taking advice from jj and acting on the beautiful weather of the day, we took the bus to dinan, a town 55 km north of rennes.
dinan is a town built on the hilltop above the valley of the rance river (which goes out to the english channel). they have a city wall surrounding the old town and have sprawled a bit outside those barriers. the bus dropped us in the city center and we began walking in search of a place to eat our lunch.
we wandered a few streets in the direction of a church top we saw. upon arriving in front the church, i started sifting though my bag for the camera. i grabbed it and tried to tuck it in my coat pocket before i could look like a completely transparent tourist. just when i thought i had escaped notice, an old frenchman on the street made eye contact and asked if we were tourists. i blushed and replied "oui." he began chatting with me in french telling me he was delighted to see young tourists coming to explore his beloved dinan.
he said it is a town very popular with british people (many vacation there, some have homes) and asked where we were from. after saying we were american his face lit up even more (the french have a huge rivalry with brits, often they are quite elated when they find you are american instead of british), he seemed even more proud of his city. he told us he didnt speak american but there were descriptions (of something, the church?, i missed what he said at this part) written in italian, french, spanish, and british for us to read, although he lamented none were written in american. too funny. he gave us directions to the towns tourist office and asked if it was our first time in france. dave tried to answer but the man completely ignored him. apparently this is typical "french old men" behavior, they only speak to the woman. so i explained that it was our first time in france, but that we actually have been living in rennes for a short while. he was delighted, complimented me on my french, and bid us farewell. so cute! i am counting this one in the "did not disgrace my country" column.
so the day was off to a good start. we cruised through the church and started wandering the old part of town. there was an area near the church that may have been a convent that was converted into an art exhibition hall so we strolled through there also. after coming out we headed in the direction of some music.
(cool building in old town area)
there was an energetic frenchman cranking out tunes on an organ and singing passionately along to the music. very entertaining. wanting to linger near his performance, we went into a nearby tourist/souvenir shop and surveyed the breton products available. we havent been souvenir shopping yet and feel that we need to start seeing what is out there so we can assess quality and find a few cool things to bring back with us. when we came out the man was still dancing, cranking, and singing away. i had to drop a euro in his hat. he must seriously make bank.
we continued along the street and came upon another large church with a garden in back (or maybe front?) of it. the garden had some lovely shade trees, flowers, and people relaxing. best of all it continued right up to the edge of the city wall and the area overlooking the huge viaduct, rance river, and town below. the sun was shining, the view was magnificent, and there was a wonderful sense of calm. we ate our lunch on a bench in this park and lamented that you cant really find afternoons like this in the u.s., something we will dearly miss. this began for us a day of comparisons with u.s. living and tallying what we will miss and cherish from our time here.
(church near our lunch spot; the view from the wall of the rance river and lower dinan)
after lunch, we followed the path below the wall to descend into the river valley. we strolled along the river, the little village houses, and the boats. we meandered back up a path along the opposite side of the river to return to the road that went across the viaduct and up into dinan again.
we reentered town via the main road which led us past the dinan chateau. we paused for a picture by the flower garden in front but decided not to pay to go inside. weve seen plenty of chateaus. we did however decided that we could head back into the old town and find a place to sit and enjoy some tea.
(us near the chateau. pic is crooked because i forgot to bring the tripod)
we found a "salon de thé" (tea room) on the edge of a quiet street that was bathed in sun. they had one table out front so we grabbed it and began perusing the menu. dave still had a sensitive stomach so he opted quickly for a green mint tea, but i was having a hard time deciding. normally i am a straight black tea person, point me at the earl grey and say no more. i tend to do this with all things food...thai food = yellow chicken curry, indian food = vegetarian lentil dish, middle eastern food = falafel and rice pilaf. once i find something i love in a particular food category, i tend to get stuck because i have such wonderful food memories that i hate to stray. alas, something about the inspiring day we were having in dinan led me to clumsily ask the tea lady for a suggestion: "i typically order earl grey, but do you have another similiar suggestion?" she directed me to a bergamot based tea (same as earl grey) that was infused with crème brûlée essence called Coromandel. yes please!
our tea pots came, we poured the steaming liquid into our cups, and chatted in the sunshine while waiting for it to cool down. as i lifted the cup for my first sip, i inhaled the vapor deeply...dEEEEE-licious. black tea tempered with the sweetness of carmelized sugar and vanilla. i was getting high on the scent when i realized i hadnt even taken a sip yet. i then became a bit nervous that the tea would betray me and be too sweet. i normally take my tea plain, so while the odor was intoxicating, i didnt actually want to drink a pot of sugary dessert. but, lo and behold, all the lovely bite of the black tea leaves was there hitting the back of my throat, only to leave the mild hint of sweetness for aftertaste. i declare that there isnt a better blend of tea in all the world.
(dave at our tea table in the sun)
so, we sat for an hour talking, relaxing, observing, and enjoying the tea (me more than dave, by this time i was ready to divorce him to marry the tea pot). i was determined to finish the entire (40 oz?) pot, it would be rude to waste such a fantastic tea. while i was testing out the tensile strength of my bladder, a young couple pushing a stroller walked past us slowly.
dad had a camera slung around him and a "lonely planet guide: france" book opened. once they caught wind of us speaking english they slowed almost to a stop and lingered. then meandered to the end of the street, turned around, and paused again near us. we both sensed that they wanted to ask us something, so we casually carried on our conversation while trying to make our body language convey that we were open to being interrupted. after some long moments, they finally wandered away from us. perhaps we had gotten our body language wrong, or they were frightened by my maniacal tea drinking, but we were a little saddened to be un-useful to our fellow man.
the french love to be helpful, once called upon. they feign selfishness, coldness, or disinterestedness in the streets and often in shops, but once asked, any good frenchie worth his salt will jump into action (occasionally giving incorrect directions so as to appear helpful or successful so they dont end with a total sense of failure). and being unable to connect with this couple made us feel a bit sad. we would have gushed forth with more information than they could ever possibly have wanted, but might have made their vacation that much better. alas!
anyway, with the shade climbing toward us, i downed the last of my tea, and used the shops toilet. i then engaged in another conversation with the tea lady to thank her for the suggestion, could i buy some of it to take with me, and in the future where can i find it? she said it wasnt a british tea because those people like their tea VERY strong, but it was in fact, a french tea company,
Dammann, that created this and most of their other teas. in the future, i will need to locate tea boutiques selling the brand and there is always their website. so delicious, it makes me want to try all the varieties from the company and inspired me to make a mental note to cultivate becoming a tea connoisseur in the future, when i have a more permanent residence to store more than one kind of tea and teapots and tea sets. oh my!
we then headed back out to the streets of the old town to explore in the last hour before our bus back to rennes. we found some lovely steep streets that headed down toward the water, and again we heard the song of the organ grinder. we turned down a side street and there he was, dancing and singing away. he had picked up his equipment and was entertaining another part of town.
(organ grinder dancing at his machine)
we unwrapped some candy suckers we had bought earlier in the day (dave an anise-flavored one and me a salty caramel one) and continued along the streets. we found a staircase up to a different part of the city wall and went up for a look. more lovely views, sunshine, and a sense of calm and peace...if i were a writer or artist, or had a job where i could work from home, i would be setting up residence, post haste. it was that sublime of a feeling, being in this town, with this weather, and this energy running through my veins screaming "youre alive. youre eyes are actually seeing this, and youre actually feeling this happy."
(me with my sucker in front of a house i wanna own; so cute!)
after these sappy sentiments dialed down, we headed back toward the bus stop. i wanted to pee again before the one hour bus ride back, which was good both for my bladder and my french checks and balances. first, i am grateful that there are public toilets available, i will never be upset about that joyous fact. however, it is SO very french to offer no toilet paper or soap in these smelly venues. the men use the world as a toilet and the toilets for women are nothing more than a gesture of civility. these people, in theory, are hell bent on a sense of cleanliness, they call it "propre." it means to be clean, well-dressed, confident and presenting yourself in a respectable, dignified way for all the world to see. i think this fuels at least a small portion of their disdain for brits. brits are sloppy, unclean, slovenly, etc people in their eyes, hence the slight elevation of respect upon finding we are american. though, americans are also sloppy dressers and overweight and disregard their image. i get some wonderful looks when i wear my sweatpants around town. i love to see em squirm. anywho, crisis partially averted, i have learned to pack toilet paper in my backpack before we go out sightseeing.
but seriously, it was a perfect day to note how lucky we are to be able to have this experience, to
feel rather than just talk about what benefits living in france has brought us. the tally of activities in dinan were dull on the surface (churches, lunch outside, walking, taking photos, having tea) but it really cemented our emotions thus far. it helped to sift out the struggles from the triumphs and the isolation, fears, sadness (and i still feel these sometimes) from the joys, enlightenment, and sense of inner peace. im lucky to have my life, have found dave and later been given (and taken) this opportunity via his smarts and career, and to have happy hopes for the future. my inner pessimist is
slowly dying, and i wish it bon voyage...
