Having Fun in Bretagne

July 19, 2015

Merrill: I just transferred $ to your card. Can you treat the Allains to a lunch or dessert out at a restaurant or cafe?

Kevin: Will do

July 21, 2015

Kevin: Ah, I tried, but Evelyne is very stubborn and doesn't want me to treat them to dinner. I'll see what I can do.

Merrill: Maybe take them out for dessert? or go to the village and buy a pie? 

Kevin: Okay, I'll try. Even the gift I gave them (two large containers of cookies) she found a way to sneak back into my bag when I wasn't home. They're a tricky couple.

July 23, 2015

Kevin

This week in Dinan was really nice! After visiting St. Malo, Dinard and a few towns in between, I mainly stayed in Dinan for the rest of my time. In the house, there was a pool; a garden with lots of fresh, ripe fruits; and internet and TV, for watching French movies and TV shows (often with French subtitles to help) during the evenings. Possibly most importantly, though: I had my own bathroom, my own shower, and my own bedroom; with the Allains, I felt like a king.

On Sunday (I think Sunday? It may have been Saturday.), there was a huge festival for Kiwanis International at the river adjacent to the walled city within Dinan, featuring numerous jouets nautiques, all of which I’d never imagined to even be games, so I’ll try to explain them now:

• The main events were a version of polo, but on row boats (“Water Polo” definitely gives the wrong impression.), on which there would be eight rowers, for on each side, and, at the back of the boat, an elevated, upward-angled plank would host the final member of the team, the one with a huge rod. Two of these boats would come from opposite ends of the river, approaching one another, and would slow down, side-by-side. At the point where the boats would nearly touch sides, the rowers lifted their oars from the water, and the each “fighter” (one at the end of each boat) would use their rods to knock the other into the water. There was some score involved, but I don’t think anyone—including the people from Dinan—understood it. Regardless, this would happen nearly every 10 minutes. (It took a little while to get teams, representing their coastal towns, on and off of the boats.)
• In between the matches were smaller games of raft races, in which two of the rowers from every team in the above game would take to a raft with their oars and race across the river and back. Once again, these games were one team against another. I was really surprised because most people in the audience seemed a tad bored during the larger games, but during these raft races, I heard several screaming women (cheering on their husbands or brothers—there were only about five women out of the 100-some competing) and even more air horns, as opposed to a relative calmness during the larger games.
• In addition, and I’m not even sure how this can even qualify as a jouet nautique, there was a beauty competition for transvestite men, one representing each coastal town taking part in the festival. I’m not sure who won, or how that was determined, but they were dancing by the judges’ booth nearly the entire day.

Later on in the week, I walked all over the town several times; with its medieval architecture, including stone streets, stone buildings, and even stone poles at the edges of streets (to keep cars from parking on the sidewalk, a phenomena that occurs quite frequently here), nearly every step was like walking hundreds of years back in time.

In particular, I walked to the top of the Tour de l'Horloge [clock tower], where I could see nearly all of Dinan, along with several towns and cities on the outskirts of the area; throughout the local basilica, with its wonderful stain-glass windows (I’ve been noticing that a lot of these basilicas have opportunities to buy candles—I think as indulgences?—for several euros; it seems a tad sketchy, but I think that extra money is what pays for all of the upkeep.); in and around the local school, which was hosting a grandiose exposition of local artists’ work; throughout l'Eglise Saint-Malo, which was surprisingly a lot larger and nicer than the local basilica; across several of the shopping areas, both for tourists (selling tee shirts and cookies) and for locals (selling pretty much everything else); and throughout the local castle, which had its own museum, dungeons, and cannon-ball-sized holes at the top. Throughout many of the lower rooms, you could find a few tables holding four or five cannonballs that weren’t glued down or tied down or even guarded, which I thought would be a security issue, until I tried picking one up: the ball, about half of the size of a bowling ball, weighs nearly 100 pounds. If someone were to actually carry one up four flights of stairs just to drop off the side of the castle, I’d say he deserves the extra fun for all of that hard work.

Just outside of the castle is a really large botanical garden, with both several different types of flowers and numerous exotic birds, in little caged huts scattered across the grounds, and a small grazing ground for two goats and a donkey. It was a cool place.

In addition, I met one person who lives in Dinan who, when I told her I was from the suburbs of Chicago, told me all about her foreign exchange there (I think to Marian Catholic High School—still a long while away), and was all the more excited to find an actual Illinoisan in the town of Dinan, where there are pretty much exclusively Dinanais citizens and Parisian, British, Dutch, German, and Italian tourists. To date, she is the second person I’ve met on my trip and the first person I’ve met in France who has eaten a Horseshoe. Still remembering how that to-go box stunk up our car when we went there [Springfield, Illinois], I’m a tad unsure of whether that’s a good thing or not.

[The Horseshoe is an open-faced sandwich originating from Springfield, Illinois. It consists of thick-sliced toasted bread, most often Texas toast, a hamburger patty, French fries, and a "secret" cheese sauce. Common replacements for the hamburger patty include ham, deep fried pork tenderloin, grilled or fried chicken breast, and fried fish fillets.

en.wikipedia.org]

Today, I spent the morning in Rennes, walking around the university and exploring the library, before taking another car to Paris, where I think I’m staying until July 27. (Melanie told me I’d have to come either the 26th or the 27th, so I figured I’d stay the extra day, take a short train to one of the towns neighboring Paris, and watch the Tour de France where it’s a lot less crowded.) My plans for Paris are somewhat unstructured, but I’m assuming I’ll still find a lot to do. Then, I’ll either find a car to Strasbourg and a short train to Colmar, or just a train to Colmar (I’ve become quite good at finding the best deals while I’m here.), where I’ll meet Melanie and spend my last week.

In Midnight in Paris, they go to Monet’s mansion, where they see the real life waterlilies, as well as many of his works; I’ve been trying to find the name of that place for the last week or so, but I can’t even find it in the guidebook. I want to see if I can go there before Monday.

I think that’s all for me. It’s a little strange to think that in just less than two weeks, I’ll already be home, and in just over a month, I’ll already be at Haverford.

So, I think as happy as I am to stay here for the next two weeks learning French, visiting museums, and seeing so much history, I’ll still very much enjoy spending my last three weeks of the summer relaxing and spending time with family and friends.

Later...

Train Plans

Strasbourg -- Charles de Gaulle, Aug. 4:

My old ticket was 2nd class, 75 euro. I just exchanged it for a 55 euro, 1st class ticket.

I'm finally high class!