"I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each"- T.S. Eliot
This is the quote that comes to mind when I look at the above photos. I just love mermaids. The nice, sailor-saving, seashell bra-wearing, singing variety. Not those gnarly, man-drowning harpies. Anyway, I'm super proud of all of these snaps (especially those taken by Soldier Boy, who was clearly under the spell of some sort of mystical artistic being).
I've wanted to go to Mont Saint-Michel since the summer of 2008. I was studying abroad in Paris and had $800 to cover food, transportation, museums, school books, school supplies, school trips, etc. I was broke. And hungry (but I usually snagged bread and friends' leftovers if we were ever in a restaurant). And when my parentally bankrolled friends spent their weekends at Disney Paris, Champagne country, the Cote d'Azure and Mont Saint-Michel, I decided to be content with Paris weekend life. But I still wanted to explore.
Luckily for me, I have reached a point where I am able to go see more bits and pieces of the world. After a long drive from Germany through "Paris" and on to Normandy, Soldier Boy wasn't immediately thrilled with the idea of yet another day trip (read, more time for him to drive (since his car is his baby and I'm not allowed to drive it)), but when we arrived, a mere hour after leaving our hotel, he was charmed.
How could you not be charmed by this place? It's a giant medieval abbey/fortress/village on a hunk of land that is sometimes almost completely surrounded by water. Aside from the gelato shops and kebab stands… and tourist trap museums… and souvenir shops, this piece of land is largely frozen in time.
During the chunk of days we were out in this part of the world, the tide wasn't really doing anything spectacular. It was very low when we arrived and we got to walk out in the sand, turned clay, turned sand again, turned clay so we got to walk way out away from the MSM and give our feet a nice clay mask before traipsing through the crowds (and crowds, and CROWDS) of tourists and up to the abbey. By the time we made it to the top, the tide came in a bit and pictures that had been doodled in the sand by other wanderers were washed away as the moon pulled the water back to sea and the sand was once again a clean slate.
Funny story about the photo ^ there: SB told me to run like Baywatch in slow motion and as I did, my strapless bra managed to fall down… which may or may not explain the look of pure joy on my face.
What do you think? The blonde beard/mustache looks decent on me, non?
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