Day 3 was Sunday. I knew there was hardly anything open in France on Sundays, but I also knew there would be a market open on Sunday morning in Beuzec Cap-Sizun.

So I went to the village during the morning, without my backpack, to get more food at the market.

Beuzec Cap-Sizun is a small village. It has a church, a cemetery, a school, a market, a bakery, a pub, a town hall, a town square, people riding on their bikes with baguettes in the front basket: everything that you would expect from a complete small village. In front of the church there was a monument to honour those who died in the two world wars and in Indochine. It counted fewer than 20 names, both civilians and combattants. There must be more cyclists going through the village in a day than people living in the village. There must be more people buried in the cemetery than people living in the village.

Anyways, I got to the village and went to the market. It was small, with very few options. I bought some fruits, yogurt, cereal bars, a canned ravioli, and one baguette. I was worried that it might not be enough food for the day, so I asked the cashier if there was any restaurant in the village: “non, pas du tout”.

I left the market and saw people washing the floors at the pub. I asked them for their WiFi password. They hesitated for a couple of seconds but ended up telling me the password.

I set in the town square and had breakfast: baguette, yogurt and fruits. The WiFi signal was still strong, so I checked up on what had happened in the world for the last few days. I checked the map for the next couple of days, finished my breakfast and headed back to pointe du Kastel Kos. On my way back, I saw a sign: Paella at the school, at noon, today. That was great, I had found food. I asked a couple of old ladies where the school was.

– The “fête de la musique” was yesterday, replied the first one.
– No, he wants to know where the school is, said the other one.
– Oh, go straight on the main street, and turn at the “rue de l’école”.

When I got to the school, the people there told me they would start serving at noon, and asked me if I had made reservations. I hadn’t, obviously, but I made it right away.

I came back at noon and was the first to be served. It looked like a parent-teachers meeting of some sort. Everyone knew each other, which is not so hard to imagine in such a small village.

The paella was good… And I filled my water bottles.