What a funny and singularly interesting day this is turning out to be! I am sitting in great luxury on a fast train (senior discounts are tremendous in France, as they are in Poland, but not so much in the US), on my way to Saint-Malo, which, in case you're map-challenged, is on the Brittany coast of France.
The thing is, I had wanted to go to Bretagne all along and indeed had booked a stay on the coast, further west, but in the end, the expense and the time away from Ed and family held me back. For the n-th time I changed my reservations and now am returning to the farmette on Thursday instead of on the weekend. But I still wanted to go to Brittany, at least for the day. No problem! The closest destination easily accessible from Paris is Saint-Malo. It's some 260 miles from Paris, and this fast train will get me there in 2 hours and 20 minutes.
Normally, train tickets are readily available on the SNCF (French Rail) website, but here's the rub: as you may have noticed we are in the period of les grandes vacances, where half the population of Paris (maybe more) exits the city and heads for the coast. This period of pleasure lasts anywhere from two weeks to a month or more. In the second half of August, everyone starts returning to work. This movement of masses and a return to routine even has a name for it -- la rentrée. The return. But it's more than just a physical return. La rentrée is more important than January 1st as a time for etting of new goals and resolutions. The energy in Paris shifts from deadsville to something akin to a frenzy of activity. And today is a Sunday, so for many it is a perfect time to pack up the bags and the family, and travel back to Paris. In other words, even several weeks ago, I almost could not find a train ticket for my own return trip. In the end I snatched one last seat on an evening train back and felt like dancing at my luck!
Since it is Sunday and French people are food obsessed and especially for Sunday lunch, and I am going to a seaside destination, I had also spent a huge amount of time back at the farmhouse looking for a place to eat a hearty Bretagne lunch. Here, too, I finally got lucky. Reservations in my pocket, I got up a little early this morning, went down to breakfast...
... and set out for the Montparnasse train station. Google will tell you it's a 40 minute walk from Le Baume. I have done it pulling a suitcase, so I know it's uphill. Of course, I am unencumbered today and so the walk is easy and fun. Sunday morning in Paris and in August? Empty streets!
(two men)
(the train station is just behind the big tower)
I think Montparnasse can be a pain to navigate. Hall 1? Hall 2? Does it matter? But, I have plenty of time. I find my train, find my seat and relax.
(bright and shiny)
Now, about St.-Malo. I've never been to it because were I to stay for more than a day, there are far better choices than this rather sizeable town (pop 46 000) that was largely destroyed during World War II. Nearly 80% of it was bombed to the ground, so dont look for too much of cute and old; what seems cute and old is likely a reconstructed version of what was once here. Indeed, the novel All the Light We Cannot See (absolutely brilliant! Read it if you haven't yet done so!) is in great part set here during the battle for control over St-Mallo in 1944.
I'm at the eastern-most edge of Bretagne. If I took a few steps more to the east, I'd be in Normandy and facing the Mont Saint Michel. But is it really the "vrai Bretagne" (the real Brittany) here? Well, of course, I'm about to find out. What it does have is very attractive ramparts and a very wide space for a promenade along a very long and wide beach. I think that should do it! And if I get fed up with all of it, I can always take the "sea bus" ferry to Dinard across the mouth of the River Rance -- a ten minute ride. (Would you believe it, Ed and I once biked along the hilly coast in and around Dinard!)
The train pulls into St-Malo, I look around me.
Brittany it is.
I do have just little time before my lunch reservation. My train arrived at 12:16 and my chosen dining place is 35 minutes by foot.
I am right by the sea (or more accurately -- the English Channel)! I can peak at the water.
It really is a lovely day for this, no? Sunny, with a breeze. At least this is the way it feels in the early afternoon.
I reach my lunch place just in time. It's the Maison Vermer. I considered myself lucky when Madame Sophie eventually shot me an email telling me they had a table for me.
The food? Well, it's good, but I misfired with this one. It's Parisian good. In Brittany I would have loved something fresh and honest, not necessarily presented beautifully, but full of that seafood richness that I so associate with the coastal towns of Bretagne. Here, I had a lovely tomato carpaccio, a tuna something or other, then some fish that was a total mystery to me, and finally melon with sorbet. It was a fixed meal because that was definitely the cheapest way to go.
(Tomatoes to start with; and no, that's not wine -- since they didn't have zero wine, or zero beer, I had to settle for a fizzy apple cider rose from England. There are plenty of French ciders, but they, too, are not alcohol free.)
The one thing I'll say is that everyone there was speaking French. I felt I joined in on a Sunday dejeuner.
After lunch, I went for the long walk along the Channel.
I did not swim. I did not even walk on the beach. Most big public beaches in France that I have visited had public showers -- to wash off salt and sand. None here. Why get my feet all hot and sandy? And I have to say this -- it was insanely hot by the shore.
(ice cream break)
For reasons that still perplex me, it was significantly hotter here than in town. All sun, no shade. I had applied sunscreen to my face and I am wearing long pants, but still, I felt over-exposed.
Again, there was a good side to the walk: everyone around me spoke French. This was definitely a beach destination for the French. And it's no Coney Island. Not many are swimming in the nicely shallow waters.
All this was surprise. I always thought that La Bretagne attracted British people. It's but a boat ride away. But all those pink British bodies are frying by the Mediterranean. I don't see them here.
Eventually I come to the end of the promenade (thank God) and turn into town.
Ah. This is where the populace hangs out in the afternoon!
It is packed. The main drag is filled with shops and strolling people -- French. but definitely others too. So you come to Saint Malo and you stroll past shops. And I have to admit it -- it's more interesting here than by the beach. For one thing it's cooler. There are street performers. There are Bretagne sweet shops.
I have on my list a place to visit that sells (apparently) the best kouig amann here. You remember my obsession with this sweet pastry the last time I was in Brittany (in October)? Well now, here, they make them by the thousands and they do look very very good. I pick up a couple. Who knows why or when I will eat them. Probably tonight, instead of dinner.
The shop sells these also in vacuum packed bags. Apparently they are good this way for a month. For a month?? -- I ask. Like, until September 17th?? Yes. You have to finish baking them. Here are the instructions. I buy one big one, despite the fact that Madison Sourdough makes perfectly good kouig amanns. I want to compare!
I walk on further. I have time to kill -- my train leaves at 6:14 p.m. (the one with the last remaining seat!).
I head for a tea-shop -- the Bergamote. Again, recommended by I do not remember whom. I had done these searches weeks ago at the farmhouse.
The tea-shop is a really good place for me. It's quiet, with light jazz in the background. And it is pleasantly cool, but not too cool. I hear French everywhere.
I order a tarte Bretonne, with apples and pears and caramel and if that's not sweet enough for you -- a dollop of whipped cream. I figure the melon dessert for lunch was light enough to allow for this. Besides, I cannot sit here for a whole hour and then some, just sipping one cup of tea.
But I must say, in terms of taste -- the tea I pick -- a red fruit rooibos. It's just as described -- delicate. Most red fruit teas overwhelm you with their fruitiness. Not this one. I get a box of it to take home.
And still I have time to kill. I take a walk through town again, I stare at the ramparts, I take a peak at the River Rance which once enthralled me. (Ed and I hiked along its banks on one of our first trips together. It was December. We got lost in fields of artichokes. Grand memories!)
And then I make my way to the train station, get into my seat, grateful for its availability, and head for Paris.
I am super tired: I'd gone to bed after 1 last night and got up way too early. For the remaining days, I have nothing to rush for. The pace will be gentle. I like that.
(so many people...)
I have to finish with a few words on Saint Malo. One person wrote about it thus -- simply put, it's a tourist trap. I guess I do not disagree. Of course, I am in the busiest month here. Even my beloved Languedoc beaches would be hellish in the summer (we always went in June, before schools closed). But Saint Malo just isn't a draw, the Bretagne buildings with their slate roofs and uneven stone notwithstanding.
I had long wanted to see it, and I'm glad that I did, and it was so easy to get to for the day, but I'm not likely to come back. And indeed, I conclude that beaches in the summer are just not much fun! Ed likes to swim in the ocean. I don't. That ship has long sailed. I used to love lying in the sun. No more. We know too much about the problems with that. So for older people, what's the point?
And yet, in St. Malo I see many older couples, walking hand in hand...
Happy to be here. Well, good for them. I still love Brittany, but I am glad I didn't stick with my plan for a four night stay by the sea. I probably would have packed up and found an excuse to go elsewhere. Paris maybe? And the Baume?
(Kouig Amman )
with love...
