Stay Away

Our second summer, our second trip to our friends in Bretagne. By now, it feels not only like a little slice of heaven, but a familiar one. I realize it also feels familiar because it reminds me in so many ways of the annual summer trips to my sister's house in coastal Maine. There are the rocky beaches with great tide-pooling, the coastal walks and bike rides, the fantasy mansions on the cliffs (let's just say I wouldn't sniff at the house all trimmed in white at left in the photo below).

 

 

 

 

Even beyond the excellent bakery breads and lack of blueberry/maple products, there are differences, of course. The little tents at Dinard look pure French, for example. And the Atlantic's noticeably warmer here than in Maine, as long as one is lucky enough to be here during a warm August. Last year we were in Bretagne in early July, and the water was so cold I only swam once -- and then simply because my friend Beatrice told me that was the only way I'd earn the right to be invited back. Well, this year, we are there in August, so I am able to swim every day; I practically feel like a native Breton.

 

And then there's the view out to the medieval walled cite of St. Malo, which doesn't exactly bring Maine to mind.

 

Also, instead of lobster, we have moules (muscles). But not actually ones that we find ourselves.

 

 

This year, in addition to seeing our good friends, and the beautiful coast, we also see a fox, right there next to the beach.

 

 

By the way, if you think it looks like we have nothing but gorgeous sun, blue skies, and warm summer weather, it is my obligation to tell you that it rains miserably and constantly the entire time we are here. I have promised our friends that we will do our part to keep the masses away by playing up the stereotype of the Breton weather. Somehow, we all manage to enjoy it anyway.