Dear friends and family,
The combination of biking the canal path and meandering on country roads through tiny ancient towns suits me fine. So far it’s not too hilly, not too hot, not too long. Goldilocks conditions.
We passed a couple of rowing clubs on the Canal. They paddle river kayaks and single and double rowing shells on stretches of the canal between locks. I’m not sure how a sculler going one way would have passing room from another the opposite direction. Remember in a racing shell, if you pull in one scull (oar), the boat is likely to flip. I’m hoping to see more in action to learn their technique.
Seeing the kayakers reminds me of my first time in a kayak. When Liz and I first met she explained that she had kayaked most of the west coast of Vancouver Island so would love to introduce me to the sport. I explained my sport was sculling and later I could show her.
For a date, Liz rented me a sea kayak and climbed in her own. She invited her friend Jennie to accompany us in her own boat. I figured she would want to show me off to her friend, as she had found an athletic strong man.
I assumed that rowing a kayak couldn’t be too hard, I could just power my way through. And of course prove my waterman abilities.
After about fifteen minutes of struggling to keep up with the ladies and already feeling pain in my wrists and shoulders, Jennie, the five foot four, one hundred ten pounder asked if I would mind if she helped me with technique. Jennie seemed to propel her boat speedily with little apparent effort. I accepted the offer, but might have been a tad resistant.
She showed this struggling newbie as if she were an expert. Turns out she is. World class even. She was on the US National paddling team ( the people who go to the Olympics) as of two years earlier at the age of 56! Let that sink in: a physically demanding sport with her size at age 56 and a former WORLD champion! ! https://www.teamusa.com/profiles/jennie-goldberg
I never saw her roll her eyes and I am sure she was impressed by Liz’s athletic date.
We too a rest day in Agen, a city of just over thirty two thousand people. The statistics reporters claim that over 20,000 of them are somehow involved in their main product of production: prunes. None of the ” dried plum” marketing language here like in the US, just “prunes”. The people here seem happy. Probably regular too.
I typically don’t like cities much, but this one feels kind of special. I would describe it as taking a square kilometer of Paris streets and buildings and plopping them down in the country. Complete with sidewalk cafes, designer goods shops and of course that necessity: boulangeries. And, minimal traffic noise, and high prices.
As it was a rest day post five days of straight riding, we planned on an easy amble up high for the view over the city. Turned out to be quite strenuous for a rest day and I was reminded of my younger sister Gerianne’s advice ( doctorate in physical therapy) of “active recovery” being best. I’ll let you know if it worked.
The views were good as we could see the entire town from above and all the way to the nuclear power plant smokestacks thirteen miles away. The hillside is home to grand estates of the wealthy.
On Sunday most restaurants are closed and the hotel clerk found one open for us. Their specialty was Entrecote and frites, which means steak and fries ( in their special mustard sauce) for those who aren’t as fluent as myself. It was as good as the same dinner in Paris with my sister Karen fifty years ago that is burned in my memory. And only twenty two euros.
I joke of course about my ” fluency” in the language. I think I am having so much fun with it this visit in that as I get older I worry less about wrong words and just speak out with something that might resemble French. This attitude actually is a factor to those I’m speaking to and they are helpful in pronouncing the same words I use back to me, only in correct French.
Time to pack and get riding. More later.
Sending love,
Charley
So much fun to find these gems of cities. I’m so glad I get to participate in your journey. Love the accompanying pictures.
Love,
Lynne
Agen looks beautiful! Love how they slipped those narrow, pie-shaped buildings into French city centers.
Ah, adventures in non-native language communication! In 1973 I taught myself travel-Italian. It still haunts & sneaks in while speaking (very limited) Spanish, 5 decades later! Fortunately Central & South Americans are extremely patient.
Several yrs ago my husband was covering German for us in a restaurant in Bavaria. Our waitress was Polish, spoke no English but reasonable German. When Ray thought he was asking if he could take home his uneaten pizza, he mistakenly asked if he could take the waitress home! Her eyes grew large, she looked at me for reaction. Soon, the misspoken request was realized by all & we enjoyed a good international laugh!
Vicariously enjoying your adventure! Many thanks.
Language mishaps can be fun!