It’s too hot to buy seafood at the market. It’s too hot to walk around without keeping a bottle of water handy. It’s apparently too hot for many Bretons and Nantais because I keep on hearing the approaching sounds of sirens of ambulances speeding through the city after yet another call to treat a heat exhaustion victim.

It might be a good idea to let locals know that drinking beer, cider and wine isn’t the best way to stay hydrated.

This first weekend of August is hot—about 35⁰C and no wind. Every person you interact with sighs and complains about it. “Ouf… fait chaud, hein!” (“Phew… hot, isn’t it!”).

It’s arguably too hot to pack five people into an old car without air con, even for a short one-hour ride to the seaside yet, that’s the option we chose to cool off.

I didn’t sleep enough, I worked late again. When will I understand I can’t fit three days into one?

I’d love to nap for most of the ride but I can’t stretch my legs and there are no headrests. I find a more comfortable position for a few minutes and almost doze off until my dad drives over a series of speed bumps. He’s driving slowly but I suspect the clunker’s suspension is broken.

We spend ten minutes trying to figure out whether we want to go to Saint-Brevin-Les-Pins or Saint-Brevin-l’Océan—it is a big deal because we can’t remember where the best beach is. We end up in Saint-Brevin-Les-Pins where we realize this was not the beach we were aiming for. Saint-Brevin-Les-Pins is too close to Saint-Nazaire and the shipyard, the beach is less popular because it looks dirty.

“Go right!”

“This way!”

“The beach is right there!”

“Just tell me where to go! ‘This way’ doesn’t help!”

“NOT THIS WAY!”

We turn around and finally find our way to Saint-Brevin-l’Océan. We park under tall pine trees.

Perfect beach weather, low tide, a long stretch of sand and a friendly atmosphere.

It’s actually relaxing.