A touch of summer in winter

One quiet February noon at B’s place over his parents, we were watching the news. They featured the upcoming lemon festival in Menton, France. Menton is a town bordering France and Italy. I’ve been there a couple of times, but never in time for the lemon festival that takes place in March. B has never been to the Côte d’Azur, so I had this brilliant plan to show him around there, to which he agreed. 

I jumped into looking at AirBnBs to stay while I tasked him to look for train or plane tickets. The government did not restrict local travel inside the country for as long as you follow strict health protocols. I was so eager to go that I could reserve a place right then and there. I keep bugging B to file for his official leave from work so we can finally settle on the date.

For once, the fact that (from my perspective) he wasn’t as efficient as I was, worked to our advantage. The following day, the French government decided to lockdown the department of Alpes-Maritimes, where Nice is part.

…Which leads us to Saint-Malo. Having this extra energy to book and reserve accommodation and this nagging feeling of fleeing the Capital, B and I came up with Plan B (incidentally, his idea!) at the last minute. That’s how we ended up in this charming apartment in the heart of the Intramuros of Saint-Malo for four days.

I rarely am this spontaneous, even more, unusual to go unprepared. But I shrugged the doubt aside and told myself, I’ve traveled sufficiently to know what I want and need for one quick escape.

Armed with a small, shared luggage, our individual backpacks, our masks, my current read, and my laptop (because I need to slip in work), we headed to the direction of the sea… it calls me (cf Moana).

We took a two-hour train (which goes 300km/hr, woah!) from Paris Montparnasse to Saint-Malo (with stops in Rennes, Brittany’s capital city, and two other towns) for only 47 EUR each, first-class! Heading back, we took the same route the other way around but in second class, which costs 39 EUR each. 

The Airbnb we rented is highly recommended. The owner, Véronique, is ultra responsive. The apartment is located in the heart of the city, tucked quietly from the noise of the busy streets in a little passageway near shops, restaurants, and the beach. We paid €293.44 for three nights. Not so bad for what it is and where it is, most especially. She even provided surgical masks! What a thoughtful touch.

Since dining in is still unallowed, the restaurants around still cater to tourists by selling food to take out, yes, even the moules frites (mussels and fries). We wouldn’t miss out on trying an authentic Breton crêpe, of course, with a side of hot cider. Finally, we also get to taste the famous kouign amann, a Breton cake known as the fattiest pastry of Europe (apparently). It has loads of butter and sugar, so go figure. I bought me and B just a tiny one to taste, along with our trusty ol’ pain au chocolat and croissant for breakfast with chocolat chaud for B and coffee for me.

Few snaps, few pictures. Here are some highlights: