Direction: la Pointe pour le mariage de Clémence et François. I lived in Normandy for a year of high school, but I had never been to THIS part of Normandy. This is all the way up there, Normandy. This part of Normandy you can bet you’re bottom dollar you’ll have zero cell service and when you do it’ll be a notification welcoming you to the United Kingdom, which definitely made for a good laugh. To situate what the French often call La Pointe (sometimes a general term, adaptable for other regions too, like Bretagne), but this one is up northwest of Cherbourg.
The sun was out, the skies were blue. The religious ceremony was in the sweetest little church in a town next to the seaside and what some call the smallest port of France, Port Racine. And then we followed the bride and the groom – who were in a rad & sporty vintage convertible – to nearby botanical gardens where the vin d’honneur and dinner took place over sunset, it was all just dreamy as can be. The salty seaside air made our hair wavy and thick, and we feasted and danced with the newlyweds.
The next morning we drove up around the tiny roads along the foggy coast before heading back to Paname, it all felt very untouched, which I think most definitely adds to its charm. More Norman summer weekends? I think yes.
It’s that time of year, Paris fills up again. The frenzy of going back to school. As at the office the end of summer blues have come to the surface, I’m off enfin on my own summer break. Keeping my fingers crossed for an indian summer in Bretagne.
A few things worth sharing:
The Work We Do Podcast, perfect for all creative minds. Hosted by my rad friend Victoria.
I’m craving to learn new things lately. Ever get that feeling? For those in Europe, check out OpenClassrooms.
Getting my daily dose of news with NPR’s Up First.
Currently listening to Cheek to Cheek.
Paris is constantly changing. My Paris guide clearly needs an update. Will get on that.
Paris in the summertime really is charming, and how can you not like the fête forraine at the Tuileries gardens. Really. Although I’m that person who complains when it’s too hot, I have to confess that my comments must be ignored because the Parisian summer bliss only lasts for a short while, so we’ve got to enjoy it while we can.
For those of you that don’t know, Paris in August (and all of France aside from bumpin’ seaside towns for that matter), is indeed something to experience. Heaps of restaurants and shops close up for the summer and half of the city’s population embarks on adventures that involve ocean breezes and endless bottles of rosé far from Paname. Basically, it’s empty. Suddenly at rush hour there’s plenty of space in the train, half of your office is gone and your favorite parks are weirdly calm when you set up for your rosé apéro with friends after work. The days are long and terraces are packed with the only people that are left in the city.
It’s a strange time of year because you’re so happy that places are less crowded but then you try to go to those cafés or little restaurants you really like and never have time to go to and when you arrive you immediately see the little sign on the closed door with beautiful handwriting that reads Fermature annuelle, retour le 28 août ! Le sigh. I’ve even see a newly opened restaurant still take it’s August off for annual leave. It’s another world here.
On the bright side, the bords de Seine are becoming increasingly rad (did you see this?), and rooftop bars are now a thing. Cheers to summertime.
This little orange rose mom wanted to pick so bad when we were exploring the botanical gardens in Rouen last summer. May all you mothers out there, and the mothers around you, be spoiled rotten. Let’s be honest, every day should be Mother’s Day, but having a day where the greeting card industry pushes us to go that extra mile for mom is not too shabby.