Edmund Yeo

25th of June. Everyone were leaving Brignogan. Before that they were waiting at the hotel lobby, it was the only place where the Wi-Fi signal was decent. By evening, almost everyone was gone. I made my way through the beach...

24th of June, last day of the workshop in Brignogan. After the session ended, I was interviewed by a local paper! (Orsi of Hungary, served as translator)

The script workshop sessions in Brignogan were usually held outdoors. How could it be otherwise? The scenery was great, we get to look at the clear blue sea. And here's my teammate Anita of Bratislava, Slovakia, enjoying herself.

Ah, it's good to be operating in full strength again. After my grievous bout of nosebleed , and the upset tummy that lasted for a couple of days. Every time when I was on the verge of recovering, I would eat something... unhealthy, prolonging the pain, so during the weekend I decided to cut down my meals. It was pretty horrible. Brignogan-Plages, or simply Brignogan, was where I had my scriptwriting workshops. After spending two days in Brest , a car picked me and a few others up at the train station and took us to Brignogan, a village 30 km away. It didn't take too long.

Ask me what I thought of Brest, two days earlier, when I was stuck there after missing my flight, I would have launch into an expletive-filled tirade. But now that I've reached Tokyo, and slept through the afternoon, I look at Brest, not with nostalgia, but with acceptance that the place played a rather big role in my latest trip. My workshop was mostly in Brignogan, which is 30-45 mins away from Brest, by car. But due to circumstances I had never expected, I actually realized I have spent three and a half nights in Brest, compared to the 6 in Brignogan, I ended up becoming quite familiar with the city center. It's unlikely that I would ever return to Brest, it's not one of those places that I would go to for personal reasons. So acknowledging that fact does make me feel a little fonder of the place. Anyway, a short chronicle of my days in Brest.

That was how I felt when I had to stay in Brest for another day. The initial plan was simple. After writing my last post, I was supposed to go to the Brest station, catch a train to Paris, enjoy the beautiful countryside scenery during the 4-hour train ride, and then after reaching the Charles De Gaulle, sleep at the airport, and take the plane back to Tokyo. Alas, things didn't work out, I was shell-shocked when there wasn't a train to be caught, and ended up being forced to reschedule my flight. Thus I ended up in Brest for an extra day. It's a frustrating feeling, when all your mind is prepared to go home, and BOOM! Some unforeseeable crap happened, and I ended up being stuck.