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Cherie has a list. Actually, she has many lists. Finances, house projects, dog treats. She’s very organized. She probably has a naughty and nice list too, but I haven’t seen that one. Probably best that I don’t. At any rate, this particular list bears a carefully curated collection of sights which she feels we should see. As lists go, it’s a good one. And it only includes places we can comfortably drive to and return home within a day. Reviewing her choices for our latest outing, Cherie chose a mini-rally of two small towns to the west of Fougères: Montfort-sur-Meu and Bécherel.

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Joining us on this trip was Valerie, Cherie’s mother. Val comes to stay with us for a month or so every year. We love her visits and they always end far too quickly. Val’s time with us is an excellent excuse to hit the road and see something new. So, our special guest safely nestled in the passenger seat, off we trundled for a day out in Bretagne.

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Our first target was the town of Montfort-sur-Meu (MsM). This small town of some 7,000 inhabitants lies at the confluence of two rivers (the Meu and the Garun) about 30 kilometers west of Bretagne’s regional capital, Rennes. The first thing we noted was the purple schist gleaming in the sunlight. The local stone contains elements which give it a dark purple hue. Many of the buildings in the town are constructed with it, lending them a quite distinctive character. But did I take a photo of one? No. I can’t think why I didn’t. Perhaps I was distracted by one of the boulangeries; pastries have always been my downfall.

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MsM is fairly compact, easily walkable. When we were there, it was a lovely spring day. The streets with its many shops and eateries were quiet. But we had arrived during the sacred lunch hour (which, in France, typically stretches to two hours) and most businesses were closed – except the few restaurants bulging with the entire population of the town. Still, there was always the boulangerie. And after a pleasant amble around the imposing remains of a medieval stone tower, we stepped in the bakery to purchase some sandwiches and pastries. For some reason, I seemed to be uttering a rare dialect of Alsatian because the woman helping us couldn’t understand a word of the French I thought I was rather competently speaking. Just when I think I’ve cracked it, life will remind me that I still have a lot to learn. Life is like that, I suppose: sometimes you speak French, sometimes you speak Alsatian.

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We ate our little picnic on a bench in a quiet square next the baroque church under flowering trees filled with gently chirruping sparrows. We took our time – because it’s France, you know, and it would be a crime to do otherwise – enjoying our simple sandwiches and sumptuous pastries. As we chatted away, I suspect that each of us were quietly thanking the universe for the gift of being in this lovely country and delighting in yet another wonderful day. Perfection.

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Montfort-sur-Meu is not possessed of any big attractions. And that’s okay. It’s just a lovely town with some pretty streets lined with some attractive and characterful architecture, quaint and gently flowing rivers, and a couple of agreeable parks. I’m sure it would be a very nice place to live; people have been making it their home since neolithic times. It also makes for an enjoyable visit. A couple of hours spent here is well worth the effort.

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A few minutes’ drive to the north brings you to the even smaller town of Bécherel. Sitting atop a rise overlooking lushly green hills and valleys, Bécherel has staked its claim as a reader’s paradise. Around 700 people live here – most of whom seem to own a book shop. Throw a stone here and you are likely to strike a bookseller’s business. The town holds a large book fair (the aptly named Fête du Livre) every year as well. As a great lover of books, I would have gone in to check out the many shops. But, had I done so, I likely wouldn’t have then emerged for hours, only to discover that Cherie, Val, and the car had gone home. I decided that it was probably wise not to tempt a long, book-laden walk home.

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Bécherel wears its age proudly. Old stone and timber-frame buildings huddle around an open square. The pretty little church stands wedged in to one end of the square, overseeing the behavior of its parishioners. The church was apparently destroyed and rebuilt in the 19th century, but it contains two older baptismal fonts – one of them from the 12th century. A must-see for an old thing aficionado like me.

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The town was once surrounded by stone fortifications and there are several parts still visible. Poking around, we discovered a small tower and section of wall, a small elevated park within hosting a number of flowering trees, wisteria and lilacs and presenting a charming panoramic view of the town and surrounding countryside. The quaint little streets wind through the old town and make for a pleasant stroll. It’s a quiet, contemplative place, this Bécherel. Appropriate, I suppose, for a place of books and readers. Winding our way around town, I can imagine many enjoyable hours spent devouring a good book, ensconced in one of its many charming nooks and crannies. We enjoyed our afternoon discovering this Petite Cité de Caractère.

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Montfort-sur-Meu and Bécherel; a pleasant day-trip itinerary. They’re not big, they’re not bold or bombastic. They do not wow with Instagram-worthy photo-ops. But that’s kind of the point. Not all visits in France have to be monumental. Yes, it’s a fantastic experience to witness the historical touchstone of the Bayeux Tapestry, or to experience the mad excess of Versailles. But we find that the quiet moments of simple, elegant beauty to be found in abundance throughout this wonderful country are equally rewarding. We treasure them greatly. I hope you find them inspiring as well.