I haven't written in a while because I've been writing--unfortunate piles of essays, that is. Apologies now for any incoherency or delusional commentary in this post...I have premature finals brain, brought on by the onslaught of work, weird (non)sleeping patterns, and the constant state of delirium that accompanies such things. I am so ready for Friday, the official first day of spring break and the only day I have to recuperate before more crazy travels (not complaining)!
Last weekend, I went on a school trip to Normandy. It was a vast improvement from Lille, despite the odd stops we made along the way to the town of Granville. Lille and Lens are essentially flat, agricultural lands; Normandy is more woodsy and has cows!
The first stop was Dior's childhood house, except the house was not actually open. Normally, it's a museum, but it's undergoing renovations. We just stopped by to see the gardens. His house was peachy pink color, with surrounding jewel colored flowers all around.
He had a view of the ocean from the rose garden.
Next stop: an apple cider farm. The faint smell of cow threw me off; there were no animals in sight. Instead, we were led into a chilly cellar that reminded me of sitting in my grandma's dank basement, especially because of the little square TV that played a video done in the "90s-elementary-school-science-lessons" style about the cider making process.
Wax seals
The cider farm even had an actual museum! It's legitimacy as a museum is proven by the fact that they had creepy mannequins dressed up and on display. After the little museum tour about machinery, we were given apple juice samples.
I wandered around the creek before being herded back onto the bus. Everyone clambered back on with bags clinking with bottles of cider (which we were forbidden from consuming on the trip).
We arrived and toured around the seaside town of Granville. The thick fog combined with the briny sea air to create the perfect medieval atmosphere.
We hopped on a boat tour for lunch. The primary views were the dark teal water and spray, but Mont St. Michel was visible in the distance.
The sun came out in the afternoon, breaking the heavy gray clouds. We explored the town, breathing in the fresh air.
My friend found a ladybug. Is lucky to get pooped on by them?
These looks like screensavers. The lush green grass and bright blue sky made me want to roll around in a field.
The next day, we visited Mont St. Michel (i.e. I went to Hogwarts--they even used to have row boats to get onto the island!).
We went up to the church, which is probably the most cohesive church I have seen since coming to France. It was made of sturdy stone walls and patterned pastel windows.
Cloisters
The medieval dining hall, where monks, to this day, eat in silence.
St. Michel slaying the dragon
I loved all the shops' signs.
After a foamy omelette (not your typical texture) for lunch, the NYU staff who was supervising this trip informed us that we'd be taking another walking tour. At this point in the day, we questioned what else there was to see. We'd already climbed the mountainous island to get to the church, traipsed through the town, and saw the mountain kittens. One staff member casually mentioned that it would be a walk through the sand. I came prepared. I'd been wearing my rubber rain boots for the entire weekend, rendered unnecessary thanks to the nice weather. And they stayed unnecessary, as I still had to take off my shoes to feel the nice squish of the mud between my toes on this walk around the island. I knew this was going to happen as soon as I saw our tour guides, dressed in puffy winter vests, swim trunks, and dark mud caked like running/toe shoes to their feet.
It was super fun, and I am a surprisingly good trudger-through-mud. Didn't even fall despite all the slipping.
There was a less-enthusiastic crowd who stayed on the island. Some girls had tights on because that's the kind of preparation NYU gives (i.e. none), but they definitely missed out.
The sand/mud patterns changed with the waves when the tide went out.
Our guide had us activate quicksand areas by jumping up and down in a circle. It felt like a shifting concrete parachute beneath my feet. You had to keep running, or your feet would gradually start sinking in.
We found rock-like sand/clay pieces. When you crack them open, you get this thick dark paste. Some of my friends took some back to try to make mud masks.
They also have horseback riding!
Normandy was an incredible fairytale experience. The mud hike was probably the highlight of this trip...in medieval fairytales, does that make me an ogre?
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