to six days in and feelings of traveling far.

flipping back the ivory and teal floral print cover of my already broken in journal, I half expect to find in these pages of boxy handwriting and cluttered tone the revelations of a months worth of travel. still with much time from being so, but of a certain compensating detail, I read across these rambling sentences documenting my daylong visits to combourg, dinan, and finally mont saint michel. from the small town of bazouge la perouse, where there is little more than bodega-like shops, these ventures are inevitably necessary to fulfill those simple errands and the occasional need for a less pastoral entertainment. combourg then becomes destination for more substantial groceries, dinan for art supplies and a quick visit with friends, and mont saint michel remains a destination in itself (and so deserving of a few sentences of its own). with a sequential increase in size, each one of these locations has acted as a sort of gradual acquaintance to some generalization of the surrounding and often quickly passed bretagne towns.

dinan in particular was pivotal on these grounds. being sizable enough for a good days exploration, it truly caters to the need for some monumental architecture and a wide selection of french dining and cafes. here I was able to swing a pedestrian navigation through its more picturesque streets; passing various street venders, performers, shop-walking people, and a myriad of aesthetically cluttered windows. through this timbered maze I make my way to a 14th century castle, whose 4 euro fee was well worth the panoramic view, and then I'm on to the town's 15th century romanesque church. here I watched a wedding preside and climbed into a back alley that utterly resonated under the church bell toll. eardrums still ringing and an equalled sensation in my gut, I then make the journey down the steep cobblestone path to the town's historic port. along this extended and winding crevice, I stop occasionally to pay brief visit to a few "hippie-art" galleries of which, according to sandy, there are many throughout bretange. she then goes on to tell me that the french government commonly supports artists of any nature via welfare and other public financial programs; and I suppose to myself that even the making of polymer jewelry and wooden incense burners is considered of equal worth in this socialist setting.
either way and passing by, I'm pulled onwards to the boat-lined river, where the plethora of store fronts and now small hotels continues in an assuredly different aesthetic. with a massive stone viaduct and its huge arched supports in the background, this stretch of dinan is in all aspects colored by the waterside activity. I watched vaporetto-like boats joust each other for sport, slews of people awkwardly easing themselves into kayaks and canoes, and then a caravan of tiny micro-cars honking their way through the riverside street. in a sense of this charming french bustle and the smell of the bakery I'm sitting next to filling the air, I close this invigorating trial of a day with good spirits and weary feet.