Traveling With Lola

I arrived in Paris one early morning in November, greeted by overcast skies and a chilly, rustling wind. On the train from the airport to the left bank, I craned my neck to get a peak at the Parisian skyline. When I first saw that signature symbol of the Parisian skyline approaching (re: the Eiffel Tower), I felt an all-to-familiar smile creep on my face – that grin that comes when I know I’m going to see, smell, and taste an unfamiliar place. 

I met my cousin Hunter, who happened to be on his own backpacking adventure through Europe, for a whirlwind 24 hours together in the City of Lights. We walked into the art deco-inspired lobby to check in for one night at Hotel Norman. The manager upgraded us to the Room 501 Suite, a gorgeous, spacious room with a view to LIVE for. 

The Juliet balcony displayed the sites around us: Parisian brick apartments, winding cobblestone streets, and a gray but lively Parisian skyline.

We spent the day hopping around the city with no real agenda. Using the Eiffel Tower as a guide, we followed the Seine River, stopping for the best macarons I’ve ever had before heading to the Marais for a self-guided bar crawl and dancing in Paris’s gay district. 

The next morning I woke up in our suite’s king bed with a sick feeling in my stomach (something more than a hangover). I hesitantly checked my phone and the blood drained from my face when I saw that the wrong candidate secured the 2024 US Presidential Election. I slugged out of my room to find Hunter  crying on our balcony with a bottle of whiskey and baguette. Very Parisian…  

The next few hours were a whirlwind, as I had a hotel tour scheduled, had to pack, say goodbye to Hunter who was returning home, and navigate to my train to the next destination: Deauville. 

On the train to Deauville with two hours to reflect, I felt sadness, disappointment, and anger. But I remembered that my mom shared an article written titled No one is coming to save us. Philip Martin writes “It is disappointing to learn that the universe does not round toward justice.  Cheap tricks tend to work and cheaters often prosper; this is the way it has always been.  Virtue has to be its own reward, for good people persist even when the goodness is disincentivized. To be an adult is to understand that no one is coming to save us. That we are alone own the responsibility for our lives. We are free to save ourselves. We can take ownership of our happiness, decisions, and meaning-making.”

He is right. I decided to shift my perspective to find gratitude for where I was, and what I was doing: experiencing a new, beautiful place, and living out my travel dreams.

I had no idea what to expect of Deauville. Per usual, I was heading to a new destination almost completely blind, minus my accommodations, courtesy of the lovely Barrier Hotel Group who were hosting me at Le Normandy. 

The train ride was delayed on the way due to baby cows on the train track! When updating me about the delay, Le Normandy’s manager Eric told me, “The French Countryside happens sometimes…”

But the French Countryside is exactly what I needed at that moment. 

Deauville, often referred to as the “The Hamptons of France,” is a picturesque seaside town on the northern coast of France. Renowned for its elegant charm, Deauville boasts a blend of refined luxury and timeless beauty. From its iconic boardwalk lined with colorful beach huts to the chic boutiques and grand casinos, this glamorous destination has long been a favorite retreat for Parisians seeking a coastal escape.

After checking into my spacious Deluxe Sea View Room at Le Normandy, I set out to explore Deauville in the dark. 

Besides the occasional car driving by, things were almost silent as I strolled through the narrow streets lined with the signature Norman Half-Timbered Houses.These picturesque buildings, often adorned with colorful wood patterns and steep, slate roofs, are iconic in the region. Many of these homes and villas showcase intricate detailing and evoke the rustic charm of Normandy’s countryside. Almost like something out of Shrek’s Duloc Land, I giggled with joy as I took in the scene around me. 

I passed Coco Chanel’s flagship boutique, just around the corner of Le Normandy, on the way to the wide road parallelling the harbor and beach of Deauville. In the distance, the flashing lights and old-timey Vegas style light displays of Casino Barrière Deauville called to me. I ascended the rounding staircase to peek at the flashing machines, ornate ceilings and art of the extensive casino. 

It wasn’t until the next day that the morning light revealed the oceanside view of my room at Le Normandy: A long-stretching yellow sand beach leading to the distant ocean. The weather was still overcast, but my spirits were soaring. 

Eric, the manager, picked me up for a car tour of Deauville and the neighboring Treauville, explaining the history of the duo areas. 

Deauville and Trouville-sur-Mer, often referred to as twin towns, are neighboring seaside gems on the Normandy coast of France. Separated by a mere river, but easily walkable between the two, Deauville has been renowned as a glamorous destination for high society since the 19th century. Every year the area plays host to a number of significant events like the Deauville American Film Festival and influential equestrian sales and racing events, a huge part of the culture here.

Mid-day, I arrived at the small stable near the beach for my guided horseback ride. I was met by my non-English speaking guide. He spoke enough English to ask me “Have you ridden? Can you gallop?” to which I answered yes.

No safety lesson or review required, I hopped on Tara, my Dutch Warmblood,  and we set off to ride along the iconic Deauville beach front, previously strolled by many celebrities, billionaires, and Parisians alike. I asked my lovely guide a question about the beach and he didn’t seem to hear me (or simply ignored me). I took this as him saying “the view speaks for itself.” And he was right. 

We watched the gentle waves roll below the horse’s hooves and the occasional beach walker ogled as we passed on our noble steeds. I felt a sense of belonging well up inside of me. 

That evening, I reluctantly took my return train to Paris, still dreaming about the quiet and comforting Deauville. I dragged my luggage across cobblestone streets (also carrying the shame of being a dumb American with too much luggage) until I reached my final luxury accommodation in Paris: Chateau de Fleurs. Originally established in the 19th century as a garden and social space, the building became a hotspot for glamorous soirées and cultural gatherings, and now operates as a 37-room Boutique hotel in the 16th arrondissement. 

Determined to do something with the remainder of my time in Paris, I walked out to explore the city once more. Missing the quiet setting of Deauville, I waded through scammy hawkers pushing their plastic replicas of the Eiffel Tower, “Champagne” bottles, and jewelry that will certainly turn my neck green. 

I found myself near where Hunter and I were together on our first day, this time alone. Perched on the stairs of the Trocadero late at night, a busker played “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran, just as the lights of the Eiffel Tower began to sparkle. 

“Though I don’t deserve this, you look perfect tonight”