Sunday by the Sea in Étretat

Waking up to a brilliant blue sky, especially on a warm sunny Sunday morning,  I found myself longing for the sea; the smells of the salty air, the blue green hues of the ocean, and the squawking of the sea gulls.   Since Paris is only about 2 hours away by car to the beautiful beaches in Normandy, it was an easy decision to go.

Without much advance thought or preparation, we set out just before 10 am, armed with beach towels, flip flops, water, and last minute restaurant reviews.   Even though Deauville is closer and with a sweeping beach, we chose to head towards Étretat, for the very same reasons the Impressionists came there to paint.

Étretat is a small seaside village on the Normandy coast,slightly north of Le Havre.  What drew Monet, Courbet, Corot, and Boudin, wasn’t the beach, but the truly magnificent jutting falaises or cliff formations that are unique and intriguing.

Monet lived about 142 kilometers away on his Giverny estate, but would come several times a year to stay and paint, as seen in two of his famous renderings.     Guy de Maupassant grew up there and often wrote about his childhood memories.

Legend has it that Étretat was once a Viking village, that later inhabited Gallo Romans.  This once sleepy fishing village went unnoticed, until the Impressionists immortalized the sweeping panorama of the sea and the now famous cliffs.

The old seafront was destroyed by the Nazis, in WW II, including the casino, in order to increase a defensive view towards the sea.    The 12th century church of Notre Dame survived as did some of the old village buildings set away from the beach.

The center is dollhouse cute with the typical Normand style wood beam buildings. The old town’s marché displays a commemorative plaque to the UK and American forces, expressing gratitude for their deliverance.

As always, we weren’t the only ones heading to the coast for the first few days of spring like weather.  Uninitiated, I drove towards the center and found myself caught into a meandering web of tiny narrow streets, moving through at  a snail’s pace, until becoming literally trapped in a Sunday traffic jam of sun seekers.

Now a sought out tourist destination, Étretat built three huge parking lots on the outskirts, that I was unfortunately unaware of before attempting the impossible.  Freeing myself took a good 20 minutes, before I could even attempt to look elsewhere.

With the above parking lots full, this was proving to be more difficult to park than even in Paris!  Only with some luck, did I finally maneuver into a place, so tight against the  adjoining high rock, that I couldn’t exit out of  the driver’s side.

Having been unsuccessful in reserving a table at a new restaurant I was intent on trying, I was sulking somewhat as I usually do, if deprived of my gastronomic strivings.  Yes, I came for the beach after all, but had planed on a lovely lunch as part of the overall pleasure.

Traffic jams, and parking troubles had left me hungry, but since I couldn’t dine where I wanted, I allowed myself to be coaxed into what looked like a beachfront touristy place.  Intent on ordering whatever I felt they would have a hard time ruining, I settled on Moules Marinieres, or mussels, Provencal style.

I ordered a bottle of Normandy’s famous sparkling apple cider, brut, as I did not want the heaviness of any wines.    As soon as they put the huge pot of steaming mussels in front of me, clouds of herbs and garlic wafted up and I felt immediate relief , knowing that I stood a good chance after all of eating well, albeit much more simple and rustic than envisioned.

Sometimes simple well prepared pleasures can climb the ladder of top gastronomic memories, such as the first course of slender French green beans I ate on a boat returning from Morocco, or a platter of cream slathered fresh mushrooms, garlic and parsley in a small country village in Auvergne.

The mussels were succulently tender and perfumed perfectly with a bouillon of fresh tomatoes, white wine,onions, garlic, rosemary and thyme, nestled under the pile of mussels.  Honestly fresh and delicious!

Marinated mussels is a Normandy specialty, usually served alongside with French fries.  I like making them at home, minus the fries, because it is easy and fairly quick to do.  The only work involved in getting the tiny mussels out of their shells into your mouth!

Surprisingly delighted and well satiated, we headed to lay out on the beach!  The only drawback with Étretat, is that their beach is not covered with sand, but with millions of white pebbles.

Not easily walked on for any distance and rather murderous on bare feet, we spread our towels on the lumpy dumpy pebbles, which thank heavens were all nicely rounded and smooth.  Though I prefer a sand beach, we came for the ocean in our face and the mysterious cliffs seen in the photos.

The tide was coming in, catching a few off-guard with foamy white sprays of breaking waves.  The seagulls were floating nearby looking like they were enjoying gawking at all the tourists lying around everywhere.

I would have loved to have joined them bathing in the crystal clear waters, but even standing in the freezing cold tide for less than a minute proved too painful for me.  Nevertheless, I saw one brave soul frolicking nearby.

Staring out over the ocean makes me more reflective than I already am, which is my normal demeanor.  The rhythmic pounding of the waves puts me in a meditative mode, where I can just Be.

The ocean always reminds me of the rhythmic ebb and flow of life, the continuity of living that precedes us and will remain the same for eternity.  The untamed power one feels, as the huge waves roar onto shore, rolling and curling underneath, while unleashing tons of energy at the same time.

Just as the ocean sucks back to her depths the freshly oxygenated water from the shore, our lungs do the same in successive breaths till our dying day.  Our unconscious is as likewise as deep, murky and hidden as the deepest blue sea.

Within our human bodies we have multiple processes to maintain a constant ratio of salt and water, and other primary elements vital to life as much as the oceans and seas do.  Trashing our bodies with toxic foods and emotions is akin to clogging our oceans with our plastic refuse.

The oceans demonstrate visually every day the pull and gravity of the moon by the raising and lowering of tides.  With human bodies averaging about 57% of water composition ,we are also subject to  same physical laws, however unproven as of yet.

All those negative charged ions, given off by the sea recharge, uplift and refresh me, like an transfusion of joy. When you are surrounded by such beauty, even the hard pebbles underneath, like life’s everyday problems, can often be forgotten.

As the golden sun started to dip lower in the horizon, I knew it was time to start heading home, as the drive back promises a jammed pack route, with all the other Parisians returning to the city of Light. Saying goodbye to the seashore is difficult for me, as I feel much reluctance to be pulled away from such a revitalizing source.

As expected, 40 kilometers outside of Paris,  the cars all came to a stop, this time for an accident, then resumed to intermittent fluidity and a slow crawl. Hard to avoid this inevitable backup, unless one drives in extra early or very late.

The shimmering lights of the Eiffel Tower welcomed us back as we crossed the Seine, as if to celebrate our return.  Despite the much longer drive back, traffic jams and parking woes, it was all worth our little day trip to the sea, prompting promises of returning up and down the coast at least once a month!