Mont St Michel—We Didn’t Have No Fun

Thanksgiving. We opted not to have that yak knee bone marrow today and instead took a trip to Mont St Michel. Rich is still sick so we were a group of six.

It took 3 hours of driving—it would have been 4 hours if any of us had been driving but our guide, Nicolas, was anything but gentle.

By the first stop Rochelle was digging in her bag for anti-nausea meds for Ashley. Did she want the kind that makes you drowsy or the other kind? She had both. Later when I thought I’d lost my gloves, Rochelle had an extra pair. It was like this all day. At one point I asked for a Volvo and she said front wheel or all wheel drive?

We stopped from afar to observe the abbey. Nicolas said the water’s edge used to reach that far in high tide but Mont St Michel no longer sits on an island, with the shores of the English Channel retrieving over the years. When we arrived to take the trek to the island he asked if we had seen the trees with big balls? (Mistletoe). Naturally we gave him no slack for his translation misstep but he could see we were delighted by it and that he’d been fully initiated into our group.

On the road back we had a language barrier. It was Rochelle. I asked after a mutual acquaintance and she said, “He’s not doing great. He doesn’t have two legs”. Oh, no! Does he have one? “No, he doesn’t have two legs”. Does he have 3? I don’t understand you!” “NO! PEOPLE DON’T HAVE THREE LEGS! HE DOESN’T HAVE TWO LEGS!!” I called for an interpreter but there was none. Nicolas was laughing too hard to weigh in. I have always had trouble with quantitative particles but I’m pretty sure this one is on Rochelle.