Monks and mudflats
When French people say, “the wifi is good,” read, the wifi works sometimes if you’re lucky. But that’s okay because we have bigger poisson to fry around here. I believe I blogged three days ago, and that seems like five minutes ago and two weeks ago. Timey-wimey.
Sunday we cruised along the Normandy seaside and stopped where we felt like it after a short stop at the lavomatique. That’s French for laundromat. We coffee’d and croissant’d while our laundry lavomatiqued.
Magical.
We arrived late at Mont St. Michel, as we were advised to do. It was about 4 pm, and crowds were clearing out. We did not see any monks but we saw hella lotta mud. AND a remarkable, fairy tale monastery perched on an island, just like the photos except better. WAY.
It was so awesome we decided to stay atop the mountain and eat an expensive dinner with a free view. So worth it. Suddenly, every croissant breakfast and baguette and cheese lunch was paying huge dividends.
We arrived around 9 pm at our manoir B and B, a stunning 300 year old mansion undergoing remarkable transformation over the last fifteen years. Wow. I. Can’t. Even.
Over breakfast and coffee in the morning, our hosts directed us to a favourite little seaside town, Cancale, where we picnicked on the sea wall, overlooking the oyster farmers and the oyster market below us.
We spend the afternoon in St. Malo, jumping off and resting place of Jacques Cartier. The town itself is lovely, a beautiful intact walled city, where we walked the top of the ramparts on a wide avenue and snooped around the expensive boutiques.
Because my wifi is limited, and I am tired...and perhaps this is too long already, I will only relay these meanderings. Tuesday (today) and tomorrow’s adventures must wait.
Sunday we cruised along the Normandy seaside and stopped where we felt like it after a short stop at the lavomatique. That’s French for laundromat. We coffee’d and croissant’d while our laundry lavomatiqued.
Magical.
We arrived late at Mont St. Michel, as we were advised to do. It was about 4 pm, and crowds were clearing out. We did not see any monks but we saw hella lotta mud. AND a remarkable, fairy tale monastery perched on an island, just like the photos except better. WAY.
It was so awesome we decided to stay atop the mountain and eat an expensive dinner with a free view. So worth it. Suddenly, every croissant breakfast and baguette and cheese lunch was paying huge dividends.
We arrived around 9 pm at our manoir B and B, a stunning 300 year old mansion undergoing remarkable transformation over the last fifteen years. Wow. I. Can’t. Even.
Over breakfast and coffee in the morning, our hosts directed us to a favourite little seaside town, Cancale, where we picnicked on the sea wall, overlooking the oyster farmers and the oyster market below us.
We spend the afternoon in St. Malo, jumping off and resting place of Jacques Cartier. The town itself is lovely, a beautiful intact walled city, where we walked the top of the ramparts on a wide avenue and snooped around the expensive boutiques.
Because my wifi is limited, and I am tired...and perhaps this is too long already, I will only relay these meanderings. Tuesday (today) and tomorrow’s adventures must wait.
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