my first french-french island

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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".

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Photos

a closed oasis
give me a crepe. give me a crepe. break me off a piece of that choc-o-late crepe.

an open oasis
cold and hungry after our bike ride through the marshes, i refused to give up until we found adequate vegetarian cuisine (on the island of seafood and salt). this colorful italian-french bistro was a treasure.

pink sunsets
the tides set the tone for our stay. this was the marsh view from our window: a room with a bed, a table, and a mantle to boot in a house from the late 19th century (garden and tea garden as well). i couldn't get the ghosts to pose, though.

arizona anyone?
the island's new style reminded me of my brief stay in arizona. save the new aginess.

off-season
most traditional houses were shut tight, clapboards and all. shutters can be 1 of 5 colors. in this case, i didn't mind the conformist ways.

calcium corpses
did i mention the salt? the novel eeriness outweighed any bad feelings of the uneternalized state of the gravestones.

rizo riz
salt paddies strewn throughout the marshes, visions of italy splashed in my head.

locals at work
i had no idea that the island would be "in use". evidence of agricultural life was everywhere, rice paddies, pushcarts, tractors, men in waders, fisheries and small shacks like these containing who knows what ancient farming tools. this shot could easily have been taken in the marshes of senegal.