18 April

An interesting day in many ways – not the least as it was my birthday.
I rose at 7:30 as I only had to go downstairs for breakfast and the weather seemed to be rather wet. After the usual preparations I went down to find mine hostess ready for me, showing me into the dining room. This looked like out of a medieval novel, with paintings on the wall and a long table with places at each end. However, different from the others, she sat down and had breakfast with me. Here, today, it was a croissant (warmed), two rolls (one Vegemite, one jam), two glasses of orange juice and two enormous cups of tea. While trying to get through all this without indigestion, I found out (no difficult feat as no-one here speaks English) she has two sons and a daughter, and the oldest son is a pharmacist. The farm is a dairy farm and has been in the family for many generations, uses a rotary milking shed and nearly the same techniques for feeding as in Australia. There is no water shortage here, but in the south of France there is.
Then I left, finished and headed out. My watchband had broken during the night so I needed either repair or replacement quickly. In the town nearby (Broon), I found a watchmaker, but her didn’t open until 9:30. In the meantime I went to a supermarket and bought some menthol lollies (I have a cold and want t get rid of it quickly). Back in the square performers were setting up and there was a car which was being raffled. I went into the jewellers, he pronounced the watchband dead on arrival and I got a new one (€36), which looked very much like the one the watch first had (forty years ago).
The weather was still showering at this time, so I held out hopes for clearing and I went north to the coastal area. Here, between St Malo and Dinard, I happened upon a tidal power station, so looked through that and then was captivated by small boats passing through the lock. When I finally left, it was nearly noon and still cold, blustery and raining.
I headed off to Brest, the westernmost seaport on the French coast, and went there via side roads. Interesting things I observed were that some cars sported big As on the back window (I think it is like our P plates, for new drivers); that the soil here is dark brown and loamy, not like the chalk soil in the Somme; that French drivers also slow down for radar and then speed up again; that you have to be tolerant and permit overtaking drivers leeway otherwise they never get past tractors with large trailers; that French baguettes are too much for me and I have to resist temptation (I did today); that the little traffic lights on poles are there because when you stop at the front of the queue, you can’t see the large ones and that white houses stand stark against their old neighbours. Houses in disrepair showed wattle and daub walls or stone infilled with dirt.
In Brest the weather was no better, the traffic heavy and nothing grabbed me. There was an oceanarium, but seeing the countryside and talking to the locals is more interesting to me. After looking around (driving in the cities is easier than the country because you can just follow the car in front, and don’t worry when you get tooted or yelled at, as everyone does, irrespective of driving habits and abilities – and pedestrians jump out of the way when they are in the wrong and don’t answer back) I headed out and returned a different way.
One habit here which I have just seen is a life-sized cutout, in black with a red slash across the head, and a date on the front, which I believe is where there have been fatalities. It contrasts with the best ones in the US where there is a sign to “Drive Carefully”, Don’t Speed”, “Don’t Drink and Drive” and underneath a small sign “In memory of” and the name of those who I died there.
I came back through Rennes and a road sign, NANNES ANGERS LE MANS, an exit, really took my fancy (what had Nannes done?). I also noticed many families returning from holidays (bored children in the back, looking around) by car while many looked to be taking the last chance and heading out of Rennes for the weekend.
Other interesting observations: squat toilets at rest areas; urinals in public toilets in the public area; few roadside toilets but many just stopping and using the roadside anyway; trucks only have one tyre each side on the trailers, but do have three axles; trucks are limited to 90 km/hr on the divided roads which are not motorways; I have learned to cut in and out quickly, a necessity when there isn’t much roadway to be shared and costs of most foodstuffs is very high. For those interested, most costs (fuel, food, accommodation, clothes, electrical goods) are the same in Euros as I would expect to pay in Australia in dollars, but a dollar is only worth about half a Euro.
When I returned to my accommodation (a farmhouse, which if the weather clears, I will get a photo of), I backed up some files to DVD, did the usual and then finally went to bed to see if I can get rid of this cold.
Before I did, I went downstairs with the laptop and a map of Australia and spoke with the family about Australia, showed them some photos, and then I talked with the son about farming here and in Australia. He had a reasonable command of English, and with my French and writing things (pronunciations are different), we understood each other quite well. It was after 11 by the time I got back to my room and to bed.