saint-malo - a fairytale in granite

It’s early morning and the mist is clearing. Spires poke through like medieval antennae as I watch the reveal of Saint-Malo from a distance. 

This granite-walled city gives the impression that fairytales live within. I am eager to get lost here and explore its secrets. Tender boats are untethered and rounded up like inflated fish; we board and head for shore. 

A wild, brisk wind greets us and we retreat behind the walls. Walking through the entrance is bewitching as this space feels ancient and yet new. Any hesitation vanishes when the aroma of fresh butter cookies pulls us further in, we are happily swallowed up in a maze of boutiques and bistros. 

This city is brimming with history and dates back as far as the 1st century. From pirates to world wars and politics, these walls have seen it all! We swim through energy imprints of the past, slowly strolling and peaking around corners to see what awaits. 

Late morning gives way to noon and our aimless wandering gains purpose as we seek out Betton Fils. We find this bistro nestled in the heart of the city with a slice of sunlight cutting across the door. What sits behind is everything one feels coming home after a long day in the cold. In every sense, this is a hug.

Here, roguish cuisine with ingredients of the day are crafted in a tiny kitchen. Any patrons who enter without a booking are kindly told to come back another day. This happens often and we feel privileged to have secured the last seating. 

Langoustine cru over orzo in a light foamed sauce packed with flavor, all crowned with calendula petals in a shock of orange. Bread from the boulangerie two doors down pulled from a wood-fire oven just this morning. For dessert, a heavenly cloud with choux and an aside of stewed apple. Chefs kiss!

After two hours of slow dining and warmth from a delicious meal, we fall back into the streets for a post-feast stroll. A short case of stairs later, we stand on the ramparts looking over a stunning beach with a massive vintage tidal pool. This was built in 1937 to dissuade visitors from leaving on high-tide days. One brave human is in there now, and I shiver on his behalf. 

I must go down for a closer look at this pool.

Halfway across the beach, I am met with a stone path, one that is only revealed during high tide. Tiny ocean critters hide in the cobblestone cracks, waiting for the sea to return. At the end of this path sits the small island of Grand Be. This island offers picturesque views of the walled city. I grab several snaps and cross back just before the tide starts to return. 

After a face full of fresh air, we tender back to the ship ready to set sail for the English Channel. 

This has been a treat of magical proportions.