Brittany

The day before I flew into France, I had been celebrating my friend Caroline’s birthday in a pub in London for 12 hours straight. It was not in the best form, therefore, that I landed in Dinard on Monday afternoon, coming out of the small plane into the bright sunlight before being herded into the baggage collection room of the tiny 2 room airport. After collecting my enormous bags and breezing (unexpectedly) right through customs, I came through the gate and immediately recognized Marie-Jeanne from the picture my mother had sent me. She was standing with a tall white haired man I assumed was her husband, Vern. She was watching the exit avidly and when I came out she stepped forward.

“Kiki?” She asked. I nodded, tired, hung over, relieved to have arrived. “You’re home,” she said.

The drive to Tredaniel from Dinard is a long stretch of road crowded between green fields. Everything looked fresh, like it had just rained, and maybe it had – but the skies were blue and the clouds banked softly in the distance. The Channel disappeared behind us as we headed a bit further in from the coast. Finally, we reached Tredaniel, and I was given a brief rundown of its amenities – the bar/restaurant/tobacconist, the boulangerie/video store, and the hair salon.

We pulled up along a gravel driveway behind the church to the property. I was told that it was built in the 1400’s by the commander of the forces that were positioned in Moncontour, the medieval town next to Tredaniel. The property consists of four buildings surrounding a small main courtyard, with gardens and some forest behind it.

I am living in the largest building, which is where Marie-Jeanne and Vern have their quarters as well. From behind a large wooden door, a cold stone stairway spirals up to the attic, and my rooms are hidden behind another massive door on the second floor. My apartment, such as it is, is made up of two bedrooms and a split bath. I have rather luxuriously decided to use one as my study, and it is in this room that I sit typing now, with the window open, looking down at the enclosed courtyard below. Spring is coming late to Brittany this year, but there are pink flowers blooming on the trees outside, and the church bells just rang the hour.