(TAN): We decided to walk, from the Le Havre station to the beach. The road led us straight, along the part of the city that was left in rubbles by the 1944 bombings.
It was a wet, windy morning, sometimes making us the only humans on the road. It was July, but it felt like summer hasn’t arrived yet in Le Havre, a port town built and rebuilt over centuries. Just like us, trying to fit into this new world rebuilt by how protective our masks are and how much we sanitize anything we touch.
France had just lifted the travel ban on domestic travel, but the trains and small towns were still sans tourists. As we walked along, the town unfurled.
Blocks of rebuilt housings, a modern transport system, a canopy of trees punctuated by patches of the chaotic beauty of lavender blooms near the ground. The bistros and brassieres setting up for the lunch service, and more people walking towards the beach. The beach crowded with pebbles and seagulls and colourful changing rooms, the photos of which takes you back to Paris metro stations.
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Metro stations that are filled with posters of how beautiful, serene and safe it is to travel as long as you follow hygiene regulations. Museums were slowly opening up around the country, people were having picnic in the parks, the terraces were full.
Parisians were rejoicing, they couldn’t remember the last time they had their beloved city to themselves in summer! It was again safe to walk around the Sacré Cœur at night, meet up friends around tourist attractions, cycle along the Seine without having to curse unassuming tourists queuing up for a river cruise.
The Eiffel, still closed to be conquered, the viewing gardens were swarmed by picnicking Parisians. A scene, which seemed alien to the residents of Le Havre when we decided to soak up the late sun along the beach. Perfectly green spots were empty, with people sitting on the stairs that led to the water.
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Maybe that is what happens when you live near water? You want to be as close to it as possible at any time. Maybe that’s why ghats in India are so important. No matter the city, feet dipped in the river with a chai in hand spells home! Le Havre didn’t seem to be any different.
But then, it’s also a place where you can just walk along the road leading to the port, to spot the flag of your country, or find public informations in English, or be greeted by the smiling locals (who we thought were smiling through their masks) everywhere.
This was my first time outside Paris since I moved to this country, and the first thing that struck me as the train pulled out, was how similar the areas just outside stations are all over. Meter houses, signal rooms, graffiti…
But it’s the small stations that allure, the ones without the frills. Maybe that’s why they say, Life is in the small moments!
The author is a student of patisserie at Le Cordon Bleu, Paris.
You can follow her on Instagram and Facebook.
Awesome photographs, lovely description,felt like walking in the streets of Le Havre.
Amazing… wish i were there there…. ALWAYS….