Paris Pet Shops

I've meant to add these for a while, with thoughtful comments perhaps. Mostly I took these photos because I am confused by the way the rest of the world sells large domestic animals like they're selling hamsters. On the banks of the Seine, Quai de Louvre is a road on which almost every other shop is an 'Animalerie'. Some are more salubrious than others, but in many there were still metre long cases of about 20 rabbits, for example. Many of the smaller darker shops had signs stating 'no photographs' and I was fairly sure this wasn't so as not to disturb the animals. One such shop whose name I didn't write down had weaned Alsatian puppies and a fully grown something living in a 'bigger' cage, looking like they'd probably like a walk somewhere that wasn't the busy road outside. One shop was (slightly) commendable with it's larger, clean cages and slightly interested staff. They even allowed photographs, which is were the dog photos below were taken. Even so, the system confuses me and it's disappointing that it's so popular. Having animals sold via a third party will hardly habituate them to a home environment. They are taken away from their mothers, when they are weaned and allowed to be sold, but they are not immediately put into a training environment. Left with other puppies for company instead, what interaction do they have? People ogling through the glass? I wonder how many people are satisfied with the pets they get from these shops.

Birds

Heading down to the gulf again I was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of ducks. I wasn't expecting ducks as there were none at all this morning. There were more people too, even though the sun had almost disappeared. A lot were running and had brought a child along for support. These children are plonked on bikes and either race ahead, for the parent to keep up with, or flag behind enough that the parent has to push them for exercise. Still, this was not enough to scare the birds away and it was a really nice evening walk. The people had disappeared by the end and the photos perhaps show how tranquil it is down there. Except for the mallards. They are endlessly complaining or having arguments with neighbours. 

Click for full view and you can scroll through them. 

I am absolutely definitely not going bird watching.

That sounds like the title of a Charlie and Lola book - I think I should write it. 

Despite living in a flat in a town, I am grateful for having been dropped here for two reasons: there are people who live nearby who have chimneys and make the road smell of wood smoke, and I am a 12 minute cycle from the Gulf of Morbihan. 

I know it was twelve minutes because I didn't manage to cycle fast enough to get 3.something kilometers down to ten minutes. 

Anyway, it was another unusually sunny November day today so having my bike with me after tutoring this morning I decided to investigate the track that leads down from their road right to the gulf. This is the view from their road: 

I've explored the other end of this track before, a few miles away. But that end attaches to Conleau, a little touristy island with lots of people and a handful of boats as it's within walking distance of the port. This end is a lot nicer. There were still people walking and running, because it's a Saturday, but it was very peaceful. I nearly dosed off on a bench in the slightly warm sun surrounded by chirping birds. Wading birds often sound very relaxed in their noise making, like there is no hurry to get anywhere or do anything. It reminded me of the lagoon on Brownsea Island a bit, with all the pines and oaks and marshy water full of waders. I was given a clue to how bird-full this places was by the jays as I came down the path. 

(Here's a convenient picture of a jay that I did a few months ago: )

Anyway, if this place is full of birds at midday, what's it like at dusk when they all come down to roost? I'm going to go down in half an hour or so with the telephoto lens to find out. So I'm not going just to look at the birds. It's very photogenic down there. 

Falafels on Rue des Rosiers and Sacha Finkelsztajn

Rue de Rosiers is a narrow street in Marais, Paris' traditionally Jewish quarter. It's best known for it's falafel vendors, the most popular of which 'L'As de Falafel' can easily have a queue fifteen people long taken care of by a frantic Israeli man giving out reservation tickets. It's not always this busy, but their falafel was the better falafel out of the two that I tried.

The other was a shop further down the street that I decided to visit when the queue at L'As was typically very long and I had been wondering around trying to fulfill a falafel craving for about 40 minutes. It's not the easiest road to find when you have forgotten the name and have only been to Marais once. But I did orient myself eventually without much help of the map and can say I now know Marais a lot better. Anyway, the other place was called Chez Hanna, and it was very nearly as good. It just had a little too much tahini sauce and there was less aubergine - plonked on top instead of stuffed in. It was very melty aubergine nonetheless and that's how it should be. Indeed there was very little in it between the two places and I would happily eat at either of them again, or recommend them to others, because you get the whole of this for 5€ (7.50€ if you eat in).

So here are falafels, roast aubergine, two types of salad (one of them beetroot) and lots of tahini sauce. And really nice warm pitta. Mmm. It makes a good meal in itself, no need for anything else.

I got drawn into this because of the funny name but also because there were rows of pastries I had never heard of. There was a type of cheesecake, lots of savory pasty type things, very chocolately sachertorte and two types of strudel: Romanian and Austrian. And many more that I've forgotten. I was served a piece by a rather brusque Polish lady and then given a handwritten ticket to take to a man at a desk and till at the back. There were lots of other things I would have like to try but my strudel cost me three euros a piece so I decided to limit myself. The place was equally full of bread and other deli items sold ready-cooked in trays. I went for the traditional strudel, tasty but lacked the conventional filo type pastry, but I would still go back here and try many other things. I approve of roads like this that somehow pack in more food shops than their size would give away.

Getting a phone unlocked

I didn't really think that this would be possible in Vannes - it doesn't have enough seedy looking shops or back alleys. So I made it my business to get this done in Paris. London has the sort of shop that will unlock your mobile on every other corner, Southampton is equally full of these, so I was a bit bemused by this lack but then again Vannes is not very big and I imagine no one ever wants to switch phone provider. I was wondering around St Germain where, especially near the bank of the Seine, there are a lot of tourist tat shops many looking like they'd do it. Couldn't really find any signs, and as St Germain is pretty fancy I didn't think this would be the place to get a cheap deal. I asked a woman selling I love Paris generalia and she said that Barbès is the best place. Barbès is a big boulevard slap bang in the middle meeting point of the 8th, 9th and 18th - and is heaving with people. It's a very multicultural place, which was refreshing after marching around the tourist areas and Rue de Rivoli/St Germain and such. Anyway, the first shop didn't manage although they offered me a good deal of 10€. Second place succeeded for 15€, although threatened (perhaps jokingly) to make me pay 35€ as I couldn't wait for it to be done in the morning and left for most of the day to collect it later.

So that was a rather roundabout way of saying that if you need to get a phone unlocked (débloqué or désimlocké) then go to Paris and to Boulevard Barbès.

Medecin

After turning up an hour before I was meant too, I managed to organise an extensive course of vaccinations at the French doctor's. The turning up early was not too much of a problem because I can see the roof of the doctor's from my balcony. This will be great for if I have to crawl there having contracted dysentery or something in Mexico, that'd be just my luck.

Despite making an ever so slight loss on appointments (we pay 23€ and are reimbursed the majority through Social Security) I do not mind at all. It's like going to private healthcare, not that I ever have: mine is a small surgery with a special children's waiting room and nice wooden floors and cosy Doctors offices. Helps that it was built in a house and not a custom-made clinic. It was so homely and small that I didn't really understand the receptionist situation. In fact, going through the main door, you are then faced with two doors and two doorbells. It's like something out of Alice and Wonderland. You have to 'Sonnez et Entrez', and then go through the door to find out that both doors lead into the same corridor. Strange. But I think they had different sounding doorbells depending on which doctor you had an appointment with. This also seemed to act as a way of making your arrival known to the staff, as there was no obvious secretary or germ embedded NHS touchscreen. Another girl waiting there did not know any better than me, so I sat with National Geographic (and it's seemingly incessant inca articles, no problem!) until Lovely-Doctor come to get me. Hand shaking is common in this sort of situation in France, but it must be so often that they are reluctant to shake the hand of some tuberculosed patient.

I don't remember if GPs in England all look like they work in TV hospitals because I always get palmed off to some nurse or other, but Dr Savet was so well turned out in her chic office that I felt like I'd gone in to visit the head of some fancy place in Paris. Or Cuddy's office. It was so nice and homely that I couldn't see any sterile gloves or fold out hospital bed so that must've been hidden away in another room or I had ended up at a pretend Doctor's surgery. We know a French GP, and so far all seem to have been ridiculously lovely people I want to grow up and be. She was really helpful in figuring out how to get a 6 month course of vaccinations in the five months I will have here, and looked in detail about whether rabies can be given at the same time with Hep B. For this I do not mind paying a little! Although it is a system where you immediately pay upfront and are given a reimbursment form, a bit like some NHS dentistry, it works alright and the paperwork substantially decreases once you have health insurance sorted. Although I cannot emphasise how good it is that you can just turn up at an NHS hospital regardless of where you are from and have access to healthcare, even more so for me because I don't pay taxes yet and it's free. It's also quite funny that I will have to physically purchase the vaccinations from the pharmacy and carry them across the road to lovely-Doctor to jab me with.

Off to Paris early tomorrow morning for a very extended weekend due to Armistice day!

My Sofa and Floor

Well if that isn't a title to get people reading, I don't know what is.. .

Seriously though, I am VERY pleased with this sofa I managed to get hold of off leboncoin.fr

It's just big enough for two (or me and my laptop) and is damn good quality for the price. The sellers were in a hurry to move, I think, because in comparison to what else I had seen for sale on le bon coin, this one is lacking in stains and rips and need to reupholster. And it's such a nice shape! I don't even mind the cushions at the back, though if I ever found some nice fabric (tartan?) I could recover them. So I may well bring this back home, as I don't think I could find a similar thing for 30€, or even 100€ from the fair-while I spent browsing.

Additionally in this photo you can see our floor. This was described to us by the estate agent as 'very popular' and 'easy to clean'. The first is true, for some reason. I've even seen it in the Nice House where I tutor, and not just in our old-people flat.

Here's a closer look:

I just really have not worked out why it is popular. It is none of those described things. It is like living in a hessian sack. A good thing I'm not allergic. It really is like a floor made of lots and lots of string.  You cannot tell if it is dirty or clean, even when you hoover. The problems continue, because you can't really walk around without slippers or socks because it starts to cause foot pain. Let alone sitting on this floor! It strikes me as very bizarre. I have a rug on the way. Apparently it's not even that cheap, but the strings come undone in places every now and again. I sound like I am complaining a lot, I'm not really. I'm just very, very confused as to why someone thought this was a good idea.

Food dilemma

Today I am overwhelmed by food that needs eating as soon as possible. The cupboard still has apples in we haven't used, there is a half a courgette (edit: MARROW) in the fridge along with a full fillet of mostelle, even though I asked for only two portions. Half a kilo of clementines, they'll keep, but they're addictive. A large bowl full of chickpea and pepper sauce. Frozen pumpkin. And about a kilo of haricots verts that the man at the Agriculture Bio veg stall assured me was an appropriate portion. I asked for enough for two, but was there was easily enough for two by the time he said ' et ça c'est pour une personne'. Does this mean you eat green beans as your main meal?

I'm not complaining because this is the way that I really like to cook. It's a challenge to use things up. The problem is, we've already planned ahead to have pumpkin soup tonight. So I need to use everything else up. The beans I can eat with the left over bit of mostelle, which I will probably fry in spices and make a bit cajun as a way of going against France and their love of adding cream to white stuff. Potatoes, pasta, fish...
I could also use this in a tomatoey fish soup, like the one I made when I came across a bit of mystery bream last year. Or make it into fish and chips, because of all the potatoes we have. That'd be really nice, but failing on the healthy side...

I think I will end up blanching a handful of the beans and putting them in the freezer - I'm not sure how long they last.

But the courgette is a problem mostly because we don't have a steamer...

If I'm having fried fish for lunch, already a massive lunch when I add the beans, and I need to use the chickpea stew before it goes mouldy (probably saving pumpkin soup for lunch another day), where to I eat the courgette, where?

Do I just cook it for an afternoon snack? Make it into some courgette only salad?

That'll teach me for buying a kilo courgette to stuff for two people...

A l'école

Here's just a few thing's I've noticed about the French system, in no particular order or coherence. Just things that strike me as a foreigner.

* In Primary school, children bring all their books and equipment with them every. single. day. To do so they have 'un cartable' rather than 'un sac' because they really do need to cart things back and forth. There are in the form of a big square rucksack, or a wheely suitcase bag. I think that's actually a great idea to save their little backs, but on reflection having 'trays' at school for our things was such a sensible idea. We only had to carry our lunch and pencil case, and it avoided the endless 'j'ai oublié mon livre à la maison/sur la table/mon père l'a utilisé pour allumer le feu' because we only took away what we needed for homework.

* Using cursive script makes writing on a chalk-board a lot easier! It's all in one smooth stroke. If you go at a board trying to jab the chalk at each separate letter, the chalk gets quite broken and messy. 

* French teachers, like most others in this country, do try and relax during their lunch break instead of doing a million and one things. This means everyone sits down at some point to eat lunch together, especially in my small primary school where there are eight of us round the table at most. And everyone has hot lunches that they think ahead and bring from home to heat in the microwave. I've seen curry, pasta, but also the odd bit of steak and potatoes. Then there'll be pudding and tea before the sound of children running outside after their proper sitting-down eating lunch together break too. 

* There is a severe lack of supply teachers, so much that you'd think they weren't invented. In a lycée this isn't as bad because sometimes (hopefully) the students will do set work. But in school today, the headmistress was ill. As one of only eight staff members she is also a class-teacher. a whole class as well, but they did not have a cover teacher and were instead divided between all year groups. There were not even enough chairs! 

Oh and here's the chocolate cake..

Ahah, you had to read this far to get to the chocolate cake recipe! 

Chocolate cake, french recipe

200g Butter

200g dark chocolate

70g flour

5 eggs

200g sugar

I have made one of these 1/3 of main ingredients chocolate puddings before, but I think that one was without eggs. I will dig out the recipe if I bring my recipe notebook from England, because that one was insanely dark and puddingy, like goo. You put the baking tin inside a dish of water in the oven. Anyway, this one comes out more like a cross between sponge and brownie, because you whisk the eggs a lot. But you cook it like moelleux, so it’s still moist in the centre. I actually just had to have a momentary typing break to taste some more and check how to describe it. Naturally. Melt the butter and chocolate together in a bain-marie (a bowl over an almost boiling pan of water). You can turn this off once it’s all started to melt and the pan has reached boil, as the remaining heat will melt the rest. Divide the eggs into whites and yolks. Stir the sugar into the yolks until the mixture lightens. Whisk the whites until they form stiff peaks. Add the flour to the yolk and sugar mixture, before adding the chocolate and butter. Then gently fold in the egg whites bit by bit. The recipe recommended a 22 or 24 sized tin, but we used a mystery dish. As long as it covers the whole surface to at least a cm thick you’ll be alright. 

About 25 mins at 180. A knife poked in the middle should come out steamy but still a bit gooey, things will settle down as it cools and you want it to be moist! By this point the edges will look cooked and almost springy to the touch. 

Any Country Bean Casserole, and why it has sausage in it (sorry Mum) feat. Chocolate cake recipe.

I will explain the original motivation for this stew, but it's occured to me while writing up the recipe that this meal would be easy to manage anywhere in the world if you have one pot and one thing to heat it on, because the ingredients or their equivalents should be available whether you are in England, Germany, France, Italy or Mexico (hello year abroad people!). Beans and sausage of some kind exist in most countries! By equivalents, I mean that this is largely flexible as a dish, but I’ve added alternatives where I think certain other things might go well. Without bouillon etc, save stock from cooking vegetables or meat, or just add salt.Vegetables can be adapted accordingly - any kind of root would work well. Spices, if you are lacking, would be okay as just generic herbes de provence, but something slightly spicy or peppery is always good for depth. Similarly mustard and vinegar are great, but are less common/may not naturally be in your cupboard away from home. 

Makes about 4 portions

half a large onion

1 carrot 

1 potato (other root veg can replace these two)

2 tins of beans, preferably different sorts. I used 1 kidney beans, 1 haricot beans, plus

any leftover baked beans found in the fridge. I was actually looking for better beans, but this was all Carrefour had to offer...

1/2 tin of tomatos and/or a good few chopped fresh tomatoes

1 large clove of garlic

200g of Sausage, I used Andouille, explained below

1 cup of water

1/2 bouillon cube/ 1tsp bouillon powder

A tablespoon of tomato purée

1 desert sp of grain mustard

liberal dashes of tabasco

black pepper, I added a lot

a good full teaspoon of paprika, smokey if possiblesome greens to serve, brocolli or dark cabbage

Adding red pepper also wouldn't go amiss.

One thing I tend to be sad about when eating French food (not all kinds) is the dominance of light flavours and creamy sauces here in the north. Despite the north being near England, it sometimes lacks the punchy flavours we might make in things like Shepherd's Pie or casseroles or other things.  For this reason I get more excited by aubergines à la provençale, or things like ratatouille when you find them on menus, or especially in galettes. This is not a combination I have yet found in Brittany though as they favour the North. But these almost Italian flavours of Provence are equally, maybe more, warming for me in cold northern winter/rainy days and all that.  They have got a good deal more garlic and tomatoes and olive oil, and everyone's favourite herbes de provence. I'm still not sure what counts as Provence. Anyway. 

This recipe all started after I made a rather unadventurous potato wedges with haricots blancs en sauce de tomate (er, baked beans). But not being mad and eating the whole lot, I had leftover beans. So I made a recipe around about half a cup full of beans. That sounds a bit excessive seeing as my sister would probably just have eaten them cold out the fridge, but she was not there and, it being now finally autumn, it was about time to make something warming and wholesome. 

And this is very wholesome! I had read a few recipes based around bean casserole/stew etc before, specifically Cowboy Beans, Shipwreck Casserole and Boston Baked Beans, and ended up creating something in between them that had the kind of deep sauce taste of being left over a campfire, that is even better on reheating, without adding any of the cheat ketchup that many American recipes call for (though I can maybe see their angle on brown sugar or maple syrup...) 

I'll stop rattling on, give you the method and explain the sausages afterwards, or you'll never hear about the food.

Method:

Prepare the veg beforehand as this prevents faff later, and also allows multitasking/having a cup of tea while stuff cooks. This means dicing the onion, crushing or chopping garlic, chopping carrot and potato into dicey sized chunks too (though really does not matter if they are irregular). Keep the peel on, it’s good for you and has a lot of flavour. Wash them, this dish is earthy enough. This is also a good opportunity to use up old looking tomatos, as it just bulks things up a bit. Chop up sausage on a plate. I used Andouille and will explain this later. 

Start frying the sausage in the pan. This dish cooks a while so you don't need to fear it won’t be cooked through, but the fat from this means frying the onions doesn’t need any oil added. Therefore this dish is pretty healthy, as I did not use much at all. Add the onions and garlic to the browning sausage, keeping it all over a medium heat. By the time the onions are soft, the sausage will be on its way to done (depending on which sort, of course). Then add the diced carrots and pots. Stir these a short while, but when things start to stick and get hot, add the cup of water. This is also the opportunity to crumble in the stock. 

Leave this to cook until the veg begins to soften. After this everything goes in almost at once. Add the tinned beans, drained of a little of their juice, but leaving some adds to the tasty casserole sauce. Add the tomatoes and purée now as well. Heat through, and allow the veg to simmer until it is nearly cooked (still a bit al dente when tasted) before tasting and adding the season. This is all fine by taste to what suits you. Once all the spices are in, leave to cook down for about 20 minutes, until the vegetable will break up with a prod with a wooden spoon. 

About ten minutes before the end was when I added brocolli, enough for one serving, because I don't like freezing or reheating brocolli, it turns to mush. I just stirred this into the mix as I didn't have a steamer, but things like this could be steamed or microwaves steamed to add on the side. I only had one pan option here though! 

The sauce should no longer be watery, and instead will coat the veg. I served warm and didn't even use bread there was so much in here! But I would not say no to bread. 

Freezes and reheats well. Add a couple of tablespoons of water to the mix when doing so. Reheating stews is always better on the stove than in the microwave as it allows the flavours to develop and reduce down. 

This is a close second/third to Irish stew night, and spicey casserole made at Sacha's WHOSE RECIPE IS GONE WHO KNOWS WHERE. I think we found it on the internet, it may never be found, we'll have to create a Tribute...

A note on the sausage!

I bought Andouille sausage. It is used in quite small quantities in this dish, and it is therefore not a meat dish and this is not an essential ingredient by any means! It's mostly used in the vein of old cowboy bean stews where they would throw in an old raggedy bit of pork belly to make things all a bit richer, as a bit of a treat perhaps. Andouille sausage is a funny choice, as it is kind of made up of layers and disintegrates  a bit when cooked. But it is not greasy or grainy at all.

If I were in England I would probably make this meat free unless I found a really good farmer or farmer's market. In France, my food ethics are a bit more accessible! A lot of meat has the name of the farmer printed on it. This Andouille was from within the same county. So I am lead to believe that it was made on small scale and local produced, which I approve of, as this generally assures to some scale the livelyhood of farmers (which is difficult when, as far as I know, farm animals rarely make a man rich!). Brittany is also one of the main pork producing regions, as perhaps Ireland is. As for the question of why there is meat in this at all (I love pigs!), is that I am in favour of supporting businesses that advocate and practice an ethical method of production by contrast to the intensive farming that, even countries like France who value local food, are guilty off. This does not mean rejecting meat altogerther, because I believe in supporting farmers who advocate this proper way of doing things, particularly if it involves ensuring that their animals live a healthy and happy life as a priority over any financial gain. It's also because of the slight issue I have with people drinking milk and being vegetarian, what with all the baby cows that go to waste. But that's another story. Brittany is also a great place to eat fish and seafood responsibly without having to spend an arm and a leg. Buying the andouille cost me about 2 or 3€, but I certainly wouldn't do this every day. It was as a good compliment to a wholesome dish. As for the seafood, I will add another time. I've talked enough today! 

Markets, I

In fact this is not a proper message on French markets, sorry for the deception.  But I have just been to the Wednesday market and am a tad overwhelmed in the senses. I had planned to take my camera but 9.30 this morning ended up quite cloudy and dull, and the market is just so colourful it deserves sunlight of some kind. The creole stall is there every Wednesday, and I will one day buy my lunch there, but today I got a banana doughnut right out of the frier and it was brilliantly crispy hot and covered in sugar. I also succeeded in finding the spice stall and wish I had done so before buying mystery curry powder in a jar, because the man had all sorts of garam masala and other curry mixes he'd made himself. I did come away with a little paper bag of cinnamon to turn the glut off apples into various sauces and crumbles which I'll start this afternoon before they go rotten. But all this really deserves photos, especially the organic bread stall with a man in a rainbow jumper (not Dad) from whom I bought a slice of sort of dark rye brioche with chocolate chips and raisins, which was made in an oven. And there were pumpkins everywhere, some for about three euros a piece, and giant courgettes, and punnets of potatoes, and freshly made apple juice, and honey gingerbread, and honey vinegar! Once I have been paid I am going to do so much cooking.

And there are so many fish, most of them with names that only exist in French or Spanish. It turns out the fish which we put in parcels was called Mostelle, and it was delicious. It had a pretty flakey white texture and so I was worried that it was cod without knowing the proper translation. It cooked brilliantly in the parcels, and what's more it's a relatively unknown fish that comes from western Med and the Atlantic and so is very local. I think I'm going to work my way through each unknown fish name or weird looking creature on the stalls. This one also doesn't seem to have a commonly translated English name - it's called Physis Physis, though  and is this little fellow:

Autumn, Bois de Vincin

Our Neighbourhood

I think we technically live between areas of suburb called La Madeleine and Le Bondon. As the bus stops inform me. There’s a mix of all kinds of flats, houses, council flats, enormous houses...  plonked within walking distance (well, between 15-30 mins) of town centre, retail parks, train station and woody countryside. It looks like the edge of any town really, but luckily they’ve left a few big oaks growing here so that it’s a bit greener. Not too far to boulangerie et cet, and the local Carrefour Cité could pass for a Tesco Express except that they sell fresh oysters in the fridge section.

So this morning, as decided by lack of money and lack of transport on a Sunday, I left early to avoid this odd october heatwave (or ‘la canicule’, I like that word). I amde my way through more and more suburbs, but within half an hour I had got out of town via a small dog walking field and brick wall: 

A brief tour of main road later, I ended up at the Pont de Vincin. This was pretty much a road bridge over an estuarine river ( I think, as it was flat and muddy and I am fairly sure the water was flowing away from the sea). I guessed from my vague town map that the green areas near this bridge were countryside, and managed to find an unmarked footpath that lead along the river, after I had to squeeze though the entrance. I think this path goes all the way to Luscanen in some way or other.

It was much much cooler under the canopy and I even got a bit chilly and autumnal, having left in a dress. 

The French seem obsessed with chestnuts. I saw a man collecting them on my way back from this path.

I have therefore decided it is probably a good thing if I learn to like chestnuts, plus they were so shiny I had to pick a few up and bring them back. 

I had some photos that came out pretty well on this walk, because I was out there so early in the morning, so I will put the best ones in another post so that my waffling doesn't interrupt the scenery. 

Brittany does have hedges

I've been staying just outside a small town called Rosporden about an hour west of Vannes while we've been sorting out final apartment bits and pieces. The house here is plonked right next to a beetroot field. Today I spent a lot of time arranging utilities, I have even spoken to the water company on the phone! But apparently it isn't possible to sort out the water on the phone...

Anyway, after this I was going to go for a stroll as the sun was still out, but a bike happened to be available for me to use! So I took off down the lanes, surrounded by HEDGES (some places in France just don't believe in hedges) and trees all lovely and autumnal. There were also cornfields and a farm with a big water-castle. I think it's dangerous for me to be on a bike with a speedometer. I was going at 30kmph on an incline heading towards 40kmph when I was nearing flat! I didn't really dare go at full pelt as this bike was a lot more powerful than my own (though the breaks worked well). I now really would like a speedometer, but am slightly worried it would distract me from important things like pedestrians in my way.

It was very nice to be out in the autumnal countryside anyway. Vannes has some parks but hopefully I will get out and explore - flatmate and I have plans to go out on Western horses. It's surprisingly a lot warmer than south of England even though we aren't that far away. Though 6.30am was quite fresh the other day it has been so pleasantly warm, save one windy windy day down at the port where I had my coat on.

Today I was recommended a whole host of places in Western Brittany to go to so I plan to make that a weekend job to visit. It is strangely parallel to England in many places - I was shown a river that looks just like the Dart with all its boulders, and I am going to hunt down the Land's end equivalent and its rocky cliffs when I can get there by car. This will either be stormy and dramatic in winter, or just a bit soggy. We'll see.

Vannes

I've had four days to look around the town and have done so to such an extent that my shoes are feeling a little worn down by cobbles and I could perhaps draw you a rough map of the place on a napkin leftover from various crêpe places. I say perhaps, because in reality despite having got to grips with Oxford's higgledy-piggledy layout and all its shortcuts and alleyways, Vannes seems to be a different kettle of fish (more to come on fish). In Oxford (and Edinburgh for that matter) small alleyways are logically shortcuts, like St Helen's Passage to The Turf, or cutting down right from the castle-terrace to Grassmarket. Here the arrangement of the old town has somehow meant that the smaller streets are still important ones with lots of shops on that you have to try and squeeze through. In places it's like diagon-alley, but a bit too kitsch. 

Meaning that my brain hasn't quite worked out how things join up. It's all very loopy. But the buildings jumble together so that you find something new every now and again by surprise. Just now I walked down the other side of the cathedral, the side without shops, and found that side to be far more jumbled than the other, it sort of looks like people had been adding bits year after year when new things came into fashion, but even more than happened to Winchester cathedral for example. 

There's a newer part of Vannes-centre as well, when I went to Monoprix after the pouring rain today I subsequently found somewhere to have a cup of Verveine tea that was more like Café Nero on the 'working whilst you have coffee' front, and less like the little tea-shops that are probably more like Madam Puddifoots and might've shoo'd me out for being soggy.

They nicely join up too. After I couldn't find a crêpe that wasn't Nutella by the port, I ended up walking quite a way in the opposite direction to the hostel and back to the newer part of town where I had seen other 'à emporter' signs. This had two bonuses, firstly because I found a crêpe Poirier/Belle Hélène (chocolate, pear and chantilly) but also that I walked back a route I hadn't done before, crossing underneath the city walls and walking the whole length of the Jardin des Remparts on the opposite side of the old town and thus being able to see it all from a distance. The fact there is a sort of terraced park, full of enormous chestnut trees over this side of the stream meant that the view was also from a bit of a hight, making all the layers of the jumbly buildings visible right up to the cathedral. The rain had turned into slight evening sunshine and nice fresh park, but alas did not have my camera. Neither did I earlier when there was a bright-yellow market stall of sunflowers this morning, oops.  

Anyway, digression! I like this about towns on hills. Oxford does not have this. Being ridiculously flat makes it quite claustrophobic and not quite as interesting as it could be. You can only ever see more than a few towers at once if you are miles away in Port Meadow. This is where Edinburgh gets a lot of points, because it couldn't have more hills if it tried. You can see other parts of town as you are walking around. You know where you are going and you don't feel squashed, because sometimes you see a hill or  snow capped mountain (if you are lucky enough to have wandered off the street into the botanic garden). Suddenly you are walking along a road and you realise that it is after all a bridge. Or you look out the back of a café to find you are actually quite a few floors up and almost level with the castle. But in a way that doesn't make your brain melt. Vannes currently feels a bit like an Escher picture when your inside, but pleasant when you can see it from a distance,like when I went for a bike-ride yesterday out towards the Gulf, or in Place Valencia because it leaves a little bubble of space. 

Edit: I managed go back today which was a lot more grey, but have the same view.

Roads

I like this guy, I've seen him in the old town and right down by the port. He gets around!

Here he is demonstrating use of the zebra crossing, which I haven't got the hang of, because whether people stop for you or not is entirely random.

La Carotte

As a bit of recompense for the slightly damning account of last nights dinner, here’s a little about a very friendly little place I had lunch today. 

La Carotte on Place de Valencia had caught my eye before because of its orange-rabbit sign general plastic-colourfulness, but a small enough place to fit cosily among the old buildings). Today I wandered past and noticed there was a deal on to have vegetable crumble and soup together for 8€ so went back around lunchtime. Its name does quite well to explain what La Carotte is like. My food was fresh and a little bit cute, and still quite French and recommended to me by a sweet waitress pointing out things on a giant board. I was once again one of the earlier customers, aside from a young English couple and their high-chaired infant so she was not yet in the rush of full tables - about 10 outside altogether.

I normally wouldn’t order mushroom soup as I don’t know if I’ve ever had a good experience, but I wanted to be full up and get good value for money. And this turned out not to be mushroomy water, but quite flavoursome. And served in a mug! The crumble sounded like a good idea, with mostly onions and aubergine tapenade but I think I had too high expectations for fresh veg, because it turned out so salty that I drank my whole carafe of water. I think the English must be thought to undercook their veg, because I’ve really got used to things that you actually have to bite through when you eat them. In my experience on the continent vegetables are cooked to buggery. (Is that a term any one else even uses?) 

Just to add to that, my pudding was really, really lovely. I even saw the waitress run across the square to ask something to a man sitting outside the crêperie, who must’ve been some fruit provider, because she came back with apples or nectarines, which then seemed to be hand chopped into tiny pieces and served in one of those glass jars that seal with metal. That was as fresh and hand made as you’d get! 

Altogether really sweet, the crumble came with salad and a cucumber bit arranged sort of like a face. I think I would go back and try their bagel and fruit smoothies :-)  

http://lacarotte.kazeo.com/

Acropolis

By the end of my third day living off of bread and crêpes and other bits picked up around town (due to being in a hostel without the slightest sign of cooking equipment) I decided it was time for some nutrients. Dining out alone is an experience travel writing likes to have a song and dance about sometimes. It is probably talked about in Eat Pray Love and has equally been claimed to get your mind used to being Alone if you are going for a long, long trip where you will be Alone.

I don’t mind buying and eating food alone, say on a park bench. I do this a lot when I have to read for an essay or I am in a hurry and eat on various steps like those on Broad St. I like watching people pass by. Here in Vannes this has the added bonus of people being so into food that quite like to comment on what you’ve got. I have already had about three people wish me ‘bon appetit’ as they walk past and I am struggling with the complexities of a rather-big-galette. Which is kind.

Going out for a meal just seems more a more communal event, where you don’t just pay money for the food (more to come), but for the atmosphere and experience of eating out. It’s not that this experience is impossible alone - it was still a pleasant evening and I sat outside - but having a meal is something I quite like to share if I am shelling out. 

So stuck in a bit of a conundrum compromised on Good Food (lack of wanting to spend money but a need for some vegetables, coupled with not being to savvy about eating alone) I had bit of an unfruitful wander on my second night and got chips. Last night  I walked around the whole old town about twice looking for somewhere I could slink into quietly and hide in a corner. I found Acropolis just off Rue Thiers on the way up the hill to the Hotel de Ville. No one else was there yet, but by the second time I passed it I had to go in. I very nearly wussed out and got a take-away portion to eat by the port, but got over myself and, after they didn’t have any vegetable moussaka left, I ordered stuffed aubergine and decided that being alone meant it was food critic time and that I would be somewhere in a Guardian supplement in no time.

Altogether I paid 13,00€, and what arrived was a brimful-basket of Greek bread (I did not fill up on this due to my bread quota being completely surfeited this week) and a decently sized main plate of aubergine, salad and bulgar wheat. The salad was fine enough: normal onions cucumber and tomatoes with a bit of lettuce, all made a bit better by a dollop of yogurt on the side. The bulgar wheat, well, I have had really nice bulgar wheat before. This was a bit sticky, mostly adhered with something tomato-y.  The aubergine itself was well cooked and stuffed with a mystery stuffing that was blended to indistinction, but had in it peppers and onions for sure and tasted good enough with some roasty peppers on top. 

While I enjoy most food put in front of me and especially enjoyed this because of its high percentage of veg, I have two minds when it comes to eating out: usually falling into impressed, or not, but more specifically the first is in the line of Lasagne in The Queens in New Quay, impressively home made from scratch during the time we were there. The latter category is a bit underwhelmed and soggy, sitting around waiting for someone to reheat it. I judge the latter perhaps unfairly, because I feel the point of eating out is to have something you could not make more satisfactorily, easily, or freshly, at home. Unfortunately Acropolis’ augergine fell into the latter because of one deciding factor: sitting a bit sadly in the counter before I ate it.

I know food being cooked to order is not the best way of doing things, especially with an erratic clientele, but there’s something about hearing a couple of microwave beeps whilst you’re sitting outside for your 13,00€ meal that doesn’t seem quite right. Reheating things for convenience is all very well, but if you’re paying? Perhaps we shouldn’t have comparative expectations for what we’d make at home when we eat out, or maybe we should all go for 2 for £10 main courses back in New Quay and stop complaining.

The waitress there was by contrast a bit more lively and seemed happy to serve me and recommend me food, as I was the first customer. In some ways it pays to eat early (I went around 7.20)  if you are alone, so that you are not an inconvenience to hoards of families gathering. Then you can hop up and leave before the main crowds arrive. Altogether it seems more acceptable to eat out on your own at lunch time where things are  a more casual affaire instead of familiy celebrations over hours of food, the convivialité of which just doesn’t work alone. My resolution was yesterday was to find somewhere at lunch time to have a big plate of something filling, but time did not allow. So that’s for next time thank you hindsight.