Revisiting Brittany

Wednesday, January 11, 2012 Eva 0 Comments




Once more (our 4th time over the years) we found ourselves landing on the doorstep of French friends Patrick and Odile in western France, or more correctly the region of Loire-Atlantique near Brittany.  We were welcomed with typical Gallic hospitality into their rural wooden cottage – with bisous (kisses) and French champagne, of course!  

Travel talk is always top of the agenda when we meet.  These two are hard-core backpackers with an unquenchable sense of adventure who don’t let encroaching age slow them down. For them, talking in English happens generally only when we meet. Like themselves, friendly family members who dropped by to visit chatted and joked with us with ease and skill in English, too.  Oh, we were so envious and impressed.  If only we could speak French as easily as they joked in English! 


Typical French hospitality. Salut!

One of my favourite words learnt in French from Patrick and Odile (I’m sure they’ll be embarrassed by this) on our first visit to their home many years ago is the word “poubelle”.  It sounds such a pretty, refined and melodic name for the commonplace rubbish bin.  Translated into Franglish its meaning sounds something like ‘beautiful poo’, does it not!?  The French language is certainly the language of romance, even when it comes to labelling a humble rubbish bin.

Our friends’ flair for traditional cuisine is sensational and they effortlessly whip up luscious meals in super quick time.  I have watched a delicious quiche Lorraine thrown together on a previous visit in the time that it would have taken me to read the recipe and locate the ingredients. These two intrepid travel buddies of ours understand which cheeses to pair together on a cheese platter and which wines to marry with each course with such aplomb.  But of course they are French, no?! 

Truly Breton - galette, butter and cider.

Everything is so excruciatingly tasty. Fish, shellfish off the Atlantic coast, seasonal vegetables, wines, French bread and pastries.  We savour Odile’s fresh-out-of-the-pan galettes (savoury buckwheat crepes) served traditionally with ham and cheese topped with a fried egg and washed down with Breton cider and finish off most evening meals with a platter of regional cheeses.   What a way of life….. what a waistband!

BRITTANY ATTRACTIONS - WHERE TO NEXT?

Venturing away from gourmet kitchen delights and their tranquil garden in this peaceful rural setting, we’re taken to places that we hadn’t seen on earlier visits.  Previously, our friends had driven us to many fascinating spots not far from the serenity of their country life - the salt marshes of Guerande, pretty fishing villages such as St Goustan and St Cado, the mystifying prehistoric stones of Carnac, numerous tourist spots on the Morbihan coast, science fiction writer Jules Vernes’ birthplace of Nantes and the list goes on.   This time, they've selected the port town of Vannes (or Gwened in the Breton language) to the west and the Ville Fleurie (a national competition for the best flowering villages) of La Gacilly to the north.

LA GACILLY

La Gacilly is your quintessential picturesque French village set on the riverbanks.  This tiny place is renowned as the birthplace of Yves Rocher and his cosmetics empire as well as attracting many artisans and craftsmen in glass, leather, ceramics, jewellery, metal crafts, painting and sculpture.
La Gacilly in bloom

La Gacilly's town buildings adorned with giant artwork and photographic displays

Stone village houses and shopfronts are adorned with colourful plants and a flower-festooned pedestrian bridge spans a river across to the other side where the Yves Rocher cosmetics foundation and his botanic gardens sit on the banks.  All colour of bloom looks fabulous against the grey stonework.  When we visited, young boys were fishing along the riverbanks like Huckleberry Finns with their lines and rods dangling in the water.  The village oozed a peaceful charm about it. 
Throughout the town and along the riverbanks an intriguing annual international photographic exhibition was on display alongside enormous works of art.  Following  the riverbanks, through the town’s streets and in amongst flower and vegetable gardens, huge scale photographs lined pathways – some quite beautiful and others very confronting and thought-provoking, especially the images of war, disaster and poverty which sat incongruously amongst the tranquillity of their setting.  This stimulated much discussion and contemplation amongst us.

Signpost in French and the Celtic-like language of Breton

ILE D'ARZ

Along the coast on another day trip, we boarded a ferry passing by many oyster beds sitting in the tidal shallows of the Golfe du Morbihan to reach the small Breton island of Ile d’Arz. 

The black and white striped flag of Brittany could be seen proudly flying from many sailing and fishing vessels.  On the island, pathways led us around the tiny commune in search of historic points of interest, into a medieval stone church and past duck hunters firing off their guns in the reeds.  These hunters were the same chaps that we’d spotted earlier into our walk at one of the island’s cafes having a drink as we passed by their line-up of rifles and kit that brazenly lay propped outside against the stone walls trustingly (or foolishly) unattended.  A strange sight, indeed.  Luckily, no madmen or unsupervised children walked by.

Low tide on Ile d'Arz

Low-roofed Breton cottages on Ile d'Arz

VANNES

On our return to shore, through the arched entry of Vannes’ old city walls, we discovered a lovely harbour town of half-timbered houses and buildings, Vannes Cathedral with its beautiful stained glass windows and prettily landscaped gardens along the stream (formerly the moat) behind the old town ramparts and historic washhouses (lavoirs).
Half-timbered buildings front the Vannes Cathedral

Flower-lined moat along the city's ramparts


A game of petanque played out in the historic centre of Vannes

Back at their home and nearing the end of our short stay, after a few glasses of the fine stuff gales of laughter erupt from us as Patrick forgets words in his own language after speaking for days in English.  It’s time for us to move on.  We leave behind two legendary travellers-cooks-extraordinaire who share a similar cynical and dry sense of humour and world view as ourselves.  We hop into our trusty black French steed and head on out of this blissful rural retreat and down the motorways towards the Loire Valley.


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