Part One
We celebrated marking two full weeks in France by going on a three day exploration of Brittany this past weekend. Leaving Friday morning and returning Sunday night, we went to well known cultural sites and examples of Breton culture that would better help us understand the region where we will be spending a total of nine months. As Mr. Brochu informed us, the State Department sent him a message saying the average stay of tourists in France is nine days, which means we have passed that mark. Everyone cheered Friday night when he looked at his watch and announced we had been there for two weeks.
Because we saw so much, I am breaking this up into three posts. The first is Friday, second Saturday and the third Sunday. It just doesn't seem fair to leave anything out, since all the sites were so different and very interesting. (Note: you'll see that I start occasionally mentioning SYA students, but for privacy reasons, I am only going to put their initials.)
The first stop, after our departure from Rennes, was a short one at Calavaire du Guéhenno.
Because we saw so much, I am breaking this up into three posts. The first is Friday, second Saturday and the third Sunday. It just doesn't seem fair to leave anything out, since all the sites were so different and very interesting. (Note: you'll see that I start occasionally mentioning SYA students, but for privacy reasons, I am only going to put their initials.)
The first stop, after our departure from Rennes, was a short one at Calavaire du Guéhenno.
Calavaire du Guéhenno is a church and grave yard originally constructed in the 1500s. The picture on the left is view of the church. It has the coolest bright red painted doors and was very simple but beautiful, exactly like the church you would expect to find in a small village somewhere. The picture on the right shows one of the entrances. In order to enter the area around the church, you have to step over a low wall, both meant to keep out animals and to mark the sacred space of the church and the ground. It's apparently very common throughout Bretagne. After looking around and learning a little bit abut the site, we drove to Château de Kerguéhennec, an old chateau that has been turned into a modern art museum and its grounds used to create a massive sculpture park.
Our job was to find and photograph twelve different sculptures. One of my friends, S.D. claimed he knew the map very well and had looked to see where the sculptures were and proceeded to lead myself and E.C. on a walk around the entire lake where I could swear we missed 80% of the sculptures. But we saw a lot of the grounds and got in a nice walk. The grounds are still used for agricultural purposes as well, to preserve the history of the place. The picture on the left shows the gardens right in front of the chateau, which is built in the style of an English manor house. The right one, shows the house viewed from what was probably the original entrance road. It was very imposing to walk up to and inside you felt the urge to keep your voice down and stand up straighter. E.C. and I made a lot of Downton Abbey jokes. It was hard not to.
After a picnic packed by our host families that morning, we boarded the bus for the drive to the town of Douarnenenz, where we would spend two nights in the hotel. But before we could swim in the ocean, eat dinner and curl up in bed, we had one more stop.
After a picnic packed by our host families that morning, we boarded the bus for the drive to the town of Douarnenenz, where we would spend two nights in the hotel. But before we could swim in the ocean, eat dinner and curl up in bed, we had one more stop.
Douarnenenz is/was a fishing town and had a long maritime history, which we viewed in both the museum, and the floating museum, which is comprised of old boats that are open to the public for exploration. It was really cool to walk through them, to see where the sailors would sleep, eat and store their catch. Not for people who are claustrophobic. Clockwise, starting in the top left corner the pictures are; a view of one of the bays and river outlets that dump into the ocean in the town. The village itself was split in two by this river and our hotel was on the far side and over the hill, which can be seen in the photo. The second picture is looking down in the Port- Musée, at a few of the fishing boats that were on display. The third is the back, I don't know what that is in boat lingo, of one of the historic fishing boats we were allowed to climb on and in, the Notre Dame de Rocamadour.
Dialogue between S.D. and E.C. on said boat.
S.D.- "I wonder what kind of boat this is?"
E.C.- "A floating one."
The last picture is looking out at the town from the boat, onto the wall that keeps the town dry, as the roads are elevated above the water level, probably in case of flooding.
And finally, after a long day in which we traveled about three hundred kilometers, we arrived at the hotel, situated, as they promised, next to the beach. E.C. and I roomed together and once we arrived we joined the majority of the school who went down to the beach. I swam while she watched, claiming it was too cold. (She comes from Los Angeles and keeps asking me when it is appropriate to break out her parka.) In her defense, it was cold, but everyone was laughing and daring each other to dive under. It's a unique experience, to be swimming with your classmates in a shore town in France while the head master and most of your teachers stand talking on the beach and your politics teachers swims by you. I guess it's one of those SYA things.
After dinner and a meeting in which we exchanged funny stories about language misunderstandings or experiences we had had so far in France, (I explained that unknowingly, instead of telling Madame I was done eating, I had been telling her I was dead every night at dinner), we were sent off to bed. At this point it was 11pm, we had been on a bus all day and now we had to make the beds in a place that did not have any fitted sheets, but did have something that looked like a giant pillowcase for your mattress. Long story short, it took thirty minutes and we laughed a lot more than we should have over sheets and pillowcases.
And that was just the first day of our trip.
Dialogue between S.D. and E.C. on said boat.
S.D.- "I wonder what kind of boat this is?"
E.C.- "A floating one."
The last picture is looking out at the town from the boat, onto the wall that keeps the town dry, as the roads are elevated above the water level, probably in case of flooding.
And finally, after a long day in which we traveled about three hundred kilometers, we arrived at the hotel, situated, as they promised, next to the beach. E.C. and I roomed together and once we arrived we joined the majority of the school who went down to the beach. I swam while she watched, claiming it was too cold. (She comes from Los Angeles and keeps asking me when it is appropriate to break out her parka.) In her defense, it was cold, but everyone was laughing and daring each other to dive under. It's a unique experience, to be swimming with your classmates in a shore town in France while the head master and most of your teachers stand talking on the beach and your politics teachers swims by you. I guess it's one of those SYA things.
After dinner and a meeting in which we exchanged funny stories about language misunderstandings or experiences we had had so far in France, (I explained that unknowingly, instead of telling Madame I was done eating, I had been telling her I was dead every night at dinner), we were sent off to bed. At this point it was 11pm, we had been on a bus all day and now we had to make the beds in a place that did not have any fitted sheets, but did have something that looked like a giant pillowcase for your mattress. Long story short, it took thirty minutes and we laughed a lot more than we should have over sheets and pillowcases.
And that was just the first day of our trip.