J'aime la plage!

I like the beach!~It's raining today.  Finally the expected Rennes weather has come to pass, and I plan to wear my raincoat more often than not.  Yesterday was, however, (according to my host family), one of the last beautiful days of the summer, so it was necessary that we "profiter du soleil-" profit from/take advantage of the sunlight.  Thus we went au bord de la mer (to the ocean), to the well known and relatively tourist-ridden town of St. Malo and to the nearby, smaller, and more residential town of Dinard.  

the beach at St. Malo

     St. Malo hosts not only its many visitors but also some interesting history, its own flag, and a statue of Jacques Cartier, Canada's explorer who originally came from Bretagne.  The beach there is a perfect place to have a family picnic: "les sandwiches américaines," chips, and cheese, of course.  The American sandwich in France generally consists of ham, cheese, lettuce, and tomato on a baguette (in our case with a little bit of avocado as well).  My burgeoning question since Paris has been "why is this particular sandwich so American?"  Merely the fact that it is served on a baguette baked only the way the French do gives this specialty the air of a French sandwich rather than an American one.  My host father hypothesizes that it is because it contains more stuff in general than do most French sandwiches, and that is the best I have heard so far.  We are known for eating a lot in general, and especially lots of sandwiches.  Thus it was no surprise that I was given the task of sandwich making for our picnic.  Once at the beach, we ate and then contemplated a swim.  The water temperature at St. Malo rests somewhere between that of the Pacific and that of the Atlantic in the United States.  I ended up braving the cold to play with my little sisters, who see no problem with changing into and out of their bathing suits in the middle of the beach in plain sight.  I love how every day holds a new realization of cultural differences to be integrated into my growing realistic perspective of France.

the sand...

     Post St. Malo, we found our way to the smaller town of Dinard, about 15 minutes away by car.  There to greet us were about 20 relatives and friends, including many little French children, at the house of a family friend.  From then on, the day was entirely a blur for me; the linguistic challenge was nearly insurmountable, but I had a few moments where people lent an ear to the stuttering American, and I allowed myself some time to take in it all- the fast and overlapping conversations, the family interactions, and of course, the time near the water, for here, too, we marched down the tiny personal path from the house to the beach and spent some time just being.  I examined the sunny sky, the sand (which is grainier than I've seen in the states), the fortified islands nearby, and the rocky shore.
This part of my day was reminiscent of a song I learned in French I...

La mer bleue (the blue sea)

Le sable chaud (the warm sand)

Et les bateaux, qui flottent sur l'eau (and the boats, that float on the water)

C'est beau!  J'aime la plage! (It's pretty!  I like the beach!)

looking UP!!!

     Although the song itself is nothing extraordinary, it's amazing to think that I already had the language tools to express my happiness on the beach of Dinard six years before this moment came to pass.  Other than its linguistic difficulties, my Sunday was an ideal illustration of the French/European concept of true repose.  It was a time to be together with "proches," (people who lie close to the heart), to laugh, talk, and eat with each other in a beautiful place to reflect those sentiments.  Now I am ready to sign up for my courses, hoping against hope that there will be more "hard rest" coupling the hard work to come.