As I was mopping up the flood around the mini-tub after my bath this morning (30 days and still haven't figured out how to avoid the flood) I was thinking "one more time." One more bath in Dinan. One more night sleeping in the cozy little bedroom. One more cup of strong coffee with creme fraiche from the red pot. Tomorrow we drive to Paris to spend our last night in France near the airport (where I will take a long shower and maybe a bath too.) We fly home Friday afternoon. Today we had our last walk up the dreaded hill, and it was still hard, but maybe just a little less hard. We packed today and have two more suitcases than we came with...the art supply suitcase is so heavy I'm not sure how we will lift it to the trunk of the car. So much stuff. What will I miss about this place? Everything except the tub really. The food is the best and most consistently wonderful food I've ever had anywhere. I will miss the people of Brittany . . . so warm and friendly, relaxed. The pretty river with the sailboats floating by. (Above are photos of the Rance River in Dinan, about two blocks from our cottage. The boat in the top photo takes tourists up and down the river. The bottom photo shows some of the old houses and their reflections into the river). I'll miss sitting at one of the green plastic tables in a green plastic chair on the lawn of the Rossignol B&B (across the street from our cottage) drawing the people at the other tables. (And eavesdropping on their conversations, though only the Brits, my French is too poor to eavesdrop on them). The comical waiter who came by and asked where he was in the drawing and I told him he just moved too fast . . . "You're there, but just a blur because you move too fast." The butter, the bread and the coffee, will miss them. The sweet cows, love them. They walk up to the fence and say hello and look so pretty standing around in little clusters on the rolling green hills. I am going to stop eating beef, for sure. I will not miss the cars that go a bazillion miles an hour past the cottage. Or the nasaly whine of the Vespas. Won't miss Euros and having to do the math in my head. I will be happy, also, to get back to normal food that isn't fried and isn't loaded with butter and filled with ham. I LOVE the food here, but also love my arteries and I don't think the two are good for each other. How are so many of these people still alive, the way they eat and smoke . . . must be the stress factor. They are so relaxed and seem very happy, joyful. The only thing I don't like about the French is the fact that they eat horses. Yes, really. I didn't believe it either....saw it on a menu, looked it up on the internet and it's true, they eat horses. Sad.
One more thing, if you are an artist and you want to spend an amazing month in this wonderful medieval village, send me a note, I have the info. (chris@dacom.com) The only cost to you (besides your travel and food, etc.) is that you must donate a painting to the Yvonne Jean-Haffen Foundation. The deadline for applying for the next selection period is November 1st. I have looked through the material from past artists and they are abstract, traditional, every medium, some very good, some not so good, some are portrait painters and others do still lifes, landscapes, every kind of artist has been here. When the ladies from the foundation visited us they said they need more applications and they "love Americans." Yes they actually said that! They didn't say why or if they did I didn't understand. It's been a wonderful experience that I will remember always.