Mont Saint Michel, Druids, and Community Theater

After leaving Paris, we headed north toward Normandy and Brittany. As none of us had ever been, we decided that our first big stop should be the mystical Mont Saint Michel. As it is one of the most touristed destinations in France, we decided to book a hotel room on the opposite side of its famous bay. Our first view, therefore, was quite impressive:

Fig. 1: "A shoreless bay stretched before me, as far as eye could see: it lay between opposing coasts that vanished in distant mist; and in the midst of this vast tawny bay, under a gleaming golden sky, a strange hill, somber and peaked, thrust up from the sands at its feet. The sun had just sunk, and on a horizon still riotous with color was etched the outline of this fantastic rock that bore on its summit a fantastic monument." -- Guy de Maupassant, "The Horla".

As awesome as it looks from across the bay, Mont Saint Michel is even more impressive from close up.

Fig. 2: The dynamic duo, almost totally occluding the entirety of Mont Saint Michel.

As mentioned above, Mont Saint Michel is basically a huge rock that sits on a very large and flat bay. The bay is so flat that it has some of the biggest tides in Europe: when the tide is out, all you can see is sand. Slowly, the tide moves in and the entire bay (along with some of the parking lot, if the moon is right) is submerged. Here are some "before" and "after" pictures taken in roughly the same direction, about an hour or so apart.

Fig. 3: Just before high tide.

Fig. 4: Just after high tide, looking even further inland.

As there are tons and tons of tourists, there are of course tons of gift shops and snack shops, many of which were at least a little bit amusing (to me). For example, if you were feeling a little bit peckish, why not try the franco-american monstrosity that is the "double hot-dog fromage"?

Fig. 5: Traditional French cuisine meeting tourist demands. It's the new new economy.

Or, if you were looking for a gift, you could try the "Fairy of the Shores" or, depending on how you translate the word grève, the "Fairy of the Labor Strikes"

Fig. 6: I think the "Strike Fairy" would be a good thing to get French kids to believe in. When they ask difficult questions like, "Why do the trains stop running roughly every month?" you can just tell them that it's the magical Strike Fairy working her mischief!

After Mont Saint Michel, we took a look at our guidebooks and decided that it might be fun to check out the small town of Bécherel. a so-called "Village of Books." Basically, it's a small town that has way more used-book stores than it needs and a weekly book fair that draws sellers from all the nearby communities as well. As my mom is a big book fan, we figured it would be a decent place to check out, at least for an afternoon.

We typed the name into our handy Garmin GPS (on loan from Warren and Nancy) and ... it came up with two separate entries. Both were in the same region of France, and according to the GPS, both were roughly the same distance and direction from our current location. So, I figured that either of the two would work and happily started following directions. After many confusing, seemingly wrong turns, a little bit of backtracking, and many small, unmarked roads, we finally reached "Bécherel" -- at least according to the GPS.

Fig. 7: Lively downton Bécherel, at least according to the Garmin GPS. Yes, that's a dirt road. We went about 100 ft further, then it became more of a dirt foot path, at which point we turned around.

After choosing the other Bécherel, we finally made it to our destination. Apparently, the whole "book village" craze was sooo 2004 (check out the url of the link above) and since then, the town had suffered some bad times. Half the shops had "for sale" signs on them, the streets were absolutely deserted, and the few bookshops that were left were depressingly desperate for business. There might as well have been a sign, "Site of a future ghost town!" The one positive thing that came out of the trip, though, was that we saw this advertisement:

Fig. 8: I saw this advertisement and thought, "How unusual!" My parents saw it and said, "That looks great! Let's go!"

After leaving Bécherel, we had a tough time finding accommodations. Although we had a car, and thus could stay pretty much wherever we wanted, we found that most of the nearby places listed in the book were already full. We finally ended up staying in a small converted farm, southeast of Rennes, the regional capital. The hotel was nice enough, but the location turned out to be (not by accident, I note) incredible.

The hotel was located right next to the neolithic monument, La Roche aux Fées. La Roche aux Fées is the longest "covered alley" in France -- the massive rocks form an enclosed room nearly 20 meters long. Built roughly 2000-3000 years ago, La Roche aux Fées is a mystery on par with Stonehenge, yet with about one millionth the tourist attraction. You can walk right up to the rocks, climb on them, whatever, and the only sign of other tourists is a small information booth that is only occupied on weekends and when school field trips are present. I would say that it is one of the more impressive things that I've ever seen in my life, given its size, age, and general weirdness.

Fig. 9: If you think you are in love with someone, the two of you are supposed to start at opposite ends of the alley and count the number of rocks separately. If you both get the same number, then you know it's true love.

Fig. 10: The rocks were quarried nearly 5 km away and dragged across hill and dale to this location. Think about that: It's insane!

At this point, I had no choice but to admit that it was indeed possible to go back to Rennes and find the Institut Franco-American, and thus attend the "Medley of Musicals" advertised earlier. Although I was not particularly keen on the whole idea, my parents seemed really excited about the concept of seeing French people singing American musicals. We didn't really have any idea how professional the operation was going to be until we arrived at the aforementioned Institut and saw that the free performance would be given in an auditorium the size of an elementary school classroom. Things looked grim.

Clearly, this would not just be "musical theater" but rather "community musical theater." I told my parents to expect something out of "Waiting for Guffman" -- full of enthusiasm, but not much talent. As we started talking about "Waiting for Guffman" and bemusedly checking out the other audience members as they wandered in -- we were the only people there who weren't related to one of the performers -- all of a sudden, my Mom says, "Oh my goodness. There's Corky."

Just as the community theater troupe of Guffman was lead by the valiant Corky St Clair, our musical group had their own overly flamboyant leader. It was tough to get a good picture of him, but I hope that this captures just a fraction of his coolness.

Fig. 11: Our very own Corky St Clair, center, in black. He doesn't look too unusual from this view, but that's because you can't see his tight, tight leather pants. For real.

The singers themselves were not bad at all and performed with heart and enthusiasm. Occasionally, their lack of familiarity with the English language would show through, but for the most part they did a great job singing in a foreign language. And, of course, their rendition of "Mamma Mia" was not too bad either.

Fig. 12: Our fearless singers donned sparkly headbands for Mamma Mia. And, although it's not saying much, they were significantly better than the Motion Picture cast.

Next update: last pics with the parents. All I have to say is: Combat des reines!