Winding Down

The minute we arrived in Dinan we wished we could stay longer. But the open road called us on. (That and the fact that our lovely Maison de Pavie had no vacancies the next night. :-(  )
So we had a lovely breakfast of ham and cheese and fresh apricots and croissants at the long, wood plank table overlooking the garden with the other guests from Spain and Virginia and Minnesota and took one more stroll about to walk on the ramparts and to look down on the Port of Dinan:

It looks like something taken straight out of a fairy tale. Too cute for words. But time is running out and we need to see the iconic Mont Saint Michel before we end this trip. So we reluctantly and yet expectantly headed off.

We had seen Mont St Michel way off in the distance from the highway on our way down. I don't know exactly how far away you can catch glimpses of it, but apparently pretty far. Once through town nearing the parking areas it really came into view:

You used to have to watch the tide charts to cross over to it since high tides quite suddenly engulf the flats around it, but nowadays there is a handy bridge to accommodate some 2.5 million visitors a year. (It seemed a bit like 2.5 million that day but the streets are, of course, narrow so it just feels that way, I am sure.) Anyway, the buses conveniently leave you off still on the bridge so you can get great photos. Here's one when we arrived around noon:

and another when we were leaving at 4P:

The tide was coming all the way in to Mont St Michel that day but not until 6P and we had another 2-1/2 hours of driving to go so unfortunately we couldn't wait for it to chase all those people up to higher ground. But here is a video of the dramatic change https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glOSH8WQ_RI

We were heading on to Honfleur at the recommendation of several of our friends and because it is on our way to CDG airport for our flight home. More winding streets and then the port.

 

So we sat and drank wine and calvados and Michael ate Moules! with Frites simply because it seemed like the thing to do. And it reminded me of Porto in Portugal. So much so that I couldn't help but recall the time when a certain somewhat self-absorbed, twenty-something strolled with us into the town of Mykonos under the full moon with octopus hanging from the sailboat riggings and deftly declared, "Eh, if you've seen one port town, you've seen them all."

 

I hope he didn't really mean it then, but I am sure he doesn't believe it now. I, for one, am happy to see every one of them - similar and yet different. So much world, so little time.