Saving the Best ’Til (Almost) Last
France is the most visited country in the world. After this trip, I can absolutely see why.
Despite living practically next door in the UK, I’d barely explored France beyond Paris and the Côte d’Azur — one of those ridiculous “it’s too close, I’ll do it later” excuses. But I’m glad we finally carved out time to see the real thing.
This time, we wanted proper rural France. The France of clichés: a man in a beret, cycling along with garlic around his neck and a baguette tucked under his arm.
So, with our little Food Fiesta packed to the rafters, we rolled onto the Eurotunnel and headed for the Dordogne to go find rolling hills, medieval villages, and plenty of cheese and cured ham.
Normandy: Cloth, Courage, and a Lot of Rain
First stop: Bayeux, home of the Bayeux Tapestry.
I was hopeless at history in school — I blame the GCSE curriculum. The Industrial Revolution and crop rotation didn’t exactly set my imagination on fire. But the Bayeux Tapestry lesson from infant school stuck with me. Maybe it was the dramatic ending of King Harold’s “arrow in the eye” story that grabbed my attention.
Standing in front of the tapestry as an adult, it’s impossible not to be impressed. Fifty‑eight scenes stitched nearly a thousand years ago, telling the story of 1066 and the Norman conquest — a significant moment that changed Britain forever. I never thought I’d get excited over a piece of cloth, but here we are.
From there, we made a brief but sobering stop at Omaha Beach, one of the D‑Day landing sites. Thousands of young men — mostly American — lost their lives here on 6 June 1944. Their bravery changed the course of the war and paved the way for the liberation of Paris and, eventually, the end of WWII. A place that stays with you.
Mont‑Saint‑Michel: Beauty, Crowds, and Quicksand
Next up: Mont‑Saint‑Michel, one of France’s biggest attractions — and for good reason.
Originally a 9th‑century monastery perched on a tidal island, it’s been a strategic stronghold, a religious centre, and now a tourist magnet with 43 residents and about 43,000 souvenir shops.
The narrow streets are chaotic, the crowds are intense, but lose yourself in the maze and it’s impossible not to fall in love with the place. Even the Bayeux Tapestry gives it a cameo — apparently Harold once rescued some Normans from the quicksand around the mount. A nice touch before they invaded his country.
The Loire Valley: Castles That Make You Question Your Life Choices
Heading south, we reached the Loire Valley, France’s château playground.
We visited Cheverny and the stunning Chenonceau — both so grand that even their broom cupboards made our London flat look like a hobbit’s shoebox. Wandering through room after room of chandeliers, tapestries, and fireplaces big enough to roast an ox, it’s hard not to wonder where you went wrong in life.
By this point, I’d dusted off my school French — all one phrase of it. “Il pleut.” Which was perfect, because it rained. Constantly.
Unfortunately, my French deserted me when I needed it most: ordering in a boulangerie. I thought I’d asked for an apple turnover. Judging by the smirk from the woman behind the counter, I may have requested something closer to an “encrypted potato”.
Despite the stereotypes, every French person we met was warm, friendly, and incredibly patient with my butchering of their language.
Dordogne: Medieval Magic and Market‑Town Heaven
After a five‑hour drive through torrential rain, we finally reached the Dordogne — and it was worth every rain-drenched mile.
We based ourselves in Sarlat, a medieval town straight out of a fairy tale. The surrounding region is packed with riverside villages, market towns, limestone cliffs, vineyards, forests, and a multitude of châteaux.
We were like kids in a sweet shop, hopping from village to village:
- Sarlat
- La Roque‑Gageac
- Bourdeilles
- Brantôme
- And countless tiny hamlets we cycled through
Each place had its own charm, its own history, and its own “wow” moment. Still no man in a beret with garlic, though.
The wine, cheese, ham, and bread flowed freely. Any progress made losing the “Peru belly” evaporated instantly as we ate ourselves into a blissful, immobile state.
Orléans, Joan of Arc, and One Last Feast
On the way back north, we stopped in Orléans, home of Joan of Arc — the teenage warrior who helped turn the tide of the Hundred Years’ War before being captured and executed, later becoming a patron saint of France.
Our final stop was near Le Touquet, just an hour from Calais, where we met friends from Paris for one last feast of food and wine. A perfect ending to a trip that reminded us why France is adored by millions — and now firmly back on our own bucket list to be re-visited.
Au revoir… for now.
