Arcachon - Day 3
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| Église Notre Dame des Passes |
Day 2 poured rain so was mostly spent at the rented flat, broken up with an umbrella-necessary jaunt to a brasserie to eat and use their WiFi to post about Day 1.
Day 3 was predicted to be sunny but windy. I planned, tentatively, to take the 30-minute ferry across the bay to Cap Ferret, home of massive oyster farms, seaside oyster bars, and pretty walks, holding a Plan B in reserve in case the wind was too enthusiastic.
I'd hoped to take the 10:30 over, walk around, eat (yes, I will be brave and get oysters!), then hop back on the boat and head south along the beach to Le Moulleau and explore its small but charming core. Also known as the Spring City (the main beach in Arcachon being Summer and the stately hilltop neighborhood surrounding Parc Mauresque being Winter), it's a little over an hour's walk from the main Arcachon pier near where I was staying via the beach and just about an hour if you cut through neighborhoods.
Alas, between an urgent personal matter and the energetic chop of the waves as I looked out from the pier where tickets to Cap Ferret are sold, I made the decision that today was probably not the right time for someone prone to sea sickness to embark on a watery adventure. So, I stepped out of the ferocious beach winds, found one of the ubiquitous beautiful red benches and pulled our Mr. Google to plot my walk south.
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| Walking south through quiet streets |
Given the wind, a long walk along the sandy beach didn't strike me as the best approach, so I went with Google's usual fastest-way-possible recommendation and headed back to Parc Mauresque and began my winding adventure through side streets in the Ville d'Hiver, down onto lower ground and past more modest homes, ducking in and out underneath overarching trees, awnings and whatever else I could find as someone stupid enough to believe Weather.com's insistence that there would be no rain today to accompany the wind.
So, the walk south was not as relaxing or pleasant as it would have been if I'd listened to my better angels and brought my umbrella, and it took longer because of the frequent duck-ins, but was surely nicer than if I'd strode out across the blustery sands. And I was relieved to be passing by bus stops so that I could opt for a different means of transport back to the flat.
I was frankly a little worn out by the time I saw storefront flags fluttering in the strong breeze up ahead. But, the self-contained suburb of Le Moulleau did not fail to delight. A central promenade from the beach to its Église-Notre-Dame-des-Passes cathedral was laid in beautiful travertine brick and flanked by a shocking number of quaint and inviting cafés and restaurants.
Hooray! I made it.
So, it was time to eat. I picked a café that seemed friendly and reasonably-priced for what I was after and settled in only to be pampered by not one but two lovely wait staff while the sun came out and the promenade began to fill with couples and families exploring their own midi options.
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| Mushroom risotto - I especially like how it comes with a teeny tiny bouquet |
I took my time and relished what a breath of fresh air the last few days had been. A fantastic and beautiful mushroom risotto. (I deduced many hours later, lying in bed, that the mushrooms were almost certainly shitake. Shitake and I are not friends. No matter.)
Mais non, I shake my head, no dessert pour moi. Settle up, then it's about 40 steps to the bus stop where I wait a few minutes and 20 minutes after boarding, I jump off right in front of my front door.
If that's not a perfect, if impromptu, day, what is?
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