St. Pierre photos #2


Mark and I left Red Cliff to drive to Fortune on the Burin peninsula, departure point of the ferry to St. Pierre and Miquelon. We got some brochures and maps from the SPM tourist office and when we checked in at the ferry ticket office next door, we were informed that we were the last passengers to do so. We weren’t even late: departure was at 7:30 p.m. with check-in no later than 7:00. We got to the office well before that.

The tricolour unfurled with Fortune in the background

Life preserver from Suroît

Approaching St. Pierre with Ile-aux-Marins in the background. We put our watches half an hour ahead of Newfoundland time, thus the islands are an even four hours behind French time.

Mark with St. Pierre in the background

Coming into the harbour

Docked at St. Pierre

Our hotel the next day, Sunday, August 18. We were fortunate to have a ground-floor room with street view across Rue du 11 Novembre overlooking the harbour. The room had outlets for European plugs and in packing for this trip and deciding what I really needed and what I could leave behind, I decided to unpack my European adapter, mistakenly believing that the islanders, based on their proximity to Canada and thus their ability to buy Canadian products, would be using our style of electrical outlets. Not so. I immediately regretted leaving my European adapter at home, however the hotel clerk lent us two for free. My laptop wouldn’t have to power itself on its battery for the duration of our stay. And that is only one aspect of St. Pierre that makes it exquisitely French. The locals speak Parisian French, which made it easy for me to understand. I never spoke a word of English to anyone in stores, restaurants, bakeries, the tourist office or the post office. Businesses close for ninety minutes or two hours at midday, so on Monday, our shopping day, we had to do our shopping in shifts as we spent the morning at Super U supermarket and then at Lecturama bookstore. From our experience the previous day we knew it was crucial to go to bakeries in the morning as they were out of stock (for those that were open) on Sunday afternoon. So when we walked into a bakery near our hotel Monday morning it was packed with people and the display cases were filled with cakes, cookies, croissants, eclairs and so on. In the afternoon we visited other stores including souvenir shops, but I didn’t buy anything for myself other than postcards. We also stepped into a few other shops selling furniture and clothing to see what the selection was like. As I found out when I was in France in 2009, more people smoked there than in Canada, and it was no different in St. Pierre. Mark and I often, especially during our nighttime walks, would suddenly get the whiff of tobacco. It was from people sitting outside their homes having a puff. We never encountered smokers inside the restaurants we ate at (Le Marhaba on Sunday and Le Feu de Braise on Monday).

At the corner of Rue Amiral Muselier and Rue des Français Libres

On Rue Jacques Cartier. It was a beautiful sunny day for a hike around the island. One of the first things I said to Mark as we embarked on our hike was how much St. Pierre reminded me of Brittany. However, the town’s colourful homes and steep hills were also reminiscent of St. John’s.

Intersection of Rue Boursaint and Rue Marcel Bonin

We had arrived in St. Pierre during the annual Fête Basque and the town has a fronton where a game of grand chistera was in progress. Traditional Basque dances were performed outside during the evenings.

Mark outside one of the many colourful houses of St. Pierre

One of the steep streets. The Norman flag is at the top right.

We walked to the airport on a gorgeous sunny Sunday, passing the dories and their red wooden capstans.

The new hospital is on the southern part of the island.

New quadplex we passed on the walk to the airport

New housing developments on the south side of the island

We are standing outside Aéroport de Saint-Pierre Pointe-Blanche. We planned our hike to be there when there was some airport activity, and when we arrived people were gathering inside to fly to Halifax. The tiny airport had seen better days. A poster inside advertised food for sale and free wine samples on the second floor, yet when we went upstairs, the entire floor was empty and abandoned. No monitors displayed the flights that day. There were no planes already on the tarmac and we did not wait around for the Halifax-bound plane to arrive. As we were walking back we heard the plane come in but could not see it. We were resting at the cemetery by the war memorial when we saw the Halifax flight take off.

We walked through the cemetery where the tombs were all above ground. This one, however, appeared to be broken out of. Should I be worried?

After our long walk to and from the airport I was exhausted, but realized we had to make the most of our day as the following day (Monday, August 19) was supposed to be rainy when Hurricane Ernesto hit. That would be the perfect day to be shopping indoors. So we continued on our hike to a hilltop observation point.

On the way up the hill we passed the fire station on Rue de l’Espérance.

Ile-aux-Marins in the distance

Panoramic views of St. Pierre

Cathédrale Saint-Pierre

Backyard garden

Tricolour dory

Life preserver from Nordet on the way back to Fortune

Three nights was not enough time to enjoy the entire archipelago. We did not get to Miquelon, for example. A trip there would have lasted an entire day and had we gone on the Monday, we would not have been able to go shopping for anything in St. Pierre, as Monday was our only day to hit the shops. We pondered this and I personally feel that shopping for books, postcards, seeing the supermarket and a visit to the post office were more important on our first trip to these islands. We were unanimous in deciding that a return visit was a must. Next time we will also rent bikes and see the houses along Route de Cléopâtre and around Etang de Savoyard. And on our second trip we will likely fly there from Halifax, as the drive to Fortune was just so long.

Until I went there I could not vouch for the hype but St. Pierre is indeed a treasure of a small town that is exclusively France-French. Since my experience of being in France was only a few days in Paris but two weeks in Brittany, I was able to feel as if I was dropped back into a Breton village once we arrived in St. Pierre. I knew that Bretons were one of the founding settlers of these islands, yet I didn’t realize that the architecture would necessarily reflect that of their homeland. I felt as if I was walking the streets of Roscoff again.

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