breizhoenig, euskal, québécois.

September 18, 2007

brittany is one of those forgotten regions of europe, a place that seems to be largely untouched by rampant commercial violation. whenever i go to a place like carcassone or the vatican, it just doesn’t feel…right. it seems that people have come to extract a tiny physical bit of the site itself, until nothing exists but a romantic memory.

(even dachau felt that way to a degree; these were people who had come to see, not to feel the heart-wrenching reality that, of all the concentration camps, this was probably the mildest one of them. makes me happy to see that the french government has put up a sign at the entrance to the fortress on the quiberon peninsula in morbihan, informing visitors that 59 members of the french resistance were lined up and shot by hitler’s soldiers there.)

i feel so close to home right now. the sea, the ocean, the walking-paths, the friendly faces, the cliffs and coves brutally carved by generations of wind and hail.

paris is hot. very hot. i read once that a human being generates as much heat as a 100-watt incandescent bulb (or something like that). paris has 25,000 people living in every square kilometre; these same 25,000 people in every square kilometre congregate in much smaller places. there is no escaping that human heat it seems, except when that human heat is precisely what you need.

this land, however, is cool. that pine-laced breeze dancing across your cheek reminds me of the tiniest autumn pleasures of canada.

i have more to write, but i should take advantage of the sun.

i leave this place tomorrow at 06h10 on the high speed train. destination: charles-de-gaulle airport. my father is coming to visit; as much as it will not sink in until i actually see my old man, i am eagerly anticipating his arrival.

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One Response to “breizhoenig, euskal, québécois.”

  1. Sean Says:

    Mike,

    Sounds beautiful. Did you take photos?


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