The first is that on Wednesday night we were discussing my trip to Paris by way of the Eurostar train that goes from central London to Central Paris and we got this crazy idea.  Why not take the train the next morning to London, just for the day?  Of course I was for it.  I love London, as people who read this blog will know.  So I got online to see whether we could get tickets.  I put in the next day for going and the same day for coming back--or at least I thought I did.  (There were defaults for the dates that had to be overridden).  We had to do the search a number of times but finally got tickets that I bought with my Amex card and were already to be on the train by 9:13 the next morning.  We were insanely excited about doing something so cool and spontaneous.

When I got up in the morning, I was thinking how easy it was to get tickets--and how cheap they were considering the late date and something entered my mind.  Had I changed the default date for coming home the last--and successful time--I ordered them?  I looked online and to my horror, we were set to come home five days later.

We went to the train station and to the ticket office and tried to change them.  But as luck would have it, Britain was starting a bank holiday weekend and the trains coming from London to Paris that night were almost full which meant that the tickets that were left were very expensive--about $600 more than we had originally paid.  That was out of the question.  We tried to get tickets for Friday or Saturday, but they were just as high-priced.  We thought about going to London and taking our chances throwing ourselves on the mercy of people whose language we actually spoke.

But in the end we went home and I called the London office of Eurostar and convinced them to refund our money--which they do not normally do.

It was quite a rollercoaster of emotions.  Elation at the idea of going, disappointment at not being about to, fear that we would have to pay for the tickets anyway, and relief that we got the refund.  So by the time we left the apartment for the Champs Elysees we were already exhausted.

The other thing I wanted to mention was that when we were at the gardens at Versailles, the Chateau was playing wonderful music that really put you into the mood of the 16th and 17th Century.  I taped it and I wanted to share.

Yesterday I took a trip to the seaside in Normandy.....I'll write about that soon.

Tour Eiffel at last

Friday turned out to be the day we finally went up into the Eiffel Tower instead of just looking at it.  We decided we would get up very early and be there before it opened to get to the head of the line.  In fact, we arrived soon after the opening and we were way back in the line.

But just like other lines we had encountered in Paris, it went very fast and we were in the elevator and on the first level in about 45 minutes.  And, of course, Paris is fantastic for people watching and we did not mind the wait.  We were puzzled by the people who were going up and down the line asking for signatures for some sort of petition.  Was it legitimate?  What could tourists have to sign that would mean anything?  Was it just a distraction so that pickpockets could grab your money?  Deciding that the last was a good possibility, we ignored their requests for attention.

At almost all of the tourists spots in Paris--and even in Versailles--you are warned of the presence of pickpockets.    In the Louvre, on the elevator in the Eiffel Tower, in the great halls of Versailles.  The interesting thing is that all of these places cost money to enter, so the pickpockets have to buy a ticket.  "You have to spend money to make money," said Ada.

The first level has a souvenir shop and a snack bar, which we visited later, but we immediately got on the second elevator to the top.  I have to say, that ride is a bit scary.  You can't believe you are going up that high and it looks like there is little protection for you on the lift.  But when you get off at the top, the payoff is spectacular.  There is really no other vantage point in Paris that is so beautiful.  It was definitely worth the wait.

And the screening does give you a sense of safety.

After the Tower, we were off to the place that is just about the opposite--anti-industrial, old-time Montmartre.  This was to be our only guided walk.  Approaching the place where we were to start, I got a little scared when I saw these steps, but I had taken the walk before and did not remember any large climbs.

While were were waiting, we saw this couple doing some Argentine dances for donations.

You really never know what you will see in Paris.

Our guide was Rochelle.

She was very nice, made sure we stopped in the shade where possible and walked really fast.

One of the first places were took note of was the building where Vincent Van Gogh lived for a while with his brother Theo. If you look at this building you will see one apartment with the shutters closed.  Apparently a while ago someone bought the apartment with the idea of turning it into a tourist attraction, but all he did was close the shutters and nothing has happened since.

This is where Ada, Meredith and I first became aware of a fellow on the tour who knew everything about everything and would finish Rochell's sentences before she had a chance to.  Why go on the tour? I wondered.  He was very annoying.  He especially knew everything about pop legend Dalida, whose home was on the tour.  Apparently his uncle had worked with her.  So we had to hear a long story about their collaboration, when really we didn't care about Dalida to begin with.  He didn't ruin the tour, just made it not quite as pleasant as it could have been.

Here is the one of the windmills we saw on the way, but surprisingly we never passed the Moulin Rouge (red windmill).

Some of the streets were just exquisite.

Just around the corner from here we had to make a little detour because a crew was filming something called Divorce: French Style.  I don't know if that was a movie or a TV show but I can tell you that the main actor was tres handsome.

It's amazing how high up you are in Montmartre.  Here you get a bit of perspective.

The tour ended at Sacre Cour, the cathedral that can be seen from many vantage points in Paris.

There is also an art market nearby.  We all sat down for a glass of wine and a newly married couple came through looking like they did not want to be there.  They were both about 5 feet tall and they were egged on by a woman photographer who was a few inches shorter.

It was a bit surreal.  I gave them a round of applause as they left just to make them feel a little better--and they did smile for the first time that I saw.

We went over to the art market and Ada bought a painting that was so new that the paint was not dry.  I tried to negotiate the price of a couple of watercolors and the painter would not budge the 5 euros I wanted, so I walked away.  You have to be ready to walk away but I am sorry now that I did not cave.  Oh well.

We stopped in a number of souvenir shops--Ada found a floaty pen in one, if I remember--and went back to the apartment.  We had tentatively made a reservation for a nighttime canal ride, but I was beat.  Ada really wanted to go; we flipped a coin and I won.  So we went out to dinner again at the same neighborhood place we had visited the night before.

The next morning, we were out early and on the train to Versailles.  Meredith recalled that her Aunt Donna had said that the Chateau was not to be missed.  And she was right.  It is really ridiculously ornate and over-the-top.  It becomes very clear why the French people wanted to overthrow the king.

 The outside is spectacular.  And it appears that they are in the process of re-gilding all of the roofs of the buildings to show how really gaudy it was in the time of Louis XIV-Louis XVI.

But inside, it's even more over-the-top.  Louis the XIV, who first lived there did not want any part of the interior to not be decorated and he got his wish.

The gardens are rightly renowned.

They go on forever, but we stayed relatively close to the chateau.

One fountain in particular caught my eye.  I think this is one of the most interesting, beautiful sculptures I have ever seen.

The fountains were not on.  Apparently there is a nighttime light show with the fountains that you pay extra for.

We were fairly famished at this point and we stopped at McDonald's in Versailles because we wanted to get back to Paris in time to see the Musee D'Orsay, which has a great collection of Impressionist paintings.  But we got to the museum at 5:04PM and the let the last people in at 5 even though it did not close until 6PM (on a Saturday!).  Not exactly the most tourist friendly.

It was probably for the best in any case because Ada and Meredith had to leave at 6AM the next morning to be sure to get the plane back home.  So we went to a new restaurant near the Gare de L'est and had our last steak frites of the trip.

I went with them in the morning as far as the train to the airport leaving from the Gare du Nord.  It was raining for the first time since they arrived and in fact it poured all day--perfect weather for a nap, some cleaning and packing.

Monday morning I made the same trek to the airport, picked up my rental car and drove to St. Fraimbault. Thank God for the GPS that Patrick had sent me!!!!!