France Day 12 – Pink Granite Coast

*I’m on vacation, hopefully far away from a computer, so my blog is going on vacation too, back to May 2008, during my first trip to France with my shiny brand new passport and my shiny brand new French boyfriend. This was my first trip abroad and I’m surprised David didn’t dump me when we got home*

Our final road trip in a car was to the coast of Bretegne which is famous for having tons of pink granite. It was lovely, but too cold to swim. And of course, I forgot my bathing suit at David’ s friends house. The last place we are going, Mont Saint Michel, doesn’t have elevators and it’s built on a mountain so we left almost everything in Rennes.

The hotel bumped us up to a better room because there was a convention and they wanted the whole floor to themselves.
The view totally sucked.


The scale in the bathroom was the best part. It told me I had lost ten pounds. I knew it was just a marketing trick to make me fall in love with the hotel, but I fell for it anyway. I knew it was exaggerating and lying to me, but it was ok. I’ll pretend to believe.
Truth be told, I did weigh myself when I got home and because of all the freakin’ walking and dragging of overpacked suitcases and never ending stair master mountain I had lost six pounds. Yay France.
I sulked for a while (ok a long time) because I wanted to go swimming in the indoor pool. Finally I sucked it up, put on a blue and white polka dot underwear set that was the closest thing I had to a bathing suit, covered up with a robe and went down to the pool to see if anyone was there. No one was so I jumped in. Swimming alone in my underwear in a fancy hotel was way more uncomfortable than swimming naked with 500 strangers.
We had crepes for dinner. There was an elderly couple across from us and the husband was so kind to her. You could tell he still loved her very much. It was sweet, and at that second I would have traded places with her in a heart beat.
I don’t know if it was the bed or I was just really tired, but I fell asleep and slept for 12 straight wonderful hours. I think Rosemary was right. Two weeks is the perfect amount of time for Europe. It’s not as relaxing as I thought it was going to be. All this traveling unpacking and packing and picking out what to wear and what to eat and when to eat is actually work. Much more of this and I would need a week on the beach to recover. Preferable a nude beach so I won’t have to worry about what to pack.

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