When Himself said an early start, he wasn’t kidding. Our crossing is at 8.30 but ferry loading starts at 6.30. 6.30!!!
The last time we crossed to France was shortly post Brexit. We went through two sets of thorough vehicle searches to ensure no unintended passengers were on board. And there I was, thinking they’d toss the fridge for cheese, now amongst the many things not allowed to transit freely between the UK and France. People with holiday homes had been delivered a blow too – their once free passage to and fro is now restricted to 90 days every 180.
It’s a six hour ferry ride and the first (incredibly) that’s been anything other dead calm – Himself copes remarkably well nonetheless as the ship rock and rolls a little.
It might have taken 48 days, but we’re finally in France. The plan is to slowly cruise the northern coast from Cherbourg to Calais, hopefully serving to both keep us within our mileage limit and deliver a last, if petite, French adventure.
By the time we settle it’s mid afternoon, almost apero hour. There’s just time for a walk through the old town square with its gorgeous belle epoque theatre before we settle harbour side for drinks.
The French have an exceedingly sensible approach to the day. It doesn’t start early. Lunch on the run is unheard of – it takes a full two hours, with wine and on the way home from work, you stop for apero, drinks with friends to unwind before you head home. Just my kind of place. We indulge in a spot of people watching harbour side.
The latest in efficient cars tootles by – this teacup sized electric Fiat makes the original Smartcar look huge. I wouldn’t like to be in a accident in one mind..
The next day affords a little more time to explore. We see Cherbourg’s oldest residences, with a history tied to the 100 year war between England and France. All must be forgiven as English voices can be heard everywhere.
There’s only one sensible thing to do on our first full day in France and it’s of course lunch. Yesterday the market square was empty, but today it’s a thriving market (the cheese!!!) surrounded by a buzzing restaurant scene.
Himself’s first choice was inexplicably closed but there’s a plenty to chose from. We settle for a what proves a delicious lunch: lamb shank for Himself and my beloved goat’s cheese salad. Neither of us can resist tart tatin to finish. Himself’s lamb shank melts with the suggestion of a fork.
Post lunch we wander a little further and discover and eclectic mix ranging from WWII bunkers, to a seagull nursery in harbour, ever present cheese shops and florists.
There’s a mandatory stop for baguettes and flan before we toddle off home, happy and replete.
We’re near the La Cite de la Mer, an enormous tourist attraction that combines a nuclear submarine and other submersibles, a Titanic display (Cherbourg was the Titanic’s second last stop pre disaster) and an aquarium. We can’t really do it justice this late in the day – it’s clear there’s a lot to see outside of the below public display. That nuclear sub was as large as a plane.
We leave on Sunday, but not before a quick stop at Carrefour. There’s a festival in yet another square – beer perhaps? More importantly, there’s a food stand selling morbier, jambon and cornichon baguettes with the cheese melted under a raclette grill. Hello…that’s Himself waiting his turn patiently as a series of French crooners entertain the crowd. It’s a lovely way to end our time in Cherbourg.
Miss Baci Travels 