Avignon to Paris

Whoa. So, a bit of time has slipped by since my last entry. More importantly, so have a lot of km. Since I last spoke I have ridden my bike nearly the entire length of France. Let me take a step back...

I left Avignon by following the Rhone River north. In a surprise twist, the wind was not blowing in its usual direction for the region, resulting in a strong tailwind! I flew through the countryside. Nothing noteworthy or particularly spectacular occurred, unless you think that covering over 100 km a day with a bike falls in either of these categories. It has actually become the norm now for me to break the 100 km barrier every day, and I still never get started until after 12:00. When I started my average speed was about 18 km/hr, now its more like 23. I guess all those hours huffing and puffing up mountains has paid off now that the ground is flattening out.

So anyway, with the wind at my back I reached Lyon in 2 days - one day ahead of schedule! My couchsurfing host was a bit surprised to see me. His name is Boris and, and even though he has the name and the beard, he is not a communist. He is a fellow bikefreak and has spent much time riding through Europe. Needless to say, we didn't run out of things to talk about. He even helped me plan out a great route north. But Lyon was also the first place that I got into trouble with the cops. The standing rule for bikers in France is "don't do it if it will get you killed, otherwise we don't care" but I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The wrong place was running a red light. The wrong time was when a municipal police car was passing by. They cruised up to me and said "puiaja le blu la blandui ecpescialite!" or something like that. I don't know, it was French! I explained that I didn't speak the language, and smiled nice. They said "Red. Stop." while pointing at the traffic light. I looked innocent, said I was sorry, merci, and they went away. Then I ran another red. I may be a good man, but I am a baaad boy!

With Boris' help, I decided to go and ride the banks of the Loire River, which people have been telling me I needed to see even before I left Canada. The problem was my deadline. I was finding it stifeling, knowing that I had to leave so soon and still had so far to go. I was forever unsure of what to do: "do I just b-line it to Amsterdam, or do I continue doing the scenic route"? I mean, by following the Loire I was heading in the exact opposite direction of Amsterdam. I was in inner turmoil. Then one morning I woke up and said "ah screw it". I don't want to be enslaved by a date. I intend to squeeze every last drop of life's sweet juices out of the time I have left. If I have to take a train, so be it. So I headed into to mountains to hook up with the Loire River. Boris even rode with me for about an hour to help me get out of the city. And a good thing too! That was confusing!

The route he had planned for me took me through the "golden region" of France. Here all of the old buildings are built out of the local rock, which is a dull yellow colour. During sunrise and sunset the villages glow golden. Its striking, especially because this area is very lush and the houses are surrounded by vibrant green. The lushness is aided by the large amount of rain that falls there - at least when guys named Devon are trying to ride their bikes in the area. I got drenched daily.

So I decided to couchsurf as much as possible. I stayed with people in Nevers, Orleans (the old one) and Blois, alternating a night or two of camping with a night or two of surfing. It worked out really well and I made new friends to boot. I particularly enjoyed Orleans - my CS hosts were great fun and I finally tasted good French food. For all the hype we have in Canada about French food, it is awfully hard to find in... well... France! At least not without dropping 100 euro for a little bit of food on a big plate. I was beginning to lose hope that I would ever find good French food, which I had been so excited for, but hallelujah! there it was. My mouth is watering even now...

Although I had been really stoked for this section of my trip, the landscape ended up being kinda dull. Flat. All farmland - fields of corn, dying sunflowers or just grass. Loads of white cows that just chew and stare. I kept my head down and pushed. I hate to admit it, but I was getting kinda bored with the whole thing. The shine was wearing off. The ancient villages all looked the same, and for the first time I could understand why locals take them for granted. I could've been anywhere. It was wearing me down, and my mood at times became as grey as the sky.

But, as the philosopher Lidell states in his composition "Whats The Use (of figuring it all out)": "Life may sometimes be sad, but its always beautiful." So I didn't let myself lose the will to continue. And then one day I turned a corner of the Loire and was greeted by a towering stone edifice surrounded by a moat. My first view of one of the famous castles along this section of the river. If you knew me as a kid, you might understand my reaction to the sight. I abandoned my bike on the side of the road and dashed across the street, piratically taking pictures as I ran.

So from then on I didn't just follow the course of the river. As I rode I took the time to swing by as many castles as I could. The most impressive was certainly Chambois, which is a huge and impressive monument to the opulence of the old French kings. Towers upon towers, big moat, a drawbridge, people riding horses in the courtyard, the works. So cool. But there were many other smaller castles that I tried to see as well. Sadly, in every case the capitalists had arrived before me and were trying to charge me my daily allowance for entrance, or sometimes even to get onto the grounds. In Blois I finally splurged and got to look around the innards of one of the chateaus. It was worth it, but only once.

The weather was changing, and so was my mood. I made another big tactical decision: I would take a train to Paris. This would not only allow me to avoid more flat French countryside, but also see the City of Love. I have wondered, and often asked people in France, why the City of Love also has a reputation for being dirty, smelly and full of rude people. Is that what love is like? Well, maybe, but I didn't think so. So I was interested to return and see if the memories of my youth would hold up. They didn't. I really enjoyed myself and people, even some of the waiters, were really nice. Ok, so parts of the underground still smell like pee, so what? And its much easier to find affordable French food. I stayed with Constance, a friend that Dad and I made in Malta, and had a really lovely time. It is also not true that all Parisian women are stuck up, although the bit about there being a lot of beautiful ones is certainly true. Whoa.

I could only afford (time and money) to spend the weekend there, but I found myself really falling for this huge city with its twisting little streets and countless shops and cafes. I had fully expected not to like it, but instead I was sorry to leave on Monday morning. I guess I kinda fell in love with the City of Love. I guess I like it dirty, smelly and rude huh? Interesting...

In the same composition noted earlier, Lidell also states "I guess a man alone always talks to much." On that note... I will only be posting one more entry for the European leg of my adventure. My flight is on the 26th. I am currently closing in on Amsterdam. Stay tuned for the last chapter.