I vividly remember standing on the rocky coastline of Brittany, near the small village of Penmarch in France’s Brittany region, and watching the wildest surf possible come in and strike the outcrops, dashing them again and again. It was a blast for a fourteen-year-old!
The first couple of times it happened, my mother and I were flabbergasted! We couldn’t believe our eyes. The cliffs were at least thirty feet high and still the waves hit the tops of them.
My memory is embalmed with the smell and taste of the salt as the water lashed my face. And the lighthouse! Oh, the lighthouse…shining its thunderous beam through the mist. Its rotations, calm and orderly, provided soothing and beautifully surreal feature to mother nature.
Eventually, we learned to adjust to the weather. But we never ceased to enjoy it and often a drive to the beach was in order. Wind would blow in our face and we’d lick the salt off our lips. What a time. Our journey would often take us out to the headland.
Memories like these make me happy to write on the blog. They are precious and are rarely encountered on somebody my age. I look back on them and realise that, whether it is the icy wind that slices through you in Norway or the allures of the Indian Ocean, travelling is a great pastime.
Well, if anyone feels like having a go at learning to speak French and shift geographical locations, then come here. You’ll love it!