Nantes train station is a bright and modern place overlooking the river with a nice twisted spire opposite. The communal piano sitting on the concourse by Starbucks, was cherished rather than abused, and played well by quite a few people as I waited.
A pleasant train ride ensued, followed by pleasant bus trip, followed by an hour on a little ferry before the shuttle to the hotel.
Unfortunately, their restaurant is closed on Mondays so I’m having to schlepp up the street a bit. But, not raining, so no strain.
You lot know that I love the French, well I love the sound of them speaking, especially if it is a woman with a slightly husky voice. The rhythms are just finest kind. But, French people do not automatically learn English the way most of the rest of the world do. They think that the language of the world should be French. They hate the fact that the Lingua Franca (lol) of the world is English – blame the treaty of Versailles. As a result the old adage is true. If you try they will smile and help you. If you do not they will ignore you. Who knew that my bad schoolboy French would get a work out this late in life. Also, because it is wine with everything, they frown on beer. And the idea of non-alcoholic anything escapes them totally. So it is water for me.
My first foray into the land of the bleu, blanc, rouge was very nice, even though I didn’t treat myself properly and came down with the lurgy. But the important bit is that I can make myself understood enough to get by and so someday I’ll look forward to treading the paths through Normandy and the long sandy west coast down to the Spanish border to connect with the Cami del Norte.
However, next time if things go as planned, another short trip back to Nantes and Quiberon and the sister isles of Houat and Hoédic.