We may be semi-permanent travelers these days so it's probably a little snooty to admit that we don’t enjoy huge masses of tourists. But we do avoid those hot spots where possible. We can't help it. Our introverted nature means we seek tranquility. Tranquility is one of many reasons we chose to live in the Vendée. Another is the fact that Le Mont-St-Michel, one of our favourite spots on the planet, is just an easy drive away. With October and Halloween just around the corner, I have been thinking about the last time we visited The Mount. We left late in the day for a romantic dinner there, and were surprised to discover that between 8pm and 8am (20h00 and 08h00), the famous Unesco World Heritage site folds itself back in time all the way to its pilgrimage roots.

Before our first daytime experience at Mont-St-Michel, we purposefully read nothing about it. Because we are are avid researchers and readers, and we love history, this was quite contrary to our nature. Mont-St-Michel is a place we'd dreamed of visiting, a must-see that was high on our bucket list as travellers. We wanted to be surprised. 

However, both times we visited there, once alone and once with our family, left us with mixed feelings about it. First, there is nothing that isn't amazing about this place.  Superlatives fail me. Wow! The island is small and massive at the same time. It looks tiny in the distance, and yet you can see it from so far away. It was everything we dreamed of. And yet I thought I'd slipped down the rabbit hole and landed in an absolute nightmare.

After our wonderful meal that night, we climbed to the abbey even through it was after-hours by then. We started the ascent through the lower village church, along a narrow cobbled street, and down the little cemetery where we stopped for a chat with the dead. We meandered up narrow alley-stairways, marveled at the tiniest gardens you've ever seen, brimming with bushes and flowers.

It was so cool! Granted, the “gas lights” are not the tiny flickering flames of medieval times, but it was just brilliant to visit a place that really speaks to the imagination. Without the tourists, we could dart from marvel to marvel like children. I'm sure our eyes were as big as saucers. We greeted every old tree, a pigeon snoozing on a broken terra-cotta chimney pot, navigated the slippery cobbled stairs. The sun was just beginning to set when we arrived at the old abbey doors.

Room after arched room, we were met by the sounds of howling wind and unseen creatures flying through the night.  Twisted shadows portrayed the possibility that the abbey was perhaps more threatening than inviting. I thought about Elizabeth Kostova's marvelous book The Historian. I walked around mesmerized by it all. I was holding my husband's hand, but felt completely sucked into the walls and the floors of the abbey.

I was a part of the art experience as opposed to being a spectator. Because among the nuances of greens and blues and whites playing on the walls, the creepy shadows, dancing images, and eerie sounds, I was the fifth element. I was the girl the dragons had succeeded in luring into their heavenly den.

It was brilliant! But, I was glad for a little respite on the wide open terrace by the grand cathedral atop the mountain. The view across the bay was spectacular! The sun left slivers of pink, stringing together the clouds. The sky’s reflection in the salt marshes below, was nature’s abstract painting.