The Ryndex

Our plans called for us to head straight to Mont St. Michel this morning, so of course we changed our minds and decided to toodle around Brittony instead. It was probably the tides or something.

Dol de Bretagne is a lovely, colourful town on the route. From our history lesson at Bayeux, we discovered that Count Conan II was besieged here during one of William the Conqueror’s battles before Hastings. He managed to escape, however, using his trusty rope. There’s a cathedral, and something called a Cathedral-o-scope, which we unfortunately didn’t visit. There’s a labyrinth painted on the pavement that you can walk and meditate on (Duckie did), which is fortunate since the real one at Chartres is usually covered by chairs.

We also managed to find an automated public toilet with a lavebo that ran water if (and only if) you pleaded with it.

It’s a charming little village, but (like Conan) we were heading deeper into the Rance Valley to visit the medieval city of Dinan. According to the tapestry, Conan surrendered the keys to the city to William on the end of a lance. Where’s your rope now, Conan, huh? Boo-yah!

Is it me, or is reading Rick Steve just making me snottier and less respectful of historical context in the search for a cheap laugh?

Our first stop was the Information centre, which was very informative about its closing hours. We took a picture of historic Dinan from the poster at the door and used that as our guide.

Then we met a charming couple from the Isle of Wight, who were finishing up their vacation. They were waiting for the tourist train, which was tempting. But we were hungry and couldn’t catch it with them. Instead, we went for crèpes in the main square, very picturesque and very touristy, but not bad at all. We also visited both churches, St. Malo and St. Sauveur. The second church is mysteriously lop-sided, but we couldn’t figure out why.

Our next stop was the city of St. Malo, the birthplace and launching point for Jacques Cartier, widely credited for discovering Canada. We found easy parking, which was a pleasant change from my other visits, and got right down on the beach to see if we could walk out to the Grand Bé to visit the windy grave of Chateaubriand. You can only access this island during lower tides. The water was just coming up to the causeway, so we easily could have made it across to the other side.

Duckie was all for it, but I was preoccupied with making it back from the other side. This is one of the fastest and highest tides on the Channel. Duckie accused me of being too rigid and insufficiently spontaneous. I replied that there was a difference between being a spoilsport and recognizing that the posted signs say don’t, and that there isn’t any tourist rescue aid society if we get stuck.

Duckie rebutted with an aw, cmon, which nearly swayed me until I pointed out that in the minute we discussed it, the causeway was already knee deep, and that a woman and her two children were stuck on the other side. An extreme fisherman in ripped jeans went to rescue them.

So we walked to higher ground and did a bit of clambering. Then we walked the remparts, which are spectacular. Historic St. Malo is mostly rebuilt, since it was largely destroyed in the second world war, but it was done with careful attention to detail and authenticity.

We ate at an excellent restaurant — in fact, it might have actually been the top food experience of our trips. It’s called Un Petit Air de Campagne, serving mostly organic fresh market food in season, and homemade bread. They were out of the famous raw oysters from Cancale, but they had cooked oysters, stuffed with garlic and butter like escargots. I had the mustard rabbit as a main plat, and a cooked pear with goumet ice cream for dessert. Duckie had the oysters and crab ravioli. Delicious!

Duckie, of course, had to drive home at night. It’s an interesting cultural exchange when a Canadian driver takes to French roads — by their own standards, the French are safe drivers, and may also even believe themselves to be considerate of other drivers on the road. However, from a Canadian (or indeed, any “civilized” or “human”) point of view, they are deluded and dangerous.