Ice Skating in Palaces and Marching on the Bastille

Hello, folks! So I think I said I wasn't going to post again until after winter break, but I lied. Sorry! These pictures are from last weekend, where instead of studying for finals I just went out and enjoyed Paris. My program director actually encouraged this not studying option, so that's two votes for and none against! Yay democracy. My exams went well anyway, it's amazing how everything gets done somehow or other. I had my last final (until January, as our semester hasn't ended yet) this Thursday at "La Maison des Examens", literal translation being "the House of Exams". Fun times. It's basically a 5-story T-shaped building housing nothing but rooms to take tests in and a minuscule cafeteria, and it operates the whole year. I sat in one giant room with about 5 other History classes, and had 3 hours to answer one question. Luckily, the prompt was something I had already written a research paper on, so I got off easy. But still, the whole experience was very telling of the French educational experience, and also made me feel like I was living in the 60s or something. Plus, they made me take the train out to the suburbs. Not cool. 

But anyway, let's get back to this awesome weekend. These first pictures are from when I went ice skating with my American friends Paul and George at the Grand Palais (Great Palace). It was built for the Universal Exposition in 1900, and it's known for (as you can see) its vaulted glass roof and iron and steel framing. They turned one who wing of it into a giant ice skating rink, complete with a little cafe, and on weekends it's open until 2 in the morning! Though of course it costs more to go at night. It's most definitely something only tourists do, according to real Parisians, but I actually enjoy touristy things a lot, and who wouldn't want to ice skate in a palace? 

Here's the rink upon entering the palace. Note the awesome disco ball. Oh, and those white flecks aren't snow. Yet. Just wait. 

Me and Paul, super excited to tear up the ice! Proud to say I didn't fall even once!

Here's a picture of the "snow", which actually looked more like soap falling from the sky. But I'll accept it. 

Another disco ball picture. 

Me marveling in this magical snow as if it's manna falling from heaven. 

Me and George, just bein' cute. 

Side note: After leaving the palace we realized it was 8pm (dinner time!) and we were starving, so we went to the grocery store and long story short 4 of us ate 6 steaks, 500 grams of spaghetti, and a Christmas ice cream cake that said it was meant for 8-10 people. But that meant 8-10 French people, who can't even finish a cupcake by themselves, so I don't feel bad. 

So here is what I did on Sunday instead of studying! As you may have heard/I may have already mentioned, the issue of gay marriage and gay adoption (allowing gay people to adopt) has been hotly debated in France for the past 10 years or so, and may now be coming to a decision. It's in the papers everyday, and there have been at least 4 protests (both for and against) since I got here in September. People have told me that the majority of French people are against, but I don't really think so. I think they're too afraid of religion in government to let their Catholic tendencies affect a policy decision, plus they're usually pretty chill with what people do with their private lives. But then again, the conservative, bourgeois families have all the money and a lot of political influence, so we'll see. But judging by the 150,000 people that showed up from all over France for this protest, the LGBTQetc. family is not going down without a fight. 

So about this protest. We all showed up at Place de la Bastille, obviously the site of the former Bastille, and a really strong symbol of France's revolutionary history. I got there about half an hour before it was supposed to start, and already people had taken over the square and were drifting down the side streets. And it wasn't just individuals and news teams, but the Socialist Party (the party of the current President), Front de Gauche (another political party), some unions, an interfaith group, an AIDS prevention organization, student groups, and various LGBT  and Allies groups from across the country (and Belgium!). It was also very multi-generational and representative of people of different backgrounds. I saw elderly couples, people my age, families with children, high schoolers, and other foreigners. Plus, everyone was really friendly and offered to explain political stuff to me and my friend George. Lots were decked out in various rainbow-paraphernalia, I personally was wearing a rainbow flag as a cape, and had really awesome, witty signs. I'll translate those you see in the picture above. "God loves our families," "God thinks well of us," "God is a black lesbian," and "Jesus also had 2 mothers". Some other favorites, not pictured here, include "If you hate gays, stop having gay children," "Who do you think designed your wedding dress?," and "I asked for your rights, not your opinion."

Another picture of the crowd forming. 

Getting ready to march

The crowd.

We have taken the Bastille! 

150,000 strong!

Waiting to move forward. It took my friend and I about an hour to cross the street to where those two buildings are, but then once we got about halfway down that street it cleared out a bit. And then we marched all the way to the Jardins du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens), where the Senate is. It took about 5 hours. 

A lovely family cheering us on from the side of the street, wearing "Gay O.K.) sweatshirts

Marching through the Marais! (A district known for being home to "outcast" peoples, such as the Jews and more recently the gays)

Someone dressed up as the Pope. As we caught up to him, two little boys marching with their mom ran up behind him and we're yelling "It's Santa, it's Santa!" then when they got closer one of them says to the other "No it's not, it's the Pope!". Everyone around me (and me included) just about died laughing. 

This was taken at the beginning of the protest but whatever, I'm putting at the end of this blog. This is what it must have felt like to be in the French Revolution! Except for more headless people. 

But in all seriousness, it felt amazing to get involved in political activism over here, as LGBT rights affect us all, wherever we live. And as long as one person lives in repression, we all do. I hope to continue participating in these protests, even though it makes for semi-awkward times at home as my host dad goes to the anti-gay marriage/adoption protests. But I know there's nothing I can say to change his mind, so I just shut up and eat my foie gras when he starts talking about it. But what really matters for me is finding and joining a fellow community of human rights activists all the way over here, making Paris feel that much more like home and the differences that divide us all in some way feel even more insignificant. 

"I don't want to go back to Paris"....said no one ever

Hello all ! Happy belated Thanksgiving! Sorry I have not been so good lately in keeping up with my posts. It's been a busy last few weeks of assignments (where did those come from?), some mild sad grey Paris winter-induced depression accompanied by the discovery of the 7th season of How I Met Your Mother on Putlocker, and the madness of planning a multi-country 12-day Christmas voyage. If you're wondering, I will be traveling to Strasbourg, Berlin, Prague, Munich and Hamburg with a good friend I met at Concordia Language Villages this summer. Now that will be an interesting blog post. Coming soon to a computer near you (if I ever come back/if the world doesn't end) mid-January 2013. 

Anyway, I guess I'll get you all caught up on the Christmas markets and Thanksgiving in Paris, and my trip to Rennes this weekend to visit Sophie, another great friend from Concordia. 

So, this was taken at the Christmas market on the Champs-Elysées. The Christmas markets started popping up at the end of November and will go until early January I think. There are tons of them in Paris, and in pretty much every city all across France as well.  They feature a lot of food stands with soft pretzels, Belgian waffles, crepes, etc, arts and craftsy/touristy cheesy products, sometimes a mini-roller coaster, and in the case of this picture an "exhibit" of animatronic animals (is that redundant?) representing all the biomes of the world. As you can see, I'm far too excited by this moose here whose head moves up and down. I took pictures of every single animal there, but I won't bore you with the rest. What the markets do not have, however, is actual French people. Most Parisians find them (or at least the one on the Champs-Elysées) to be "cheap". So I'm pretty sure I saw more Americans when I went than Europeans. Whatever, they can thank us later for jumpstarting their economy. But, at this market they do have a ceremony each year to turn on all the lights along the whole avenue. I was there this year, but I didn't see Diane Krueger, who was apparently the master of ceremonies this year. The lighting was also kind of anti-climactic, not even a countdown, but the street is gorgeous when it's all lit up. 

And this is the giant Ferris wheel at the Place de la Concorde (the end of the Champs-Elysées), which only appears at Christmas. And yeah, I definitely rode on it. 

As proof, this is me with two friends from Tufts who are also here for the full year, Paul (left) and George (right). 

This brings us now to "Thanksgiving" in Paris. These photos are from the one hosted by Tufts, with our professors and host families. It was great, it just wasn't Thanksgiving. But the next day we (the students) had our own Thanksgiving potluck using super-expensive-imported-from-America ingredients for authenticity. So totally worth it. I'll give the French credit for trying though. But their main defaults are that they don't understand the concept of overeating on purpose, the proper use of pumpkins, and the python method of digestion (where you immediately go lie down on a couch, floor, or bed upon the consumption of Thanksgiving dinner to ease the pain of digestion and let the Tryptophan work its magic). Oh, and also the reality that serving dinner in courses is unnecessary and also impedes the goal of overeating. Despite this, however, the dinner was pretty tasty and we all had a good time. Above is a picture of the pumpkin soup.

Here's the turkey which was also accompanied by some sort of sausage, a cranberry sauce, and assorted vegetables. The corn was sadly inedible, as out of politeness I couldn't use my hands, and I have not yet reached the level of knife mastery necessary to carry out such a delicate procedure. It is one of my many goals for this year. 

And lastly, dessert. An apple tart sprinkled with walnuts and some vanilla ice cream. Enough said. 

And now, here are the photos from my weekend trip to Rennes to visit Sophie! It was crazy awesome. I really like Rennes and didn't want to leave (hence the title of this blog post). It is smaller than Paris, but still has a lot going on, crepes and galettes are cheaper (1 euro at the food trucks!) and people are a little bit friendlier. Plus Sophie's host family has a cat, and I really miss having one/any domesticated animal for that manner. Above is an example of the medieval architecture of Rennes, a lot of which is original.  

Here's another example of a street I liked. Not sure why. But there is also a street in Rennes, as in many French towns, called "Rue du Soif" (Street of Thirst), which is lined with bars/clubs, etc. and often stinks like various bodily fluids and fish, for whatever reason. But Rennes has a great student night life, and student life in general, as it is a "college town". It's way better than in Paris, considering Paris has basically zero student life. 

Here's a picture from the morning market we went to on Saturday. They sell flowers, fresh produce, and stuff from food trucks there. And some artsy things. Above is a picture of someone playing a traditional medieval violin-like instrument and some sort of percussion instrument that she pumped with her foot and it made a clicking sound. Plus, she's dressed in traditional medieval garb. Doesn't get any more awesome than that. 

Here's another photo of the market. 

Here's me at an old medieval castle, of which of I've already forgotten the history. But there's a lot of this stuff around Brittany, as well as pagan stone ruins, and Roman stuff. 

Here's me with a cutout of a woman in traditional Breton clothing. The white hat for women was a huge thing there, and its height and the length of the ribbons had very specific meanings and rules about mourning, marital status, and age. Some women in the country still wear them apparently. 

Since it was freezing cold (for France) we took shelter in a cafe called Le Haricot Rouge (highly recommended) for some hot chocolate and a brownie. It was the best hot chocolate I've ever had, I think. Apparently there was some cinnamon and caramel in it, and some other mysterious ingredient. I'll have to go back and find out. 

This is just a medieval house I thought was cool because a) it's old and b) people still live in there. 

Saturday night we went to a North African restaurant for some couscous. I had the chicken curry. Yummy. The dinner lasted 3 hours though, as the waiter was not super attentive. But of course, when we left the restaurant at 11 people were still coming in to start their dinner. I will never get used to this madness. 

I chose the surprise dessert on the menu, which was honey flavored ice cream rolled in some nuts and other crunchy goodness. 

So, that was my weekend. Went bed at 4 am 2 out of 3 nights, did zero homework, then got back to Paris Monday morning and went straight to class. What a transition. Now I just have to brace myself for my first oral presentation at a French university on Monday and then whatever else France decides to throw my way this December. But I'm going to see a ballet performance tomorrow called "Octopus", and the Hobbit will be coming out soon, so life is not all school work and stress. Plus, I'm in Paris, which always makes life look a little rosier. 

An American (Presidential Election) in Paris

Hello once again! So, this whole pre-election and then election day thing has been quite an exciting time, both in America (obviously) but also here in Paris. As I may have mentioned before, as much as French people complain about the "invasion" of American culture and diss Americans, I know that they are secretly in love with us and are just jealous. People here constantly talked about the election, they French are freakin' obsessed with Barack Obama, scared of Mitt Romney (as they should be) because he's a Mormon, and last week was actually designated as "American Week" on TV. When discussing the election with my host family, my host father even said that Europeans should be allowed to vote in the American elections, since the outcome affects European politics/foreign policy so much. Uh huh. I'm sure that will happen someday-not-ever. But anyway, it's kind of great their so obsessed, because that meant there were actually events going on for election night. So here's how I celebrated the sweet victory of Obama's re-election.

Because of the awful time difference that just makes my life so much harder, I started the evening off by going to the theater to see Tartuffe (really great, by the way), while I waited for you guys to finish orbiting the sun so the polls could close and stuff could actually get done. After the play, at about 10:30, we walked over to Harry's Bar, an American ex-pat hangout since the early 1900s. Technically we couldn't get in the bar, because it was "invitation only", whatever that means. (Sorry, didn't realize I had to be "invited" to watch MY  presidential election, but whatever). Actually, the entire street was closed off, as Harry's had set up a TV outside for the poor, invitation-less masses to watch. At this point, it was still only about 5pm on the east coast, so there wasn't much going on. Just a re-cap of how the 2008 election went down. Fun to reminisce, but not all that exciting, so we passed the time by chatting up the other eager Americans, American lovers, and secret American lovers pretending like the really coming to this area to hangout anyway, and are wondering why all of a sudden it's filled with such uncool people waving American flags and drinking Budweiser. Someday they'll realize that we are the reason they have TV shows to watch and cupcakes to eat, and they will come over to the dark side. But anyway, we did meet some very cool people there. Mostly other American students studying in Paris, but I also talked to two guys, one French and one Belgian, that were well-versed in American politics, and we had a lively discussion. Everyone here was pro-Obama, by the way. To the French, the Republican Party that Mitt Romney represents is their equivalent of the craziest Tea Party members, a theocracy, and a dash of Ann Coulter all mixed together. So that won't do.

Anyway, finally some results started coming in. Every time CNN would show that Obama was winning, even if the state was polling at 1%, everyone started cheering, and when Romney appeared to be leading in any way, shape or form, everyone started booing.  As enough electoral votes came in so that Romney was leading Obama, I got interviewed in French by France3, a news station. They asked some pretty typical questions, but the main one was if I was concerned that since Romney was "ahead" (seriously, they had counted all of 6 states, and 4 were in the South), was I worried for Obama's chances? I wish I could have responded in English, but I kind of chuckled and said something along the lines of "yeah no, this won't last." I think they still struggle with the concept of red and blue states, and the whole electoral college thing. But then again who doesn't. After milling about some more and watching the agonizingly slow process unfold, we took shelter from the cold in another nearby bar. At this point it must have been 1 or 2 am, maybe even 3, I can't even remember, but I know that at this point Obama got Wisconsin (woo hoo!). Unfortunately, however, at about 4am all the bars started closing up, which was a real issue because they were far from calling the election at this point. So we wondered about the streets of Paris and found a cafe that apparently never closes. Ever. That is probably the only establishment of all in France that does so. Must be run by a foreigner. This was at about 5am now, so we ordered some hot chocolates and such from a very surly waiter (surprise, surprise) who did not seem please that that was all we wanted. So he proceeded to never bring us our order. Your loss, man, because all I wanted to do anyway was sit in side your warm cafe, watch your TV, and not have to order your 7 euro hot chocolate that probably comes in a mug the size of a Dixie cup. So we all sat, tired but warm, eyes glued to France24 (a French news station). And then it happened. At the bottom of the screen, I saw that "MSNBC has just granted the election to Barack Obama". This was at about 5:30, meaning I had been up for 20 hours, so I didn't really believe it at first. And then I saw that Obama had only broken the 270 mark by a couple votes, so I thought, "Florida is probably going to screw this up again, don't get your hopes up, Josette." But then, miracle of miracles, I saw that Fox News had also given the election to Obama. And then I, and nearly everyone I was with, started to cry. These were tears of exhaustion, and pent-up anxiety, and stress, but mostly joy. It was a strange experience, most everyone else in the cafe just gave a short little "woo hoo" and carried on with their meal, but it was also very profound. I don't think I would have had it any other way, actually.

After finally drying our tears, we took the metro to the American ambassador's residence by Place de la Concorde, where we had been invited to breakfast. Yeah, I'm cool like that. The shindig started at 6am, but even then there were tons of people. The event was co-hosted by a bunch of American businesses, like McDonald's and Disney and The New York Times, but also some French ones, so there were a lot of CEO-types and journalists and such there, but also quite a few students like us. There were more Republicans here though, I saw one or two elephant pins. But the ambassador was pretty happy because this means he will keep his job. We milled about for a bit and admired the building, and had some breakfast. I got interviewed two more times, then watched Romney's concession speech. Then a bit later, when Obama gave his victory speech, I cheered embarrassingly loud when he mentioned Biden (I guess not everyone's a big a fan as me), and then cried some more. After that, I realized it was 8:30 am, I had class at 1pm, and that I really shouldn't be eating any more mini bagels. So I left, took the metro home, where the newspaper headlines that greeted me were all some form of "Future Challenges at the White House" or "The Long Road Ahead". The French were I guess pleased, but much more reserved about Obama's performance. I guess they didn't realize I was just over the moon about having a president that would recognize my fundamental rights as a human being. But you know, handling the economic crisis is important too.

In the end, surreal as it was to spend a presidential election outside of the States, I highly recommend it. It both gives you perspective about America's standing abroad, and gives you some more distance from the crazy, manipulative, news cycle on steroids political machine and all the pundits that go along with that. Plus, it's the one day Parisians really want to hear your opinion on something because of the fact that you are American.

On the street in front of Harry's Bar. 

In front of the TV outside of the bar, patiently waiting for something to happen.

Me, dead tired, with "Obama". A cardboard cut out of Romney is to his right, but I told my friend not to include him in the picture. 

The decorations and some of the breakfast food offered inside of the ambassador's house. Classy. 

Adventures to Normandie and Bretagne

Happy La Toussaint! A week where I (mostly) have vacation and you don't! Sorry, but you just gotta love old Catholic holidays that no one remembers the reason for  (if you're interested, it's All Saint's Day,  the less fun version of Halloween where all the saints get celebrated) but for which everyone packs up and heads out to the countryside or elsewhere in Europe for at least a week without really informing people of it, or making it clear to non-French people (me) that certain things will be closed/unavailable during this time. Typical. My host family will be going to Turkey, though I'll be staying in Paris as since I technically attend 3 different universities at the moment, I have 3 different vacation schedules. Hey, no one said it was easy to live in France.

But anyway, let's get to the point of this blog post. Here I will be recounting the events of last weekend, where I traveled with the Tufts University group by train and bus to various locations in Normandie and Bretagne (in English known as Normandy and Brittany), two regions located in western France, bordering the Atlantic Ocean/English Channel.

Well, I awoke at 4:45 am on Saturday, after a night of baking a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies that turned out more or less successful considering I forgot the baking soda, couldn't find chocolate chips (I cut up bars of chocolate), and added too much butter. But hey, life's is all about the process of learning. We took the 7:45 am train from Paris to Caen, and from there a bus from Caen to the Musée du Débarquement (Museum of the D-Day Landings), in the town of Arromanches-les-Bains, nicknamed Gold Beach and used by British troops during the invasion. In honor of this, there are British flags flying all over the town. The visit to the museum was quite interesting, as they had relics on display from all the countries (I think) that participated in the Allied war effort, and had a number of interactive exhibits. They do tours in English too. Btu the really cool part is the beach (obviously), and those big gray lumps you see in the water in the photo above and some below. These are the remnants of the artificial port built by the Allies for the invasion (Churchill's brainchild), which was a huge effort involving two years, 30,000 workers, smoke machines, and  purposefully sinking the docks multiple times before the actual invasion. Most of the docks have sunk by now, and sadly the few remaining are rusting and not taken good care of, but you still get the overwhelming sense of the enormity of the effort.

Here's a nice view of the beach and most of the town, which was obviously mostly destroyed by the Germans, who occupied it during the invasion, and during the invasion itself. That's pretty much the story of half the towns in France, though. 

Here's me sitting on a wall above the beach. Note: that is absolutely not real fur. And if it is, I got a sweet deal on it because it cost me less than a street crepe. 

A view of one of the "back-up" docks, which is less rusted than most.

More gorgeous beach. And yes, the weather is always like that there. It's appropriate for the region though. In fact, I think I preferred it to sunny weather.

A close up of the rusted out dock. By the way, the whole thing floated. It was all temporary.

After the museum, we made our way by bus to the American Cemetery at Colleville, aka Omaha Beach. The cemetery is actually American soil (so I took the liberty of speaking English), and overlooks the landing beaches. Nearly 10,000 men and 4 women are buried here, all of whom except one died during the D-Day campaign. This exception is one of the sons of Theodore Roosevelt, who died during WWI, and who was moved to be laid to rest next to his brother. Also buried at this cemetery are the brothers on whose story the move "Saving Private Ryan" is based. On the crosses/Stars of David the names (if known), Army details, state of origin and death date are written. No birth dates are given because many men lied about their age to get into the army. In addition, there's no order given to the placement of the gravestones, to symbolize the fact that these men and women all died as one unit, the Generals along side the Privates, and that they all deserve the same respect and honor. 

And here is the magical, mystical, Mont Saint-Michel, a monastery dating back to the 8th century as well as a former stronghold and a prison. In my opinion, it also looks like a city straight out of Lord of the Rings, which is why I love it. The Mont is a point of contention between Bretagne and Normandie, though, as each claim it belongs to their region. Gosh, where have I heard that argument before? Anyway, within the past decade, they have reinstated an order of Benedictine monks and nuns, who live and work here. The entire population of  the tidal island is around 44 people, though a lot more work there during the day. The reason the monks decided to build a monastery here, on a pile of rocks sitting on some silt only meters away from the ocean, is apparently because the Archangel Michael came to St. Aubert in a dream in 708 and told him to do it. Apparently St. Aubert refuse the first time, and the angel burned a hole in his skull. Well, I guess I'd give it a go too if someone did that to me.  

Here's an example of the narrow, steep, twisty-turny streets that wind up to the monastery and church. 

A view of the tidal bay from about halfway up. It's amazingly isolated and desolate feeling, but also stunningly beautiful. Probably made a good atmosphere for the monks back in the day. And now, I suppose.

Here's the outside of the abbey.

And the inside.

The cloister of the abbey, part of the "Merveille," a Gothic section also including the refectory and two other buildings constructed in the 13th century with funds from King Philip Augustus of France. Another fun fact, for nearly 1,000 years Mont Saint-Michel has been used as a site for pilgrims hoping to receive eternal life from the Archangel. They slept in the basement of the abbey, though royal pilgrims such as the King had a separate, fancier hall which is also still standing. 

This is the giant wheel used to hoist supplies and such up from the base of the mount. 

Me taking a break from climbing up a bajillion stairs.

So here's my dinner from that night. My appetizer was a "Charlotte" of smoked salmon with an herb sauce. I think the "Charlotte" part refers to the cream cheese-y bit underneath the salmon.

My entree was a lamb kebab with bulgar and vegetables. By the way, if you ever get a chance to get to this part of the world, make sure you try the lamb pré-salé (pre-salted). These are the sheep that feed in the silty tidal bay near Mont Saint-Michel, and since the vegetation there is fed by salt water, the meat of the lamb gets an extra delicious taste. 

And my dessert was profiteroles (cream puffs), filled with Speculoos-flavored ice cream and doused in warm chocolate syrup. Speculoos is a Belgian biscuit and sandwich spread that has a salty gingerbread sort of taste. 

On Sunday we spent the day in Saint-Malo,  a walled port city dating back to the Middle Ages located in Bretagne (Brittany), on the French side of the English Channel. The city includes numerous islands, such as the one pictured above, that served military purposes in pretty much every war until the end of WWII. 

Here's a view from on top of the ramparts surrounding the city, which as you can see is right up on the edge of the water. The wooden posts on the beach have something to do with protecting the walls/preventing erosion. This picture was taken during high tide, but when it's low tide you can walk out onto the islands. 

A view into the city from on top the ramparts. As 90% of the original city was destroyed during WWII, pretty much everything you see here was built post-war, though the city made a smart move in deciding to rebuild the city exactly as it was before, right down to the original building materials. You can't even really tell that anything happened. 

Another view from the ramparts. Though it was probably just about 50 degrees or less that day, there were still several people out swimming, and lots of sailboats. During the summer months, this place is crazy with tourists. 

Me on the beach, waiting for low tide so I can head out to the island.

The crepe restaurant where we had lunch. A "lutin" is a sort of dwarf/elf/sprite/brownie, generally mean-spirited. At all the restaurants here your meal comes with "cidre" (alcoholic cider), as this is the apple-growing region of France. 

Me hanging out on the rocks, hunting for seashells and sea glass, of which there are plenty. 

A view from the beach of the wall surrounding the city. 

More beach views.

On one of the islands, after the tide finally went out. This here is the grave of François-René de Chateaubriand, a French writer and founder of Romanticism born in Saint Malo, who died in 1848 and asked to be buried here.

Also on the island, this is where German cannons once stood during World War II, as the Germans occupied Saint Malo. They were used to defend against Allied air forces. Which technically means that Saint Malo was destroyed by Allied forces during the war, not the Germans. Awkward. 

Another specialty of the region, a little cake made of a ton of salted butter, and in some cases also with caramel. It is heaven. I recommend it to everyone. Not pictured here is the pastry I ate immediately after this, which was basically fresh apple rings covered in batter, fried, and sprinkled with chocolate chips. You really can't go wrong with that.