That's enough for this year's trip. It's time to start writing posts about "where they are and what they see."
As well as processing lots of photos. This is just a Moroccan Merzug fly in the dunes and climbing all. But that will happen on New Year's Eve, so there will be two quiet months ahead - it will be possible to remember both Cuba and Burmania.
But first there will be Brittany and Normandy, until the impression of last week's trip is forgotten. There isn't much to write about France - everything is said to me, retold, so I won't spend a lot of your time.
A man from the south, even France, began to be seen even on the Paris metro. Our whiteboard and light gown in late September caused local confusion. And nothing on the road is 30 degrees, Paris dressed as if they did not believe in the sun and prepared for the fact that every time the clouds could come and the real fall would begin.
In Brittany, in my reckless clothes, they looked at me without feeling embarrassed and exaggerating the weather. It rained all night and I didn't sleep, worrying that the photographer's nightmare came true - San Michel was in a fog under a clear sky, crossed by a sloping stream of rain.
Spend the night staying at Fougeres, which is famous for its castle. Like a poster at the entrance to the city, "Hurry up to see the oldest castle in medieval Europe!" And "Brittany Beefroi supreme!"
Going forward, I must say that veche towers should not be very high in Brittany. The plan was to explore all of these sights on arrival, but it turned out that in the north of France at 7pm it was dark.
Then they decided to have dinner and go to bed early to get up at six and admire the city at dawn. It turns out that at this latitude at 6 am it's still dark. Already set the alarm for 7 hours. Wake up - it's still worth the night.
Remember that in Provence, at this time, the sun had been frying through the rare gaps of the curtains, preventing sleep. They suggest that even dawn is not engaged here. And out in the dark, to get to know the city.
At Saint-Michel we arrived in the pouring rain. I have begun to engage in self-suggestion that it is better to see it under the rain than not at all, because the sun and blue sky suddenly appear out. Remaining in a small number of clouds, only gives photo appeal.
The weather was so bright that we could return from the island on foot and return from Normandy to Brittany.
Speaking of which, being in these places with a guide, ask how it turned out that according to their story, the monastery had never been captured by anyone, but was founded by Bretons, and after a while became Norman?
The next item is the most beautiful French menhir, which surprised me with almost as much size as Saint-Michel. They stand side by side, trying, discovering how the ancient Celts dragged this fifty-ton fool, and then put it on the priest.
The completely new Dol-de-Brittany Cathedral was quite simple.
To visit Brittany and not try oysters in Cancale, where are banks filled with millions of sea shells and sun that changes color? It is impossible. The weather changed the trick of the rain just when we settled with our plates on a table by the sea.
White wine wants revenge, but as you know, local fishermen do not sell alcohol, only seafood. The rain stopped when we arrived at the car. And thank you for that - to be warm.
The second night fell to Saint-Malo. A very boring city, famous only for dessert with a name that is hard to remember. There is no rain here, but the wind blows mercilessly.
But all of this is interest. On the second day, Brittany decided to show "true" weather for the fall and all day we did not see any sunlight. Both in beautiful medieval dinars,
or in praised Rennes, where besides the crooked houses in Place du Champs-Jacques nothing can be seen.
Good at Vitre. And the sky above the castle is gray, one to one like in the photo on Wikipedia, there seems to be nothing else.
It is hoped that Le Mans will be different, after all, different regions, Land of Loire. And everything seems to start pretty well, at night in a restaurant, but sitting on a light sweater and not feeling any discomfort.
But the next day, when the race was lifted, I looked out the window and couldn't believe it - it rained. By the time I arrived on the track, he had poured in full.
The next day I packed my bag and went home by myself. In Paris at that time +28, in Provence +33. Couples who arrive at night must announce that for heroism I have the right to rest in the warm sea and the next morning we went to Barcelona to enjoy the sun, tapas and pleasure in the south.
