Le Mont Saint Michel

From Normandy, we headed west to Le Mont Saint Michel, an incredible monastery built on an island off the shore of France. Legend has it that in the year 708, St. Michael the Archangel appeared to St. Aupert, bishop of Avranches, and told him to build a church on the island. He repeatedly ignored the counsel, and so St. Michael burned a hole in the bishop's skull with his finger. Serves him right for not listening, huh?

Needless to say, a church was built. And oh, what a beautiful church it is.

Throughout the ages, pilgrims would flood the island, braving the elements to reach "St. Michael" and their spiritual goals. The island is now connected to mainland France by a causeway, but pilgrims of old would walk the sandy shores at low tide, hoping that heavy fog or quicksand wouldn't thwart their efforts. The streets of the city used to be filled with vendors who were anxious to sell items to the newcomers. These days, it's not much different.

Our tour of the Abbey built on top of the island was the highlight of our day. The Lewises watched Talmage and Jim and I had a date hour! It was great.

Our tour guide was phenomenal and well-versed in everything regarding the beautiful Abbey. She must have liked us too, because she led us into rooms not usually included in the tour. We learned about monks (who knew that they only ate one meal a day and that their life expectancy was only 30?), history (there were actually three churches built on the island--one on top of another) and so much more. Luckily Rob has a great memory and was able to give Verlan and Katherine the tour after we reclaimed our kid.

Speaking of that kid. Since Talmage was four months old and we sleep-trained him, he has refused to fall asleep in our arms. NEVER. He sleeps in his carseat, he sleeps in his bed, but never in our arms. I learned on this trip that even Talmage's sleep habits find exceptions to the rules while on vacation. He was SO exhausted on our trip to Mont Saint Michel that he slept in my arms for at least an hour. I was in heaven.

We bid adieu to the beautiful island, grateful for the chance to bask in its history...

...and headed through the French countryside to our hotel. We saw windmills, we saw old homes, we saw gorgeous green fields. We ended up in Brittany, the birthplace of the crepe, and we treated ourselves to a delicious dinner in the village creperie. They did not disappoint. Our dinner crepe, or galette, was filled with fresh mushrooms, cheese, egg and cream. Our dessert crepe was chocolate and banana. I wish I had a picture to share with you. Actually, I wish I had a crepe to share with you. They were out of this world. Anyone up for a trip to France?