48 hours in Brest

Between cultural discoveries, urban strolls and moments of relaxation, a weekend in Brest offers an invigorating and unexpected experience. It all begins at the top of the city, on Rue Jean-Jaurès. A slow descent towards the sea, punctuated by shop windows, passers-by and 1950s buildings - silent witnesses to post-war reconstruction. We stroll along this lively thoroughfare, watching the city come alive around us and, already, we can feel the sea air drawing us in.

We stop off at La PAM, the Papeterie Armoricaine Morlaisienne, closed in 2018 and transformed into a third place between food court, coworking and museum. A coffee, a sweet, a simple and tasty moment that gently anchors us in the city. Then, of course, we're drawn to Rue de Siam. A landmark punctuated by lively terraces, it leads us out to sea, to the Pont de Recouvrance. From there, we climb up to Cours Dajot. at our feet, the harbour sparkles, calm and vast. The château de Brest, a stone sentinel, has watched over this landscape for two millennia. We breathe in the salty air, our eyes focused on the horizon. Ferries, sailing boats, cargo ships: the sea is in perpetual motion. The moment is suspended.

A leap into the future awaits us a few steps further on: we board the cable car to cross the Penfeld. In just a few minutes, we're at Les Ateliers des Capucins. A huge hall bathed in light, this former military site is now the beating heart of a new Brest. Skaters, families, readers and the curious rub shoulders under a spectacular glass roof, between monumental machine tools, bookshops, exhibitions and children's games. The atmosphere is relaxed, creative and bathed in ocean light.

a stone's throw away, rue Saint-Malo takes us back to another time. The only street to have survived the bombardments, it reveals an older, more intimate Brest. Disjointed cobblestones, faded shutters, low-slung houses: strollers stroll softly along, book or camera in hand. The atmosphere is almost out of this world.

When the sun goes down, we head for the beach at Sainte-Anne du Portzic. just ten minutes from the town center, it's a breath of fresh air. The clear water, the golden sand, the laughter of children and the complicit silence of readers. Climb the dunes, spread out an improvised picnic: crusty bread, market fruit, local sweets. Facing the sea, everything slows down.

The next morning, after a night lulled by the sound of seagulls, we set off to discover the Saint-Marc district. Like a village within the city, it reveals a more artisanal, more personal Brest. The shop windows tell stories of passion and transmission. Here, you can stroll and linger, shopping and meeting people. Then on to the Stang-Alar valley. The botanical garden, nestled in this peaceful valley, unfurls its shady paths, its rare collections and its greenhouses of faraway climates. Tree ferns, Mexican cacti, medicinal plants from China... the journey is silent, almost meditative.

We walk down to the Moulin Blanc beach. The sand, the sails in the distance, the comings and goings of strollers. The sea is always near. And right next door, you'll discover Océanopolis, a temple to the marine world. Cold, temperate and tropical seas: playful otters, hypnotic jellyfish, curious penguins. The tour fascinates, amazes and raises awareness. You emerge transformed, your eyes full of reflections and your heart a little broader. A final glance towards the horizon. Brest doesn't try to seduce at all costs. It goes deeper. It surprises, soothes, regenerates. And under the sun, it becomes downright irresistible.