By the Sea, By the Sea

Perhaps my favorite weekend during my pre-session in Paris was two weekends ago when our program visited the northern coast of France to see Mont Saint-Michel and Saint Malo. There is something absolutely magical about each of these places.

Mont Saint-Michel in particular seems like a mystical destination out of an epic fantasy novel. The tiny, tiny town of 25 permanents residents (twelve of whom are the monks and sisters who live and work at the church) sits atop a small island surrounded by the tides that flow in and out around the island "à la vitesse d'un cheval au galop" as Victor Hugo once put it (that translates to "as swiftly as a galloping horse"). The archangel Michael stands atop the magnificent spire of the abbey of Mont Saint-Michel slaying a dragon and protecting the people of the village below. The streets that lead to the abbey twist and turn and wind up and up and up until you have lost track of how many steps you have climb or exactly which path you have taken to get where you are. Mind you, there are not terribly many paths to choose from, but you would never know this from climbing up to the top. Each turn, each corner leads to you a new set of stairs until you eventually give in to the feeling that you are totally lost and only know that any direction up is likely the right direction.

Did I mention that Mont Saint-Michel looks like this?

From a distance, the sight is even more spectacular, especially if you go early in the morning. At that point in the day, there are few cars on the road to cause traffic or to populate photographs of the island, the sun is still rising so one side of the island is bathed in light while the other remains a slight mystery, and the marine layer has yet to burn away so the petite village can appear to be shrouded in mist. Even when driving up to the place in our super fancy Volvo bus, I kept expecting medieval knights on white horses to come galloping by.

The town itself is the most touristy town you will ever see. There is nothing to it but small restaurants and overpriced gift shops. Everywhere you turn, there is another postcard, another set of china adorned with Mont Saint-Michel or the Eiffel Tower, another snow globe with a model of the church inside, another tiny toy knight on a white horse. In effect, I have discovered that Mont Saint-Michel has two functions: to take your breath away and to take your money. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, though. For instance, some of the restaurants provide entertainment in the form of cooking when you go to them, or even if you are just passing by the window. I watched five full minutes of two men whipping up a batch of a pastry something to a beat and a rhythm all their own. It was extraordinary to see. Had I been hungry enough, I certainly would have stopped for a bite to eat at this tourist-packed establishment, just to watch these guys at work.

The actual abbey is also pretty darn great. Because it has been built and rebuilt and built over and added on to, there are elements that remain from both Romanesque and Gothic eras. For example,

Romanesque:

Gothic:

Romanesque:

Gothic:

This place is ancient. It makes Boston look like an infant and laughs at the missions of Southern California that call themselves old. It is amazing and humbling to think that this church has been around since the Middle Ages.

Saint Malo is somewhat more impressive and delightedly more badass than Mont Saint-Michel, as I see it. This town of a bit over 100,000 permanent residents started out as a medieval fortified town and then became notorious for the French corsairs and pirates that made their home there and forced English vessels passing through the Channel to pay tributes. Also, the man credited with discovering Canada, Jacques Cartier, came from Saint Malo. Clearly, this place knew/knows how to host some purely badass individuals.

These days, Saint Malo is much more touristy and full of interesting historical facts on plaques that sit in front of important landmarks. There are beaches with extreme tides and waves high enough that they breech the wall along the shore and hit the houses:

There is an entire street of nothing but restaurants (this is the "empty" end of the street just about, but it is still lined with restaurant after bar after cafe after restaurant):

Then there are the ramparts surrounding the original city. Two friends and I walked the entire length of the ramparts in less than an hour. That is how small this place is. But these ramparts and the wall surrounding the city are so awesomely tough that the British didn't even bother trying to lay siege to the city in 1758 because they just didn't have the time to lay siege to an entirely fortified city. Below is a map of the city from the era of this British raid:

It doesn't look much different now, to tell you the truth:

It's been built up a little bit. Modern ports have been added. The surrounding areas are now well populated. But the wall is still there!

The town is just wonderful. I had a lovely steak frites dinner, strolled along the ramparts, explored the streets of the city and walked around the fortified church in the evening, went out with a couple friends to L'Alchimiste, a local bar, for a couple drinks, visited the beach in the day with everyone in the program and meandered along the shoreline to my heart's content. I eventually decided that this was somewhere I could live for a few months out of the year, if not permanently. The small coastal atmosphere of Saint Malo is comfy without being suffocating. The beach is lovely. The city is full of tourists, sure, but I'm from San Diego; I can handle tourists who come to visit coastal towns. Simply put, Saint Malo has an innate charm that managed to completely enthrall me.

Oh, have I mentioned that this was the view from our hotel window?

Never mind that the beds seemed to be well worn and a little sunk in (there were still freshly clean sheets, so not all bad). Never mind that the room itself was slanted. The view of the adorable streets made it totally worth it.

I have not spent a single year of my life in a state that did not border an ocean. In fact, I have never spent a year living more than more than 30 miles from an ocean in my life. And I intend to keep it that way.

Peace, love, and giraffes,

Rachel