The castle in Brittany where I'm spending my 40th birthday is even better than expected. The only drawback: ultra slow dial-up internet. Don't look for long blog posts.
Yesterday our charming host picked us up at the nearest train station, a 40-minute drive from here. This morning we returned the favor by driving their family back to the train so they can get their flight to our home.
It's Sunday, so shops are closed, but the exchangers told me which town had the farmer's market. I browsed tables of perfect fruit and veg and bought "to go" meals of potatoes in cheesy sauce, spit-roasted bird of indeterminate species (bigger than a chicken, smaller than a turkey, and not a duck) -- what could it be?
I bought honey from the bee-keeper, hard cider from the apple-presser and cheeses from the goat and dairy farmers, respectively. My father has a sweet tooth, so I got him a very busy-looking dessert which I was assured is a specialty of the region.
Crepes are also big here and they are sold unfilled, fresh off the griddle, for use at home.
Everyone asks if I am English. Americans rarely venture to this obscure part of Brittany, and don't speak French if they do. This is another example of a place I would never have thought to visit except for home exchange. Let's raise a glass of this delicious hard cider to home exchange!
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