On Saturday, we travel by train from Paris’ Gare Saint Lazare north to Rouen where we rent a car and continue our journey. Our concern about boot size turns out to be unwarranted. I’d rented the “family size” car from Europcar, and they delivered with a Skoda hybrid wagon. Which took me longer - spiraling out of the flat-light-grey spiral parking lot at the train station or exiting Rouen itself? Hard to say.
The road trip wasn’t bad. I think we drove for about an hour before stopping at a supermarche in Ville de Brionne where the friendly, young deli worker added free salami to our package and went out of her way to direct us to a coffee shop in town. Customers waited at her counter while she determinedly sought out pen and paper so that she could write “you will find the coffee at… (name of the place escapes me and I can't find that piece of butcher paper right now) ”
Brionne turns out to be a gorgeous little French ville. It was evidently siesta time when we got there, and most everything was closed. We ate our customary cheese and salami on baguette sandwiches and walked up the hill to find coffee and explore the castle ruins on the hill above. It was a perfect stop for us before continuing on the remainder of the 3+ hour drive to Tourlaville. Rowan slept most of the way, and Berit and Griffin played music and were in remarkable spirits.
Our Bart Simpson AirBnB is very cool - spacious, sparsely furnished and open with a great big patio. Sleeping arrangements aren't bad. Rowan has claimed the outdoor cottage, Berit the bed downstairs and Bennett and I the third floor beds. Griffin has slept once in the bed with Berit and once on the couch.
Sunday was sunny, and we spent the morning hanging out on the pebble beach near our maison. We swam, skipped rocks, read books and generally laid around like you do. Midday naps preceded an evening exploration of Cherbourg, where we ultimately decided that actually speaking to the proprietors in restaurants as we sized them up was better than playing aloof foreigners who approached and receded silently from the establishments.
We ended up at a nice restaurant along the quay (where the ships dock), and culinary experimentation ensued. Results were mixed, but, despite not enjoying everything in my seafood platter (we liked the escargot but found the langoustines useless), I wouldn’t trade the communal experience of trying everything. on it. Berit was totally satisfied with her large, uncut pizza.
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