With two tiny exceptions early on during our stay here, neither Charlie nor I have managed to see much of what lies beyond the Boulevard Périphérique of Paris. Once we realized we would be leaving France soon, I frantically planned for us to take a few short trips to different regions around the country just to have one last look. The first trip was to Mont Saint-Michel, a tidal island on the Normandy coast, on top of which an old monastery sits. There is evidence of some kind of temple or fort existing on the site since the 6th century. This is one of the most famous destinations in the country and with good reason.
The complex lies on a rocky island just off the Lower Normandy coast. The nearest train station to it is some 10 km to the south in a tiny little town called Pontorson. To avoid paying an outrageous amount of money required for staying near the Mont, we decided to book a room in the warm and welcoming Montgomery Hotel, not far from the train station.
The first thing you see when you walk out of the train station is this haunted looking old mansion and its incredible water tower. Charlie and I spent way too long inspecting the property through the fence and speculating as to its current status of use and possible inhabitants.
Our hotel had once been a palace that belonged to a count and certainly felt like it.
Begrudgingly posing on the impressive staircase
We arrived in the town in the afternoon and had some time to kill, so we wandered a bit and looked at restaurant menus in preparation for a seafood dinner. We were impressed by the fact that absolutely every car stopped for us when we wanted to cross the street, unlike in Paris where they at least like to pretend they are going to run you over.
Notre-Dame de Pontorson (11-12th centuries)
We located a restaurant we were interested in out of very few choices due to many being closed for their annual vacations. We made a reservation and then went back to the hotel to put on nicer shirts. When we went back to have dinner a while later, the concierge fetched her manager, who told us that we were underdressed (we at least needed to be wearing slacks instead of jeans). We hadn't brought any nicer clothes so, miffed, we walked down the street to a little pizzeria called La Squadra, where we were warmly welcomed and served by its owners. By the time we left, the place was packed and, much to our delight, the restaurant that had turned us away only had one guest. Suckers.
The next morning we checked out of our hotel and hit one of the local boulangeries to have one of our favorite treats for breakfast: Kouign-amann, a cake made of dense layers of butter, flour and caramelized sugar.
Within 5 minutes of purchase, the wax coated bag became see-through from all the butter fat.
Mmmm, candy.
Thoroughly sickened by our much-too-rich breakfast, we caught a private bus to the Mont. Granted, it was only private because we were the only tourists to come without their own transportation this time of year.
Approaching the Mont through the mist
We arrived early, which was a good thing because the narrow streets of the village below the abbey were still deserted and silent. The tourist shops were closed and you could almost imagine the quiet that would have reigned when the place was still a proper abbey and village rather than a popular tourist attraction.
We walked at a slight incline through the tight streets, slowly uphill until we reached the steps leading up to the abbey. A few other parties huffed and puffed their way up the incline with us.
Charlie at the entrance
We walked into the ticketing office and paid for our admission. On the way in I found this humorous sign.
You'd have to be an idiot to try to swim out there.
Mossy old stone
Engineering
We wandered at the somewhat quick pace with which we generally tend to conduct our sightseeing, pausing now and then to look out the windows. At one of the windows was this large wheel to which a rope was tied and connected to a sled on a track that went down the side of the building. The idea was that you could strap things to it and haul them up into the abbey through the window.
The steep track out the window
Stone walls at low tide
After our walk through the abbey, it was time for lunch. We decided to try our luck at one of the restaurants on the island even though the tour book warned against it. By the time we headed back into the village section of the island, it was already full of open tourist shops and consumers wandering in and out of them.
The whole island was filled with these darling little birds, along with many other seafaring types.
When we went into our selected our restaurant, we were asked whether we wanted to eat on the terrace and, of course, said yes. What we didn't realize was that in a place like this, it is very hard to keep the little birds outside. The terrace, although closed, was full of them. Likewise, there was bird shit all over the floor and some on the chairs. The tables and tableware were clean, so we decided to stick it out.
I bravely ordered lobster, despite the ease with which I am grossed out by giant bug-shaped creatures on my plate that require dissection. I survived and it was worth it.
Charlie ordered the gigantic seafood platter, containing shrimp, crab, whelks, oysters, winkles, and probably some other creatures that I am forgetting. He was in heaven.
Meanwhile, the sweet little birds were getting aggressive and surrounding tables by the dozen, waiting for dropped food. They boldly approached us and hopped all over the tables that had already been abandoned.
Naughty
I got up to go to the bathroom right when the waitress brought our coffee. While I was gone, a little bird swooped in right under Charlie's nose and stole the chocolate biscuit off of my saucer!
Just as we were finishing lunch, the sun began to shine and the mist lifted. We had a while to kill before we needed to catch our bus back to the train station, so it was cigar time.
We walked around and smoked a bit, looking for a place to shoot film away from the incoming crowds and found a little park about halfway up the hill between the sea and the abbey.
Serious blue
Interesting bark in the park
Then we walked down to the beach again to see more of the island from below, encountering several signs along the way warning us about the possibility of becoming trapped if the tide came in.
A tiny river in the sand
Charlie said he wanted to live in that house when he visited here as an adolescent.
A local drinks from a puddle
Fortified beach
A little boy with galoshes climbs on the rocks and splashes through the tide pools.
Then it was time to return to Pontorson where we had a bit of time to kill, so we wandered. We ended up on a bench outside Notre-Dame de Pontorson for a while just talking and looking around. I decided that I wanted to live in a house like this.
Charlie pointed out that I would get really bored in a tiny town like Pontorson. I said he was probably right.
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