I’m in the St Brieuc area (Plerin), right now, left the Mont St. Michel area around 10:00am. Pretty long haul and very trying. Lots of getting lost, but it’s not so bad. The worst has been attempting to enter St Brieuc – the larger highways really take over and I had a very hard time finding a local road.

I finally couldn’t, but following a sign to Brest (hey, where I’m going anyways) to a, “N” highway, the on ramp including, of all things, a bike sign, so I followed that,

and wouldn’t you know, there’s an on ramp exclusively for bicycles. This lead me onto a beautiful bridge with a view north of the bay, a castle on a hill, the neighborhoods surrounding me and a marina below. I’m on the outskirts of the town and although the 2 star hotel (probably around 40 euro) just across the street from this Unmentionable Place looks tempting, a quick Google Map check shows that the local road I was looking for all this time is about 400 meters away, so I’m taking that and crashing in the first lush field I find.

Mount St. Michel was pretty interesting, but deserves its own post. I will say that right before I went, I decided to treat myself to some food, as the donations allow me to… eat!

I found the dirtiest looking cafe on a forgotten side street which had a big sign for, ” Moules Frites – 8 Euro”, sat down and told the guy, I’d take that. He said some things I couldn’t understand (which is usual for me), so I , “oui!” my way out of it, and waited. The patrons of this place were awesome. People missing teeth, with horrible haircuts. Everyone’s a local except me and I stand straight out.

Ten minutes later this gigantic bowl of mussels and fries landed on my lap. I mean, big. French are foodies. They love food, but the portions are manageable. I’m an Eatie. I love to eat. 4? 5? 6? Dozen mussels in this bowl? So Many mussels and i was to eat them all. I wanted to take a picture – you would have never believed, but thought against such tom-foolery. Not here.

But I got sort of worried. Was this the 8 euro Moules Frites, or did I “Oui!” my way into a much larger bill?

I was really hungry and in the very immediate present, I didn’t quite care.

And, I managed to eat every single fry and every single mussel. I took every piece of bread on the table and sopped up the rest of the mussel juice. And I was beginning to get high. Mussels – shellfish get me high. I love everyone and everything and I just stumble around going, “I love you” and, “I’m high”. So,

so that was setting in.

I get the bill.

There’s the 8 euro figure on there. And then I completely freak out, as there’s some sort of other large number – to the tune of something like, 53.48.

No label – I can’t figure out what’s going on.

Did I eat my way into a problem? I had the cash, so I put 60 euros down and the guy looks at me like I’m a stupid tourist, gives me back the 50 euro note and takes the 10 euro note, only to come back with 2 euros.

That was, indeed the 8 euro Moules Frites.

And I was happy. In this state of elation that I didn’t do something stupid and high from shellfish, I strolled to Mount St. Michel.

What also was in my mind was memories of making mussels with my family. The recipe here really wasn’t so different.

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