Leave it to me to travel halfway around the world only to vacation at a beach that looks almost exactly like Northern California. Hossegor, France, with a wide swath of sand the color of wheat, large crashing waves and dunes upon dunes upon dunes. The only difference between Hossegor and my hometown beach is that in France many of the women go topless. And then, bien sûr, there are the nutella crêpes you can get before heading to the beach in the morning, and the fresh cidres you can drink at the sidewalk café after a long day in the sun. And the fact that doing anything en français feels better, cooler, more exotic. So yeah, I suppose Hossegor is not like my hometown beaches. After all, Hossegor n’est pas une beach, c’est une plage.
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Surfer outside the Rock Food Cafe. http://www.flickr.com/photos/13956632@N00/3320027370/

Part pastoral, part Baywatch, Hossegor is an interesting mix of Basque history, Landais, and now modern day surf culture. Set among stone cottages, old growth pines and  Le Lac d’Hossegor, the town has recently become one of the premiere surfing locations in Europe, boasting such well-known breaks as Seignosse, Gravière, La Nord, Capbreton, and La Piste. Throughout the summer months Hossegor supports a thriving nightlife, centered at La Plage Centrale. And every September, the town hosts the Quicksilver Pro France surfing competition, attracting pros and fans the world over.

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Kelly Slater, world surfing championship 2008. http://www.flickr.com/photos/25933559@N04/2886647269/

I haven’t been to Hossegor since before the Euro, which tells you just how very long it’s been. But I’m planning on going back, even if it looks a bit like home. It’s my home en français, ma maison, et c’est si belle.

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