Barfleur, j'adore

Sometimes you fall in love with a place.

And sometimes, that place falls in love with you.

Call it karma, fate, whatever; have you ever felt it?

I felt it the first time I visited Barfleur, by chance, in my early twenties, the guest of a friend of a friend of a friend.  Later, when I lived in Paris, on a romantic break with the father of my children.

 Then, every year, on ascension day weekend, we visited en masse from Paris; a friend's aunt owned a cottage in Canteloup nearby, he was from the Cotentin, he had always loved it too.

On a country walk from Canteloup one day, wandering through lush fields of carrots, cabbages and herbs and so close to Barfleur we could hear the chiming of the church bells, we pushed through a gap in the dunes, and literally tumbled onto a pristine white sandy beach.  

Gloriously empty, bank holiday weekend notwithstanding, these Barfleur beaches seemed to stretch for mile after mile of teal blue, turquoise, pearl and grey, all interspersed with rocky inlets and all fringed with samphire and fragrant wild fennel.

Although I grew up near the coast, I hadn't believed a place as perfect as Barfleur was possible; a beautifully preserved and compact working port, at least five wonderful beaches within a half a mile radius (two of which are literally in town), fantastic local produce and a weekly market, independent shops and boutiques, a vibrant farming and fishing community, history, walking, riding, sailing and fishing right here on your doorstep.

The impressionist painters, attracted by the luminosity of the land and seascapes all painted here; Paul Signac had a house in Rue St Nicolas just in front of the church steps.  Barfleur attracts a great number of international visitors annually, attracted by its "most beautiful village" status no doubt, as well as its history (William the Conqueror's boat, the Mora, was built in Barfleur and he set forth from here, in 1066), and its numerous cafés and restaurants, all serving fish caught that morning and purchased from the boats that line the quay.

From England or Ireland, Barfleur is now a short hop from the ferry port of Cherbourg; for others it's train or car.

At least you won't need a car when you get here - there's all you need "sur place"; restaurants, cafés, delis, an artisan pottery and gallery, a small supermarket, a butcher, two bakers, fish and produce on the quay, a newsagent, post office, florist and many other small and independent shops.

Venez!  But not too nombreux s'il vous plait.  I'd still like the beach to myself.