a day on the norfolk coast: hunstanton beach

Growing up, when my immediate family made the trip over to see my father's side of the family in England we always went in August, right before we kids went back to school.  We would spend a few weeks in England and I always remember the weather being perfect, (sunny, not too hot, not too cold) not the dreary drizzly weather that the UK is known for.  I even remember jokes directed at my English family, "Why are Britons always complaining about weather?  It doesn't constantly rain here."

But of course since Marco and I have made England our home since last November, we have become accustomed to that dreary drizzle.  We experienced one of England's coldest and longest winters in 50 years.  We were wearing our parkas well in to April.  (By the way, it doesn't rain as often here as one would think, and I take it as a small trade off for having vibrant green countryside.)

Then come June summer hit, it REALLY hit - with family and neighbors telling us it has been the hottest summer in years.  Hottest as in a "scorcher" of a day being in the high 80's.  High 80's (with a lovely breeze!) though, you do feel the heat because most homes and many places of business do not have air conditioning.  We tried to buy a fan one weekend and gave up after 4 shops, "sorry, sold out!"

Other than a couple week stretch of weather in the mid to upper 80's, it has been a summer of mild temperatures and chilly nights sleeping with the cottage windows open.

Being able to go out for a run or long walk at all times of the day, DUH we have not missed the heat and humidity that is summertime in Washington, D.C.

How this post ended up being about weather I don't know.  Sorry?

A few photos below from a Sunday daytrip to the Norfolk coast, Hunstanton Beach.  We took beer, a picnic, the latest Vanity Fair magazine, and a whole bunch of 75 SPF.

the real world: st. tropez

In the beginning of July our friends Sebastian and Maria who live in London invited us to join them and some of their friends in renting a villa for a week in St. Tropez, France.  Despite our busy summer so far it was impossible to pass up.

I couldn't resist the "This is the true story of seven strangers, picked to live in a house..." comparisons.  As we drove from the Nice airport along with our new friends Ethan, Lindsay, and Christophe; Lindsay and I couldn't help but point out the obvious similarities between "The Real World" and this vacation.  

When we arrived at Villa Tropez, we said our hello's to the rest of the group that were already there and took the grand tour.  We poured some cocktails and jumped in the pool.  (See? The Real World.) On the first night we grilled out on the terrace and embarked on our week long rosé wine consumption and watched the sun set over the mountains while enjoying the company of new friends.

On the first morning, Marco and I took a walk down the hill from the villa and through the vineyards.  I kept commenting on the fact that I wasn't cut out for this 80+ degree sunshine-y weather any longer.   I am getting too accustomed to the cold English weather. 

After breakfast and a lazy morning around the pool, the group got ready to hit the see-and-be-seen beach club, Nikki Beach. The rounds of rosé started and we walked down to the ocean to check out the yachts-for-days views and impress the rest of the beach goers with some waboba playing.  As the afternoon went on time was spent in the Nikki Beach pool which felt like the United Nations of pool parties, the rosé kept flowing, we danced, we asked each other when that saxophone player was going to stop playing along to the house music, and watched a few helicopters take off and land on yachts.  Half of the group may or may not have left with two sets of car keys.  The other half of the group may or may not have befriended five young American dudes with a minivan and invited them back to Villa Tropez in exchange for a ride home. 

One evening we went to the nearby town, Grimaud, for a nice dinner at restaurant L'ecurie Marquise.  It was a cozy and romantic spot.  Stone-walled rooms were dimly lit by wall sconces and littered with original art.  A signed black and white Bridget Bardot print sat framed over the bar by the entrance.  As we enjoyed course after course and bottles of wine, we were charmed by the owner / maître d' / server / comic.       

Marco, Christophe, and I left a few days before the rest of the group so we missed out on some chateau / wine tasting visits as well as a visit to the port and exploration of some beaches dotted around St. Tropez. 

The train ride back to Nice airport wrapped around the south of France coastline with views of Cannes and smaller coastal towns.  I think I speak for the rest of The Real World: St. Tropez group, we could easily get used to that life.  THANK YOU Seb and Maria for thinking to include us.  And to the rest of the group: Jon, Christophe, Ethan, Lindsay, Brett, and Alex - it was so fun getting to know you all.  We may be scattered across Europe and The United States but lets do it again soon.