I dream about the train. I know it is a dream, because the train is not delayed.
It is good to sleep in for a morning, though I still wake at 6am. Not until after 8am do we go down for breakfast. The cakes are so delicious. So are the kiwifruit.
B and I head out to see Rennes’ historic centre while Alex stays back in the room. We pass a very long queue for social services on our way to Charles De Gaulle metro station.
The Rennes metro uses very short automated underground trains that run on rubber tyres rather than tracks. We get out at Sainte Anne.
Our first view is of an impressive cathedral Sainte Anne and tall half wooden buildings. We take a walk through the canyons of buildings. The shops are closed, some are boarded up after the protests here. But many look interesting. There are the usual luxury stores even a Uniqlo. One trio is particularly wonky.
The most impressive building is the Court of Appeals, more like a palace overlooking a square.
My sense of direction again fails me. There is no sun, just low cloud, and my compass is in the opposite direction. But with the help of the phone’s compass I eventually find our way back to the metro and then to the hotel.
If Rennes were a Japanese city, I think I might fall in love with it. Quiet, a lot of history, a modern station, great food, interesting museums and even a metro. But the smoking, the vaping, the people shouting and demanding. The obvious poverty and social disadvantage. I do not feel comfortable here.
Now back with Alex, we check out of the hotel and walk to the main station to catch our TGV to Paris. Our seats, reserved with assistance at the station yesterday, are in a carriage towards the far end of the platform and at the very end of the train. One is occupied by a young lady who has to move.
Our only stop along the way is Laval, a city with dark stone cathedrals. The entire journey is a bit over an hour and a half, then we are back at Paris Montparnasse.
The hotel, in Raspail, is a bit of a walk away, but it is a nice area, with big bright bistros and brasseries, glowing bright in the dull daylight.
Our room isn’t ready, so we leave our luggage and head back down the way we came to Leon, a chain of seafood restaurants best known for the mussels. We’ve eaten there a couple of times before, including on our honeymoon. The other two order the mussels, I have a fish and potato dish. The ice cream and creme brulee are both really delicious.
The room still isn’t ready on our return, but at least the lobby is comfortable and there’s free hot drinks.
After we finally get our room we walk past the Luxembourg Gardens and the University of Paris to the Pantheon. The streets are busy with students, including some in primary school finished for the day and picked up by their parents. There are many interesting shops and a variety of ethnic eateries in the surrounding streets.
Once the church of Saint Genevieve, it then became a shrine to France’s most prominent and respected individuals, most buried in the crypt below.
It is an impressive building, a monument to those within. Under the main done, Foucault’s pendulum swings, tracing out a path influenced by the Earth’s rotation. It is mesmerising, especially when the recorded sound of female song echoes within the interior.
There are huge murals celebrating the saint, Joan of Arc and others. More modern artworks from the currently closed Pompidou Centre, are also placed within the interior. The most movie, a street sign from Mexico where the owner abandoned his shop rather than face extortion demands from the local crime syndicates.
The crypt below houses prominent French individuals. We pay our respects to Marie and Pierre Curie and learn about others through the computer kiosks placed nearby. I recognise a few mathematicians and physicists.
We stay until closing time, emerging into darkness and city lights. I think we all appreciated the Pantheon, a mostly secular monument to members of humanity, a way to remember those who contributed to a better world.
One of our challenges is to find Alex a suitable 18th birthday present. A stationery store appears to offer some possibilities. The items inside are gorgeous, though an 18th birthday card with seeds would present a biosecurity hazard in Australia.
It has begun raining outside and we do not have umbrellas. We hurry to the Luxembourg TER station and catch a ride one stop and walk the rest.
We still get soaked.
Alex is feeling too full, too queasy, for dinner. So B and I head back out into the rain and check out the eateries. It seems like a perfect night to sit behind the glass and stare out. Many bistros look so posh, with prices to match. Eventually we settle on Le Petit Bouillon Vavin, which is cheap and cheerful French food served quickly.
B’s Beef Bourguignon with pasta is very tasty, as is my confit of duck with what look to be potato chips, but aren’t really.
I order a big Diabolo Menthe drink that B says tastes to mouthwash, but I enjoy it. We share an L’ile Flottante for dessert, a soft meringue in custard. It’s one of my favourite French desserts.
Despite this being another transit day, I think we got a lot out of both Rennes and Paris today.
