We both awoke with the
horn this morning, and not the agreeable sort either. This was the rude
awakening of the Croissant person arriving to sell all sorts of pastry
delights. Matey in the van went round every part of the campsite with what
amounted to a ships horn blaring out to advise you he/she was here. Pain au
Chocolate indeed. The latest brand of Lidl coffee soothed our nerves before we
ventured into Jumieges for a mooch about. We were intending to go to the Abbey
but the entrance fee was high so we put up with peering through the gates. Quite
an astonishing sight, but sadly destroyed by the French Revolutionaries. Talk
about shitting on your own chips.
Honfleur is the
destination of choice today. Or at least that was the plan. While driving along
(or attempting to, hurricane gale force nine, going nowhere fast), Noush realises
she has been looking at the wrong place on the map and is actually taking us to
Harfleur, not Honfleur. Not one word about women and maps, ok, not one.
Thankfully through a bit of fancy footwork ce n’est pas un catastrophe and is
indeed a bit of a blessing as we get to go over the Pont de Tancarville which,
while proving nearly impossible to stay on due to hurricanes and great height
not mixing too well, provided some pretty spectacular scenery for a mere €3.10.
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We find the obligatory
McDonalds for some wi-fi and more coffee. Once again wi-fi service is swift,
coffee is yummy, staff are polite, place is immaculate. Would that everything
in life worked as efficiently. Have our standards slipped to say such things
about a fast food joint? Couple of hours of admin later and after a bit of
minor rage about the ineptitude of certain people who can’t seem to understand
the simplest of instructions (why can’t they be more like McDonalds and just
get it done??), we arrive at Honfleur and what may well be the biggest Aire in
the whole world ever.
This is more like a
vast Camper Van production plant than an Aire. The book of occasional fiction tells
is that it can cater for 200 Campers. For once we agree. It’s also cheap at €10
which includes electrical hook up, and it is a 5 minute walk into Honfleur
along the harbour. Perhaps Ronald is influencing more than wi-fi and coffee
today.
We have a minor
performance with the pay machine which wants €10 in change. We only have €9.80.
Damn it. The van is searched in a military fashion, every draw and nook and
cranny. Surely there is €0.20? If there is (and there was the other day but now
it’s gone) we can’t find it. Noush spots some fellow Brits staring blankly at
said cash machine and goes over cap in hand for the change and they kindly
oblige. Result. 5 minutes later we see them walking past the Van and hear them
cursing their lack of change to feed the machine. Had to laugh.
We go for a wander
into Honfleur, it all looks very inviting in the afternoon sunshine, said
sunshine holds true from the van to the start of the town (a whole five
minutes), but the very minute we set foot on the pretty cobbled streets the sky
turns black and the heavens open. We have no option but to dive under a café
awning, along with everyone else and seek shelter. What results is an impromptu
flood. Noush has unfortunately chosen a seat next to a drain which promptly
overflows and swamps her feet. Snotty useless waitress woman is no help, but we
are beaten at this point and retreat inside. Is this Honfleur or on pleut?
Thankfully the
downpour doesn’t last and we are able to escape some five minutes later. The
streets of Honfleur are cobbled and while pretty and charming are a total death
trap when wet, every other step is a narrowly avoided flip flop fail. There are
a plethora of cafes, all towered over by long, tall, skinny houses that are
reminiscent of Dutch architecture. The influence is marked. We stroll around
and admire this charming little port. It’s positively teeming with people. The
town is full of art galleries and bric a brac shops, all centred around the
small harbour, all very chic-boutique. In the distance you can see (and hear)
the industrial port of Le Harve but this somehow doesn’t detract from the
charm.
After another culinary
delight back in Onzo (yep you guessed, Lidl again – this has to stop) we make
the most of another break in the weather and head for the beach. There are more
beautiful parts of France but we are surprised by the delights that parts of
the north of France have to offer. So much tourist traffic must just leave the
ports and head further south, perhaps they don’t know what they’re missing. The
beach is beautiful and almost deserted, we walk for ages and barely see a soul:
just the occasional couple out with a dog and the passage of vast ships almost
silently gliding by to keep us company.
At the entrance to the
beach and along the promenade back to Onzo we see a few memorials to mariners and
we give acknowledgment to the history of the place and to those in peril, lost
at sea.
