Rolling in the Dieppe, pt 1
BOY let me tell you, I went to Dieppe today (it’s in Normandy, don’t worry, I had no idea where it was either) and it deserves a whole post of its own because it was quite the adventure. If you’ve ever longed for a drawn out post with around 30 photos from me, this is your time to shine.
Going to the beach was not a last minute decision.
I’ve wanted to use a weekend here to go, and the last weekend before heading home was the only time that worked. And so I set off this week trying to find inexpensive tickets to a place that wasn’t too far, so I’d have the whole day here. My home mom recommended Normandy, which I definitely thought was a city (it’s not, it’s a region -- oops!) and so within Normandy, I tried looking for a close city with a swimable beach but the heat from this week legitimately made it hard for me to process information. And so it wasn’t until yesterday that I was finally able to find the closest beach to Paris, which happened to be in Dieppe.
So I bought my tickets the night before, and had to print them at the station.
That’s fine, right? Nope.
Well, the train station connects to the metro station and so it was really far to walk and then I had issues with the machine because my card doesn’t have a chip and then the information lady couldn’t help me, neither could the next guy because he was exchanges, and then the first ticket dispenser man couldn’t help because apparently he only prints French tickets and then finally ten minutes before my train was due to leave, the last guy printed my tickets just as I was starting to tear up.
And then my train was late because of security measures and so I missed my connecting train in Rouen and had to take the next train to Dieppe instead and the guy checking our tickets asked me why I had a ticket for an earlier train and I showed him my other ticket and tried explaining that my previous train was late and he just said “is okay” with a heavy French accent.
The moral of the story is that the French will always be French, but it helps sometimes to be a cute American.
Then I finally got to Dieppe at 11a, and the first thing I saw were these boats and some dingy old buildings. I learned later that the train station is in the dumpy part of the town. But I step out, and it’s cold (ha ha ha this is what I get, isn’t it?) and I have my towel and swimsuit with me but it’s only 62F so obviously the beach isn’t going to happen.
And the first thing I think is, “ah shit I have to spend eight hours here.”
But I’m determined to get to the beach somehow but only when it warms up. So I start walking around town and it’s really cute, like I would shoot a music video there if I was an up and coming artist on a budget. Maybe a nice Europop track? Who knows. They’ve got banners, old brick buildings, even a little French dude playing the accordion. It’s great, very French. And so I’m walking around, and the sun decided to hide from me after all I said this week and so the wind is really getting to me.
But I’m really stubborn (in case that was lost on anyone) and so I decide that I will warm up as the day goes on. Never mind the fact that literally every other person I see has on a jacket and scarf. Nope. Don’t care. I see a church, and I’m like “that’s cool, can I go inside?” Nah. Some parts look like they’re under construction and the door’s obstructed, so there’s literally no way to get in. It might open on Sundays, who knows? I didn’t look up anything about the monuments in Dieppe because I only wanted to go to the beach. I even had snacks! And sunscreen.
I applied SPF 50 sunscreen today.
Then I realize that it’s not warming up. Moreover, the closer I get to the beach, the colder it gets. Within the town, the buildings block all the wind. And so I suck it up and re-enter a store and buy a black tunic type thing. It has gaudy patches on it (which is a lot, coming from me! All I’m saying is, I probably wouldn’t put an American flag patch on my jean jacket) but hey, it keeps me a little bit warmer. And I’m walking around the town and it’s honestly very pretty and quaint and I like it a lot.
Finally, I make it to the beach and it’s like 12:30p. Still, the sun is avoiding me and it’s too cold to get into the water, not even to dip my toes in.
And so I did what anyone would have done, I started throwing stones in.
Both arms, just hauling rocks into the ocean. I figure, maybe the exertion will warm me up. It didn’t. But I continued on, throwing rocks. I tried to get as many into the water as possible. My arm is so bad that a lot were still hitting the shore. Let me just say, it was very cathartic. I don’t know what I had pent up inside me, but throwing things into the ocean while the sea just swallowed them up and I could feel the salty wind around me was wonderful.
And so I went into one of the beachside shops and ordered a coffee. Well, tried to, anyway. No one really spoke great English.
But I know how to order a coffee with milk, and that’s what I got.
It was delightful. I’m not sure what was better, the hot coffee or the glass walls keeping the wind off of me. It was kind of awkward, though. I’m sure they get lots of business when it’s sunny but as I was the only one there, the four dudes working would kind of just peek at me as I drank my coffee.
Warmed up, and feeling a bit better about Dieppe, I recall seeing some things going on by the pier, port area. There were lots of sailboats and shops up and I wanted to go back and see what they were all about. I’m still not quite sure what was happening, but I think it was a competition. There were posters up of men with their names, faces, and the names of their boats. So it was either some sort of race, or just over the top show-and-tell. And I walked around and people tried to lure me into their tents, but the joke’s on them!
I did end up buying some postcards because I like postcards. Then I headed back to the town to grab food. I ate at this cute little restaurant that looked more German than French. The people here are definitely less accustomed to speaking English, because when I started to look confused instead of switching over right away as I’m used to in Paris, they just re-explained whatever it is they were saying. Anyway, I had a sandwich and tried to get the restaurant dog to let me pet him, but no dice.
By now, it’s only 3p and I was feeling really full and shouldn’t have had the whole sandwich.
What could make me feel better? Going to the sea, that’s what.
The salt was really good for me. So I went back, and there were more people there, finally. I saw a guy play fetch with his dog, and they moved into the water. I thought to myself that sticking my feet in the water was a great idea. It was still only 65F out, and the heat had brought on some gnarly sore throat, headache combo that I was only just starting to feel better from. And yet, I stuck my feet in.
It was both a good and bad experience. That part of me that needed to go into the ocean was extremely satisfied. I can see why people go to the beach to think, it’s very calming. And then, my feet were not super happy because it’s a pebbly beach so I stood on a bunch of rocks just to dip my toes and have them get cold. But it was invigorating, so overall a good time.
I stood around and people watched and then I really just tried to take in my surroundings. I saw this castle on a hill and thought to myself, “wow wouldn’t it be nice to see the ocean from up there?”
And the rest is for part 2.