A blog by a person who moves around a lot but keeps on ending up in Bristol.
Saturday, 9 November 2013
The last week of the Summer holidays was spent in Brittany, with all of my husband's family.
I had visited this region as a small child, but couldn't remember it well. However, now a francophile and French teacher, I'm sure that this is where my love of all things France began. The funny thing is, having since spent a lot of time in the south of France, Brittany no longer seems quite so French to me.
Perhaps this was because I spent my time with 11 other English people, in a huge house in a remote town, where we did not have much need to interact with the locals. Or perhaps it is due, as the name of the region suggests, to its striking resemblance to Cornwall.
Feeling not far from home (despite our 14 hour drive from the ferry port to the house), had no negative effect on my enjoyment of the holiday however. I loved the lengthy sea swims each day, the quiet beaches and rugged coastline. And of course, no matter how much or how little you engage with the experience, there is always something wholesome and right about being in France.