Better Understanding of Why the French Have a Negative Reputation chez les Américans

We clean up quite nicely after spending the night in a tiny red Renault (French brand of the car) and no access to a shower until the next day.  Here we are the morning in Perros-Gueric at a cafe enjoying our what the French call "big coffee" (which is about half the size of a tall coffee at Starbucks) and our butter croissants :) Yum!

Here are some of the pictures that we took upon leaving Perros Gueric.

Next stop, Douarnenez by way of a small French town called Sizun where we met an old, endearing, traditional French woman with one heck of a strong character.  She was missing an arm, but nevertheless still very elegantly dressed.  She works in the tiny gift shop of the 14th century stone church.  She talked to Benoit and I for about 45 minutes, telling us stories of her childhood and how to skin a rabbit in less than a minute (I'm serious).  Upon leaving the shop, Benoit described her as "Une dame d'autrefois" (A true woman of her time).

Here in the town of Sizun, there is one church, one town hall, a tabacco store, a small supermarket (much smaller than the Dandy Dollar for those of you who remember and knew it), and one bar.  Benoit and I had packed a picnic lunch that afternoon and he decided we should eat in the church courtyard because they were in the process of restoring the church and he wanted to observe their work (typical stone mason lol).

Our picnic lunch, baguette and fromage included of course!

After meeting and conversing with our one-armed friend and filling ourselves to the brim with fresh bread, cheese, rabbit terrine, hard cider, and figs for dessert, we were "on the road again" and met some new friends along the way! (see below)

Continuing on to our destination of Douarnenez, we quickly passed by the city of Quimper.  We had originally heard wonderful things about the charm of this town; however, our appreciation of its beauty was quickly tainted when we met a sleezy, old wine vender.  This salesman, who in a way resembled a jolly Santa Clause, but only in appearance and not demeanor.  He claimed himself to be a linguist, speaking 6 different languages (English and Polish included); however, I was not convinced with his simple phrases.  He "held us hostage" in his shop for over an hour (literally), recounting us stories of his travels, his 5 wives (his current wife is supposedly American with Polish heritage--what a coincidence, yeah right), and his understanding of Polish pride (again yeah right, he has 100% French blood running through his veins).  After mindless listening to his word vomit, he threw out his opinion of Americans: the discards of European heritage.  Ok, mister I've about had it with you!  At this point, I was completely and utterly insulted and began to create a plan of clever revenge in my head.  I appeared to have taked his comment lightly; although Benoit knew by the look on my face that I was read to strangle the man, I asked him what kind of wine he had to offer me.  Now, this was a special kind of wine store, selling only "organic" wine without suffites.  I am sorry but the French have been making wine since centuries ago and to say that your wine is better because it is "organic" does not cut it for me.  He asked me what kind of wine I liked, clearly thinking that I was a naive, petite American girl, and I told him that I prefered red wines with a bold flavor and a semi strong finish like Malbecs and Chateau-Neuf Papes (THANK YOU DAD FOR ALL OF THE NICE BOTTLES OF WINE WE SHARED TOGETHER OVER THE SUMMER AND EDUCATING ME IN MY LEARNING OF DIFFERENT TYPES OF WINE!).  Right then in there, the man's mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide.  He told me that he might have ONE wine that would please me and even then he hesitated.  I politely told him no and that it was about time we take a visit around town.  I took Benoit by the hand as we left the store and he smiled at me with such pride that I was able to cleverly tell the "concard" (asshole) off myself!  From that moment on, we were able to visit Quimper in peace.