My First Trip to Western France

My first trip to western France was many years ago, and, while I knew it had made an impact on me, I didn’t know just how much until years later. One seemingly small decision ended up altering the course of my life and introducing me not only to a new part of France, but also to someone who would teach me some valuable life lessons, lessons that I strive to incorporate into my daily life and work.

During my study abroad in Paris in 1990, I immersed myself in French language and culture, and I found myself feeling oddly at home there, more at home than I had anywhere up to that point. After I returned the States, my mind often wandered back to Paris, of the long walks along the Seine, the morning baguette or pain au chocolat, of days spent walking down the little side streets filled with grand buildings and sweet little shops, and of the cherished works of art at my favorite museums.

I dreamed of going back to France one day, this time staying for an extended period of time either in Paris or another part of France. Of course, many people find Paris incredibly alluring. It is the place that has inspired countless books, films, and songs. Poets, play writes, artists and actors, it seems that almost everyone who has traveled to Paris falls in love with her, and many dream of living there one day. And so it was with me as well.

Many years later, and after one subsequent trip with friends, my wanderlust and longing for Paris only intensified and I knew that I needed to go back. I sold just about every piece of jewelry I had (and anything that wasn’t nailed to the floor) and enrolled in a 4-week French course in Paris. It was time for a French language – and life – reboot in the City of Light. The next step was to find a relatively cheap apartment in the arrondissement that I knew fairly well.

Since I had always planned to be live in France permanently, I wanted to try my hand at renting a place through a French agency (no airbnbs at that time). I found a reasonably priced short-stay rental, completed all of the necessary paperwork, navigated a few obstacles, and was on my way to the city I had not been to in a few decades.

Once I had sent the deposit, I was able to connect with the woman who owned the apartment. She seemed kind, and patiently answered my many questions. About a month later I was on my way.

From the first moment that I arrived at the apartment, I knew that I had made the right decision. The apartment was right in the middle of the city, but the complex had a courtyard full of flowering trees, shrubs for privacy, and even a fish pond.

The owner, “J” as I will call her here, was indeed as dear in person as she was in her email correspondences. To boot, she had that zest for life that you hear or read about and was smart as a whip. We chatted for a while that first meeting, and soon found that we had a lot in common. Amazingly, she had even spent time in the Midwest when she was younger. As I lie down that first night in my little studio apartment, I found myself feeling very grateful to have chosen that particular apartment out of the several hundred on that website.

“J” was exceedingly kind and tremendously helpful. She knew that I had come to Paris alone, and called every day or two to check up on me. Had I figured out the washing machine? Yes, with a little trial and error. Did I remember to water the rose bushes? No, but I’ll do that now! Did I have any trouble with the entry code? No, I wrote it down because I knew I’d forget. Did I find the nearest grocery store? Yes, I already have my favorite.

I appreciated her caring nature immensely. Though I felt completely comfortable being in the city on my own, it was nice knowing that she was only a phone call away. Before that trip, I had suffered a huge loss and a great deal of pain. While I don’t think it’s healthy to run away from issues, I think that travel can be both a means to lose yourself and a way to find yourself. I think it has to do with being completely out of your comfort zone and having to rely solely on your wits to find friendships, entertainment, and happiness. I will always be thankful to France for reminding me of how strong I am, even if I forget that sometimes.

“J” and I spoke often for a few weeks, and she was quickly becoming a dear friend. Then, one day, she rang me to say she was going to her family home in Piriac-sur-Mer for most of the summer, and did I want to come down for a few days? I couldn’t believe it! How could I refuse such an incredible offer? I bought a train ticket straight away and eagerly went to Gare Montparnasse, ready to explore a completely new part of France.

The train ride was smooth and easy, and the 3 1/2 hour ride gave me plenty of time to relax and enjoy the views of the French countryside. While I had been enjoying my time in the city tremendously, I loved watching the buildings fade into the rolling hills and farmland, with charming little towns and villages here and there, tucked far into the hillside.

I took the train to La Baule, where my friend picked me up. She had spent many summers there as a child, and wanted to show me the beaches where she used to play and swim.

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On the way to her home, she showed me the salt marshes, and explained that it was here that the Guerande sea salt is cultivated.

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When we arrived at her house, I was introduced to her best friends and their grandchildren, all of whom were staying there as well. They were all so warm and friendly, and their grandchildren delightful. I felt incredibly lucky to spend the next 3 days with them all, chatting about life and travels, family and recipes, the newest expositions in Paris, our favorite books, and playing with the little girls outside on the swing set.

My friend had kindly gone to the market that morning and purchased a complete fruits de mer, essentially every kind of creature that had ever lived in the sea. My family didn’t eat much seafood, so it was truly a sight to behold! I can’t begin to explain the smells, tastes, and textures, but it was a true sensory experience and one that I won’t ever forget. I felt so blessed that she had gone through the trouble of making my first visit to the area so special.

The lively conversation and laughter reminded me of being at my grandparents’ place for Sunday or holiday dinners. You know the kind, where everyone is talking and sharing stories and tasting everything, and everyone leaves happy and full from a meal prepared with a great deal of love and care. I crawled into my bed that night, leaving the window open for a long while, feeling incredibly blessed, relaxed by the soothing sound of the waves against the shore, and I fell asleep feeling happier than I had been in a long, long time.

“J’s” home is located just a few minutes’ walk from the ocean, and every day we made the trek – at least once – to the water’s edge, climbing dunes and walking the trails, finding new places to explore, and visiting old favorites.

I loved the feeling of the sun and breeze on my face, and took in the contrast of colors. The deep browns in the rocks, the intense blue of the water, and the white fluffy clouds would be an artist’s dream palette …..

We even found some treasures, left by some previous visitors …

I have had the pleasure and honor of visiting my friend and her family 3 times since that first trip. Her home still fills me with such joy and comfort. It’s one of those homes where you walk in and feel immediately at ease, and I will be forever grateful for her for sharing it with me.

Piriac-sur-Mer is in the Loire-Atlantique department, in the Pays de Loire region of Western France. It is a small town, with just over 2,000 residents, and is often described as a “charming fishing village”. It reminded me instantly of family trips we took when I was a child, to places like Cape Cod and little coastal towns in Maine.

The little town is a delight to walk through. It is bright and colorful and full of charm. It seemed that there was something beautiful to see at every turn.

As with so many towns in France, homes built with nearby stones still stand hundreds of years later. Each little side street holds a treasure. I love how the foliage and flowers cascade down these old walls, the slope of the roofs and windows, and how the sunlight plays on the varying tones of brown and grey stone. Tiny flowers break through the little cracks, filling emptiness with something beautiful.

This was one of my favorite houses, with its white walls, deep blue shutters, and bright, happy flowers.

We stumbled upon this little chapel, originally built in the 13th century…

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And this little brown door that made me smile….

It’s amazing, isn’t it, how one decision – like the decision to rent that particular apartment and not another – can alter the course of your life? It was because of that trip that I wanted to explore more of Western France, and later led me and my husband to find our future home in Brittany. I learned so much about myself that summer in Paris and those days at “J’s”, primarily about the importance of connection. Imagine if my friend had not called to check on me, and/or if I hadn’t taken the time to get to know her. Yes, life is truly about making connections with people and making them feel special and welcome. It is about taking the time to enjoy the little moments, as they end up being some of the most important moments of your life.

General information about Piriac

http://www.map-france.com/Piriac-sur-Mer-44420/

https://www.france-voyage.com/tourism/piriac-mer-504.htm

https://www.francethisway.com/places/piriac-sur-mer.php

Piriac is about a two hour drive from Rennes and a 3 1/2 hour train ride from Paris.

Note: I have had the pleasure of visiting this town a few times since that original trip, so these photos span a few years.

Thank you for reading. Please comment below with your favorite travel experience and life lessons you’ve learned. I would love to know!

Amy