A summer in the forest.

by Nadja Zachary (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find France

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Last year, after finishing a long few months in a job I despised, I decided to spend a week getting away from it all. Arriving into the forest in the south of France, I was captivated by the instant hit of fresh pine and sea air; the combination made me feel like I was breathing a new lease of life into myself. I had always struggled in daily life with the feeling that everything was moving too fast for me. This region has always appealed to me for the sheer calmness and slowness of life here. The first thing I noticed about the small town we arrived in was the lack of people. It was almost as if the entire town was permanently in a state of sleep. the shops looked like they hadn't been open in years. If it weren't for the old man sitting outside the one open bar, with a half full beer and an equally half smoked cigar in his hand, I would have been seriously worried that the place had been abandoned. I must add I have spent a lot of time in this region of France, from a very young age my family had a special connection with the land here. However, going back to a town a few hours south, as a young adult; my whole experience was different. The town itself was absolutely stunning. Small family chalets boarded up with no signs of life but the occasional child laughing, or woman singing. The evening sun glistening through the old pines like a heavenly light planting light from the golden rays into the earth. I stayed in a small log cabin about 5 minutes from the Atlantic Coast. Each morning I would wake up just before the sunrise and take a stroll through the sandy overgrown pathways, mentally preparing myself for the climb over the towering dunes. From the top all I could see was a long beige line of uninterrupted coast stretching the entire length of my vision. Waves of 15ft and more, crashed against the beach, smashing over and under each other like unapologetic lionesses fighting each other for the last bit of their prey. The white tips disappearing after the battle, collapsing into stillness once more. On the second day, as I continued on in this morning routine I had adopted, I looked out to see the silhouette of two dolphins enjoying a swim across the horizon, dancing in the sizzling lines of the orange sunshine. The next few days were spent soaking up the wilderness of the pine forest. I visited small restaurants run by generations of the same families, somehow managing to stay afloat with nothing else around them. They relied on the heavy tourist season in the summer months, being fuelled by hungry families staying at nearby campsites. My favourite thing about the entire week was sitting out on the veranda of my little cabin, a glass of red wine and the noise of the forest cicadas keeping me company, and listening to the sound of those roaring waves never growing tired of launching themselves at the shoreline. I occasionally heard the sound of a wild boar rummaging around in the pitch black wilderness surrounding me. In that short week I developed a new love and understanding of the pureness of nature. I learnt how incredible the land around us is and how sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves is to immerse ourselves in it. That summer I decided to return yearly to that same stretch of coastline and once again drown myself in the smell of pine trees and cover myself in the salty sea air. I will never grow tired of sunsets, I have seen a fair few on my travels, but nothing compares to watching the sun disappearing behind the sight of a thousand glistening pines.