With Anneliese’s family visiting from Australia they invited me to join them one lovely Sunday to be whisked way to the lush, green Normandy on somewhat of a pilgrimage to Claude Monet’s treasured house and lilly-pad heavy garden. How could I refuse?
We caught the SNCF train from Paris’s Gare St Lazare (which ironically was painted numerous times by the man himself) to Vernon before catching a shuttle bus, packed full of American retirees and incredible sunsmart Japanese tourists until we finally made it to Giverny. On our gentle stroll passed paddocks (unfortunately there hay bales are no longer here it seems) we passed a statue of Monet when Anneliese’s grandad casually asked who in fact was Monet. We all burst out laughing and he replied ‘Well growing up in my little town my whole high school was in a single room.’ Well was he about to get a little art education….
Monet’s house was adorable. It was incredible pictoresque, with little oh so French shutters and ivy clinging to the colourful bricks. Stunning, and of course the garden wasn’t so bad itself. Unfortunately we were not allowed to take any photos inside his house but I can vouch and say it is very gorgeous, although every room is colour themed, especially the sickly yellow kitchen and pretty much every wall is the house is adorned with Japanese prints, quite a collection he seemed to have.
At the end of the first garden, lined with every flower under the sun, we pass through a little tunnel before popping up in the water garden, surrounded by bamboo the lilly pad pond surrounded by gorgeous weeping willows was just as I had imagined and I stood in awe on Monet’s very own Japanese bridge. The colourful reflections in the water was exquisite, particularly as autumn is approaching so the water was a wonderful golden red, and very much looked like an expressionist painting.
Afterwards we wandered up to an Impressionist gallery at the end of the road (which quite conveniently turned out to be free as it was the first Sunday of the month). Outside we found this cute little figurine on a lonesome bench.
Bit far from the Notre Dame…
Fortunately just as we were waiting for our bus back to the train station the heavens opened. It was a beautiful, beautiful day and quite an easy day trip as it turned out.
Although these snoring Americans didn’t quite make it, the bus hadn’t even left the carpark when this photo was taken.
