My car decided to visit two towns of "character" as determined by the local regional council. The first, Pontrieux, is the smaller of the two. As I arrive, both village "squares" (which are actually triangular in shape in Pontrieux, and no, I don't know why) are hosting the weekly village market. Among the items for sale are local cheeses and meats, vegetables, and clothing. The tourists (of which there are a few, and most "stand out") move slowly from tent to tent, while the locals march smartly to the food vendors as necessary. The town roads near the centre of town (which is where I am/was) are narrow, and mostly plugged with humanity. At noon on the nose, the church bells toll the hour, and most shoppes AND the market vendors start to close down for the siesta. It's obviously time to move on...
My next town was Tréguier, a port town I will describe at a future date. The village square (which is rectangular, thank you) is dominated by the Cathedral dedicated to St Tugdual, and it is closed. Along with 99% of the other businesses in the square. And no, it's not for siesta. One of the only open places is Le Martray Crêperie, which also supposedly sells sandwiches. When my second choice of sandwich was declined as "Je suis désolé, mais...", I was informed it was a holiday. I was not informed WHAT holiday, just that a holiday was the reason almost everyone except this vendor was closed.So, no sandwich. However, he informed me his ice creams (glaces) were very good, so...
Let me tell you, I have NEVER had a better ice cream. Tillamook, Ben & Jerry, Haagen Dazs, Dreyer's, Breyers, Fliers, Criers, whatever, none of them come remotely close. I will leave the taste to your imagination. As it turns out, I didn't need a sandwich after all.
When I finally returned home, Madame informed me the holiday would last all week, and this started to make me panic; I had only enough food in the apartment for one more day. I had this notion that when The Boyz returned to the apartment, they would have found me mummified, staring at the laptop screen wishing it was a vanilla glace from Le Martray Crêperie.
Lucky for me, Intermarché either doesn't believe in this holiday, or was closed for only one day. I was allowed to stock up on spaghetti, toilet paper, matches, and chocolate enough to last... And no, I still have no idea what this holiday is/was... It may have something to do with the D-Day anniversary celebrations, but as I'm about 120 miles southwest from the closest of Normandy beaches, and they are probably packed to the gills at the moment, I'm only guessing...
[ 2009: I'm reading a French blog at the moment, and the woman is talking about her children reminding her about an upcoming school holiday. I'm wondering if this is the same holiday, Pentacost, that I ran into... ]
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