Today was a beautiful day—the best kind of day.
Generally, I like to add another day or two to my trips to do fun stuff—museums, historical places, junk stores, and the like. This trip to France, I gave myself a day to hang out, presumably, in Paris.
My friend Naela had other plans: “We’re going to take a day trip to Normandy with Manuela.” I had never been to the region, located on the west coast of France on the Atlantic Ocean. It sounded a bit tiring, right after flying from California, but why not, I thought. And Manuela Mondo (the world’s best go-go dancer, who has recently danced for the Untamed Youth at several different festivals) is super cool, so it sounded like a fun day.
It turned out to be an incredible visit to a really beautiful part of France! All I really knew about the region was that US troops had landed on Normandy beaches like Omaha Beach and Utah Beach during World War II on D-Day, resulting in huge casualties on the American side. These beaches are still there today (with American flags everywhere you look along the coastline there—bet you didn’t know that!), but the region itself is an incredibly beautiful area where cliffs meet the sea. Some of my favorite topography anywhere.
My friend Naela is small, but she’s a bit like a steamroller. It’s just easier to go along with her plans than it is to fight them. So when she said we had to get up at 5:30 am to take a 6:40 train to the Coast, I was less than thrilled. But she was right, it was a good idea, because there are lots and lots and lots of Parisians heading to Normandy this time of year, and we beat the traffic and the crowds.
Once we arrived in Trouville-sur-Mer, Naela and Manuela went straight to the fish market and ordered raw oysters and white wine. Apparently this is a tradition for people heading to the Normandy coast. I’m allergic to shellfish, so I didn’t partake, but I watched these two women sucking down raw oysters and marveled at the veracity. Those oysters didn’t stand a chance.
We rented some bicycles and hit a local bakery before taking off on our adventure for the day. I had two loaves of French bread in my bicycle basket, just like something out of the movies. I also drank four or five Noisettes (an espresso drink similar to a Cortado), thinking it would power me through the day.
Before you all start thinking anything weird, there’s nothing going on with these two women. They’re just friends. I’m friends with their husband and boyfriend. Which of course, leads to the question that surely must be on your minds as much as it was on my mind—if there’s nothing going on, why are these two attractive young French women inviting this weird old American guy along on this adventure? The jury is still out, but my theory is that similar to Wilfrid Brambell’s “very clean old man” character in the Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night film, perhaps I am a medical curiosity, and a bit of comic relief. Seriously though, I’m glad to have such cool friends here in France. It’s very difficult for Americans who don’t speak French to “break through” in France, and many leave with unpleasant opinions about the country. But what I have discovered is if you have French friends, especially bilingual French friends, people accept you into the French culture and are quite nice. Doors open, hospitality is given freely. So I’m grateful for my two female French friends—even though I’m still not quite sure why I was invited along on this caper.
Once we got going, the countryside along the coast was breathtaking and beautiful. We biked along the beach on wooden boardwalks for a while, then got on a steep mountain road heading up the hill to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea. The weather was perfect (even though rain had been predicted), and the views were incredible.
We went through small villages and stopped for local homemade apple cider and wandered the local cemeteries. We stopped at one particularly great-looking old church and realized we better not stop and get off the bikes at every good looking old Gothic church, or we’d miss our train back home.
We stopped for lunch in the picturesque seaside town of Honfleur, a seaside village where the Seine meets the English Channel. Good lord, it was so beautiful. By the time we already got there, all the cafes and bars were already full of tourists. Naela and Manuela whipped up a picnic lunch with sandwiches made of the French bread, cheese, apples, walnuts (so delicious), some cherry tomatoes, and the local apple cider we had bought earlier. Another coffee and a dessert at a local bar, and we were back on the road.
At this point, we knew we were running out of time, but we were determined to go to the beach. We got back to Trouville-sur-Mar and returned the bicycles, then took off walking to find the beach. We finally arrived at Deauville Beach just as it began to rain.
I was struck by all the American flags at the beach, in memory of D-Day. Even though Deauville beach saw no real action (and nothing like Omaha or Utah Beach, an hour away), D-Day and World War II loom large in the memory of Normandy, as it was such an important part of the ground war in World War II.
By 4 pm it was low tide, which meant it took us nearly 15 minutes to get from the beach paved path to the ocean. It began to pour rain and soak our clothes. Hurriedly we all changed into our bathing suits (well, I pulled off my pants to reveal my Cabana Outfit), and we all got in the water. The water was quite cold, and I stopped as the water level reached my gonads with an icy kiss, but the women swam in the ocean for a good five minutes before we realized we had to skedaddle back to the train station to catch our ride back home.
We made it to the train, exhausted, and we all fell asleep on the train ride back to Paris. I don’t normally drink alcohol, but I drank wine and cider and then had four or five espresso drinks too. I fell asleep to the quite unusual combination of complete exhaustion and drunkenness (I get drunk easily) combined with my heart palpitating like I was having a panic attack from all the caffeine. When I woke up on the train, I said to myself, Hey, I didn’t die! Awesome!
Honestly, this might have been one of the best days of my life. Hanging out in a foreign country, with friendly people and great food, perfect weather, having new adventures, and being, well, free as a bird, free as in Freedom Fries, free as in: the real world went away for a few hours and my mind was totally and completely relaxed. Thanks again to Naela and Manuela for spending some time with me and showing me around! French hospitality is A-OK! Also big thanks to Naela’s husband Francis for cooking all of us some delicious ratatouille for dinner!
Oh yeah, last thing! I’m over here in France to play a festival. Tomorrow I will take a train to Bethune, France, to play the Bethune Retro Festival, backed up by my pals from Italy, the Don Diego Trio. I’ll play the Bethune Retro Festival over the weekend on Saturday and Sunday and then I’ll come back to Paris on Monday, hopefully for some more fun and adventure before I fly home. Merci! Bonne nuit!
P.S.: I have decided that when I go on these adventures, I will post mostly still photos on social media, and shoot hi-res 4K video for Patreon subscribers and people who support my upcoming podcast and YouTube channel. These videos will be available as “extras” and will be well worth the little bit of pocket change you might give each month supporting the new “Live at Deke’s House of Music” show. I shot tons of video today and you’ll be really happy seeing these stories come to life.
See many more photos at Deke’s original Facebook post!
