Nantes, first taste of Brittany

He played the theme for
pink panther!

My principle teaching job allowed me a week of fall vacation without middle-schoolers, amazing cafeteria food (you would think that's an oxymoron, but I kid you not), or biking up Rue Camille Pujul, giving me carefree days without a plan or responsibility in Toulouse. I stuffed my brown canvas backpack with the bare minimum (I've become well-adept at this since Ibiza), hugged my kindle, and trotted (well,  not exactly, I took covoiturage) to Nantes for several days. 



The arrival provided a street-lamp yellowing view of a long row of tall, snugly side-by-side, starched white victorian buildings. I peered out the window, antsy to explore in the morning.

La Loire

My couchsurfer host, a lovely girl named Stéphanie, welcomed me into her disney-like abode. Disney because of the cold stone steps leading up to a wide dark wood door which curved gently to a pointed top. After an easy sleep, I dragged myself to find a little cafe with cheap cafe au laits, then bounced to find the real castle of Nantes, from which Stéphanie happened to live only a pebble's throw. As it was closed (as most of Nantes is on mondays, unfortunately), I began to wander after steeples. 

















My rain jacket is an indispensable travel partner, but not quite enough of a wind-breaker for the North. As I shivered, the leaves also shook, swirling around the path as I strolled down the white streets. The gusts eventually won, and I took the bus for the return. But I first found three churches. St Nicolas, Notre Dame, and the Cathedral St Pierre St Paul.

Entering the St Nicolas, I felt a somber solitude, 
only a quiet man sat in the rows of chairs all pointing solemnly 
to the altar. As I gazed upon the pulpit surrounded 
by tall white marble pillars against a stained glass 
background, suddenly from up above, the organ sounded 
three strong sinister notes.

Following a quick lunch break (I had packed a salad, graciously bestowed by one of my students who happens to run a chinese restaurant), I braced again for the wet north. I had been recommended a friendly couchsurfer, Tuco, who, with an umbrella and a smile, met me to tour the Versailles Island. Comprised of a Japanese garden, my favorite part was the indoor cabin with aquariums of plump fish. However, we soon gave up on site-seeing in favor of hot drinks and a conversation of the best of french music.

Tuco

On the way home, I walked down the canal and ignored the drizzle. 

That evening, Stéphanie appeased me with my request for a dinner of Bretagne crêpes and cidre. We found a sweet little restaurant in the Buffay district, and dined on some lovely crêpes savour, then flambée. The rain had let up, and during our night walk down the beautiful cobble-stoned streets between the majestic apartments, I tried to imagine a life which included peering from those windows protected by the typical french ornate iron railings.

The next morning, I rose to explore the castle once again. The castle was the best housing of a museum I think I've seen. The dim lighting held a warm contrast to the misty outside, and the ability to freely patter around the castle gave an authentic feel to the ancient artefacts. Inside glass cases were decaying books (my favorite was a secretive 'little black book'), miniature ships, and used-but grand-navy uniforms. In one white stone room just of f the twirling white stone staircase were computers with a 3d visual program of a comparison of Nantes from 200 or so years prior. I had no idea Nantes was historically such a booming naval town.

I then rushed off to the famous but not well-known Machines Museum. 

Several Nantes inhabitants had mentioned the place, and Tuco had shown me an impressive video of one of their spectacle Royal de Luxe parades, so I found the exploration somewhat necessary. 

And my god, was I not disappointed. These 'machines' were splendiforous. Really. 

I had never heard anything about them, and I can't imagine why. I think my best description of the phenomenon is a clash between Roald Dahl and Tim Burton, and although I hadn't imagined such a thing before, it's a perfect mixture.

The pictures will say it all. Enjoy!

On first walking across La Loire river, I could just barely see the museum, but suddenly a monstrosity of a carousel came into view, and I stood, agape.

"The Gallery" was full of fish creatures, small and large.

A presentation was made of several of the fishy machines,
and children climbed aboard for a once-in a lifetime ride.

My personal favorite.

A smaller room held visual history of the making of the enormous elephant,
which is available for rides daily.

We were allowed to take a peek at the factory,
the old ship warehouse, now home to machine
body parts being painted and structured.

A work in progress...I wonder if it will fly?

Et voila. Nantes was certainly a success.