Mont St Michel - Or a Pilgrim's Progress

 Checked another item off the bucket list today, however, this was not without its hardships. 

I studied Mont St Michel at school, just as I studied the Bayeux Tapestry. 

Saint Michael's Mount, if you want to call that it in English, and not to be confused with a similar structure of in Cornwall, with a similar name has been on my bucket list since I studied French at high school. Once again, Reindert was up for it. "More old shit?"

"Yep."

"Will there be buttresses?"

"Probably. And ramparts."

Love me a bit of old-fashioned church architecture. Poor Reindert has been dragged through every church I could lay my hands on. Mont St Michel was another one. 

But it was a really cool one. 

I'm glad it was worth it. Considering we got drenched on the way there. As in soaked to the skin, water dripping off everything drenched waiting for the bus to the island, and then, to add insult to injury, we got even wetter walking the last few meters onto the island when there was a torrential downpour worthy of Darwin in a cyclone. This was the first rain I've seen on my holiday. 

I started to laugh. 

"Why are you laughing?"

"What else am I supposed to do? I'm wearing a Canadian tuxedo (denim jeans and jacket) and I'm drenched through to the skin. It's my only option."

But we got inside the site, somewhat out of the weather and made our way up the hill towards the Abbey on top of the hill. 

I will say, even though it was tipping down, I'm glad we didn't come in high summer. The amount of people will be criminal. 

Our tickets for our Abbey visit were set for 1 pm. With the weather, we asked if we could go in early, and were waved through. 

What followed was a visit to one of the most remarkable religious sites I've ever had the pleasure to visit. Built over a thousand years ago, this has been a site of pilgrimage ever since. It's mentioned in the Bayeux Tapestry. 

For me, it was climbing up this big hill to this imposing structure, as millions have done before, in the rain, on our own self-imposed pilgrimage. The steps are worn soft, the cobblestones slippery, our heads were down with the effort of walking in the rain. I felt a bit like Adso of Melk. (If you haven't read or seen Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, do so. That gives a feel of what climbing this structure feels like.)

(I wish it was like it when we were there...)

You can almost hear the footsteps of long dead monks making their way to vespers. 

This is a very cool place. 

For somebody who doesn't like churches, Reindert stayed and looked around for about two hours, going from the chapel, out along the ramparts, through the cloisters, into the crypt. Although we had bought the audio tour, the driving rain put pay to that, and we just wandered. It was enough. It was also wonderful. 

By the time we got out of abbey proper, it was two hours later. We'd dried off a little bit while taking in this UNESCO heritage site. 

Some lunch was found in a cafe on the way down the hill. Galettes, a pot of cider and some dessert, and it was back down the hill to the bus and the very expensive car park. Then home to St Malo. 

This too, is a very cool place. Built in the 1600s, it's been a fortified town ever since. It saw action in World War Two. It's a brooding, charming little town, which is the location of the book (and soon to be Netflix series) All the Light We Cannot See. I met my old university friend this evening to hand over her vegemite and catch up. She, like me, says that she wanders the town, wandering where Marie-Laure and her grandfather may have lived. It's an extraordinary place to visit. 

And now, I have less than a day left in France. 

What am I feeling? 

Sad.

Okay, I'm looking forward to seeing the cat again (not looking forward the upholstery replacement costs), but if anything, this trip has taught me that I want more - and need more. 

It's just a matter of going out and finding it. 

Today's song: