I can't completely name what it was that sent me over the top....I have my suspicions, but let's be honest...does it really matter?

All I can say is that by the time we reached Le Mont St. Michel, I was already feeling a bit queezy.

 We did walk around the place for a bit...and it's a good thing we did it right then!

Take a good look people....this is the last picture of me before I turned into a zombie....

By midnight that night, I was in full assault from my digestive system!

Puking and pooping....pooping and puking.

At one point, I called out, "I need help"...

The DPR came to the bathroom door....opened it and said, "no."

Closed the door again.  (oh!!!  you ARE a dreadful Pirate!!!)

before we left the hotel....Rob went into the bathroom and 

left 5 euros on the counter for the maid.

In those moments when one is pooping one's guts out, and throwing up things that look, taste and feel like different colors of Barbie-doll shoes mixed with brown gravy and tomato juice....

That is the moment that all the romance of being at St. Michel, and I would say France in general, leave you.

At that moment, all I wanted to say was 

Au Revoir! 

It was everything I could do to make it off the island and to the airport the next day....

Back in Leeuwarden....I am resting.

I will probably forgive France some day.

But that day is not today.