Saint-Malo

Gusts of wind tangle my hair in seconds when I step out of the shelter of the car in Saint-Malo.  I'm excited to be in the town described so vividly in All the Light We Cannot See, and I feel guilty once again because my son doesn't have a proper coat or raincoat.  He's not going to be warm or dry if any rain decides to fall from the clouds moving over the city.  

 

We step into a bakery selling crêpes because they're always a win for the kids, and I'm feeling the need for a hot drink.  I get flustered a lot when ordering in a foreign language so I hurriedly order something off the chalkboard menu, momentarily forgetting that Viennese coffee means coffee with whipped cream, and before I know it, I'm holding a cup that looks like a birthday party.  Not all language mistakes end in disasters.

I notice a sale on coats at a shop we pass, and ten minutes later I am no longer a bad mother.  James is properly protected from the elements, not to mention easily recognizable from now on in a bright red waterproof coat.  I communicate in halting French with the saleslady, and she uses Google translate to tell me not to use liquid fabric softener when washing the coat.

We decide to walk along the walls of the city with its incredible views of the green sea and Le Fort National.  I'm especially impressed with the pool built-in to the beach where it can be continuously filled at high tide.

The water is so beautiful on a blustery March day that I imagine how stunning it must be reflecting the summer sun.

Using logs as part of the sea wall is also brilliant and beautiful.

The rest of the afternoon is spent looking for sea glass and collecting shells.  It's a gorgeous beach, and I'd love to come again in the summer, though I expect it will be much more crowded.  There's a lot more to discover here in this ancient city of pirates and explorers.  It's so fun when we read about Jacques Cartier in history a couple of months later, and I tell the kids he set out from a place they've visited.