The first (reportedly) hot weekend in Western France was too good of an opportunity to pass up—of course, I went to the beach. I have a love affair with the ocean and even if I wasn’t going to swim, just feeling the sand under my feet was enough motivation to get up early and take the train to Saint-Gilles.

It was hotter than I expected when I arrived around noon. Most people had an existential clothing dilemma—what and how much to take off to enjoy an unplanned “summer” beach day? So some people were barefoot but with a jacket while others were walking around with jeans rolled up as high as possible.

We all looked ridiculous and very happy.

Only a handful of old locals were rocking swimsuits and only a dozen people were brave enough to go for a dip. It was 26°C but the water was freezing cold. My feet went numb just stepping on the wet sand.

Everything felt and looked so fresh from the blooming flowers to the sand dunes, undisturbed for months.

Fingers crossed, summer is coming… in a few weeks, let’s be realistic.