Hidden behind a perennial veil of charm and history, Normandy unfolds like a luscious tapestry in the spring. For weeks, I had been longing to escape the grey winter hum of Paris — a reset for the soul, like a cup of Earl Grey after a damp stroll. Normandy was beckoning, and I packed my camera, hopped on a train from Paris, clutching the promise of blooming landscapes, tranquil coastlines, and scenes straight out of a Claude Monet painting. My destination? A handful of curated stops designed for quiet contemplation, indulgent meals, and, of course, the gentle hum of nature. Spoiler alert, it didn’t disappoint.
The Rustic Elegance of La Chaumière
I began my adventure with a stay at La Chaumière, a family-run retreat that hugs the Bay of Seine like an old friend. Charming enough to rival a Jane Austen country estate, every room here tells a distinct story, quite literally—they’re all different. The cat, Diego, takes guest check-ins more seriously than even the most efficient concierge.
The design? Quintessential Normandy—a traditional “chaumière” with its thatched roof, wooden beams, and impossibly cosy nooks. Simplicity is key. Breakfast was a statement in itself: flaky, homemade croissants paired with homemade confiture so good it could start wars (or at least settle one). The pool, tucked away in the orangery, is reserved privately for guests—a glorious opportunity to indulge in uninterrupted zen. Top it off with a leisurely dinner featuring freshly caught seafood and a crisp glass of Chablis under the glow of apple blossoms. Evenings at La Chaumière are the stuff of dreams, and if you’re lucky, you’ll fall asleep to birdsong with the stars peeking in through your window.
A Dash of Honfleur, Deauville and Trouville
After reluctantly peeling myself away from La Chaumière, the picturesque town of Honfleur felt like the natural next stop. Strolling through its cobbled streets with a freshly purchased cider from a local merchant, I couldn’t help but marvel at its postcard-perfect harbour. It’s entirely possible that Gustave Courbet and Monet themselves were peering over my shoulder, whispering that I should linger longer.
Further down the coast, Deauville and Trouville exuded the effortless elegance of seaside towns untouched by time. Belle Époque villas sidled up against the breezy coastline, and a stroll along the promenade, past Technicolor umbrellas dotting the sand, was like walking into a vintage photograph.
Château La Chenevière—A Noble Retreat
Next, I ventured inland to Château La Chenevière, nestled within 12 lush hectares of Normandy’s countryside. Built in the late 18th century as a hemp farming estate, the château has been meticulously renovated to preserve every ounce of its historic charm. Think Downton Abbey meets French countryside sophistication.
The 29 rooms are spacious yet intimate, and my suite offered sweeping views of emerald pastures dotted with lazy cows grazing under wisteria-covered trellises (yes, it really was that idyllic).
Dining at Le Petit Jardin, located in the old orangery, became a favourite memory. The bistronomic menu is a celebration of locally sourced, seasonal ingredients. Delicate rosemary-confit vegetables with tomato ice cream were as surprising as they were delicious, while the apple crumble, somehow more decadent with Normandy’s famed apples, felt like a love letter to the region itself.
By contrast, Le Botaniste embraced the grandeur of fine dining with dishes like lobster broth enriched with caviar and slow-braised lamb that was as tender as a whisper. The estate’s vegetable garden and resident beehives ensured every flavour was rooted in authenticity. Breakfasts here turned into opulent rituals, with freshly made honey served in beautifully crafted porcelain dishes.
Final Reflections as a Solo Traveller
Normandy is the kind of place that doesn’t shout its appeal—it whispers. From sunsets shimmering over the Atlantic to tranquil fields waiting patiently for evening dew, every corner feels like a secret discovered just for you. Indeed, spending spring enveloped by Normandy’s quiet blooms and timeworn charm was the ultimate reset.
Perhaps most importantly, travelling solo made the experience all the more profound. It is a destination to wander, to linger, and to think undisturbed. Normandy, after all, isn’t just a place; it’s a feeling—a slow exhale, a moment suspended in time.
Now, whilst I bid adieu to Normandy (for now), a cider from Honfleur and a jar of La Chaumière’s confiture have made their way to Paris. They’re a reminder of that simple and inevitable truth every lone traveller eventually learns—sometimes, you need to step away to find yourself again.
