(23rd January 2025)

We were pleasantly surprised to wake up to the sun peeking over the horizon, promising a clear day and perhaps even a touch of warmth. The ship was staying until 10 pm, so there was no rush to disembark and explore Le Havre.

We left the ship at 10 am. Although it was possible to walk into town in about half an hour (as many passengers did), we opted for the shuttle bus, which dropped us in the town centre. The temperature was 7°C, but a biting breeze made it feel close to freezing. Meanwhile, the BBC weather forecast for the UK warned of the approaching Storm Eowyn with 80 mph winds, set to sweep across the continent as well. However, on the French coast, this seemed like a distant British exaggeration; the sky was bright and clear and showed no sign of changing.

With no fixed plans for the day, we found a bench in the small plaza where the shuttle had dropped us off and consulted Google Maps. Just a few steps away was ‘Le Volcan’, Le Havre’s most striking landmark. Designed by Brazilian architect Oscar Niemeyer and opened in 1982, it serves as the city’s concert hall, multimedia library, and café. We walked around the building, took some photos, and then decided to move on to our next stop, visible a short distance away: ‘Église St. Joseph’.

From the outside, we found the church rather unappealing, a massive modern concrete structure reaching towards the sky. Its skyscraper-like appearance, reminiscent of New York City, was designed to honour the memory of the victims of Le Havre’s destruction during the Second World War. Standing at 107 metres tall, it symbolises the city’s rebirth as France’s maritime gateway. However, the interior was an entirely different story. Inside, we were awed by its stark beauty. From the centre of the church, you can look up to the top of the spire, its narrowing walls lined with simple yet stunning stained-glass windows that illuminate the space with coloured light. Unfortunately, our visit coincided with the conclusion of a funeral service in the chapel at the rear. We watched in silence as the coffin was carried to the waiting hearse outside.

Next, Sue expressed a desire to see the beach (La Plage), which her paper map indicated in yellow, suggesting it was sandy. After a 20-minute walk, we discovered it was a vast expanse of pebbles, interspersed with wooden walkways leading to the sea. The open coastline meant the chilly breeze was unrelenting, making our progress along the seafront uncomfortable. Unsurprisingly, only a handful of windsurfers dared to brave the choppy waves, while a few joggers and dog walkers ventured along the promenade. On our return, we found shelter behind the adjacent road before retreating into a bistro for warming coffees and to plan our next destination.

Our next stop was ‘Cathédrale Notre-Dame’. Originally a parish church dating from the 16th and 17th centuries, it is one of the few central buildings in Le Havre to have survived the wartime devastation. In stark contrast to its modern neighbour, St. Joseph, this was a traditional church. While it lacked anything particularly noteworthy, it was warm inside, which we appreciated before moving on to the ‘Narrow House.’

The ‘Narrow House’ is an artwork by Erwin Wurm, who recreated his parents’ home in the most compact form imaginable. Measuring 18 metres long and just 1.3 metres wide, it represents a typical 1960s suburban house. Built in 2019 on Avenue Foch, one of Europe’s grandest avenues, it is surrounded by large, imposing buildings, making its quirky proportions all the more striking. Although the interior was temporarily closed to visitors, we enjoyed peering through the windows. Its eccentricity felt quintessentially French, bold, artistic, and undeniably memorable.

A short walk brought us back to the shuttle drop-off point, where we were fortunate to find the bus waiting. As we returned to the ‘MSC Preziosa’, the sky darkened, and by the time we were enjoying a very late lunch in the buffet, the rain had arrived, streaking the windows with rivulets of water. Later, from our cabin window, we used binoculars to watch passengers who had chosen to walk into town hurrying along the puddle-strewn path back to the terminal, many without umbrellas, despite the predicted downpour.

The evening entertainment was an excellent Abba tribute in song and dance in the theatre. In the morning, we shall be leaving the ship, so after dinner in the buffet, we spent the rest of the evening packing and watching TV.