El Túnel - La Fin

In the year 708 Aubert, the Bishop of Avranches had a dream that the archangel Michael appeared to him and ordered him to build a church on Monte Tombe, a rocky tidal island in Normandy. Aubert didn't believe this was real and ignored it. Again he dreamed that St. Michael appeared to him with the same request. Aubert blew it off. The third time St. Michael had had it. He knocked a hole in Aubert's head.

Just an aside. It's good I don't have this particular power, otherwise
''GET YOUR SHOES AND SOCKS ON!!!" could be a lot scarier...

My dream coming true

I have wanted to visit Mont St. Michel ever since I first saw a photo of it.

I have a religious fixation, that I think my friends and family would agree is a full blown obsession. I fantasize about being a nun/priest. It 100% appeals to me. There is the light hearted side that can see that being married to JC has some great benefits.

• A. He doesn't snore. (Mike very unhelpfully pointed out that he won't snore either when he is dead.)
• B. I would never have to listen to Him chew anything.

And then there is the more serious side. I want to spend all of my life contemplating God. For now, I tell myself that I am a nun, and Mike is my father confessor. I am explaining this so that you can understand how exciting this day was for me, getting to visit this place I have dreamed of visiting, an ancient site where people have have gathered and worshipped God for a millenium.* (see blog-end)

Mont St. Michel is approximately one kilometer off of the coast of Normandy, on the border of Brittany. It is connected by a land bridge/parking lot, and I have read this might be removed and replaced with a suspension bridge and ferry service. The tides move in very quickly, at one meter per second. Pilgrims can be seen with their pants rolled up crossing from the main land via the wet sands. There are posted warnings of the dangers of quicksand.



Photo by Museumchick, Sucked in the Quicksands, Paul Cappelani, 1909 



Pilgrims

Foreshadowing...

The first thing that happens when you enter Mont St. Michel, is akin to falling into quicksand, especially if you are traveling with young ones. The tourist trap.

Holy Guacamole.
(and, Diagon Alley-ish!)

It was painful, the begging exploded. Mike and I agree, we want this adventure to be about experiences and severely limit purchases. We have talked with the boys about this, but when confronted with plastic swords, snow globes, actual swords, full suits of armor, all memory of recent conversations is lost.
"PLEASE!!!!!!!" (repeat endlessly)
It is a struggle and very annoying. I am not sure how to handle it. I get grumpy and then I am not communing. One idea I have considered is to give them a very small budget that they can use for whatever they want. If you have any brill ideas, please share (brill is a word I just learned from my English friend, I think it's brill, don't you? Manky is another one. I will be throwing manky around, once I know what it means).

The power of desire for stuff is strong. I also find myself wanting wanting wanting.

We made it through, but I wish it weren't there.

French fries, Orangina and a graveyard.

Henri Georges Adam
Donna, is this a relative?

We started to make our way up, ducking into a teeny church as quietly as we could. It is the parish church of St. Pierre, built in the 11th century. It feels very old, and inside is a statue of St. Michael slaying the dragon. I want to explain to the children what is intended by these violent images and others that we see, but it is difficult. I told them that the dragon represents evil, such a tricky concept. Someday I will tell them that I believe we are all 50% evil, but not today.

There are several hotels, and I think staying in such a location could be magical, but the tourists abound. After visiting and seeing the multitudes, I wouldn't choose to stay there.

The verticality of the monument is fascinating.



This is boring! The delicate balance between happy you and happy me.

 

The view.



Contemplating quicksand...

It goes up and up and we didn't really know where we were going. There are tiny, winding streets that branch off here and there. We climbed up and up and came to the entrance of the abbey. You queue up and pay 8.50 Euro per adult, the children were free.

Looooong way down...

Lady bug in the cloisters



The two things that struck me about this place are the simplicity/austerity and the magnitude. It is massive, rooms are massive, fireplaces are massive, columns are massive. It feels like a giant's house.

But the austerity enchanted me the most. I expected religious art work and golden everything. In January of 2010 Mike and I visited Santa María de Montserrat, an ancient Benedictine Abbey built on and into a mountain, located about an hour outside of Barcelona. I imagined Mont St. Michel would be similar in feel, but they are dramatically different. Montserrat is elaborate and gilded and isolated. There is a village feel to Mont St. Michel. According to Wikipedia, it has a population of 41. I saw one nun dart through a door. She looked amazing in long, light blue robes and a simple white head covering. There is a book in the book store with photos showing the lives of the men and women who live and work in the abbey. I was dying to buy it, but no purchases...



It's always karate time!

The most complete information I have found about Mont St. Michel, is in the Catholic Encyclopedia. If you are interested in reading more about it, this is a good place to start.

I love massive thick stone walls.

The drop on the other side of this barrier is straight down for hundreds of feet...
Hold on tight to your babies!

Big wheel, so what.

The sled-like object in this photo was used to haul things up and down a perilous ramp (the opening is seen in the photo of Michael and I next to the frightening drop).  The massive rope and wheel in the previous photo with Dominic helped to move the sled up and down.

Pieta
(broken statue, headless Jesus)
What happened to Jesus' head? Did they cut off his head? Why did they cut off his head?
"No my darling children, Jesus was only nailed to a cross after being tortured for your sins!
He didn't also have his head cut off, sillys!"

After making our way within the upper buildings for over an hour,
we came upon a place where the mountain meets the abbey,
surprising slab of granite good for resting.

If for no other reason, come for the views.

Time to go down, down, down...

This next excerpt comes from Wikipedia's entry about St. Michael. I love it.

In Hebrew, the name Michael means "who is like God"(mi-who, ke-as or like, El-deity), which in Talmudic tradition is interpreted as a rhetorical question: "Who is like God?" (which expects an answer in the negative) to imply that no one is like God. In this way, Michael is seen as a symbol of humility before God.

I can't say our Michael shows an abundance of humility yet, however I know from experience that life is a great teacher of it...

Dominic with St. Michael.
I have to say, I thought he did amazingly well
spending a day surrounded by a multitude of St. Michaels
 and nary a St. Dominic to be seen.



Mossy and gorgeous





Can you see the shadow cast by the spire?

In my eyes, Saints Michael and Dominic.

* (and plenty of horrible things happened too, it was a prison and we all know how rotten the Catholic church has been...).

THE END

Actually, not quite, please tune in again for the very very end of our Fall Break extravaganza.



El Túnel - Part Quatre - The Zoo

I read that the largest indoor pool in Brittany was close to where we were staying. I thought that might be a fun thing to do with the boys, and I haven't been swimming in eons. I then lost the link and couldn't find it again before leaving Crowthorne, but we brought our suits anyway and happened to drive by it on our second day in France. It didn't look that great. But it was one of those things, where I saw it, and then without thinking, too loudly announced, ''Oh! There's that pool I read about!''

The begging started and we caved and said, ok, we'll go there sometime on this trip. So that was our plan for day four. Super lame. Not on my list. But close and would keep the boys happy. We were a little worn out searching for Gazole.

God is indeed great, the pool was closed (and for many other reasons)!

We saw a sign for Zooparc Trégomeur and decided to check it out. I don't love zoos (although I do love our Reid Park Zoo in Tucson!), I usually feel sorry for the animals and then I hate reading about how they are losing habitat, and how few are left in the wild. It's depressing!

The drive to Zooparc Trégomeur is lovely. It takes you through the town of Trégomeur, which is charming,

We were very curious to see partial mud adobe structures. Feels like home...

and then through fields with big blonde cows. I am a fan of cows. If I had to come back as a cow, I hope it would be a French dairy cow. I think it might be a decent life, hanging out all day, grazing with my sister cows, chewing the cud and gazing at the gorgeous countryside. For now, I will thoroughly enjoy their handiwork, oh happy cheese...

Hi pretty!

Mike and I thought the zoo was pretty expensive. It was 48 euros for the four of us, and that included a bag of popcorn to feed the goats. That is $68.00 which felt over the top.

Mike and I thought this bamboo lined bridge was beautiful.

It is a lovely zoo, the enclosures are fairly large and there are some interesting animals to see, including a snow leopard family with two young kittens (super cute! jumping all over daddy, I could hear the mama cat saying, ''go away! go play somewhere else!'').

I fell in love with the binturong, a strange animal also known as an Asian Bearcat. According to Wikipedia, the Binturong can make chuckling sounds when it seems to be happy and utter a high-pitched wail if annoyed. I can relate to that!

The popcorn eating goats seem to have aggression issues, there was a lot of butting of smaller goats to knock them out of the way of the not-so-tasty treat. Relax! It's lousy popcorn! I'd be right there with you if someone were throwing chocolate covered caramels sprinkled with sea salt...

From there we found ourselves unexpectedly walking up to a gorgeous Thai house. What? Odd, but really lovely.


Mike said we could check it off of the list of places we want to visit,
(just to tease Rainy Dawn). "Thailand, DONE!" Next.

This was the coldest day yet. The high was probably in the low 40's. After having a ball in a the zoo playground, which featured two jumping castles and nice playground equipment, we ran back to Binic to warm ourselves up with an early dinner.

In the off season, if it is after 2:00 pm and before 7:00 pm, there ain't no food to be had...goldarnit!! We were so cold we headed into a bar, and chose a few items off of their bar food menu. So sorry, no croque monsieur, which might have been perfect for our boys (although you never know, it might have been horrible).  We ordered the three things they had, a cheese plate, a sausage, and bruschetta, two hot chocolates, and two large breton beers. I would have loved to have downed about seven more, but my alcoholic fun times will have to wait.

The boys ate about a loaf of white bread, Michael had a bite of the sausage, said, "Yum!! I love it!!" and didn't have another bite. I loved it, but it was a might gamey for a seven year old. The cheese was stinky and gooey and perfect. When I have open heart surgery, and the doctors open my clogged arteries, I imagine there will be more than a whiff of gorgonzola in the air. (Can you believe I wrote that?! That's dinner conversation in my family.)

The next day Mike took the reigns and we left for a forced march through our new town of St. Quay Portrieux. It is a gorgeous town. Seaside, our cottage was a seven minute walk to the beach, mostly deserted in the off season. I enjoy the off season. I like the space not taken up by multitudes of hot, hungry people. I like seeing the locals living their daily life.

Snails

Our walk took us along the beach and then up into a neighborhood overlooking the sea with a 300 degree view. I would love to see inside these homes.

We met a very sweet Rubbee look alike, and then had to pause to cry for the kitties we left behind.

Then we walked down to the next beach and found the restaurant that was recommended to us. Please please please plan to eat there, if you are ever in St. Quay Portrieux. Bistrot La Marine in Port Vieux.

Their website is quite cool.
Click on the link above if you have the time to wander around this teensy place.

After spending an hour or so on the beach and collecting shells and other treasures, we entered the restaurant and Michael saw a girl with a giant bowl of mussels! To his shell-collecting-fixated mind, this was the mother load!

''I want the mussels!"

They have a kids menu which features:

• mussels with frites (mmmmm!)
• steak haché - which is a burger without the bun, also served with frites,
• fish avec frites
• and something else I can't remember

Of my two little boys, Dominic is the foodie. He loves to cook and has since he was a tiny person. He loves to grocery shop and he loves to eat. He takes after his big sister Anna. Michael is more of the chow hound type, the carbier the better. Pizza, chicken nuggets, mac n cheese, pbj. So I have been pleasantly surprised by his willingness, even enthusiasm to try new foods since our move to England.

He wanted the mussels, dadgummit! Let him have mussels!

I was very excited to teach him the mussel eating trick my luminous, earth-mama, beautiful, food and life loving friend Karlin taught me. You eat one mussel however you can, then you use the shell like tweezers, to extract and to feed yourself the rest of the mussels.

They were heavenly. So simple and so delicious. Salty, sweet little morsels of goodness. And the onions! Which I think were shallots, sent me over the top.  Thank you mére nature! Michael probably ate about five, until Mike's curried mussels arrived.

A mountain of mussels.

The sweet curry worked better for Michael than his mussels dressed only in their birthday suits. I ordered Nickerbocker the steak haché because he couldn't come to terms with any of the choices. He is definitely having a harder time with this adventure. His world was working for him in Tucson and it has been a big adjustment for him. Michael is 100% gung ho, from the moment of his conception, likely. The other day he complained to me that a new kid at school wouldn't talk to him. I said that he should keep trying because the new boy probably really appreciated Michael's attempts to make friends, and that new kids are sometimes very scared and it takes some time to settle into a new school. "Scared of what?" Michael asked me. He has no concept of feeling worried about entering a new social environment. It is pure excitement for him. I think that is why he will try any new food and Dominic is holding back. My poor foodie is too overwhelmed by all of the change to embrace this food that I know he would love. He wouldn't even try a mussel.

I am happy. My little man is working on his quest for happiness.
Notice charming murals.

I ordered a fish with the word jaune in the name, yellow something. It was the special and sounded yummy because it was served with lentils, and then it came and was served on a bed of cous cous. So confusing! Delectable, it was the sauce. Sauce is so important... Also we ordered more stinky cheese.  And Mike and I shared a bottle of vin. I firmly believe in wine with lunch, it is my new thing.

Funky cheese with freaky ham.

Dessert, apple torte and espresso...

The view from Bistrot La Marine.
Low tide...

We walked back the way we came, and had promised the boys more time to play on the beach.

Michael stepped on something sharp? poisonous? Mike ran back to the cottage and got the car. Hot baths warmed up stingingly numb boys.

That evening we wandered down and lollygagged at a play ground, enjoyed a local specialty, galettes and treated ourselves to crepes and ice cream.

I like the similar expressions on the faces of my two very different young ones.

Michael and Mike hammed for Dominic the photographer.

We ordered the local specialty, a galette, which is a buckwheat crepe, with cheese. Later we saw a man who looked like he knew what he was doing, with a galette with ham and cheese and an egg (barely) cooked sunny side up on top. He cracked a bunch of pepper over the top, folded the whole thing over and mashed it up a little with his fork. Doesn't that sound divine? I want one right now.

Cheese galette, shoulda coulda woulda...
Dinner at the Créperie Fleur de Blé Noir

Crepe with just a touch of chocolate and carmelized bananers!

Something to celebrate?

The women of the Créperie were wonderfully welcoming and kind.

After dinner extreme teeter tottering.

Please tune in again for a dream coming true and borderline hypothermia. Vive la France!