by Charlie Garratt

Created on: March 04, 2009

There is always something magical about arriving in another country by sea, rather than by road or air, even if the journey is by a simple mid-distance ferry It's probably something to do with the experience of leisurely progression and the gradual growth of your destination on the horizon long before arrival.

And so it was with my first trip to a foreign country. The day was a remarkable, warm and sunny one, providing the family with the opportunity to sit on deck, wave goodbye to the dozens of navy ships in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /

>Portsmouth harbour before swinging round the Isle of Wight and heading across the English Channel to France. The beating sunshine placed us in holiday mode almost before we'd left the harbour and the long drive to the port was soon forgotten by my young children who were now revelling in this new adventure.

Gradually, with the sun sparkling off the gentle sea, we began to see the coast of France in the far distance, with the port of St Malo slowly becoming clearer as the hours ticked by. This walled town, rebuilt to its former glory after extensive wartime damage, must be one of the most impressive towns to view from the seaward side, certainly better than any of the other Channel ports.

Leaving the ferry behind us we were soon on the road and heading through the French countryside, stopping briefly to buy food which we thought was savoury, only to find it full of gooey sweetness we'd never encountered the quintessential pain chocolat' before! Though we were still hungry we knew that we were now truly in a foreign land. We marvelled then, and still do, at how England and France, separated only by a narrow stretch of water, can be so different in so many ways. To us, on that first trip, the language, the roads, the shops, the countryside and even the light seemed completely strange and as we drove along the entire journey was punctuated by oohs' and aahs' as new wonders emerged at each turn.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

That night we pulled into our hotel in Montfort, which was picture perfect with ivy covered walls, a small courtyard, bedrooms with large, dark furniture and a busy restaurant. Settling down to a dinner of kidneys in wine and an exquisite dessert, a good bottle of wine followed by a perfect measure of Cognac we just knew we'd come back and this was only our first day.

We've been back to France many times since then, each time adding new experiences and confirming that, for us, it was the right choice all of those years ago but we knew that from the minute we left the port in England.

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