IT’S A BRITT OFALRIGHT
VICKY LISSAMAN EMBRACES THE FINEST CLICHÉS IN NORTHERN FRANCE ON AN IDYLLIC BREAK
WEARING a jaunty beret and blackand-white striped top, pedalling a bike with a baguette sticking out from the basket… can you guess the missing item from this stereotypical image of a Frenchman? Félicitations tout le monde! It’s the string of onions draped around his neck. Last seen in British sitcom ’Allo ’Allo! this, along with the English wearing bowler hats and Germans sporting lederhosen, is now banished to the foreign cliché sections of fancy dress shops for the simple reason that no one actually wears it. Or so I thought. On my summer travels to Brittany, northern France, I was surprised to see locals who were very much into this ‘French’ look. The ensemble, I discovered, is part of the heritage of Finistere, the agricultural region that gave rise to its pink-onion farmers, known as Johnnies.
Back in the 19th century, they made good business out of exporting their home-grown produce to the UK and travelled the roads on bicycles wearing the stripes of the Breton flag.
Many miles of fields here are still swathed in cauliflowers, artichokes, onions and PDTs (pomme de terre). At roadside stalls, the wares are available fresh from the ground. And a handful of locals in banded tops, arriving on bikes, were buying them. Thrilled that this fashion was still in vogue – blokes still walk around Manchester with Liam Gallagher haircuts, so we are not a nation to judge – I celebrated with another French tradition... the stuffing of the face with smelly cheese and the necking of red wine. These essential purchases were made in the Leclerc hypermarket in Saint-Pol-de-Léon, the handsome town within the golden agricultural belt, on the return leg of a day trip to the historic port of Roscoff.
French supermarkets are little goldmines with local products displayed in “regional” aisles. You can lose hours browsing the shelves of saucisson, colourful tins of sardines and endless speciality tarts.
We’d arrived in France via Brittany Ferries’ ship, Armorique, on the overnight crossing from Portsmouth to St Malo. It was just after France had been removed from the Government’s amber-plus list that required anyone holidaying there (but not the rest of Europe) to quarantine for 10 days on returning. We had booked to go to Eurocamp’s Palmyre Loisirs resort near La Rochelle, but because this rule had effectively written-off British tourism in France for the major weeks of the school holidays, customers were offered like-for-like bookings in fewer camps to reduce running costs.
We chose Les Mouettes in Carantec, a couple of hours’ drive west from the port, and we were not disappointed.
Les Mouettes, meaning “the seagulls”, is a slice of blissful French life, a stone’s throw from the sea.
Achieving a five-star rating for its facilities, it has the biggest waterpark in Brittany, with heated indoor and outdoor swimming pools, Jacuzzis, a lazy river, waterslides and large aqua garden splash park.
It is a very well-spaced site, with mobile homes positioned in long cul-de-sacs, plenty of room for
parking and your own grassy area for ball games and barbecues. We stayed in Eurocamp’s newest model, the bright and trendy Azure caravan, which had three bedrooms and a large covered decking area, ideal for keeping out of the sun. There is a well-stocked mini market and bakery for fresh baguettes
I celebrated with another French tradition... the stuffing of the face with smelly cheese
and croissants. With designated areas for ball games, French boules, playgrounds, a mini cinema, as well as that old French campsite favourite of – the games room with pinball machines – families with kids of any age will never be bored.
A stage area for entertainment with indoor and outdoor seating worked a treat on balmy summer evenings and proved ideal in these Covid times as you could sit in the open air. We saw live bands singing English and European pop, as well as a cabaret show with girls in sequined leotards and feather headdresses. Very Moulin Rouge!
For another of our day trips, we rented bikes from the on-site hire shop and cycled to Ile Callot, a 1.5mile-long island shaped like a seahorse in the Bay of Morlaix.
It becomes a peninsula at low tide, so we ate our baguettes and surveyed the cockle pickers in the shallows as we waited for the water level to drop, before cycling across the access road. Here we discovered an array of stunning coves, with the softest white sand and the bluest water. But in the midday heat, all we wanted to do was flop down on the beaches with our faces to the sun and enjoy the moment.
Do visit the tiny Chapelle Notre Dame de Callot up on the hill, though, for the views over the craggy coastline and the beams of rainbow-coloured light streaming in through the stained glass windows.
Back on the mainland, we stopped off at L’Abri du Pecheur seafood restaurant at the water’s edge. The €17 menu consisted of a bowl of winkles, pan-fried fish of the day and Far Breton prune custard tart.
Lovely.
If you prefer your beaches with a bit of action, head to west-facing Plage du Kelenn in Carantec, which is huge, with space for kite-surfing as well as kayaking and paddleboarding, plus there’s a surf school for lessons and equipment hire.
When you fancy a potter around a town, Morlaix is a good-looking option. It sits in the base of a deep valley with yachts moored at the end of a coastal inlet. Half-timbered houses line the streets and the whole place is straddled by an impressive viaduct dating to 1861.
The route there from Les Mouettes along the D73, a picturesque easydriving coastal road, is worth the trip alone, but the town is gorgeous for a wander.
There was only one thing to do before we left – buy myself a Breton top. Back home I imagined styling it like a Hollywood starlet with capri pants and ballet pumps.
However, if you’re making a rushed purchase from a hypermarket in the minutes before catching your return ferry, do check the size.
I didn’t and my Brigitte Bardot fantasy ended up more like René from ’Allo ’Allo!