Day 18

I left Hedviga’s place about 10 am in the morning, after a tasty breakfast in a French style – a fresh baggete, butter, jam and coffee. I felt so obliged to them, yet my poor French made it impossible to express my gratitude as I wanted. Still, I guess that I did quite well with my French and was able to make myself understood. After only 3 intensive 4-week-long summer courses and subsequently 1 month in France as a volunteer I can say that I can communicate sufficielntly, even though my French level is not fit for any intellectual debates. But still, it is a good feeling anyway because I do not study French, therefore, I do not have to strive for perfection. All I need is to communicate and that I can do somehow, with hands and legs and everything. Screw grammar and mistakes, the most important thing of speaking a foreign language is to have fun and not to be ashamed of the mistakes you make. Everyone makes mistakes and the locals are usually happy if they can understand what you say and you answer to their questions correctly. Therefore, I have a better feeling from my French than from my German, even though my French sucks and I have studied German for decades. The solemn truth is that I am simply to timid to speak German because as the language expert studying German, I am expected to speak flawlessly. That is more of a hindrance than help for the real life communication.

My today’s plan was to get from car roads back to the national bike route. It was grueling to ride on the asphalt in the scorching temperature of 30 degrees, but at least I could move faster on the normal road. It took me about 40 km to join the national bike route, or in this case better said a national bike lane. The road leads along a canal again, but it is very narrow and I would not really compare it with other national routes. At least the terrain is so far flat and even though I must continue carefully, it is not as ful of holes and other nasty surprises as it was before Dijon.

Today during the lunch break, I had a very peculiar craving for sugar. After finishing my Tartine I swooped on some three croasanstns left that were actually intended for the breakfast. I put nutela on them and after eating them all but one, I uccumbed to the temptation of scooping out nutela alone. I realized after a while that there was not much left in the jar so I took the pleasant duty of finishing it off. Afterwards, I realized that I have another type of chocolate paste in my luggage and it would actually be a good idea to compare them. Therefore, I opened up the next jar and scooped out until I felt it is all too sweety, so I ate the last croassaint left. Aftewerards, I was wondering how could the other sweet bar taste like so I opened it. That finally stopped me from my munchies because it was so utterly sweet that I simply could not eat more of that. Unfortunately, Idid not close the jar properly and all the chocolate cream spread over my luggage. It took me almost 2h to clean that mess up.

About 6 pm I ran into fishermen festivities and had a great opportunity to soak a little bit in the French folklore atmosphere. Once again, I urgently needed water and once again I was saved, this time not with a hydrant, but a special water canister that was there to refresh other guests. I have decided to keep at least 4 liters of water with me, becase 2,5 l is woefully little in this soaring heat.

In the evening the “nationale biking route” was becoming worse and worse and I was totally pissed off how anyone could dare call this Cindrella’s lane  a national bike route. My grandma has a better road in her ä garden and she has some camping tables, too. I could also take any forest lane in Slovakia and call it the national biking route. It was simply too good to be true at the beginning with the French bike routes. Therefore, I decided to ride along roads to speed up this utterly boring journey along the canal that looked last 400 km about the same.

After my short break for dinner I was was for a shock – my tire was flat and my pump was gone. It probably fell off somewhere on the road, so I was literally screwed. I located the nearest pump on the GPS and set off for that direction with the flicker of hope that they might have a car pump there. It was about 5 km away and I tried to be faster than mosquitos that were after me. It is interesting that I totally forgot how it feels to go on foot. Firstly, I thought that 5 km is nothing, but after a while I thought that it takes ages to get there. Yet, I had big luck in unluck. I saw a cyclist, first after an hour and asked him with my hasty French if he did not have a pump. He did not, but pulled out something like a soda capsule and was so nice thathe gave me a brand new tire that he tried to blow Unfortunately, again, his marvelous invention did not blow the tire, but blew up by itself and we were lucky that nobody got hurt. Afterwards he called a friend of his to come by car to help out. He brought a pump, yet he did not have a compatible ventile. Therefore, he had to go back again and fetch the right one. In the end, we managed to fix the tire which I really call of stroke of luck so late in the evening. I do not know how I could possibly fix it alone. Even if there were a pump on the gas station, I am not sure how long it would have taken me to fix it, providing that I know it only in theory. I was unbelievably happy that ths coincidence saved me from many other troubles. I cannot believe that they did not wanted to accept any money for their help. They just told me tathat I must enjoy my tript to the fullest because smeting like this stays in memomory forever. Well, I do not know what to say – despites all difficulties; I always find the way out. I actually had a damn good reason to be in Orelan the next morning which you will be described soon with all juicy details.

Day 17

In the morning I woke up earlier, but was not in the right mood the set off for the journey so I enjoyed my time by writing this blog and having leassiure breakfast that consisted of coriassants with nutela. I got out at 10:30 in the morning and had a longer break a while ago as I found an unattended electricity plug for boaters that I used for charging my devices. I felt like a canal pirate J

On the way I saw a group of girl scouts, all nice and tidy in their uniforms. What a feast for the eyes! Later on, there was not much to see or to write about. I was getting bored by the tedious ride along the canal that looks still the same. The only one thing that changes is the terrain and I am always glad when I can manage to flink through it with moderate speed. This was not always the case and several times I was swearing on my way how can the French possibly call this pieace of rocks a national bike route. Several times I rather went on the normal road to get around and speed up a little. Without my audiobooks, I would have probably gone crazy. Later in the afternoon, I was desparetely running out of water and could not find any public toilets or restaurants near the last 10 km, at least not on my fabulous offline map. Strangely enough, when I was walking around a building for ship administration with empty bottles and probably a desparate look in the eyes,  a man came up to me and said that I can take water from a hydrant that he opened for me with a special key. I do not know how to expail such a strange coincidence. It was like dsipatching a message to the Heaven like “Hey, I need some water” and getting a reply “Gotcha, here you have got some”.

In the evening I made a quick break with a small dinner. I checked my cellphones for any news and I got a message from my mom that her French penfriend, Hedviga, gladly offered accommodation for me as soon as she heard of my plans to travel in France. I did not hold much hope that the village would be somewhere near on the way, but I was totally surprised when I realized that it was only 25 km from my location. I took the bull by the horns and immediately I arranged by phone that my mother confirms the invitation and I prepared myself for the way. I really love such spontaneous decisions and funny things that happen to a traveler on his or her way. Everything was set that I can come so I gladly accepted the new challenge and travelled 25 km more than I was supposed. I guess that now you expect any other crazy things that happened to me on the road, but I must disappoint you that this time everything ran absolutely smoothly. No problems with the GPS, no problems with finding the route either, enough light outside for safe cycling and my battery was doing also pretty fine. When I arrived at Hedviga’s place around 10 pm, I was most cordially welcomed by her, enjoyed having a shower (for me really luxury during these hot days) and it sounds for you maybe obvious, but for me absolutely stunning that time, I finally hade warm dinner since I left home. The French really know how to savoir vivre. They typical dinner consists of several dishes, firstly something light, afterwards the main course, and finally some cheese and dessert. My dinner was a la Hilton: I had my favoruite canard stuff as the starter, then a succulent beef steak with noodles and in the end I overindulged myself with all kinds of cheese that Hedviga had at home, tasting a bit of each of them. Oh, I have almost left out the dessert that was creamy yougurth that I splashed down with some kind of typical French soda. There could be no better reward for riding 120 km as this! It was an ultimate experience to taste typical local food at home, taste the French lifestyle and to brush up my French, which was not really as easy as I had thought. On the sofa I could recharge my batteries and in the electricity plug those of my laptop and cellphone. This visit was a very nice surprise and I am glad that it worked out!

Day 16

Today was a great day for biking. It was neither hot, nor cold, neither rain, nor wind – the weather conditions were just ideal. It was supposed to rain, but luckily I have managed to run away from the one that was menacingly forming on my way in the sky. Today I got up rather late, probably due to the overall fatigue (I thought that I can adjust my lifestyle to 6-7h of sleep and 100 and more kilometres per day, but it is quite impossible in a long run). The road was this time fine, sometimes little difficult, but generally this time was the off road pretty fine. As usually, I rode the whole day along a river, this time the Canal de Bourgougne There are several small houses scattered on the way plqdše with remarkable precision in the distance of 1 km. Their main purpose is probably to supervise the canal and to let boats pass, for which they use a very interesting mechanism. Sometimes the owners also run a small restaurant, or a bar, but mostly they are inhabited by villagers and look very modest. It is a picturesque atmosphere here, but I must say that after nearly 4 days seeing still the same I am oversaturated of this scenery and would probably go crazy without any other amusement on the road. Therefore, I sank my mind once again extensively into my philosophy and French audiobooks. So I basically bike and my mind wanders with Descartes and French courses J

Yesterday I built my tent somewhere in bunches near a small town and tonight I have decided to enjoy the luxury of staying in a well-cared park in one French village. Now, I am drinking bordeux, enjoying my break and writing these lines.

Day 15

I had a good night sleep and after a very pleasant breakfast I went to the city centre to do some sighst. Estella was by the way a very nice host and I really appreciate her flexibility and no objections with my late arrival. You know, I just do not want to be a nuisance to anyone,. Currently, she does not have much time because she is finishing her PhD in Geology, but I am really thankful for having the opportunity to stay overnight. As I have already mentioned, sighseeing on the bike is much more confortable than on foot. I can scurry through the town very easily and fast with no effort which is particularly handy if you want to see many things in a short time available. This day, however, is my rest day and I am writing this post in a nice city park while having only 60 km to go today. Therefore, I can afford the luxury of sitting in the city park, enjoying my rest time, drinking wine and eating cookies.  It is just awesome!

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Sightseeing in Dijon was great, I had plenty of time to walk around, muse about and even attended a mess in the cathedral. The way out from Dijon, however, was extremely difficult – I just could not find the right direction in an endless amount of various roundabouts, one direction streets, squares etc. It took me about half an hour to figure it out. Afterwards, I went to a supermarket to buy something for food and quite honestly, I was a little bit afraid of leaving my bike unattendd in one suburb of Dijon. There is a huge prejudice in the western world about people living in high building flats . The reason is simple – in such buildings usually live uneducated people, mostly living from paycheck to paycheck, just earning a living wage as sweat labor. Of course, in Slovakia, the situation is somewhat similar, however there is one little difference: You can also find in flats families with solid academic education (like me, for instance :D) and in general it is not shame to live in those suburbs because there are not many people who can afford living in a house unless they inherit one. Ouch, I am totally talking around the bush, what I was to say is the simple truth that people living in such suburbs in France look somehow different. Mostly immigrants with blank face expressions which does give a scary look. I do not want to judge anyone, I have no idea what he or she had to get through, but the point is that suburbs in France are vastly different from suburbs in Slovakia or in central Europe in general. That is why I rushed to finish my shopping to get out of that place as quicly as possible and was quite afraid that somebody can stealy my bike anytime..

For the evening I did not have any intensive workout planned – just about 70 km. The route, as usually, surprised me once again when it changed from the perfectly paved street in Dijon area to country road for the next 50 km. It was not such a hell as yesterday, but still, I am fully covered with mud and thus my great impression from finally being tidy and well-cared ended unexpectedly soon. Now I look again as a dishevelled tramp – well, why not.

On the way I decided to listen to some favourite songs, but they all rekindled old memories and made me homesick. I could not bear that so I get back to my French course and philosophy readings. 

Day 14

Damn, it is not as easy with the internet connection as I had originally thought. It takes ages to load a complicated webpage as Couchsurfing.org is and therefore it takes a lot of time and effort to arrange something. I hope I manage to find a host in Dijon; I would really appreciate having a shower after a week or so. I hope the host will not get scared away by my shabby appearance, though. Right now it is morning, I am enjoying some great sweet French stuff and will try to reach Dijon by 8 pm. That means officially 122 km, but I am estimating 140 for real due to my infamius map inconsitencies. So far I have done 45 and now it is actually the brunch time. The reason why I have breakfast so late is that I met a French veteran cyclist (82 years old) and I just did not want to look like a loser that I cannot keep up with him and talk around a little. He might have had a road bike and no luggage, but there is not point in seeking excuses supposing that he was almost 4 times older than me. What a paragon of an active pesnioner! I wish I were also bursting with energy in the later age as he was! The road is nicely flat and paved once again which allowed me to move pretty fast.

Afternoon

Today it was once again a big pursuit to get on time for my couchsurfing randez-vous in Dijon. However, this time, nothing was set for sure. The couch, Estelle, told me that she is busy, but she might be able to help me out in case I do not find anyone else. I tried to connect to the couchsurfing website for several times, but it was futile. Next time I will know that this kind of things must be arranged in advance with some decent internet connection. I had kinda known that, but the situation, as usually, did not leave me much place and time for that. Not mentioning that I have included the wrong date on the couchsurfing website and instead of coming the next day, I was coming one day earlier. I had no idea how it would turn out, but I decided to carry on with my plans as if everything was just alright.

Speaking about the roads, I think I had overpraised them because after my lunch break there was a nasty surprise awaiting  me. On the cycle map the road was marked a little bit differently, but I did not think that it would be such a polar opposite to a normal road. Well, that one was also “a normal road“ providing that you have a hammer, a tank or any heavy agriculture machinery. I would actually call this road a paradise for an adrenaline-boosted MTB biker, but it was definitely not a normal road for casual cyclist with heavy luggage as me. It is a miracle that my luggage did not fall apart as I crashed several times. This highway to hell continued for about 10 km and I had to choose between pestilent mosquitos and risking a challenging ride on the destroyed forest lane in utmost heat. Finally, when I thougt that this would never end, I ran into a normal road and there was a glimmer of hope once again that I can make it on time. A that point, however,I was not able to connect to the internet and I managed that only after 8 pm in the evening when I wrote an overly optimistic message to my supposed host that I am near Dijon and actually I mixed the dates and would be coming tonight. I was counting my chances and did not really believe that Estelle would read my message before it gets dark and thus almost impossible to find the correct way to her place of which address, by the way, I did not have, either. I parked my bike in a private lake area about 10 km from Dijon at 9 pm and my hope started to fade away. I was innerly preparing for staying at that place overnight and visiting Dijon the next day.. When I lost the last flicker of hope, I opened a bottle of wine that was meant as a present for Estelle and had my dinner that consisted of buscuits because I had nothing else besides my iron ration of power bars. Then, quite suddendly, Estelle called me back and said that it would be possible to come over at her place. The idea of a decent night sleep, having charged my laptop and cellphone batteries and meeting another couchhost sparked hopes in me to such an extent that I rode like crazy thorugh the lake labyrinth which had not surprisingly a simillar terrain as the awful road to Dijon. Until I got out of there, I happened to lose two of my T-shirts, but fortunately nothing indispansable, so I rashed into the city with a snippet of information about the address and 10% of battery on my GPS. Had my cellpone gone flat, I would have been totally screwed, but fortunately, I managed to locate her address on the map and then get there. On the way I encoutered several adventurous moments such as not respecting traffic rules, passing a supernarrow bridge from which either I or my bike could easily fall into the river from 5 metres (I would have taken a picture of that had it not been so dark and my battery had not been so flat.). I also made use of my French and mixed numbers cinquinte with quanz (15 and 50) which made looking for the right house in the dark very intresting. In the end, I arrived happily at her place and was welcomed wholeheartedly despite the late hour. It is hard to believe how much I am thankful for having a shower and charging my devices. It looks like I totally overreact by such things, but truly, no-one who has no experienced a week week in soaring heat without shower can understand that.

Day 14

So now I have it confirmed. The French bike routes are indeed easier than their counterparts in Germany and Austria. The road always meanders around some rivers or canals, is mostly flat and well paved. It is true that Austrian bike routes were also well paved, but I guess it was the tough German school in the Black Forest where I really pushed myself to the limits and in the end has become stronger an more resilient. Now I do not take break severy 30 minutes, but after every 15 km what is the equivalent of 40 minutes. My pace has changed as well – from the usual 20 km/h to around 24 km/h. Interestingly, I do not feel tired on my legs, but on my arms and feet (I think I have even a blister which is really weird supposing that I do not really walk on the ground). Anyway, French bike routes are so far easy-teasy, just like a duck soup. By the way, speaking about ducks, there are plenty of ducks along the river whose constant gaggling sometimes does not let me fall asleep. Today, I have also had a duck paste for lunch – it was delicious, indeed whicht is typical for almost all French products. I think I will buy this stuff more often. In the course of the day, I have visited two beautiful cities: Monbelierd and Besancon. For Besancon I did not have much time though because it was already getting dark and I had to go. Therefore, my whirlwind visit included only clambering on the citadel and riding in the old town. By the way, I have finally settled the problem with the internet provider so I should be able to find couch hosts easily.

Day 13

As I wiiI have mentioned, that morning, I had to wake up earlier to do some sightseeing in Basel and to buy a Swiss knife. Both of these missions became fruitless because knives were too expensive and the other side of the city did not have much to offer. I totally squandered the whole morning! I should have rather gone away earlier…..  At least, I managed to buy some food for the day. I visited a small Turhish shop as those we know fairly well in Vienna. I bought Turhish bread, cookies and a sweet bar. For 6 euros, what a rip off, but I did not care because I needed something to eat. Besides that Tuhish bread was actually quite delicious.

In the afternoon, I passed the three country bridge in Basel. That was the beginning of my long staying in France. I totally forgot that I had better brush up my French so I changed my philosophy audiobooks for language audiocourses. The first bigger city I visited in France was Mullhouse. After having been disappointed with sighseeing in Basel, I did not expect much. It was maybe better so because the city surprised me nicely with its natural, French style charm. You could clearly see that you entered another country even though it is said that Alsac is kinda mixture between the German and French culture. However, I did not have much time for both sightseeing and recharging my devices, therefore, I tried to ask with my funny French a guide in the city cathedral if I could leave my belongings there. He was quite nice and said that it would be no problem so I took the most of the situation and pulled out my laptopt and a back-up battery, too, and disappeared between he could raise any objections.

As usually, after finishing with the sights, I started looking for a McDonald or an internet caffe, but I did not find any. At least I did some shopping in an air conditioned shopping mall which was quite a relief after having been exposed to scorching temparatures for the whole day. The best moment was gulping down 1,5 l cold cherry Coke that I bought in the nearby supermarket. I gulped it down within 5 minutes and I cannot remember deriving such a delight from drinking soda. I did my sightseeing, but around 5 pm it was the high time to go. At the beginning I was quite lazy, but the 3-hour break fulfilled its purpose. I rode like frenzy 45 km with almost no brake (just to take some interesting pictures and to drink a little). I do not know where all the energy came from, but I felt so great! It was like if I were Forest Gump, like ride, Marek, ride. I got tired firstly after the 40th km when my energy started to fade away. It was quite interesting to see how long it takes to restore energy after eating some sweets. In my case, it was about 5 minutes when a few cookies made a miracle. Seriously, I would like to know how it was possible that I could ride so long without a break. Was it the super.sweet Turhish bar, those Turkish cookies or the Coke? Assuming the energetic value of all of them, probably they all count for my bike rush. In the evening I took green salad for a change to prove (myself) that I do not eat junk food only.

For the sake of biking.

You might be biking on a long road that becomes dull after some time, go through firstly fascinatig, afterwards from your point of view just another typical villages, see thousands of sunrises and sunsets and pass the river from one side to the other for another countless times. Yet, travelling is not just about what you see, but what you think about it – as your minds wanders, you se things from a different perspectives and broaden your view. That is what travelling is about. Biking, as well as walking or jogging is very good for that because you do not need to concentrate much on your riding, it goes by itself. Supposing that they re are not many challenges on the road, you can zone out and take your mind for a ride, too.