Mont Saint-Michel and Saint-Malo

Oh joyous day! I have been waiting to see Mont Saint-Michel for eight years, ever since I started studying French and learned about the fairy-tale island abbey. Now, I can finally say that I have seen it with my own eyes.

Ok, but to be honest, Mont Saint-Michel was not quite as life-changing as I expected. It wasn't a disappointment - it was beautiful and strange and hung over the sea like an enchanted castle - but it was very simple. The architecture, especially indoors, was plain, and once we had walked through the official tour, there wasn't anything left to see.

It was crowded, of course, and the town was a complete tourist trap, but it was a good tourist trap, if you know what I mean. The shops were expensive, yes, but they were interesting. And they had quite good ice cream.

But the highlight of the trip was Saint-Malo. We started out the day in this small seaside port, and we all loved it. The town is completed surrounded by giant ramparts, and we walked all the way around the town, looking out over the sea at small castles based on rocky islands floating above the waves. It looked like a landscape from Myst - surreal and crisp and lovely. As Stephen would say, everything looked like it was in high-definition.

While in Saint-Malo, I made it a point to dine on all the specialties of the region. We found a darling little cafe in the middle of the old town, and I started my meal off with cidre (spiked Normandy apple juice):

It was too strong for me, so a friend had to finish it! Here is my galette of deliciousness, something I have been craving ever since my last trip to France:

So gooooooood! The egg was nice and runny, and the galette was thick and tasty! Mmmmmm.

I finished with a slice of far, a traditional dessert that had been highly recommended by Monsieur Melin, my translation professor. It was basically a flan with prunes, and it was basically not very good. I loved flans until I ate this, and now I can't even look at them anymore. Tragic.

However! I did not let the prunes stop me, and after lunch, we explored the local cathedral, which had a candy store attached to it. Only the Catholics, right? But it also had some nice stained glass, and with the sun shining, it created some beautiful patterns on the stone arches:

And then, the best part of the entire trip. With half an hour until the bus left for Mont Saint-Michel, my friend Hilary and I raced down to the beach and scrambled about the rocks and paths at the foot of the ramparts. It was GLORIOUS.

I love scrambling. It's not rock climbing (too intense for such as a cautious creature as I), and it's not hiking (too boring for this intrepid adventurer, this explorer of uninhabited and savage regions). Indeed, scrambling is the perfect mixture between the two. It is uphill, directed towards finding a view, and it is satisfying like nothing else. After scrambling, you must, of necessity, have wind-tangled hair, scraped knees, and ruined shoes. The best ones result in sunburn and involve eating wild fruit and swimming at the end. This is my all-time favorite activity, and all perfect days should partake in it.