Friday, March 29, 2002: Paris to Brittany
Apr. 19th, 2002 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetTranscribed more or less directly from an old-fashioned pen-and-ink version written that day.
We got up early, though not as early as we would have needed in order to catch the 7 a.m. train, thank god. The 10:05 was bad enough: even with an hour to kill at Gare Montparnasse the process was rushed and stressful. We tried to use the automatic ticket vending machine -- the train we wanted was fully booked for second class. We tried the same physical train leaving at the same time but with, for some reason, a different route number; it worked. But then we couldn't get the machine to accept any of our credit cards and so we tried a different machine. In the intervening minutes the seats had all been booked. Defeated, we went and purchased first-class tickets (for about 70 euros more) from an actual human ticket agent. We bought some watery coffee (the shortest line for breakfast was at the "American" bakery) and some croissants and then got on the train.
Fortunately after an hour I realized one could buy better coffee on the train, and so I have. J. has decided to sleep, but if we both do we'll probably miss our stop and anyway I don't want a headache from sleeping in a seat. Nice seats, though; little bays of four seats surrounding a small table.
We're still en route now. I'm nervous about our change at Auray -- we have 7 minutes to find the bus to Carnac.
Across from me a man is travelling with a grey and white cat; it's a total chick magnet. An attractive Asian woman has joined him to discuss feline matters (she has just looked at its teeth). The cat is remarkably mellow about riding on a train "free-range"; it's just sitting on his lap, meowing occasionally.
Early a litle girl and her mom came by. "Chat!" she exclaimed with delight, and scratched its head for a while.
We should be arriving at Auray in an hour or so. I'm hungry and tired, but if all goes well, we'll be seeing dolmens and menhirs around tea-time.
---
[The next entry was written about two hours later.]
So I'm writing at Quiberon Station, where the express bus we accidentally got on took us, a half hour's trip past Carnac. The bus going back the other way should be here any minute now.
We have at least eaten; I had a foot-long baguette stuffed with camembert and J. had a butter sandwich lightly flavored with a hint of ham and gruyere.
There's a train station nearby which we entered in order to buy our Auray-to-Quimper tickets for tomorrow, since buying earlier is better, but the employee sitting there doing nothing told us that the station is closed, despite his presence and the unlocked doors. Apparently it's only open in the summer.
- The bus is here now; of course it's the bus we should have got on earlier now making the return trip. But at least we got a lovely bus tour of the Quiberon peninsula, if that's what it's called.
[Some scrawled marginal notes]
- Alignements Le Menec - western end - oval enclosure surrounding Creperie au Pressoir.
- Dolmen and nicer visitor interface 1 mi. west at Kermario
- At tourist center an ad for a creperie with a display of authentic local buckwheat (blé noir) compared with three imports - local kind more triangular
- Korrigans - some kind of goblin?
[Then, later, in the evening, some more connected narrative]
Our hotel in Carnac -- Auberge Le Ratelier -- is a pleasant little place with half-timber ceilings and its own restaurant (mainly seafood), located not far from the Place de l'Eglise and about 1 km from the standing stones at Le Menec. Wicked cool, sheep grazing among the stones (apparently on purpose). Some parts open to the public, others fenced off but visible. Apparently there's a local group that opposes government management of the prehistoric cites here, but the article in last year's Bretagne magazine I was reaing on the train -- which was all about tying real places in Brittany to Asterix -- wasn't clear (at least not to my French skills) about the details. There was even arson at one visitor center.
We saw the roughly 1100 standing stones in 11 parallelish lines at Le Menec and then made the 20-minute walk to Kermario, where we got to see a dolmen (up close anyway; we saw one during our inadvertent bus tour earlier). There was a not-so-tacky visitor center at Kermario with a bookshop and a diorama of all of the standing stone sites at Carnac -- but we could only see it through the windows, as they had closed a half hour before. On the way back we walked by the Museum of Prehistory, which was likewise closed but had a neolithic house half-built around back.
At the hotel we napped, then went down to a pleasant, light, and inexpensive meal (the three-course menu at 15 euros). J. started with the fresh local bounty o' the sea, oysters from the Morbihan bay, and I had a pressé of vegetables (mmm, gelatin). For the main course we both had cod, specifically Dos de cabillaud roti, purée à l'huile d'olive, jus à la citronelle. It was butterific. For dessert, J. had a cheese plate -- chêvre, reblouchon, and some uninspiring emmental or other. I had a "Delice au fromage blanc et aux pruneaux avec coulis de vin épicé" which was quite tasty -- like a cheese spicecake. Which is what it was, I guess.
Best of all, the walk back to the hotel room mean just going upstairs.
Early bedtime now, as we haven't slept a full night since Monday.
----
So there -- I've finally returned to writing about my French trip.
On the subject of food, last night (and for lunch today, as we made a lot) we had pan-seared chicken breasts with a -- I guess "sauce" is the best word -- inspired by a Roman recipe. Chop half a large red onion, a half dozen dates, an ounce or two of roasted almonds; mix in a bit of thyme, tarragon, pepper, Mexican saffron, and fennel; add some olive oil, a small amount of Vietnamese fish sauce (instead of garum), and a bit of mustard. Reduce a cup of red wine and a cup of fruit juice to a half cup total of liquid, cool, and mix in with everything else. You spoon that cold over the chicken (or other meat cutlet). We ate it with artichokes and noodles.ê
We got up early, though not as early as we would have needed in order to catch the 7 a.m. train, thank god. The 10:05 was bad enough: even with an hour to kill at Gare Montparnasse the process was rushed and stressful. We tried to use the automatic ticket vending machine -- the train we wanted was fully booked for second class. We tried the same physical train leaving at the same time but with, for some reason, a different route number; it worked. But then we couldn't get the machine to accept any of our credit cards and so we tried a different machine. In the intervening minutes the seats had all been booked. Defeated, we went and purchased first-class tickets (for about 70 euros more) from an actual human ticket agent. We bought some watery coffee (the shortest line for breakfast was at the "American" bakery) and some croissants and then got on the train.
Fortunately after an hour I realized one could buy better coffee on the train, and so I have. J. has decided to sleep, but if we both do we'll probably miss our stop and anyway I don't want a headache from sleeping in a seat. Nice seats, though; little bays of four seats surrounding a small table.
We're still en route now. I'm nervous about our change at Auray -- we have 7 minutes to find the bus to Carnac.
Across from me a man is travelling with a grey and white cat; it's a total chick magnet. An attractive Asian woman has joined him to discuss feline matters (she has just looked at its teeth). The cat is remarkably mellow about riding on a train "free-range"; it's just sitting on his lap, meowing occasionally.
Early a litle girl and her mom came by. "Chat!" she exclaimed with delight, and scratched its head for a while.
We should be arriving at Auray in an hour or so. I'm hungry and tired, but if all goes well, we'll be seeing dolmens and menhirs around tea-time.
---
[The next entry was written about two hours later.]
So I'm writing at Quiberon Station, where the express bus we accidentally got on took us, a half hour's trip past Carnac. The bus going back the other way should be here any minute now.
We have at least eaten; I had a foot-long baguette stuffed with camembert and J. had a butter sandwich lightly flavored with a hint of ham and gruyere.
There's a train station nearby which we entered in order to buy our Auray-to-Quimper tickets for tomorrow, since buying earlier is better, but the employee sitting there doing nothing told us that the station is closed, despite his presence and the unlocked doors. Apparently it's only open in the summer.
- The bus is here now; of course it's the bus we should have got on earlier now making the return trip. But at least we got a lovely bus tour of the Quiberon peninsula, if that's what it's called.
[Some scrawled marginal notes]
- Alignements Le Menec - western end - oval enclosure surrounding Creperie au Pressoir.
- Dolmen and nicer visitor interface 1 mi. west at Kermario
- At tourist center an ad for a creperie with a display of authentic local buckwheat (blé noir) compared with three imports - local kind more triangular
- Korrigans - some kind of goblin?
[Then, later, in the evening, some more connected narrative]
Our hotel in Carnac -- Auberge Le Ratelier -- is a pleasant little place with half-timber ceilings and its own restaurant (mainly seafood), located not far from the Place de l'Eglise and about 1 km from the standing stones at Le Menec. Wicked cool, sheep grazing among the stones (apparently on purpose). Some parts open to the public, others fenced off but visible. Apparently there's a local group that opposes government management of the prehistoric cites here, but the article in last year's Bretagne magazine I was reaing on the train -- which was all about tying real places in Brittany to Asterix -- wasn't clear (at least not to my French skills) about the details. There was even arson at one visitor center.
We saw the roughly 1100 standing stones in 11 parallelish lines at Le Menec and then made the 20-minute walk to Kermario, where we got to see a dolmen (up close anyway; we saw one during our inadvertent bus tour earlier). There was a not-so-tacky visitor center at Kermario with a bookshop and a diorama of all of the standing stone sites at Carnac -- but we could only see it through the windows, as they had closed a half hour before. On the way back we walked by the Museum of Prehistory, which was likewise closed but had a neolithic house half-built around back.
At the hotel we napped, then went down to a pleasant, light, and inexpensive meal (the three-course menu at 15 euros). J. started with the fresh local bounty o' the sea, oysters from the Morbihan bay, and I had a pressé of vegetables (mmm, gelatin). For the main course we both had cod, specifically Dos de cabillaud roti, purée à l'huile d'olive, jus à la citronelle. It was butterific. For dessert, J. had a cheese plate -- chêvre, reblouchon, and some uninspiring emmental or other. I had a "Delice au fromage blanc et aux pruneaux avec coulis de vin épicé" which was quite tasty -- like a cheese spicecake. Which is what it was, I guess.
Best of all, the walk back to the hotel room mean just going upstairs.
Early bedtime now, as we haven't slept a full night since Monday.
----
So there -- I've finally returned to writing about my French trip.
On the subject of food, last night (and for lunch today, as we made a lot) we had pan-seared chicken breasts with a -- I guess "sauce" is the best word -- inspired by a Roman recipe. Chop half a large red onion, a half dozen dates, an ounce or two of roasted almonds; mix in a bit of thyme, tarragon, pepper, Mexican saffron, and fennel; add some olive oil, a small amount of Vietnamese fish sauce (instead of garum), and a bit of mustard. Reduce a cup of red wine and a cup of fruit juice to a half cup total of liquid, cool, and mix in with everything else. You spoon that cold over the chicken (or other meat cutlet). We ate it with artichokes and noodles.ê
