Day 4 - In search of croissants.
Saint Malo
On the coast lies the ancient walled city of St Malo. Boats, seagulls and families gather in the warm Sunday sunshine.
In the harbour sits the epitome of drama, pirates and smugglers on the high seas; the ship Etoile du Roy. A copy of which was used in the film Horacio Hornblower. I probably need to watch that now.
At the bow of the ship the figurehead it’s quite unusual. A mermaid with an eyepatch and a sword, perhaps an indication of the pirates on board. By the king's licence pirates were a royal profession.
Inside the ship, the captain's quarters cover the whole width of the stern. The small windows are joined together by wooden borders. They provide panoramic views of the sea and any potential invaders. Making the perfect power backdrop for the swashbuckling, handsome captain.
Whilst the captain enjoyed his en-suite double room cabin, the sailors didn’t fare so well. Suspended in hammocks, cramped together in the eating area. Craning my neck to glimpse the top of the eagles next, I know a sailor's life, even one as a pirate, would not have been for me.
Through the gate of the city walls, we enter a different world. The old buildings rise up, full of stories and provide the backdrop for the rows of eateries. Each one offering the finest in French cuisine as friends and families gather.
The sound of gothic organ music pulls me into the vast 12th century cathedral of St Vincent. The organist is giving an impromptu concert, time to sit and absorb. My eyes rest on the patterns within the rose stained-glass window high above the altar. Mesmerised by the colours and the deep resonating sounds of the organ, I'm sure here there is a portal to another world. With great aplomb the recital is over, the final piece, an unexpected “God save the King”. The organist nods his head modestly to the standing ovation below.
When Charles de Gaulle sent out a plea for people to join the French Resistance, the city of Saint Malo heard the call. A memorial sits quietly in the sunshine, inscribed are the names of those who made a difference to the lives of strangers in distress, despite putting themselves in danger. A simple row of white carnations have been placed over the gold embossed names. In this place, they are honoured.
We walk the town walls, many fortresses can be seen further out to sea. Protecting the port from invasion.
Returning to the harbour the sound of a brass band playing invigorating, exciting, happy music draws in the crowds.
Dressed in an assortment of pink clothing or French style stripes, this large group of friends entertains as they move around to the beat of the Pink Panther.
Our resting place for tonight is a micro brewery that makes German beer, so that’s the other half very happy. I discover that beer has four ingredients, malt (the heart), hops (the soul), yeast and water. It’s how those four ingredients are prepared that makes the flavours. That’s the simplistic version as it takes five years to become a master German brewer.
The house looks like it was made in another century. Strange to find it’s 40 years old. The age comes from the stones salvaged from old churches. Piles of them lying around in the undergrowth crosses, inscriptions, carved patterns. The carved maiden incorporated into the door frame offers a peaceful welcome.
Tomorrow is a national holiday in France. Everyone rests, except the protestors.
