Joshua in Paris

It’s 1:00 p.m. on Tuesday, June 28, 2022, and I just finished lunch from the top floor of a Parisian apartment with window views of the Eiffel Tower. My wife and I have been staying with her aunt while we’re in town exploring the French capital. She lives on Victor Hugo Avenue, named in honor of the renowned French writer who penned the timeless work, Les Misérables, a title that translates to “The Miserable Ones” in English. If I’m being honest, it’s a phrase I’m struggling to identify with after such an unforgettable trip.

I have wanted to come to Europe ever since I heard stories from several college buddies who backpacked across the continent after graduation. Truth be told, the exchange rate was a little too high for me to afford during my 20s, so I sat on the sidelines, biding my time, knowing that I would have plenty of opportunities to explore Europe after I was married.

I’m glad I waited. This trip has been one of the best experiences of my life, highlighted by a French wedding at the beautiful Château d'Oyré in the Loire Valley, the castle region where my wife was born and raised (sniff…sniff). It was our third wedding in as many years, and quite possibly the last time I’ll fit into my wedding suit after all the croissants, crepes and chocolates I’ve consumed during my stay.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but prior to this trip, my primary source for French culture, excluding my wife, of course, came from binge-watching the first two seasons of Netflix’s Emily in Paris. That and some classic French comedies she introduced me to, such as The Mad Adventures of Rabbi Jacob, featuring actor Louis de Funès. Needless to say, I have a far greater appreciation for the culture and an even greater appreciation of my wife’s roots after spending three weeks in her neck of the woods.

I love it here. The idea is spending summers in France is an alluring one, indeed. Maybe it’s the romantic in me: thoughts of the French countryside, of quaint villages and medieval castles, of fancy cheeses and fine wines, not to mention some very influential American writers have called France home a time or two, including the likes of Hemingway and Fitzgerald. There’s far too much to see in a single trip, but we managed to visit a few favorites.

Located along the Normandy’s Côte d'Albâtre—Alabaster Coast—is a charming fishing village called Étretat. I fell in love with images of its white chalk cliffs while doing some online research for one of the kingdoms in my book called the Peregrine Nation. Peregrine falcons are fast and nimble birds of prey that often nest in shallow hollows called “scrapes” found along the high ledges of cliffs. One look at the unique rock formations jutting into the English Channel, and I knew it would be the ideal setting for the “Scraped Cliffs” in my book.

It's easy to understand why the renowned French impressionist painter Claude Monet often frequented the seaside village. Monet first discovered Étretat in 1864 when he was 26 years old and later returned to the area to complete 90 paintings of the chalk cliffs, the fishing boats and the ever-changing weather synonymous with the Normandy coast. My favorite, “The Cliff, Étretat, Sunset,” painted in 1883, currently resides at the Nort Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh.

We also visited the 11th century Bec Abbey founded by Benedictine monks, and, ironically enough, I saw my first giant Sequoia tree, native to California, when we visited a 200-year-old arboretum along the grounds of the 14th-century Château d'Harcourt. We capped our tour of Normandy with a sunset bike ride along a causeway that leads to the iconic Mont Saint-Michel, the island community built atop a granite outcrop and dedicated to St. Michael, the Archangel.

Needless to say, France exceeded all of my expectations. We also took a train from Paris through the French Alps and spent three days in Italy’s Piedmont region, and then it was off to Porto, Portugal, where we celebrated the annual Festa de São João (the Festival of St. John the Baptist) on June 23. The festival, which dates back to the 14th century, was particularly active after a two-year hiatus due to Covid-19.

Back in Paris, I catch a glimpse of a 60-year-old bottle of moonshine that was gifted to me by one of my wife’s uncles. Next to it sits a copy of Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, published in 1862. The novel offers readers a glimpse into 19th century France filled with political instability, civil unrest, a broken criminal justice system, a deadly pandemic and women’s rights. Sound familiar?

Now, if only I could decide which one to pick up…

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