Our Amazing Race to Mont St. Michel

I finished blogging about Italy a while ago and was feeling a bit down that I didn't have more to blog about when I remembered, I have not blogged about the last week of my trip. After meeting up with Mary Beth in Italy, we engaged in our own amazing race to get from Milan, Italy to Mont St. Michel on the Brittany coast of France. I admit my image of what taking a night train would be like comes from watching the Hogswarts Express. Our train experience from Milan to Paris was not like that. We happened to share a compartment with the loudest snoring Indian ever (given he is the only snoring Indian I have ever shared a train department with). Luckily, I had ear plugs which diminished the snoring just enough to get an uneasy rest. Mary Beth can back me up on how loud this gentleman was. Seriously folks, think chain saw being used next to your ear.

After getting to Paris, we used the underground to get to the train station at Montparnasse where we caught a train to Rennes. After misreading the bus schedule, we caught a bus directly to Mont St. Michel instead of being able to get to the city where are B&B was located. We finally made it to Mont St. Michel only to find out that there are no places where you can store your bags. The French national security plan no longer allows for baggage storage facilities, but you can carry your bag into any national building/monument you want. On my next trip I am going to try carrying the bag you see on my back in the picture below into the Louvre and see what happens:

Mary Beth and her bags

I and my bags. I used the wall to prop my bag up. I had an additional backpack that I carried on my front, it is on the ground at my feet.

Pictures of Mont St. Michel. I am a bit bummed that we were not able to stay until evening. Seeing it all lit up is supposed to be an awesome sight, nonetheless, it was inspiring:











These pictures look out towards the bay. When the tide comes in the sand below is covered.



When the tide is in, Mont St. Michel becomes an island with the road below as the only access.


Still smiling at the end of a very long day,


which continued with us trying to find a phone so that we could call the B&B where we had a reservation to come pick us up. Do you know we asked at least 5 different french men and none of them new the international calling code for France. We now know: 33.

Next stop, the Isle of Guernsey, which has a storied past involving German occupation during World War II.