Last night, Christopher, Jane S, Jane Irish, Rosie, Amy and I visited a Fest Noz in a town about 20 minutes away. A Fest Noz in the Breton language means "Night Party", and we did some drinking of cidre and beer and danced in circles to Breton bands playing flutes, fiddles and accordions.
We had to drive back and forth through Corseul which is home to Roman ruins and an incredible, unbelievable ruin called The Temple of Mars. Amy and I went to see the Temple of Mars last Tuesday right before twilight and found it sitting quietly and extravagantly in the middle of a cornfield on the road between Corseul and Dinan. Visiting the Temple of Mars is one of the most magical experiences I have had in Bretagne. True to most fantastic old sites, like the dolmen in Dol-de-Bretagne, there is almost no signage, no lighting and no paraphernalia indicating anyone in Brittany is even aware of the Temple's existence. In a country where such special sites are abundant, the Temple is met with a quiet quotidien respect and acceptance. Tramping about there at midnight thirty on Saturday night after getting sweaty at a Fest Noz was just the right kind of bacchanalian impulse not in keeping with the probably more sober religious rites that took place there thousands of years ago. Crack Americans.