Page 90 - Traveling 71 eng

THROUGH FRENCH BRITTANY
Commemorative plaque in Saint Malo to its son
François-René de Chateaubriand
And once at the top, reaching the
Castle—one of the few places in
France where the Breton flag flies
higher than the French one.
At low tide, you can choose between
taking a restorative dip at Bon Se-
cours beach or visiting the tomb of
the writer François-René de Cha-
teaubriand on the islet just across
the way, to whom we owe not only
his monumental literary work but
also the delicious steak that bears
his name, thanks to the cut specially
prepared for him by his chef, Mont-
mirel.
To bed without dinner
However, with the rush of our sche-
dule, we didn’t have time to eat any
“chateaubriand,” and we kept on
driving—this time with me as co-pi-
lot—starving. The next destination
was a charming little hotel in the bu-
colic area of Cap Fréhel, carpeted
with gorse and heather. The photos
took themselves while our stomachs
growled. Dinner was scheduled for
nine o’clock, and we weren’t going to
make it, so I came up with one of my
brilliant ideas: “I’ll call the hotel res-
taurant, tell them what we want from
the menu, and we’ll arrive to a table
already set without bothering anyo-
ne.” I still put my hands to my head
when I remember how the number I
dialled didn’t reach the restaurant in
question, but rather a person in Ren-
nes in charge of the trip, who quite ri-
ghtly replied that she wasn’t any sort
of receptionist and had no intention
of taking our order. In the end, when
we arrived at the Hôtel de Diane, in
Fréhel, just a few metres from the
beach of Sables-d’Or-les-Pins, the-
re was no problem at all—we had a
wonderful dinner, no stress, and we
toasted to a journey full of beauty—
and laughter, lots of laughter.
Birds on the brain?
And to end this tale—one that will
always bring a smile to my face whe-
never I remember it—I’ll place my-
self in the setting of Dinard, dressed
in marvellous Belle Époque houses,
where every autumn the British Film
Festival is held, and where we’re wel-
comed by the statue of Alfred Hitch-
cock, surrounded by birds in honour
of his film of the same name. That
film, I must admit, gave me many
sleepless nights, had me hiding un-
der the covers, and made me lose a
good deal of affection for birds.
The final act of our excursion, fo-
llowing the advice of my fellow ad-
venturer in Brittany, was to test the
sea water. According to her, one can-
not see a sea without experiencing
the benefits of its waters.
Beaches and mansions of Dinard
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