Exchanging Places--Brittany, part 1

Some of the most edifying experiences we had as a family were the home exchanges we made with families in Europe. The first was in Konstanz, Germany; the second, London. I plan to write about those eventually, but first, I have to tell about Brittany, and in particular, the circumstances surrounding our arrival there.

We had gone to London first, and the plan was to drive to Plymouth and take the ferry to Roscoff. That part of the plan went well, except that as always in England, time and distance have little interrelationship. One highlight was passing Stonehenge. I had always pictured this mystical Druidic monument to be set in a remote location, but it is instead located at the fork of two highways, sort of like a Neolithic shopping mall.

We wound up taking a later ferry than we had expected. We were surprised to be given a complimentary cabin, and it was great to be able to relax after the six-hour drive. As we arrived in Roscoff, the sun was going down. I would be driving from the north to the south shore of Brittany completely in the dark.

I was driving a Citroen, a French automobile but set up for sale in the UK. Therefore, not only was I sitting on the right and shifting with my left hand, I was also now driving on the right side of the road with my headlights aimed precisely at the windshield of every oncoming car. This meant that every French driver I approached on this drive would repeatedly flash his/her high beams at me, probably while uttering an uncomplimentary French phrase.

It didn't take long to realize that the directions were useless. Instead of route numbers, our exchange partner had used street names and landmarks invisible in the dark. I opened a road map, memorized some numbers, and headed south. To be honest, most of my decisions were based on what sailors call "dead reckoning."

After about two hours of driving past farms and moors, I felt we were close. I pulled into a town and parked nearthe town square. The family was sound asleep, so I locked the car and walked into the square. The town was called Moulin-Sur-Mer. It was one in the morning by the town clock.

Two young women were walking by. Would they think I was dangerous? Were they, um, working girls? "Par-don-ez-moi," I heard myself saying. Damn those ALM dialogues. "Oooo-ay-est (la bibiotheque? non) Kervignes?"

The laughter that ensued was not at all mean-spirited. When it stopped, one of the jeunes filles responded, "Chez moi, chez moi," and beckoned me to follow. I did, not knowing if I had found help--or a threesome.

Her home was actually a family-run creperie, and the family was still up setting up for the next morning. Her father spoke English. "Kervignes is close," he told me, "but you will never find it at night. I will lead you there." He pointed to the largest BMW I had ever seen. In piled Pere, Mere, both jeunes filles, and...Grandmere.

Back in the Citroen, I reassured my groggy family that we were almost there. Then followed the strangest chase scene ever: a four cylinder Citroen following a hellacious BMW through winding back roads of southern Finistere.

Suddenly, the brake lights flared. I hadn't been able to stay too close, so I rolled to a stop. The road had ended on a quay--the front tires of the BMW were five feet from the river Belon. We were in Kervignes, but the only building was the oysterage on the quay.

There was one other car, parked facing the moonlight on the river. The windows were fogged up. The quay evidently served also as the local lover's lane. Grandmere was not deterred, however. She rapped on the window with her cane. A stream of expletives came from the car. She smiled wickedly, and rapped again, this time demanding to know the location of the address we sought. The window rolled down, and an arm curtly pointed up the hill behind us. The window closed.

We had missed a right turn a short distance back. At the fork, we said goodbye to our benefactors, and promised to return to have dinner at the creperie (which we did). Then we drove up the hill, to the 14th century stone cottage where we would be living for the next several weeks.