Belle-Île-en-Mer

The island is monopolized by normal, regular French people of average means in the normal, regular business of being on holiday: riding bikes, picnicking, swimming (even though the water never averages more than 64 degrees), buying honey at the market, wearing out the plastic cafe furniture. With 5,000-year-old Celtic menhirs, a druidical forest, moors knotted with heather, and needelike rock formations along the coast, Belle-Île is plenty picturesque. But it draws the line at pretty and cute.