Page 88 - Traveling 71 eng

THROUGH FRENCH BRITTANY
,,
We were in a
hurry, but we
got lost among
soaps, nautical
stripes and Art
Deco tiles...
these things
happen
,,
Those navy blue striped
sailor shirts...
My age—something that has to count
for some advantage—allows me to re-
member the famous Jean-Luc Godard
film Contempt, starring a smouldering
Brigitte Bardot wearing that iconic
navy-striped sailor shirt. If it went vi-
ral back then, it has never truly gone
out of style, as proudly showcased by
some of Rennes’ most recognisable
boutiques, including Saint James.
And speaking of how stunning Bardot
looked in the film, Rennes also shines
when it comes to beauty products,
and we were completely smitten. How
could we resist the natural skincare by
Ma Kibell, crafted with handmade her-
bal infusions? Finally, we stepped into
a shoe shop whose beautiful Art Deco
tiled floor made us nervous to tread on
it. The tiles were the work of Isidore Odori-
co, a Rennes native whose artistic legacy
can be seen throughout the city—espe-
cially in the district known as Little Califor-
nia, where his former home still stands.
It’s a dreamlike example of his style, parti-
cularly the bathroom... a place so exquisi-
te, you'd be tempted to move in.
Lost in paradise
We continued on our way—one driving,
the other playing human GPS—until
suddenly our directions turned into a
chorus of off-key squawks. Between
fertile fields and storybook houses, it hit
us: we were lost. But the scenery was
so sublime we didn’t mind in the least,
even if we had the ghostly presence of
someone back in Rennes keeping an
eye on our schedule, as work demands.
We passed countryside homes straight
out of El Mueble magazine—the kind
we've all dreamed of at some point—
impeccable gardens, a delicatessen
worth emptying out, church bells ringing
in perfect rhythm, and people who, like
something out of The Truman Show,
seemed suspiciously, dazzlingly happy.
Amid such charm, we soon realised we
had absolutely no idea where we were.
We scrutinised the GPS, tried to follow
its digital wisdom, and slowly—after
many laughs, snapshots, and absurd
guesses—we found our way again
and arrived at a beautiful little town,
the kind that looks like it was painted
by hand.
Jerzual de Dinan street
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