Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie – Freedom (for a Day)

Two months ago, in another life and on another continent, I said goodbye to the ocean and to summer in Maceió.

This was the anti-Maceió. Forget about warm breeze, calm waters, palm trees and half-naked Brazilians—enter strong winds, big waves, deep grey waters and fully dress French beachgoers.

Travel restrictions in France were lifted on May 3, “first weekend of freedom” newspaper headlines announced. When new restrictions were implemented in April, my mom and I had joked that we would go wherever we damn please—really, we just had to make an excuse and document it, you can get away with pretty much anything in France as long as you produce appropriate paperwork—but we ended up staying put. We had work and things to do, non-essential businesses were closed and the weather wasn’t that great in April anyway.

But suddenly, on Saturday night, I felt like going somewhere, so I bought two train tickets to Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie, one of the easiest beach destinations 75 minutes from Nantes.

Then I realize I didn’t know what to expect in Saint-Gilles. I don’t know the town that well, we only go there in the summer when the main pedestrian street and the beach are lively and packed. This is a place where if locals aren’t busy fishing sardines, they are busy selling sardines to tourists. Presumably, the fishing industry had been able to keep on operating but small businesses must have been closed for months, both because of the lack of tourists and because of the fall and spring lockdowns.

Oh well. At least, my mom was happy to go somewhere, anywhere, and so was I.

We got off the train and decided to start with (take-out) coffee. It was noon, so rush hour at the bakery.

“Shit, the cops,” my mom sighed, putting her mask back on—marks are mandatory both indoors and outdoors in France, but we do cheat a lot because sometimes, you just need to breathe.

“Relax, I think they’re just… yep, buying sandwiches. They don’t even have their mask on,” I pointed out as the two gendarmes left the bakery.

We stepped in.

“Four people max inside, please!”

“But we’re a family of five,” the couple in front of us complained.

“I wonder which one of their children they’re going to abandon,” I whispered as we stepped out and waited for our turn.

We strolled through the picturesque town with old houses and flowers everywhere, then we stumbled upon the Sunday market where people were fighting over the last fresh oysters.

It was sunny and pretty warm until we reached the beach where it was suddenly windy and foggy. Around here, this kind of weather means the sun could come out of nowhere eventually… or not.

“Ça va se lever,” we said with more confidence than we felt.

The sand was actually pleasantly warm but I wouldn’t have gone for a dip—the water was freezing, which didn’t seem to be an issue for plenty of surfers and families. I could already picture them on Monday—”so, COVID or just a cold?”

The beach was busy, busier than I would have expected, with groups of people eating, reading and playing as if it was a hot July day. Most of them were fully dressed though, so I wasn’t dreaming, it was actually pretty chilly.

My mom found a spot to soak up the non-existent sun and I went for a walk on the beach and through the sand dunes. When I came back, she admitted she was about to run on the spot because she was getting really cold.

Indeed, suddenly, it was cold. The sun wasn’t coming out after all and apparently, everybody had reached the same conclusion at the same time because we were all getting up and leaving. We all ended up on the beachfront street ordering €1 coffee—to go, of course, God forbid we catch COVID sitting on a terrace, it’s much, much safer to take chairs and tables away and have everybody… sit on the ground or on a wall. Never mind.

We walked along the beach, then we took the long breakwater to the lighthouse. It was windy, waves were crashing on both side and we were soaked.

“See, I never feel comfortable surrounded by water. Like… right now.”

“Mom, you should have reminded me! You wanted to walk all the way to the lighthouse!”

“Well, yeah. Because it’s also kind of fascinating.”

“You’re a masochist.”

We found our way back to the train station just in time to grab a couple of local treats at the bakery.

Not as exotic and warm as Brazil, but still a fun day.