With less than a week until Dr Who graces our screens once more, summer must really be in its autumn years. Needless to say, then, that my holidaying is over. Having spent a week in Brittany, and about 2 days at sea, I'm back with fresh photos and exciting stories. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy a yarn or two about my time away with three of the most cerebral people you're ever likely to meet.
A comment I take back instantly.
No matter how wonderful a holiday turns out to be, it doesn't necessarily have a perfect beginning. We took an overnight ferry from Plymouth to Brittany, and drifted off to sea in our cabin somewhere in the English Chanel - something new for everyone. At 6 o'clock the next morning, we were woken by gentle, but curiously intrusive, guitar music, and an announcement that we were only an hour away from land. The instruction to leave our cabins was cued to perfection, being given midway through my shower, so we packed quickly and disembarked, all tired and still slightly shampooed. Oh, and in true holiday spirit, it was raining.
Arriving at our chalet in Saint Laurent, typical excitement was replaced with exhaustion and relief as we slumped down to the sound of raindrops on the roof. Needless to say, we went to bed pretty sharpish. By the morning (when we up this had almost gone), things had taken quite a different turn. The clouds had parted, the sun was shining, and we got to appreciate for the first time the incredible view of the bay we had.
Now there's a view you can chew a croissant to.
From there on in, things seemed much nicer for all. With a new-found confidence in our prospects, we did what any self-respecting Britons would do on holiday, and pottered about. After exploring the local beaches for a few days, and wondering what to do, we decided to walk to Concarneau, the next town over. We could see it from the beach near us, and had been told it was only a short walk away. Our hearts set on crepes for lunch, we headed off.
Now, it's true that it isn't all that far of a walk from Saint Laurent to Concarneau... provided you're walking on the road. Instead, we were taking the more winding, yet infinitely more senic footpaths around two or three peninsulas. Whilst this made for some excellent photo opportunities, it didn't exactly agree with the footwear of certain members of the party.
"See? It's only around the corner!"
We made it, though, and got a two course crepe dinner and a taxi ride for our efforts. It also made us aware of the Blue Nets Festival that would be starting just before we left - but more on that in another post I have planned. For the moment, we were enjoying the two sides of Concarneau - the quiet, local side (where we had our crepes), and the tourist based centre, focused around the old Norman walls. As you'd expect, it was absolutely heaving with people, but not without good reason. The area was full of period buildings, converted into streets of shops. While it's true that many of them were gimmicky and naff, a few treats were dotted about. For example, we stumbled upon a chocolate shop with an impressive range of sculptures - goodness knows how they stopped them from melting in that heat.
Because some things are just inherently more awesome than others
We visited other little towns like this over the week - Vannes, Quimper, but Concarneau stands out the most. Probably because of the walk and the festival, but also because it has, to my mind, contained the tourist infestation to only a region of itself, leaving a working port and livelihood for the residents, unlike so many similar regions of the world.
Of course, walks weren't all we did out there. For starters, there was the consumption of a near-impossible quantity of cheese, bread and wine, of which my tastebuds and I have no regrets. The noticable lack of a television, however, meant that everyone, even my darling sister, was reading in the evening. A pleasant experience, to be sure, and one I tried to make the most of. So, without further ado, I present a one sentence summary of the things what I read:
- The Very Short Introduction to Literary Theory: Dense but insightful, with usefully clear structure.
- Moab is my Washpot: Hilarious and heartbreakingly honest - you couldn't ask more of it.
- The Symposium: Modern philosophers should write in Plato's fictive structure - it makes it so much more enjoyable
- The Atrocity Exhibition: Comic yet tragic, structured yet insane.
- Never Let Me Go: One of the saddest and most enjoyable books I've read in a long time.
As I say, a week is a long time.
In order to get the ferry home, we had to travel to Saint Malo and stay overnight there, once again finding ourselves in the midst of a port town that benefits from a tourist industry, much like Concarneau. Though we weren't there long, we had dinner in a shop run entirely by the loveliest old lady ever, and had a fantastic walk on the beach. Particularly interesting were the thousands of tree trunks lined up on the shore as a tidal defence. Having seen footage like this, however, you can see why they're there.
They're not just pretty photo opportunities, you know.
I realise this isn't the most fluent summary of my time in Brittany, but there are good reasons for that. 1) You'd probably be really bored by the time I was through, and 2) I'm saving some stuff for a more thoughtout post, arriving soon. In the meantime, I'll be putting some more pictures up under "Things of the Now". I hope you enjoy them, and check back for more soon!
TTFN!
