Published: December 27th 2007November 27th 2007
a closed oasis
give me a crepe. give me a crepe. break me off a piece of that choc-o-late crepe.
confusion as we spun around the small streets of Ile-de-Re on bike on foot on auto. it is the land of Julien's family beach house. while it was my second trip to france, it was my first trip to an island there, though spookily familiar. there were other "french" islands i had surely visited...
Ile-de-Re is overrun with terrible modern housing developments (pasty white structures hidden behind pasty white walls which are meerly backdrops for industrial art street lamps).
there are older, grander fisherman houses left (as his is), and community buildings which offer full or partial remnants of francophone architecture. the very same buildings i've seen elsewhere. on a dusty road leading out of Dakar, and remnants on the large and acclaimed Ile-de-Goree in Senegal, and the somewhat smaller less acclaimed iles drifting in the middle of the Gambian river. my colonialism nerve was struck.
as i was in quite a funk on this trip and not feeling particularly lyrical (as many of you have commented), i'll let you experience france via photos, with the occasional witty caption.
first, "the island".
There are more photos below