Sand, Sea and Sun + repeat
You last caught me cycling the French countryside and exploring my pretty hometown on foot, between occasional sunny skies and drizzle days. One grey Saturday afternoon, my sister decided to get a puppy for her girls, so we all piled into the car and got lost in the farm lanes. While this little bundle of coffee breath nibbled my ear, we stopped to shop for puppy essentials at a giant supermarket pet store and attracted more Ooohs and Aaahs than a popular YouTube channel.
After one week of wiping accidents from the living room floor and sharing my sofa-bed with a loudly snoring fur bundle, I decided it was time to let the girls figure it out on their own, and hopped on a train to sunnier shores.
This time I was equipped with experience and zipped through the Paris train station metro change with confidence. Lugging my heavy suitcase up and down steep staircases was a cinch, since there was only one, but I always gratefully accepted help when it was offered. Yes, I have a heavy suitcase because it’s not just a few weeks of clothes in there, it’s a whole recording studio… I can’t get enough of saying yes and sharing a moment with a stranger over a suitcase haul ! No need to exchange names or any information, just trust that they won’t run away with it, and that they’re actually doing this from their heart. It’s not as easy as you’d think, trusting.
And then just when I thought I had it all figured out, there were no taxis at the station in Saint Malo to take me to the Ferry Terminal. None. Nada. Panic. I have 45 minutes to figure it out and get to the port. I thought it would be easy. I don’t know the bus routes, schedules or fares ! OK but I don’t have a choice I have to actually ask someone. So I stuff my fear in my pocket and ask a bus driver which bus might take me there. Turns out there is one that goes directly there, but it leaves the station After my ferry has sailed. &@#. So this very kind driver works out a route for me to take another line and walk the rest of the way. Dry mouthed and soaking in nervousness, I cross the road with my large purple suitcase to wait for the Number 3. Two Swiss tourists cross over a moment later and ask me in broken french to repeat what the driver told me — they’re also going to Jersey on the same ferry ! Feeling stronger as a group, we ride the bus and run the last 300m to the terminal and arrive with plenty of time to mingle with the horde of British day-trippers returning from their lunch and shopping trip across the water. Well, if that’s not a great way to make new friends ! We sat together on the boat and shared life stories and listened to an excited local tell us all about his home-island.
Aaah it was wonderful to set foot on the island of Jersey after a twelve year absence ! The paternal half of my family originates from this lovely little rock, but I always feel like a stranger for visiting so rarely… This year I have time on my hands so I am going to explore it all properly.
But first things first. A swim in the sea. I would never dare a 15°C swimming pool at 8:30 in the morning in Joburg. But this is St Brelade’s Bay, silky white sand behind me, blue-green shimmering water before me, seagulls above and just the slightest breeze to cool the bright sunshine. I told myself, if I can walk across hot coals, then surely I can get in this water. Deep breath, calm mind, a little scream, and I dipped in. It was — wonderful. I had to pinch myself to make sure I really was there ! Maybe I was too numb to feel it, but in any case I didn’t wake up, so here I am writing to you still living this dream.
So far I have swum in five different bays — St Brelades, St Aubins, Grève de Lecq, Le Hocq and Green Island. I am soaking this up. There’s a great heatwave drowning the whole of Europe right now in mid-July, and I can tell you I can’t think of a better place to be than Jersey.
Having family in a place like this is truly a great gift and I cherish it ! We’ve walked in cool forests, hot cliffside heather, the granite sea-front promenade, on sandy and pebble beaches. Watched the tide run out for miles and miles and tractors picking up seaweed to fertilise the fields. Visited thousand-year-old dolmens and world-war-two concrete bunkers.
One evening while walking my aunt’s fluffly dog along the beach we collected fresh cockles off the sand at low tide to take home for dinner. With a cousin, a morning of kayaking at low tide on the clear, clear water of the bay followed by an hour of sun basking, a crab lunch and a walk up to the Corbière lighthouse just before the tide rushed in and covered the walkway.
A sunny happy wedding with an ocean view and catching up with more cousins. Pizza at a beach café tucked away under the cliffs, or dinner in a cosy pub with the dog under the table. Shopping in St Helier town. A jazz evening at the Durrell Jersey Zoo Wildlife Conservation Centre.
This sounds like the shopping list for a dream life. I do feel a bit guilty to have left everyone behind and allow myself to enjoy this so much. But I tell myself I’m having a well-deserved summer holiday and when autumn rolls in I’ll put my head down and get back to work to make sure I can send for them all soon if they’d like to join me.
You might be wondering if I have found my wheels yet ? I’m chomping at the bit, rearing to go, waiting for the end of summer — with the ridiculous price of petrol at the moment, maybe there will be lots more options and better prices in September. I’m not going to let the petrol price stop me, it’s going to just have to be part of the budget. Patience..
Hopefully I’m not boring you to tears and you’ll keep following me :) I’d love to know, so please tell me in the comments section below ! If this is your first read, you’re welcome to sign up to receive my next summer vacation instalment straight to your inbox.
Originally published at https://gaellegosselin.substack.com on July 16, 2022.
