Page 87 - Traveling 71 eng

MANENA S WINDOW
Aromas, music and
fairytale houses in Rennes
Back in Rennes, we stayed at
a charming little hotel, Hôtel de
Nemours—the kind of place that
makes you think, “If only I could
live here” or “This is my dream
home.” We arrived with suitcase,
backpack, camera in hand, and
the receptionist, taking one look at
us weighed down with gear, kindly
suggested, “Settle in first, you’ll have
time to explore later.” But no—both
my travel companion and I, laden to
the brim, started nosing around the
dining room, the quaint English (not
French!) garden, the paintings, the
soup tureens… snapping photo after
photo while the concierge looked on,
half bemused, half exasperated—
“Such impatience, these Spanish
women.”
Once we’d finally settled in, we
went off to discover Rennes. The
city’s medieval charm, with its half-
timbered houses, stands in vibrant
contrast to its 21st-century student
vibe. My first impression of the
Breton capital was so lively and
positive that I fell into what I call the
“Zelig syndrome”—like in that brilliant
Woody Allen film where the main
character blends so well into his
surroundings that he loses all sense
of self. While my companion was
busy taking photos and interviewing
our guide, I’d turned into a student
deliberating over which concert to go
to that evening—rock, reggae, punk
or the rising wave of Celtic fusion.
Rennes, it must be said, played a
key role in the emergence of French
rock, with many bands getting their
start at the now-legendary Bistro
de la Cité. Lost in my thoughts, I
picked up a couple of vintage rock
vinyls—my kind of rock—just before
my friend dragged me off to Rue de
Saint-Michel, known locally as Rue
de la Soif—“Thirst Street”—thanks
to its bar-every-seven-metres setup.
Rennes carries a cocktail of aromas
in the air, all utterly appetising. My
nose caught on instantly, pulling
me along like a child drawn to the
scent of candy floss. We soon
tracked down the source: La
Trinitaine, a pâtisserie famous for
its buttery Breton biscuits. As soon
as we walked in, we were offered a
sample—delicious doesn’t begin to
cover it. Thanks to their dangerously
addictive flavour and charming tins
(the kind that later hold sewing kits,
old love letters or even pillboxes), we
each walked out with two.
The other fragrance dominating the
streets had a savoury edge and
wafted out of restaurants and food
stands—it was the galette-saucisse,
a local delicacy consisting of a
buckwheat crêpe wrapped around a
sausage. Naturally, we had to try it
on the spot.
From shop to shop we wandered, as
Rennes boasts a true variété variée
of local boutiques proudly marked
“Made in Brittany.”
Rennes, a university city
The delightful Rue Jerzual in Dinan
La Trinitaine patisserie
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