Sign in with Facebook
The King on his horse
Lower West Front
Cider Set
Half-timbered HousesThe Town With The Gayest Name Ever
I didn’t spend a huge amount of time in Quimper, which does sound like the middle name of a ladies hairdresser called Sebastian. However I was impressed with its general demeanour and I would refute any allegations that are made about its sexuality. True, it does have little stone bridges that cross over clear streams full of lithesome trout that look up at scarlet pots of geraniums hanging in abundance from overflowing baskets. But that could just be its more effeminate side showing through. Likewise the gothic cathedral with all its delicate tracery and elaborate filigree carvings could just be a manifestation of its caring nature.
There are street-side cafes that beckon you, a bandstand outside the cathedral and an outstanding art gallery that was the excuse for my visit. Having seen bugger all Breton art in Pont-Aven (one-time home of Gauguin but no paintings to be seen not even for ready cash) I salivated at the prospect of bumbling around an art-gallery of some size. It is a fine gallery and they do have a Gauguin (only the one mind you). It’s a picture of a goose. However let not this solitary goose put you off visiting they have some excellent touring exhibitions which means that some of the art looted by the Nazis does actually make a return visit to the country of its creation now and again.
I could have no doubt stayed in Quimper for a couple of nights but it had started looking at me in a peculiar way, so I made my excuses and left.
