Normandy, France
by Valeria Teo
As I walked barefoot on the pebble beach it gave me the feeling of having a foot massage. The intensified sensation always stays in my memory of how the beach of Étretat felt like it was on fire under the summer heat.
I had always dreamed of seeing the scenes Claude Monet portrayed on the canvases with my own eyes. The natural beauty itself is one reason. But the yearning to see through the master’s secrets of colors, brush strokes and representation was even stronger. Normandy was one of the ideal areas to pursue my impressionistic dream.
Besides building his final home in Giverny, Monet painted in a number of locations in Normandy. The Alabaster Coast around Étretat was often featured in Monet’s masterpieces the favorite seaside resort for Parisians that has spread its fame outside the French border.
The chalky north coast of Normandy captures the heart of every visitor at first sight. Years of seawater erosion and weathering have sculpted the coastline on both the west and east sides of the beach, leaving behind towering white cliffs and protruding headlands pierced by arches of various sizes. No wonder Monet visited Étretat every year between 1883 and 1886 and produced more than 60 paintings.
“I’ve decided to go to the seaside. I’ll go to Étretat to do a few beautiful marines for you.” Monet told his dealer Durand-Ruel in September 1885. He brought home La falaise d’Amont. Porte d’Amont on the east side of the beach was different from the one in Monet’s painting. The Chapel of Notre Dame de la Garde, which was built in 1854 on top of the cliff above Porte d’Amont and reconstructed in 1950 due to World War II destruction, is missing on Monet’s canvas and so are the buildings of Étretat behind the beach.
Monet’s view of the coastal scene only became more apparent as my friend and I approached the cliff. Following Monet’s particular perspective of Porte d’Amont, we moved away from the hustle and bustle of the vacationer’s site so we could experience a different Étretat, one which was closer to the untouched Nature.
Monet featured most often in his paintings the arch Porte d’Aval and the pillar Pointe d’Aiguille on the west cliff of Falaise D’Aval. The French writer Guy de Maupassant, whom Monet frequently met up with in 1885, likened Porte d’Aval to an elephant dipping its trunk into the sea. The arch and the 51-meter-high pillar seem to be linked viewed from the beach. Monet painted the scene many times at different hours of the day. The Cliff, Etretat, Sunset of 1883 is my favorite. Monet created a symphony of colors in the sea—a stroke of red next to a bright green; a dash of orange on top of a slash of blue; a light yellow nestled next to gray-violet. As I contemplated the rhythmic and yet subtle movements of the water, I could not help but smile. Did Monet not reproduce them on the canvas as well?
Only until I stayed closer to the cliff could I uncover the true picture of the well-known seascape. The tide did not favor our venture down the cliff to the foot of Porte d’Aval. Missing the opportunity to see the pillar right through the archway as Monet captured it in L’Aiguille, à travers la Porte d’Aval, I could only share Alice Hoschedé’s envy at Monet’s excitement.
“You are right to envy me. You cannot have any idea how beautiful the sea has been for two days, but what talent it will take to render it, it’s crazy. As for the cliffs, they are like nowhere else. Yesterday, I climbed down to a spot where I had never ventured to go before and saw wonderful things there so I very quickly went back to get my canvases. In the end, I am very happy.”
“Monet must have walked towards the arch and painted the scene real fast,” My friend pointed at a warning sign near the cliff. “Low tide only lasts for a few hours. Given the pretty rough sea here, the warning sign doesn’t surprise me when it says high tide returns quickly to the shore.”
We found some consolation in the hike up the cliff of Falaise d’Aval. The sapphire wavy sea and the white pebble beach stretch all the way to Falaise d’Amont in front of the town of Étretat. On the other side of Falaise d’Aval, I was presented with a full view of the arch of Manneporte, the largest of Étretat’s three stone portals. Against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, the white chalky layers of the cliffs glowed under the sun.
Following the trail all the way to the top of Manneporte, I could see, on the east side, Porte d’Aval and Pointe d’Aiguille again next to each other as in L’Aiguille et la Porte d’Aval, Étretat. Monet painted the same motif from the beach below us as well. Bathed in the mellow evening light during low tide, the pillar and the arch in the painting hardly appear overwhelming although they still look gigantic compared with the tiny boats between them. While the view before me was imposing, the painting impressed me with its serenity.
The long white walls seemed never-ending when I looked towards the west. If time had allowed us to go on with our walk, we could have come to another huge promontory, Pointe de la Courtine. When we were retracing our steps on the cliff, Monet’s words in his first trip to Étretat echoed in my mind. “I can’t help but be seduced by these admirable cliffs.”
If You Go:
Étretat is a small town inaccessible by train. The most convenient way to reach Étretat is by car. The drive from Paris takes about two and a half hours. Alternatively, you may start from Rouen, the provincial capital of Normandy, for a shorter ride of about one hour twenty minutes.
If you go by public transportation, you may take a train from Paris Saint Lazare to Bréauté-Beuzeville followed by a bus ride from Bréauté-Beuzeville to Étretat. Train and bus schedules can be checked here: www.seinemaritime.net
Official website of Étretat’s Tourist Office
About the author:
Valeria Teo is a writer and an independent traveler. Her trips have taken her to nearly 30 countries. Having published three travel romances and one collection of essays, she also writes for Suite 101, Mahalo.com, UTravel.com, magazines, newspapers and online publications in both English and Chinese. Born in Hong Kong, she now divides her time between her homes in Split, Croatia and Hong Kong.
All photos are by Valeria Teo.
Spinning rides and vendor booths pack the central square. They are selling wooden toys and traditional crafts and that curious gingerbread that seems to be a fixture of the German-speaking festival: heart-shaped with endearments printed in icing, meant to be worn around the neck. There’s music in the streets, and a group has gathered around to watch an old couple who is dancing a slow waltz. I’m surprised to see how many people have arrived wearing the traditional lederhosen and dirndls. As I squeeze my way between hordes of carousing Austrians, I feel as if I have arrived in the wrong city. I hadn’t pictured the town of Mozart’s birth to have such activity.
The older gentleman sitting across from me tries to engage me in conversation, so I bust out my best German – in my poor imitation of the Northern German accent I had learned in school. I might as well have been speaking gibberish to the Austrian, so we settle on my native tongue. A pair of women join the stilted English conversation, and I finally learn that September 24th is the Feast of St. Rupert, the patron saint of Salzburg. The festival in town occurs on the weekend each year closest to that date.
But then the three Austrians start a new game that I can only describe as ‘inebriate the foreigner’. A second beer from my new friends is in order, but that isn’t all. I’m obliged to accept a glass of Sturm, a young red wine that tastes amazingly like grape juice. Dangerous for a heavy drinker, but very tasty. A wink from the man and scrunched noses from the women tell me I’m in trouble at their next plot. A girl wearing both a long dirndl dress and a barrel comes by our table. The Austrians hand the girl money, and a single shotglass of clear liquid is placed in front of me. All eyes turn my way and I feel a twinge of foreboding.
Hippocrates Tree is located in Kos Town. It is said Hippocrates stood under this plane-tree and lectured his medical students. Although it is unlikely that it is the actual tree under which Hippocrates stood, a far more plausible explanation is that the current tree is a descendant of the one under which Hippocrates lectured. Many health establishments around the world have taken cuttings from this tree and planted them in their own grounds. Hippocrates tree is easy to distinguish as it is supported by a large metal framework. I could not help but feel impressed that a man to whom medicine owes so much might have once stood in this same spot.
The sick would visit the Asklepion which was staffed by several therapists, priests and later doctors. The patient stayed for a few days and might take part in massage, gymnastics, bathing and follow a special diet.
As you approach the Asklepion it opens out in front of you and you can clearly see the three levels that make it up. Naturally, the main temple to Asklepios is at the top. I made my way slowly to the top, partly due to the heat but also so as not to miss anything on the way. My guidebook informed me that the lower levels were once accommodation and that the second terrace contained smaller temples, including one to Apollo. The authentic columns, arches and stone steps still look impressive and make you wonder about the people who used the Asklepios as a centre of healing all those years ago.
The first written records of this Estrucan village are from 929 AD. Named for the former Bishop of Modena in the 10th century San Gimignano is a Unesco World Heritage site and is also known as the city of beautiful towers. During The Middle Ages while at the peak of it’s influence this town boasted fifty-six towers, some standing more then fifty meters tall and visible from anywhere in the Elsa Valley. These towers were not only status symbols to local families as well they served as a medieval early warning system should would be invaders approach. Because of war, the Black Plague in the 14th century, urban renewal and other catastrophes only fourteen of the towers remain and only one, The Grossa tower was open for our viewing.
Being surrounded by so much history can be a little over whelming so we took a time out to clear our heads and check out the terra cotta and glazed pottery. Crafts and pottery that have been produced by local artisans are abundant in the open-air market and shops along Via Giovanni. I couldn’t resist bringing a handcrafted ornament home for my grand daughter.
Fattorio Lischeto boasts a restored rustic farmhouse where we enjoyed the best of Tuscan cuisine and the company of fellow travelers from around the globe. The panoramic views of the surrounding farmland, Cypress groves, rolling hills and valleys could only surpassed the crispy crostini and pancheta, organic pecorino cheese, panchino tomatoes freshly picked from the garden and a drizzle of virgin olive oil. I still smile when I think of the organic Chianti.
While San Gimignano is a busy tourist destination Volterra is what I had envisioned when I thought about an ancient Estrucan town. The City of Alabaster as it is known became important in the 18th century in part because of the quality and transparency of the alabaster in the region. To this day craftsman work in the dust filled workshops where you can watch them work and spend whatever amount you desire large or small for your memories. In celebration of their history of carving Volterra’s Museum of Alabaster boasts over three hundred original pieces, displayed in a 17th century convent.
Early Roman influence is apparent in Volterra with the recent (in Tuscan time) discovery of the ruins of the Theatre of Vallebona from the 1st century and spa buildings from the Augustun age (5th century). Many of the archaeological finds from digs in and around Volterra and the Elsa Valley are displayed in the Guarnacci Museum, one of the first public museums in Europe that was founded in 1761 while the Romanesque style church of St. Agostino is the home to remnants of famous frescoes.
Hidden on the slopes of a great rock known as the Gibraltar of Greece, Monemvasia is one of those rare treasures that tourists usually by-pass. It’s a magical experience visiting this little medieval site. The entire town is walled and invisible from the shore. The steep rock, crowned with its Venetian fortress, is connected to the mainland by a narrow causeway. Motor vehicles are prohibited, but a mini bus takes you free of charge to the old city gates.
From Monemvasia I took the early morning bus heading for Koroni, another Venetian town. After a circuitous route through Sparta, I arrived at Koroni that evening. The castle of Koroni was lit by a mystic green light. Above its turrets, Mars blinked its red beacon; a crescent moon illuminated the sky over the twinkling lights of the village; little kaikis bobbed on the moonlit sea.
The old town of Koroni has long since fallen into ruin, but the Venetian architecture has been preserved, with wrought iron balcony railings, arched windows and doors. The largest, two-storied mansions and public buildings are on the waterfront, while higher up are the smaller Laika (folk) houses with small inner courtyards. One distinctive feature of the Koroni houses are the curved tile roofs and unusual terracotta eave decorations: instead of the usual palmettes, these are like small winged angels.
Which set of the many instructions, bus schedules, and info that I was given by Greek locals would prove to be the right one? After various suggestions I decided to go with the English speaking baker who even drew me a map to explain which village to get off to catch the bus to Pylos/Methoni which, he said, went past every hour. According to his directions, I disembarked at the cross-roads at a village called Rozymalos and waited at a kafeneion for just over an hour until the bus finally arrived.
Methoni’s 15th century Venetian fortress expands over the whole area of the south west cape. Built over ancient walls, it was the prize of many invaders over the ages. The walls loom imposingly over a setting filled with memories of the past. The castle has a protective moat on the land side and is surrounded on three sides by the sea making it impenetrable.
