After a bit of a blogging drought, I'm back. The mental exhaustion of school and the nagging feeling that I should be studying something have kept me from writing about every little tidbit that goes on. This past weekend we had our second big trip to St. Malo and Mont St. Michel (the latter to come in a later post). It was so nice and relaxing, but it was definitely over too soon. We left early on Saturday morning and what was supposed to be a 4 hour trip turned into a 6 hour trip because of a rather serious looking accident and our bus driver's insistence that he take his 30 min. union regulated break. Thus, we were not able to spend as much time as we had hoped looking around St. Malo, but once we got there it was obvious that it was worth the wait.
(sorry for the grainy photos, my camera seems to have
taken a turn for the worse when it comes to low lighting)
Located on the west coast of France in the Gulfe de St. Malo, it is an absolutely gorgeous place and site to the largest tide in Europe. All of the rocks and the extreme difference between low and high tide make it very difficult to attack by sea but nonetheless, as it is located only 100 miles from Normandy, during WWII it took quite a beating despite all of the fortifications and precautions taken. The city was already surrounded by thick Medieval walls and that was reinforced by even more concrete. The Germans had taken over the city, and thus pretty much all of the damage was by American troops, and I know it was for a good cause, but while the wall stayed strong, 685 of the 865 buildings in the city were completely destroyed. That's just kind of sad to me.
However, no amount of wars could take away from the charm of the place and the natural beauty of the coast. It was raining on us the whole time and it was very cold, but that didn't stop us from enjoying it.
This is looking down Rue Du Chat Qui Danse (rough translation: street of the cat that dances). It was named so because at some point there was an attempt to attack the city using fire-throwing ships of sorts, but because it was low tide, the boats couldn't get close enough to the city to do any damage but throw a few sparks here and there. One unfortunate cat walking on the wall stepped on a few of these embers and burned its paws, and thus, in a sort of morbidly comical story, the people named the street after the poor cat who looked like he was dancing.
For scale just look at how tiny that person is on the left side.
We split up for lunch and I ended up being with about six others in this very tiny and cozy creperie where one man was the cook, server, busser, host, cashier, and owner. He somehow managed even though there were around 20 people in the place. I ordered the "Jaques Cartier", named after the French discoverer of Canada. He "discovered" Canada in the same way that Columbus "discovered" America. The land was already inhabited and many had gotten there before him, but he gets all the glory. Back to the crepe... There weren't very many savory crepes to choose from, so we pretty much just ordered the sweet ones. Mine was served with a little scoop of vanilla ice cream covered in fresh whipped cream, toasted almond slivers and drizzled with maple syrup. Epic Crepe Brain Explosion! It was so, so good, and I don't think I have ever eaten anything so slowly in my life. I know it doesn't really count as "lunch", but topped off with an espresso, it was just perfect.
At high tide the water comes to about halfway up these wood pillars.
Friends!
After our tour with our fabulous and enthusiastic tour guide who absolutely loved to say "Bingo!" after every sentence, we had an hour of free time before we headed to our hotel/hostel for dinner and sleep. Three others and myself decided to wander our way across the city to the beach. It is such a sweet little town despite the touristy spots, but the beach was the highlight. It was pretty much dark by the time we got to the edge, but we could see well enough to make our way down the steep and slippery steps of the wall and down onto the soft sand. We hunted for shells and discussed how it was the perfect setting for finding a washed up body among the rocks, and sort of succeeded in freaking ourselves out a bit for no reason. The smell of the coastal air and the sticky feel of cold saltwater was perfect for reviving my nature deprived senses, and it was sad when we had to leave to head back to the bus.
Our place for the night was an inn connected to a convent and run by some of the nicest nuns around. It was very clean, comfortable, and hospitable, and a nice contrast to the cold wind and rain outside. Dinner was a simple but good affair that was undoubtedly made by nuns. The watery, unseasoned pumpkin soup did inspire prayer to God for the next course, so I guess it served its purpose.
After dinner we gathered around to play a rather fun game in which we wrote the names of famous people on Post-its and then stuck them to the forehead of another person who then had to ask yes or no questions to find out who they were. I was George Brassens who, unfortunately for me, I had never heard of. We had some good laughs and it was quite fun, but we were all ready for bed afterwards. I don't think I have fallen asleep faster than I did that night as I hardly even remember laying down, and thus our first day came to a happy close.
