Chilling in Douarnenez, Brittany

I thought I was relaxed. We’d already spent a week on Belle Île, happy place extraordinaire. Continuing our flee-the-heat Brittany tour, we headed west to Finistère, the end of the world. We spent a week in lovely Quimper, with day trips hither and yon. And then, Douarnenez. Just 4 days, but time stood still, so who knows how long it really was? I think if we’d spent any more time there, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. I was relaxed to the point of inertia, of not being sure I still had bones. The silence. The sea. Our shared Airbnb that was the 3rd floor of a family house with its view of the water from the bed. The old center of town with its shops and cafes for when you want society. The Grande Randonnée* seaside trail for when you don’t. The cool weather !

On my patented friendliness scale, that of how many public benches a place has to encourage loitering, Douarnenez is an A+. Anywhere you might want to sit and gaze at the water, you’ll find a bench or three.

Douarnenez was a major sardine center in its heyday. The men fished and the women worked in the canning factory. The Romans appreciated the fish here too. On the Grande Randonnée trail you can see the remains of their factory for the production of garum, a highly-prized fish sauce. These were essentially giant vats of fish and salt, fermenting.

There’s an educational farm with heritage breed animals. You can also see the little stone fisherman’s cottages from that hardworking and poor era.

In keeping with the fish theme, the street art here is fish-flavored.

We saw the gamut of weather: fine, sunny days (rare, in these parts), wind, fog, and rain. Days where we could see the hills across the bay, and days where the horizon disappeared. We played spot-the-local on our walks. Easy-peasy, they were the ones in t-shirts and shorts, while we were decked out for hurricane.

We walked. We sat. We lounged. We sprawled. We slept with the windows open under quilts which felt almost decadent.

Maybe best of all, we had our own cat! Temporarily, at any rate. This is Zourite, the family cat at our Airbnb. His name means octopus in the patois of Reunion island, where the family used to live. Kitten of the sea.

We did find the wherewithal to leave Douarnenez, feeling glad we came, hoping to come back. We’ll see which way the wind blows.

Onward!

Maer

*The hiking trails that span the length and breadth of France