Saint-Malo, beautiful and mean

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It was difficult to ever imagining leaving Paris, the city that had just begun to feel like home. However I had wanted to visit Mont Saint Michele, after seeing it in a travel book many years ago I knew that if I had the chance I should see it. So on our last full day in Paris, Katherine and I found a travel agency and booked tickets to Saint-Malo and our return ticket to Florence. Unfortunately there is no other direct train to Florence from France, except through Paris. We had originally wanted to go to Nice and get back to Italy that way, but of course there was yet another strike going on in Italy, possibly the only thing you can always count on to happen on time. So our dreams of seeing the South of France were dashed, however, it meant that we would have another half day in Paris.

The train ride to Saint-Malo was uneventful, which is always nice, full of people going to their vacation home. There were not many tourists in Brittany in October due to the cold weather and rain that tends to plague the area. I did not have any problems with this small fact though; being the Seattle girl that I am a little rain is never a deterrent. Getting to our Hostel however was a bit more problematic, similar to what happened in Paris, our Hostel was much farther than we anticipated. For some reason I never quite understand that of course everything looks closer on a map because everything is scaled down in order to fit onto the paper. Looking at our map I had figured out that it would be a fairly quick walk to our hostel. It took half an hour of walking with 30 pounds of luggage but we finally made it, sweaty, hungry, and ready to see the Atlantic Ocean.

We walked into town which was located close by and were finally able to put our feet into the ocean, something neither one of us had done in two months. The beach had wonderful sand that I wish existed in Washington State because it reminded me of Hawaii, except that the water was just like home, freezing. After playing in the ocean and watching the sail boats and surfers (if you can imagine surfers in northern France!) we made our way to the city center which is on the other side of a protected harbor. The center has more like a village, but obviously has a huge tourist community in the summertime with all its St. Malo gift shops.

After our jaunt around the town, we went back to our hostel to rest up for what we were hoping to be an eventful night. Everything started out weird however when Katherine and I were walking out for dinner. The two of us were the absolute only people out on the street and if we did happen to see another person it was always a man. It was like stepping through a time portal back to the 1950's, every person that we pasted either yelled at us or stared so rudely I thought that we were wearing devils costumes and calling for Satan. So completely different than Paris, where everyone was super friendly to us. When we did in fact get to a restaurant it was mostly locals (which was expected) and I was able to put my conversational French to good use, since the people there spoke limited English.

There was however a small episode where a local woman tried to teach me how to eat my food. I had ordered a salmon pasta dish but the noodles were too long to eat with any amount of grace, so being the American that I am started to inhale my food. Since I was not only starving by this point but also didn't really care what the people around me thought. Well the woman sitting next to Katherine had a clear view of how I was eating and didn't think it was the correct way, so she tells me in French that I was taking too big of bites and needed to eat slower. Basically eat like a polite person, however it didn't stop there, she then proceeded to reach over take my fork and show me how to twirl a single noodle and eat it without shoveling. I just sat there while Katherine is laughing at me and the woman's poor husband is sitting next to me and telling me that this is just how she is. Well as much as I like to be treated like I am five, I did not really appreciate having some stranger dig in to my food. Maybe it’s just how the French are in the country, I don't know. Other than that little lesson dinner was fantastic, it had been ages since I had good seafood and the salmon restored my happiness. Katherine and I then left to go to a bar since I had yet to try the famous "Duchess Anne Cider" that Brittany is known for. However like when we were walking into town for dinner we were once again the only women at the bar, so I order our beers in French and proceeded to sit and chat with Katherine. Well a minute or two went by and I could hear this man next to me complaining about how rude it is that Katherine and I were not speaking in French when in the bar. He obviously had not heard he order in French not English, just a few minutes before his rant. I could not believe how egotistical he was being, it was like he believed everyone should only speak French and that anyone who dared to talk in a different language could leave. So typical. I had heard that the French were rude, but had not had any problems in Paris so was starting to believe that it was a falsehood that I could deny.

The rest on my time in St. Malo was not as eventful, other than seeing the incredibly low tide at night it was not to note worthy except for our visit to Mont. Saint Michele.

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Photos

Sail boats
There was a sailing school on the beach.

sandy feet
Taking a walk along the coast.

Giant beings.
A huge jellyfish that had washed up on shore. In order to see how massive it was necessary to compare it to my huge feet.

City wall view 2
Katherine enjoying the breeze from the water.

Low tide
The tide was out probably a quarter to half a mile out, we were able to walk all the way out without sinking.

View from the waters edge
Night shot of Saint Malo from the incredibly low tide.

Prepared to Leave
All of Katherine's belongings.

Prepared to Leave 2
Packed up and ready to