Escape to Paradise: Your Dreamy Englancourt Gite Awaits!
Escape to Paradise: My Dreamy (and Sometimes Clumsy) Englancourt Gite Adventure! (Review)
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Okay, so here's the deal. I just got back from Englancourt, France, and let me tell you, "Escape to Paradise" (the gite, that is!)… it’s a bit of a rollercoaster. Honestly, it’s not perfect, but that's kind of what makes it charming, right? I’m talking about a quirky charm, a "French countryside meets slightly-over-eager-hospitality" kind of charm. Let's dive in, shall we? Buckle up, buttercups, because this is gonna be a long one!
Accessibility - The Good, the Okay, and the "Hmmm…"
Right off the bat, I need to mention the accessibility. Now, the website proudly proclaims itself wheelchair-friendly, and some parts are. The elevator was a lifesaver (thank goodness, because some parts of the gite are delightfully, if not confusingly, labyrinthine). The facilities for disabled guests definitely exist, BUT… and there's always a "but" isn't there? Navigating some of the outdoor spaces, like the gardens leading to the pool, was a bit… challenging. Gravel pathways + wheelchair = a workout. Consider requesting specific room recommendations so the staff can prepare ahead of your arrival in case of special needs.
Rooms - My Private Oasis (With a Few Quirks)
My room, thankfully, was on the accessible floor. It was… spacious. Like, you could swing a cat (not that I did, of course!). The beds were comfy, though those extra long beds were a lifesaver, I kept wanting to throw myself across. My biggest gripe? The bathroom phone! I mean, who needs a bathroom phone these days? It felt… antiquated. Also, I’m not sure why I’m including details for the bathroom phone, but i feel like as a reviewer I should include all the details, even the unnecessary ones. The bathrobes were luxurious, and the slippers were a nice touch. Plus, the blackout curtains saved me from my jet lag doom.
And I loved the fact that they had Internet access - wireless and Internet access - LAN and Wi-Fi [free]. You know, for all the modern things, I needed access to. Plus, the Air conditioning was a necessity and they have many Rooms [Non-smoking], so there was no issue there.
Cleanliness and safety - A Sanitized Sanctuary? (Mostly)
Overall, the gite seemed clean. They were definitely putting in the effort with all the COVID precautions. Anti-viral cleaning products, daily disinfection in common areas, hand sanitizer everywhere – you name it, they had it. Plus, I got this weird feeling of being safe the entire time. The amount of Security [24-hour] and CCTV in common areas and CCTV outside property made me feel like I was watched over at all times, and gave me the security I needed away from home. They also had an Exterior corridor and Non-smoking rooms, which were a great plus. They had a First aid kit and a Doctor/nurse on call, so if things went terribly wrong, I'd be covered.
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking - Food, Glorious Food! (With Room for Improvement)
Okay, the food. LISTEN. The a la carte in restaurant was a little… hit-or-miss. One night, the steak was divine. Tender, perfectly cooked, melt-in-your-mouth amazing. But the next night? Tough as old boots. The breakfast [buffet] was decent, with the usual suspects: pastries, fruit, coffee. And YES, they had fresh croissants! (Those alone are worth the trip). The Asian cuisine in restaurant, however, took me completely by surprise. It was actually pretty damn good - almost too good. I found myself ordering it almost every meal.
The Poolside bar was a life changer. I'd happily spend the entire day there. The Happy hour was great, I wish it lasted longer. And the staff were amazing, super friendly, and very fun.
Things to Do - Relaxation Station! (And a Tiny Bit of Boredom)
The spa was the main draw for me. Massage, Sauna, Steamroom, – I spent basically the entire week alternating between those three in blissful, drooling contentment. They also had this amazing pool with view that had me relaxing and soaking the gorgeous weather. The Fitness center was… adequate. Let's just say it wouldn't win any awards, but it did the job. There was also a Gym/fitness, so you could work out in multiple places. Ways to relax were in abundance.
Services and Conveniences - The Little Extras (Sometimes Forgotten)
They had the basics: Air conditioning in public area, Concierge (helpful!), Daily housekeeping (thank goodness!), and Luggage storage. They also had a Laundry service, which I totally failed to take advantage of. I just lounged around the entire time. However, I was annoyed that they also had a gift/souvenir shop, because I knew I would have to buy something before they left.
For the Kids - Family Fun! (Potentially)
I don't have kids, so I can’t personally vouch for the Babysitting service. However, based on what I saw, the gite seemed pretty Family/child friendly. They did have a Kids meal and Kids facilities so the kids can enjoy themselves.
Getting Around - Easy Peasy (Mostly)
They offer Airport transfer and Car park [free of charge], which is cool. I ended up parking my car there, and it was a very simple process. I didn't have to worry about it.
The "Almost Perfect" Moments
There was this one evening… I was sitting on the terrace, glass of wine in hand, watching the sunset over the rolling French countryside. Pure bliss. I felt the escape the gite promised. That’s what made me want to come back. But the next morning, I tripped on a rogue cobblestone and nearly wiped out. Seriously, though, these are the moments that make traveling so amazing.
The Bottom Line (My Verdict)
Would I recommend "Escape to Paradise"? Yes, with a few caveats. If you're looking for absolute perfection, you might be disappointed. If you’re looking for a charming, quirky, and relaxing getaway with access to a fantastic spa, delicious (though sometimes inconsistent) food, and a genuine attempt at accessibility, then this is your place. Don't rely on the website totally, but don't completely discount it, either. It’s a bit of a gamble, but one I'd happily take again. Just pack comfortable shoes (and maybe a good travel insurance, just in case of rogue cobblestones!) And be ready to embrace the delightful imperfections.
Rating: 4 out of 5 Croissants! (Lose one point for the wonky cobblestones and the slightly outdated bathroom phone).
Escape to Luxury: Your Belgian Forest Spa Mansion Awaits!
Alright, buckle up, buttercups, because we're about to embark on a virtual vomit comet of a travel itinerary. Forget smooth edges and perfectly manicured timelines. This is the raw, unfiltered experience of trying to find peace in a gite in Englancourt, then getting my arse over to Clohars-Carnoet in France. Wish me luck, I’m gonna need it.
The "Peaceful Gite & French Farce" Itinerary (aka, My Sanity's Last Stand)
Day 1: Arrival & the English Inquisition (Englancourt)
- Morning (God, I hope it's morning): Flight from… wherever I'm escaping from. Let’s just say a place with too much noise and not enough cheese. Arrive in Paris (bleh, already a mistake, but hey, onward!). Pick up the rental car – pray to the gods of insurance that it’s not a lemon. The last time I rented a car in France, I ended up arguing with a pigeon for 20 minutes over a croissant. The pigeon won.
- Afternoon (The Hunt for the Holy Gite): Drive to Englancourt. Expect to get lost. Guarantee it. I’ll probably end up circling a roundabout for an hour, muttering insults in a language only my GPS understands. My emotional reaction? A blend of mild panic and the gnawing suspicion that I've made a terrible, terrible life choice.
- Evening (Unpacking, Undoing, and Unraveling): Find the gite. Hopefully, it looks like the pictures (which, let's be honest, are always heavily filtered). Pray the terrace actually exists and isn’t just a patch of overgrown weeds. Unpack. Immediately realise I packed the wrong shoes. Sigh. Try to find the wine opener. If I can't, I'm going to have to resort to something like a shoe.
Day 2: Terror on the Terrace (Englancourt - and possibly a breakdown)
- Morning (The Struggle is Real): Wake up. Hopefully, I've slept. Consider whether the 'peaceful' part of "peaceful gite" is a cynical joke. Make coffee. Realise the coffee maker is broken. Swear. Loudly. Take a deep breath. Okay, new plan: instant coffee. It’s not ideal, but survival is key.
- Afternoon (Terrace Test): Attempt to actually, you know, relax on the terrace. This is the crucial moment. Will I find peace? Will I be devoured by mosquitos? Will the neighbour's dog start barking incessantly? Place bets. Take a photo of the view. Realise the photos won't do the view justice. Sigh again. Feel the existential weight of having to filter the beauty into a social media-ready format.
- Evening (Culinary Catastrophe AKA "Dinner"): Wander into the local village to find the market. I'll probably end up buying something completely random – like a giant turnip. Attempt to cook a semi-decent meal. Embrace the inevitability of culinary mishaps. The more the better. Probably burn something. Definitely burn something. Learn to love the charred bits. Drink wine. A lot of it.
Day 3: The Great Escape (Englancourt to Clohars-Carnoet)
- Morning (The Departure Debacle): Pack. Struggle to fit everything back into the suitcases, which, miraculously, somehow seem to have shrunk overnight. Realise I've probably left something important behind (my sanity, perhaps?). Check out of the gite. Hopefully, the owners won't be staring at my luggage with judgement of how much stuff I packed.
- Afternoon (The Coastal Crusade): Drive to Clohars-Carnoet. This is going to be a long haul. I'll be relying on French radio, which, let's be honest, is a lottery. One minute it’s romantic accordion music, the next it’s a passionate lecture about the proper way to ferment cabbage.
- Evening (Arrival & Anticipation): Arrive at the new accommodation in Clohars-Carnoet. Survey the scene. Hopefully, the view over the ocean justifies all the driving. Take another deep breath. This time, hopefully, it's filled with the fresh air of the coast, not the stale air of panic. Find somewhere to eat. If I’m lucky, it will be a crêperie. Crêpes are heaven-sent, and, frankly, I need guidance.
Day 4: Clohars-Carnoet - Lost in the Sea & Self
- Morning (Beach Bonanza): Walk to the beach. Feel the sand between my toes. Question my life choices. Take a swim (if the water isn't icy, which it probably will be). Watch the waves. Pretend to be deep and philosophical. Wonder if I’ve left the hob on.
- Afternoon (The Kayak Catastrophe): Rent a kayak. Attempt to navigate the choppy waters. Probably capsize. Rescue myself (hopefully). Find the entire experience simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. Consider the sea’s grand scope.
- Evening (Seafood Celebration (or Sighing into a Salad)): Eat dinner at a seafood restaurant. Order something I've never tried before. Regret my decision. Struggle to eat something alive. Marvel at the ocean's bounty. Reflect on how much I need to learn to cook.
Day 5: Clohars-Carnoet: Diving Deep (And Drowning in History)
- Morning (History's Grip): Visit the local market (unless I blew all my money on sea urchins). Wander around some charming little shops. Get hopelessly lost in the maze of alleyways. Discover a tiny little art shop and, against my better judgement, buy a ludicrously expensive painting of a seagull.
- Afternoon (Coastal Chaos): Walk along the coastal path, taking in the views. Try to find a secluded cove. Get distracted by a particularly appealing rock pool. Spend far too long trying to capture the perfect Instagram photo of a starfish.
- Evening (The Local Pub, and Loneliness): Find a pub. Order a pint. Try to strike up a conversation with the locals. Fail miserably, because my French is appalling. Pretend to understand what they're saying and nod enthusiastically. Feel the loneliness setting in. Drink more beer. Stare out at the sea.
Day 6: Coastline Ramble (and Philosophical Ramblings)
- Morning (The Walk of Wonders): Venture out on another coastal walk, and this time I promise myself not to stay on my phone. Let the salty air slap my face. Look for hidden coves, secret beaches, and maybe the meaning of life (or at least a decent cup of coffee).
- Afternoon (The Lighthouse Look): Find a lighthouse. Climb to the top. Take in the panoramic views. Contemplate the vastness of the ocean and the insignificance of my worries. Realise I'm terribly afraid of heights. But still keep looking.
- Evening (Farewell Feeling): Have one last, incredible dinner. Try to make a mental note of everything. Sigh at the passage of time. Get all emotional (and, if I’m being honest, a little bit drunk).
Day 7: Au Revoir, France (and a Glimmer of Hope)
- Morning (The Long Goodbye): Drive to the airport. The drive will be much easier this time, but the roads will still be full of potholes. Reflect on the week.
- Afternoon (The Plane Ride): Board the plane. Watch the world shrink beneath me. Write in my little notebook. Start planning the next escape.
And that's it! A true, messy, imperfect, and hopefully, slightly amusing glimpse into my French adventure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need another glass of wine. And maybe some ice cream. And possibly a therapist.
Escape to This Cozy Bungalow Near the Mystical Hunebedden!
Escape to Paradise: Englancourt Gite FAQs - Buckle Up, Buttercup!
Okay, so "Escape to Paradise" sounds amazing. But like, is it *actually* paradise? I’m a cynical, world-weary traveler, you know?
Alright, alright, you want the *real* scoop, huh? Look, Englancourt? Pretty darn close. You've got that postcard-perfect scenery – rolling hills, the occasional cow wandering into your shot, sunsets that’ll legit make you tear up (don't judge me). It's not like, "Oh my god, I've found the Garden of Eden!" more like "Wow, I actually *can* breathe out here. And the wine is REALLY good." My first trip? I was convinced I'd find some hidden flaw, a grumpy gnome demanding I pay an absurd toll to cross the garden. Nope. Just peace. Though, I *did* once step on a rather large, and surprisingly alive, snail. So, paradise-adjacent? Maybe. Paradise with a side of potential mollusk-related trauma? Definitely.
What's this gite actually *like*? I've stayed in some truly depressing rentals before...
Okay, the gite. Picture this: a charming stone cottage, the kind you see in rom-coms (usually only the exterior). Inside? Well, it’s got that cozy, lived-in feeling, not some sterile showroom. It’s not perfect – the beams are a bit low in places (I'm nearly 6ft and learned that the hard way!), the hot water takes a beat to kick in (patience, grasshopper!), and the Wi-Fi? Let's just say it encourages you to *actually* disconnect. The kitchen? Fully equipped, which is good because you'll *want* to cook there...mostly because you’ll wander into town and find *everything* delicious is closed on Tuesdays (another delightful lesson learned the hard way). I'm still dreaming about some of those meals I made. Don't expect The Ritz, but it’s comfortable, clean, and has a genuine warmth that makes you feel at home.
Is it good for families? What about kids? Are there things to *do*?
Families? YES! Kids? Absolutely. There’s space to run around (the garden is HUGE), the local village has a play park, and the nearby countryside is bursting with adventures. My niece? She went absolutely bonkers for the freedom. Me? I loved watching her explore. There are hiking trails aplenty, chances to cycle. You could even find a friendly pony to bribe with carrots (allegedly... don't quote me). Don't expect theme park thrills, but imagine a place where kids can *actually* be kids. It's bliss. The only real challenges I found were trying to convince the little monsters to eat their vegetables (the gite is a safe haven for that, too).
What about the village itself? Is it *actually* quaint, or just pretending?
Englancourt is properly quaint. Like, movie-set quaint. The kind of village where the baker knows your name after three days. Where the church bells chime at every hour, even if you're desperately trying to sleep in (that might be a negative for some!). It's not overly touristy, which is a massive plus. You'll find a couple of charmingly old-fashioned shops, hopefully a decent wine shop (essential!), and the kind of locals who wave even if they *don't* know you. It's the antithesis of a flashy, superficial destination. It's real life, slowed down to a pace where you can *actually* enjoy it. My advice: Get lost. Wander the tiny streets. Say "bonjour" to everyone. You'll be charmed... even if you're the cynical type. Trust me, I *am* and I *loved* it.
Okay, so I'm sold. Tell me about the food and drink. Because, priorities.
Right, the *important* stuff. The food? Heavenly. The bread? Forget the diet. The pastries? Sinful. The wine? Oh, the wine! Seriously, you're in France. Your taste buds will thank you. There are local markets bursting with fresh produce (the strawberries in season? Oh, the strawberries!), small bistros offering traditional fare (stew, anyone?), and if you can manage to cook, you can even replicate them! I once tried to recreate a potato dish and ended up burning the potatoes. But even that was delicious in a bizarre, deeply satisfying way. Pack your forgiving pants, because you’ll need them. I returned home several kilos heavier but happier than I'd been in ages. And the wine? Let's just say I may have exceeded my baggage allowance when I returned. Totally worth it.
What's the catch? Every place has a catch!
Okay, here's the honest truth: the catch is... you'll have to leave. Coming home after is tough. The biggest "catch" is the post-holiday blues. You’ll find yourself daydreaming about the sunshine, the smell of fresh bread, and the sheer *peace* of it all. Honestly, I'm itching to go back right now. The Wi-Fi isn't super-fast if that's your bag. You might have to drive a bit to reach the supermarket for a serious shop. And yes, there are a few slightly creaky floorboards (part of the charm, I say!). But honestly? These are not deal-breakers. The pros massively outweigh the cons. My advice? Book now. And maybe hide a bottle of wine somewhere for your first night back home. You'll need it. I speak from experience.
Is this place seriously *that* good?
Look, I'm not easily impressed. I've traveled the world, seen amazing things, but Englancourt? It got under my skin. It's the kind of place that makes you forget the stresses of everyday life, that allows you to reconnect with yourself, your family, whatever. It's more than a holiday; it's an experience. One time, I took an impromptu hike to a vista, and for the first five minutes I was convinced I was going to step on a snake. But then, the view, the silence, the sheer *beauty*... it was like a pressure valve released. I just sat there and cried – happy tears, of course! So, yes, I'd say it's *that* good. Go. See for yourselves. You won't regret it. Just… pack extra stretchy pants. You have been warned.
