This description of my road trip is going to get dangerously long unless I cut to the chase somehow. I think what I'll do is just note down the raw facts and if anyone's interested in anything I can elaborate. This blog entry will therefore be an aide memoire for me rather than anything particularly interesting to read. You have been warned.
Day 1.5, On the road
Things started pretty merrily. Felt good. I think I may have even taken a photo at this point.
About an hour into the first day, though, it started raining. Like seriously raining. With lightening crashing down everywhere. I'm not scared of storms, being a rational engineer, but being out on a moped in a wild electrical storm wearing a t-shirt and sandals in the middle of absolute nowhere made me want to cry "Galileo Figaro!" and hide under a tree. This is what I did. I dumped my moped in a bush just off the road and went to look for shelter. Unfortunately southern french trees just ain't made for keeping you dry and I passed an miserable ten minutes being dripped on before deciding to make a break for it.
I arrived in a small town called Le Malzieu-Ville utterly utterly drenched and pissed off and had an unbelievably lonely steak and chips before scoring an early night. Bad karma for the first day.
Day 2, The Aubrac Road and Rodez
Weather much better. Feeling top. Stopped in beautiful market town for lunch after a taxi driver had driven right behind me beeping his horn for a good minute or two. I was very much of the "Fuck off and overtake me then" mood when I pulled over and learned that he had picked my sleeping bag of the road when it had fallen off my rucksack and was trying to get my attention in order to give it back. Oops.
Le Route D'Aubrac was an absolute dream. Started to feel more comortable on the bike (rather than being filled with images of my impending horrible injuries upon the inevitable falling-off-at-high-speed scenario) and the scenery was absolutely to die for. Arrived at around 3 o'clock into a largish town called Rodez. Spectacular cathedral. Every thing closed.
I drove around for ages looking for somewhere to stay, but in the end had to settle for a campsite. For 4 euro 30 the man said it was fine to have a pitch without having a tent and I planned a night under the stars as the weather was beautiful. Laid out my sleeping bag and had a nap.
Awoke after around half an hour to the sound of distant thunder. Hoped against hope that it would miss Rodez but, alas, the rains came and came with great vengeance and a furious anger. I sheltered in the TV room while 8 old frenchmen watched the Tour De France at maximum volume. Low point, but, as so often with these low points, the rain precipitated (no pun intended) the most pleasurable part of the whole drive.
I stumbled into town after the rain eventually stopped in the hope of getting some food and found a bar open just by the cathedral. As I went in I heard the strains of a piano being played and played well. I thought I recognised the piece and said after watching in amazement as the guy played the piece to the end, "Rachmaninov", and the guy playing said in perfect if heavily accented english "Chopin actually. Can you play Rachmaninov?". The guy was very good-looking with long curly brown hair and a cheeky glint in his eye reminding me very much of Tom Nelson. We were instant pals as we gushed over the piano and I played the opening bars of the Rachmaninov I know.
I asked him if they had any lunch going and he told me that they only did sandwiches which I said would be fine. He brought out a large toasted ham and cheese sandwich with a glass of frosty cold water and a cigarette. In no mood to turn down either the ham or the cigarette (I hadn't eaten that day and had been close to going nuts at the frustration of the rains, given my tentless situation) and it was a massive tonic.
I ended up staying there all evening and chatting to, and then falling in love with, a french girl in her early thirties who also worked at the bar but spoke no English. Wow, they really design their women well, the French. She was unspeakably attractive. Not just aesthetically, but she had such poise and a kind of relaxed regality about her. I was enthralled.
Predictably enough she turned out to be the good-looking guy's girlfriend and I was heartbroken. Ah well. And I was already imagining how I'd sack off the road trip, get a job in the bar, move in with the girl and live out the rest of my life happily playing the piano while she danced. Maybe some other girl in some other bar with some other piano...
Day 3, Requista
Anyway, she lent me a tent so it wasn't all bad. Left Rodez quite early the next morning just as yet another storm was brewing. Drove down the side of a mountain in furious hail. Was later amazed to find that I wasn't horribly bruised on my hands and ankles as I took many stinging halestones on the way. Stayed the night in a tiny outpost called Requista. Very bored but they had satellite tv. Hoped (and stayed awake for) porn on french tv but was sorely disappointed.
Day 4, Arrival
Had another very pleasant day's motoring in the sunshine (bar running out of petrol on a secluded mountain road and having to freewheel back down the hill and into town!) but was an absolute pro on the bike and got all the way to my destination in one long leg. It is here from where I write (I arrived the afternoon of yesterday).
The description of this place is, I'm afraid, another very very long blog entry as it's extremely wierd here.
This is what I've done so far: Scythed (blisters to prove it), reputtied a window frame, bonded with the "difficult" teenage kids by teaching them shithead (a card game for those not in the know. Rules can be found on http://www.yourmumworksatmcdonalds.com)
This is the end of my supposedly short blog entry. I see my verbal diarrhoea problem transfers neatly to the world of blogging. And here I don't have that irrating other person trying to say their piece to. Bliss.
Rob
No comments:
Post a Comment