Provence, life influences

Dear friends and family,

It’s getting close to wrapping up our time in France and specifically in Provence. Instead of hurrying through, we opted for shorter rides with stops in the quaint little villages along our way. Half the rides were on bike paths, some along highways, but mostly in the country. The other half were on country roads leading us through small towns as we wove our way from bigger city to the next. Once we followed a road that appeared to be our path and it led us to a church, I guess assuming that it might have been awhile for me and it was time to repent.

There’s very few tourists here and the ones that are here are from other parts of France, not international. The stores and hotels we shop at are happy to serve us and welcome us as out of season tourists. When they ask about our trip and how we “found our way to a little French town like this” they sometimes shake their heads as we explain that we have been touring France by bike for over five weeks in the winter. 

For us, the winter touring is the perfect time to visit: no crowds, often we are the only ones visiting a tourist site like a castle. No heat to deal with as the weather has been almost perfect for riding, as it ranges from 40-60 degrees F. The prices are lower for off season.too. What’s not to like?

Bonus is the Christmas holiday decorations and lights and bustle of shoppers frequenting stores well decorated. 

Yesterday as we rode a big trail into a big wind, a biker riding the other direction stopped and turned to ride with me for a bit. We could have a conversation about where we were from in the US, the route and time we had been in France and even the strong wind that we were riding into. 

It almost seemed natural, speaking to another rider in another language. It sure has been enjoyable for me to practice and learn more of the language. Each day as we speak a mixture of French and English we get to ask either what the correct word to use might be or how to pronounce something in French. These French people seem to appreciate our attempts and are happy to help us learn more. As we are winding up the French portion of this trip, I sure will miss this. I have a lot more to say about spending more time in France in the future, but that’s another episode.

Sometimes in restaurants details of the menu don’t translate, so there is often a surprise when the food shows up. I’ve enjoyed all the surprises so far except one. When I ordered a cheeseburger one night, I got a bun filled with a huge chunk of cheese. No burger, just cheese. Wasn’t my favorite meal.

For lunch yesterday we tried an Italian restaurant. The waiter gave us menus with the special of the day and other choices. When he came to take our order and we were about to order, he let us know that no, they didn’t really have anything on that printed menu, but if we went with him we could pick out one of the samples of pasta in the glass showcase and order that. We did and enjoyed it, still wondering why the printed menus.

In Avignon, we were following our navigation app and it told us to turn left and all I saw was a doorway. Sure enough, we had to turn into the doorway with our loaded bikes as this was the entrance to the old city. 

Avignon is famous for the Pope’s Palace, but in fact the Pope should be plural. At one time this was the main residence of the Pope and there was even a period of Papal dispute when there were as many as three popes. 

It was quite a huge and ornate palace and I again imagined myself as a pope, the aspiration I had as a teenager when I entered the seminary to start my journey to “Popehood”‘

This slow travel for a long time in France reminds me of an encounter I had in 1974 (?), with another slow traveler who inspired me. 

I was visiting my sister Karen, who lived in France at the time. She wanted to show off the French Alps to me, so we took the train and hiked towards a climbing hut high in the mountains. 

On way up to the climbing hut we came across a lone hiker, French speaker, smallish of stature ( compared to me)’

As we passed a shepherds rock shelter, we noticed a donkey tied outside and hearing us talking, he came out to visit. 

He was dressed in Adidas training sweats top and bottom. 

In his hands he had a big round of whole wheat looking bread with a chunk missing. He took a rather large Opinel knife and carved out a hunk for Karen and another for me. 

Karen spoke as I was completely ignorant of French. He told her that he and his donkey were crossing the entire Alpine range and he had started in Grenoble, France. He would stay in mountain huts and shepherd’s shelters as he hiked. For months. 

I had never even considered that this kind of travel was even possible and here I met someone doing this exact thing. I now carry my own Opinel knife ( of a smaller size and stainless blade instead of the original steel blade), but think of him every time I take it out to cut my baguette or saucisse.

This vision has carried me for many years of traveling long distances while living simply.

I often look at my two bike panniers, backpack, and handlebar bag filled with all the belongings I need for so far 38 days, not missing any thing and feeling pretty darn free. I can live with my illusion, fully aware that I carry the piece of plastic ( Visa card) , backed by my social security payments deposited into my checking account per month that allows me to stay in hotels or hostels with comfort.

No donkey, but still self propelled on the bicycle, moving slowly through the country of France, living my version ( vision) of the through-hiker of my youth.

It amazes me of the influence of chance encounters in one’s youth and the potential for lifelong influences for life.

What if I had met a magician or musician? Would that be my journey now?

An accountant?

Do I meet and get influenced by certain people and situations because of my interest and curiosity of that field, or does the meeting propel me to be curious and explore that field of endeavor?

I’m glad I have more long rides planned to meditate on this question.

I’d better get going to the boulangerie to buy a round of bread and get my Opinel knife out to cut myself a wedge. Want a wedge of bread?

Careful, you could find yourself dressed funny crossing a country under your own self-propelled power. I never imagined that I could be the inspirer rather than the inspired. 

Sending love,

Charley