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Published: April 20th 2018
It's Yeched Mat to you. Good health in Breton, Another close word to Ieched Da in Welsh.
Breakfast was croissants purchased from the reception brought in daily from the local bakery. They do taste good. Much better than those back home. Are they made with more butter than back home? I have no idea what makes them different . I just eat them, crumbs and all. We moved plots at 11 when our neighbour in his McLouis left the plot. A French motorhomer came and looked as if he was going into our old plot. He shouted at me for moving. Well I think I heard the word illegal coming from his mouth. Ignoring him we moved . After all we had paid for the plot.
Our plan after the move was to catch the bus into Vannes. The bus stop was across the road. The sun was beating down with a slight breeze coming in off the sea. The bay looked stunning, the bus turned up on time. The 1 euro 60 ticket lasted an hour so plenty of travelling could be done on it. It took us through the housng estates. Many times going back and to
and up and down the same road. At least they all looked the same.
I thought to myself as we drove along how right was Lin Yutang on my calendar this morning "If you can spend a perfectly useless afternoon in a perfectly useless manner you have learned how to live" Riding round and round felt useless. We seemed to get nowhere but somehow it just didn't matter.
What can I say about Vannes? A perfectly lovely town, buzzing and vibrant with the usual café culture that the sun brings out. If you enjoy people watching then this is the place as they mill off the buses in Republique. The sun brings out the crowds, the café tables, the bright young things loved up. The old sitting over their coffees and newspapers. The boulangeries full with women buying their baguettes and cakes. We walk to the harbour along streets that are in the process of being dug up and relaid as pedestrian only areas. They are difficult to walk down but when finished will be an asset to Vannes. Why I wonder though are there piles of dog poo on the otherwise pristine street? We wandered towards the
harbour down Rue LeHellec admiring the pattiseries with their art works of cakes in the displays. I earmarked them for the way home. A flan naturel for Glenn and something expensive and pretty for tea. My mouth watered looking at them. Just imagine a glass case full of yellow custardy cakes, small delicate cakes covered in chocolate or caramel , topped with raspberries, layers of every colour. Finger sized sponges all decorated beautifully - too good to eat. 3 euros 80 a cake - would I pay that at home? Probably not - here though I would pay a Kings ransom for one.
Walking on we passed the Places des Lices - an unfortunate sounding square going through the first gate of the city the Porte St Vincent. Built in the 17th siècle it had gone through many rebuildings in the 18th siècle. Above it was a small statue of the saint who was the symbol of the city. A sort of equivalent of our own St David in Wales.
We stopped here for lunch. A small bistro where we ordered the plat du jour - Lamb - tasty but it felt as if it were more mutton
than young lamb. It had a different flavour to NZ lamb or welsh. A bit headier.
It was time to wear off a few calories so we headed off for a circuit of the ramparts. Up the Rue Alexandre Le Pontois to the Chateau De L'Hermione set in the prettiest Spring garden you could ever imagine. Even Sion was impressed with the colourful wallflowers, the pansies and the primulas. The chateau was not open to the public although it did appear to have a red carpet up to its front door. For some dignitary no doubt but not for us. We past the second gate the Porte Porterne and were now following the outside of the ramparts and passing the 17th century Lavours - the public washhouses. The walk continued through the jardins with their multi-coloured beds of tulips and Californian Poppies. Our next tower - this was a walk of towers was the Tour du Connetable the highest tower of the walls which was quickly followed by yet another tour named after Arthur de Rozhonat the constable of Bretagne. This was quickly followed by yes you guessed it - another tower the Tour Poidriere quickly followed by the
Jolliette Tower. Across the road was the impressive Prefecture built in 1865 replacing a much more ancient convent. Round the corner was another gateway into town the Porte Prison which had been built much later in the 19th century. The final gates were the Port St Jean from the 17th century and the Tour du Boiurreau. Thankfully that was the last as by now we felt a little gated out.
We tried the church but didn't expect much. St Pierre was large but utilitarian. It had lost its gothicness if there is every such a word and was heavily Baroqued. Dark and gloomy inside it did really invite us in.
Our last piece of investigation in what was a lovely city was to find Mr and Mrs Vannes. These are two heads sculptured into the façade of a shop which once was the Maison de Vannes et sa femme which roughly translates as the house of Vannes and his wife. These were made in the 16th century, are quite hard to find high up on the building.
Last stop cakes - the flan turned out rubbery but the cakes well - perhaps the pictures should do the
talking. They did get squashed on the way home but it did nothing to make them taste less .
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Home and Away
Bob Carlsen
I'm enjoying your vacation and the good weather...
are you planning to visit Carnac with its megalithic dolmens? If not, I recommend you do.