The Sands of Time

I said goodbye to Saint Malo today.


One thing that struck me was the sand.

The sand in Saint Malo is very moody. My first step sank through. Because it's still wet from the escaping tides.. The next step was solid and cool. It had time to bake in the sun, or dry in the wind, or [insert your favorite explanation here]. The next three steps were warm and solid. The next four are cool and sinking. It's quite refreshing. It's kind of like me, I can never make a decision haha.

The texture is varied, and so are the visuals. Golden sand glitters in the sun, green seaweed sprinkled about. Shells and yellow thingies (that look like mini-alien brains, they're quite freaky) are scattered here and there. A prelude to an invasion?

A blue shell here.
A rock with moss-colored seaweed there.
Blue sky everywhere.
The walled city on the horizon.
Red slanted roofs.

Every color you can imagine is in Saint Malo. The breeze finishes the deal like a final stroke of a painting.

Except you can feel it. No matter how hard I tried, I could not capture the essence if Saint Malo in a photograph. There are too many pixels. This place is simplicity in a nutshell.


I wasn't even supposed to stay here. It was meant to be a stopping point to see Mont-Saint Michel, one night max. But I'm glad I stayed longer. This is one of the most memorable parts of my trip. (And to think I was terrified of coming to France, haha.)

Bye bye beach..

I'm not that far from where the Normandy Invasion took place. There's so much freakin' history here. As great as Wildwood and Ocean City are back home, we just don't have this kind of richness.

I'm gonna have a pastry, dangit. Haha.