Bretagne!

The ability to say "No" tactfully and inoffensively is a gift -- or perhaps a skill -- which would have radically changed the course of our long weekend last week.

However, neither S nor I possess this gift in the language of Moliere, and we found ourselves at 8h30 on Wednesday night, packed in a car with half of our roommate Flouf's stuff, and all of his infinite wisdom, a seven hour drive a head of us, and a packed schedule (of which we were, at that time, entirely oblivious).

Our friend Flouf has recently (ish) gotten out of a long (ish) relationship with a girl, a story which I do not know much about at all, except that for a month or so he has been miserable and mopey, irritated when we don't hang out with him, and very easily agitated.

In the week leading up to France's four-day weekend, S and I had tentative, malleable plans to visit Bretagne, but were kind of both waiting to see how things would go. In the meantime, Flouf began putting on the pressure with each of us, individually, to spend an OFFICIAL weekend en Bretange (one of the places I have long wanted to visit in France, but never had the occasion). Between his sad faces, and the logical reasoning of driving together rather than separately, we agreed, thinking we would stay the night in Lorient and then continue westward, picking him up on the way back home.

Thus, the voyage began, with S in the driver's seat, Flouf stuffed in the back, packed in between half of his personal possessions, and me, comfortably in the navigator's seat, watching the countryside pass by until the sun sank out of sight. I took my turn driving around 11 pm and lasted until 1, when Flouf took over and drove the rest of the way to Lorient.

We arrived at his parents' house at 3 am, an hour which I have not seen in a long time, and at which my French usually degrades into barely comprehensible bits of sentences, conjugations non-existent, and agreements between anything entirely rare. But at 9 am the following morning, I was up and irritating S with the sound of the hair dryer, marking the beginning of our official vacation.

A delicious leisurely breakfast under a sunny sky was cut short by an intense surprise attack by M. LeFlouf, the extreme travel planner and Bretagne connoisseur, who vividly shouted out names of places and sights, adding emphasis by throwing his hands in the air and wildly unfolding his stacks of maps, frantically highlighting sights, roads, and intersections like a mad man, rattling out rapid-fire explanations and suggestions, informing us of Our Weekend Plans, S and me, and the entire LeFlouf crew.

At first we were overwhelmed by this energy! What passion! What intensity! And then, we just never found ourselves able to say "no."

And so it was. We were off, two rusty bicycles pedaling towards the sea amidst Flouf, Monsieur and Madame Flouf, and Petite Floufette, his sister of 14 years. In a short but rapid journey, we found ourselves facing the Atlantic Ocean from a side I had never before seen! As they hurried us down onto the rocks that reminded me of Monterrey Bay, and the sun-bathing sea lions, the LeFloufs uncovered crabs and starfish, crayfish and mussels, displaying an impressive knowledge of the secrets of the sea. We pedaled around the touristy town, took photos of waves lapping against pebbled beaches, and reapplied sunscreen to our pasty skin.

We ate lunch on the deck of their backyard, the weather uncharacteristically incredible. Bretagne is known to be constantly grey and rainy, thus making it a rare and beautiful luxury for us to discover it under the reassuring rays of the constant sun.

Once the digestion process had set in, we all piled into the LeFlouf family van and head off for visits of nearby towns that I had neither the time to process, nor the access to the information necessary to associate meaning with the names. At rapid speed, we piled in, parked the car, piled out, ran around, and repeated the processes again.

S and I were constantly holding the group back, taking pictures at the walled-in city of Concarneau, watching the rehearsal of a random play group under a group of trees, browsing souvenir shops and mulling over the stocked harbor, endless white sails flapping in the breeze, just above impeccable blue-green waves that lapped up against the shore. At some point in the day, we visited the village of Pont-Aven which is where Paul Gaugin founded his artist colony. There was talk of ice cream, at one point, but evidently not enough time, and the LeFlouf van did not even stop to let the prized Flouf son find a bathroom. However, we did stop for fresh strawberries and onions, which were necessary for the evening meal.

Exhausted, sun-kissed, and smelling of salt and sunscreen, the LeFlouf family van returned to home base around 7 pm and it was time to clean up. Dinner was a delicious series of crayfish (I think) which required de-heading, and then were recommended with a dab of home-made mayonnaise, on fresh French bread (superb!) followed by fresh fish in a delicious cream sauce, and strawberries with cream for dessert.

We hadn't planned on staying with them on Friday, but again found ourselves lacking the gall to say "no" to the passionate and persistent LeFlouf family during breakfast. Soon, we found ourselves following the family van, loaded up with picnic supplies, beach towels, bathing suits and a celtic music CD that Monsieur LeFLouf told us to listen to on the way.

After visiting the harbor and fish market in Lorient, we headed off to the Point du Millier, a wonderfully secluded look-out point with private beach access depending upon the tide, and an adventurous descent which dissuades many tourists from flocking there. We had lunch and the brave LeFloufs went swimming in the frigid water. For me, after a very brief toe-test, I decided I would just admire it from afar.

We made the tour of the bottom-most peninsula of Bretagne with the LeFloufs, ending the day at the extremely well-known site of la Pointe du Raz. After all of the hype surrounding this famous place, we found ourselves a bit disappointed by its incredibly touristic nature (souvenir shops and snack bars a-go-go) but unable to leave unaffected by the incredible views of the rocky coastal cliffs and the powerful ocean below.

Having said goodbye to the LeFlouf crew, we headed off to a bed & breakfast which was found and reserved for us by the one and only Monsieur LeFlouf, located in the tiny town of Le Faou (pronounced like "le fou" which means "the crazy.") Tired and happy for a hot shower, we made ourselves presentable and headed into town for dinner. The recommended "crêperie" being full for the night, we settled on a "brasserie" across the way and delighted in the MOST delicious warm goat-cheese salad and pizza for dinner, with a superb chocolate mousse for dessert.

Saturday morning began with a trip across the brand new Térénez Bridge, a completely curved cable bridge that spans across the Aulne river. It was finished in April of 2011 and is glaringly new and modern and hip. Juxtaposed in the background, you can still see the old suspension bridge, a sad and faded forest green color, built in 1951 and no longer useful for any obvious purpose.

We went in search of the "boat cemetery" and were surprised to find that while this "Historic Site" was indicated on tourist maps, as well as street signs, there were no actual markings once you arrived at the site. And the three surfaced boats are so well-hidden by the trees lining the road, you can easily drive past it without ever even noticing. The only place from which the boats are visible on the road is clearly marked with "No Parking" signs, which is a further conundrum to the average tourist...

In any case, we abandoned the car and went on an exploratory hike which proved to be the first of the weekend to be relaxing and without a ticking clock. Having seen no boats, but one painter and the outside of an ancient abbey we didn't pay to visit, we headed back to the car and parked illegally for a view of the life-changing marine vessel resting place.

Then we were off to the two main cities on the Presqu'île de Crozon, Crozon and Camaret-sur-Mer. Armed with our Monsieur-LeFlouf-highlighted maps, we set off at our own pace to explore a few more scenic views and discover more Breton cities.

The day was filled with places and names, Pointe de Dinan and the Pointe de Pen Hir, spectacular views of cliffs and ocean, and we even observed a wedding procession which took place in an old mariner's church located smack in the middle of the harbor. We had a lovely dinner at a very busy restaurant in Morgat which took us three hours to finish, and which got us the bottle of wine for free, as a "thank you" for our extensive patience. "A votre service, bien sûr."

Sunday morning happened underneath rain clouds, which gave us a taste for what it is usually like in Bretagne. Having lost our patience with the crazy signs for the "Cap de la Chèvre" the day before (and having convinced ourselves that we had seen it all), S and I had abandoned our plans of visiting that scenic point. But the Parisian couple at breakfast raved about it, and so we decided to try again, finding it relatively easily thanks to the deserted Sunday town, but also finding it relatively uninteresting and definitely not worth all of that work.

Our last stop on the way back to Lorient was the highest point in Bretagne, and we made a quick detour to climb to the very top, watch a man fly a model airplane, and say "good bye" to Bretagne.

We arrived at the LeFlouf residence around 2:45 and were met with hot coffee, tea, and some of the regional specialities -- far breton, which is a delicious eggy cake with prunes, and gâteau breton which is like super-buttery shortbread, with raspberry jam in the middle.

We rolled out of Lorient at 3:25, with me in the driver's seat, and arrived home to M at 1:00 am. I have never seen traffic jams like what I saw on this very Sunday. For four days we marveled at a sea of salt, waves, and magical creatures lying beneath the surface; our last 9.5 hours were spent fuming over a painfully slowly moving sea of bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Vive les vacances!