Back to normal (nearly)
We arrive back in sunny Scotland yesterday about 11:30 am. Morag and wee Ella were at the Rosyth ferry terminal to pick us up. Thank you both very much. The last time I saw Ella, nearly 2 months ago she was a baby. Now she is like a school girl! I'm frightened to think what Megan and Patrick will look like when we see them tomorrow. I'll summarise our journey from Denia to Hamilton:
Eileen, bless her cotton socks, ran us to Gandia early on Saturday morning (09 June 2007). where we got a local train to Valencia. We had time for a coffee in Valencia before boarding the Euromed train for Barcelona. We travelled 1st class and it was very comfortable:- individual reclining seats with armrests; fresh orange served; newspapers supplied; a snack meal served (like you used to get on aeroplanes before Easyjet, remember?) and as smooth as silk, I'd swear it must have been running on rubber tyres. In Barcelona, we stayed in a very nice but bland hotel. Modern with all the facilities but definitely lacking the character of the small, local type hotels that we are used to. Still, we did make use of the roof top swimming pool - I had a brief swim followed by: a read of my book; a doze; a splutter awake, you know, when you think you are falling and you jump (I don't think I shouted out loud!), and back to my book (trying to look casual! As though I had only been straightening up my towel)! Anyway, we had 3 nights in Barcelona and did all of the usual things: La Rambla; tapas; wine; beer; Catedral - Sagrada Familia; bull fight; meals in wee local restaurants; walk along the beach. When you list things like this it sounds very ordinary. However, anyone who has been in Barcelona will know that one thing this city is not, is ordinary. Gaudi's architecture is breathtaking, I could spend a week in the Cathedral alone. The public art, which seems to be on every street corner, is just fantastic - always monumental, always original, and mainly modern. The ambiance in the city is wonderful, everyone seems relaxed, happy, stylish, cool (even in the heat). And, what a beach? Right in the heart of one of the biggest cities in Europe, a beach to rival any that I've seen. I imagine Rio must be similar. At the beach we watched a professional Beach Volley Ball tournament - apart from, maybe Rio, is there another city where you can do that within a 5 minute walk from the city centre. As you have maybe guessed, I am a big fan of Barcelona. Oh, and just like Glasgow, there are a couple of good football teams who play there!
From Barca we got a train to Montpelier. This time it was a more ordinary train, the Talgo. It was, however, very comfortable and, to my mind, much more fun than the Euromed. It was full of young "back packers". It was lively, the scenery along the way was fabulous - for long stretches we were running parallel with the Med. and we had to get up and exercise our legs by walking to a buffet car to buy a beer and a sandwich - Heavens to murgatroid! The best bit, however, was the young lad who was seated just across the aisle from us and had Touret's Syndrome. God love him, can you imagine, back packing alone across Europe when every few minutes you feel compelled to yell out things like "F***k off"? He was amazing. We think that he was from eastern Europe. We heard him speaking French and Spanish but, for some reason, his Touret outbursts were all in English. Sometimes he shouted out sentences, eg "Listen to me you f***ing bitch, I'm talking to you" or "Shut the f**k up you c**t". Of course everyone in the carriage of 25 people was studiously ignoring the outbursts, some of which were clearly triggered by people or happenings on the train. The exception was when, obviously in response to 3 young Americans, who were talking loudly, he shouted out: "Just because my mother was Catolic - not like you Protestant bastards - you and your f***ing stupid Protestant President, Bush". The whole carriage, including the 3 yanks, immediately burst into spontaneous applause and cheering. Clearly, with "Touret's" you can get away with expressing what everyone else thinks but is too polite to say. Incidentally, the 3 yanks turned out to be Canadians.
At Montpelier we picked up a hire car and set off towards Avignon. However, on the way we stopped for a drink at nice wee town called Lunel. It was beautiful and the lady at the Tourist Information really sold it to us so that we decided to stay the night. We got a room in a small hotel with a balcony overlooking the river. Absolutely idyllic. We had a walk around town, bought some things at the supermarket (including a bottle of wine), had a pleasant meal then returned to the hotel to drink the wine on the balcony.
Next day we went to Avignon (sur le pont). I was very impressed. The walled city was just lovely with beautiful buildings and lots of bars and restaurants. Apparently for a period in history there was a rival Pope (to the one in Rome) based in Avignon so there are some lovely, historic, religious buildings and, Scott Walker will like this, our hotel was in a square called "The Square of the Papes".
The next day we headed north and east towards the Alps. We carefully avoided the trunk roads and almost immediately we were driving though the most beautiful scenery imaginable. We were clearly only in the foothills of the Alps, which we could see looming ahead, but nevertheless there were some mountain passes and beautiful valleys. We stopped en route (as we say in France) for a drink in a hamlet called "St Vincent sur Jabron". It was a lovely wee place but the real reason that we stopped was because the bar was named "Bar Chez Betty" and Ev had to get her picture taken under the sign (we have friend called Betty, in case you're wondering what the significance is). We spent the night in Briancon, surrounded by high Alps. This town had clearly hosted a stage if the Giro (the Tour of Italy) as there were loads of references to this cycle race. Also today and tomorrow we were to see indications that the Tour de France was to pass through next month.
On Thursday we headed for Alpe D' Huez, the legendary stage finish regularly used in the Tour de France. The run was superb: In the high Alps; mid June; snow on the peaks; glaciers; road clinging to the mountain; surprisingly little traffic; the coldest looking, steely grey rivers rushing along and the approach to Alpe D' Huez:- 21 hairpin bends,over 13 km, rising at a 6% gradient, loads of cyclists testing themselves on the climb and the stage finish line at the top (complete with the winner's podium). Needless to say, I had my picture taken and I bought a souvenir sun hat. After a drink in the bar at the top we headed off to Macon. This town describes itself as the gateway to the south. Unfortunately, we were going north and I was sorry to be leaving the south of France. However, we found a beautiful, traditional hotel and at night we had a great meal in a back street cafe - no menu, take what you're given; out in the street because there was only room for 2 tables in the bar; wine served in a jug with a crack in it (and, something we had a few times, red wine served chilled). The food was great, the service was great and the French patter was obviously great because the other 4 customers were talking and laughing loudly (maybe at us!).
Friday, we headed to Reims despite taking over an hour to get out of Macon as we got lost. In Reims we got a hotel on the semi pedestrianised main street with a balcony, which was perfect for people watching, above a bar. I liked Reims. The Cathedral, yet another Notre Dame, was awesome - the scale, the design, the stained glass, the detail all wonderful. And it also somehow managed to feel serene and quiet,despite the crowd of tourists. We sat outside a restaurant, ordered some food and drink and, before we were served, had to run inside to avoid a downpour.
Lille: Saturday. I did not like Lille. I kept trying to give it the benefit of doubt because our first impressions were influenced by the fact that the weather was terrible and our hotel was basic (the beds were clean, is probably the most praiseworthy thing you could say about it). But, in the end I simply did not like it. There is a long story about the car park, the rudeness of the people (some of them anyway) and the general lack of ambiance but I'll not go into that here - mainly because this has turned into "War and Peace" already and I can't be bothered. I should say, in its defence, we had a lovely meal and the staff at the train station could not have been more helpful and informative.
Next day we got a train to Brugge. When I was 20 my brother Paul and I hitch hiked up through France, into Luxembourg and through Belgium. I did not like Belgium. However, I have changed my mind. Cycling southwards through it at the beginning of May I really liked it and now I found Brugge quite stunning - if a little twee and "chocolate boxy". Everyone speaks English, in the towns at least, the buildings are fantastic, the place is clean and tidy and the restaurant, bars and hotels are of a really high standard. Brugge is an ideal place for a weekend break. We looked at all the historic buildings (as you do), we went on a boat ride, we did the bus tour, but really the best thing was drinking the great beer beside a canal and people watching. Our hotel was perfect, I think the best one that we stayed in, and it was good to be able to unpack and hang clothes as we stayed for 3 nights.
Back on the ferry yesterday and spent yesterday afternoon and today washing, ironing, checking and dealing with mail and tidying the garden. It's all very well swanning around Europe for a couple of months but eventually there is a price to pay. I don't start back to work until the first Tuesday in July so I can ease myself gradually into some sort of routine. My bike has still not been delivered home but I have cleaned, oiled and greased the old machine so, hopefully, I'll get out for a wee run. Apart from that the holiday is well and truly over. I'll just have to think up some other wee adventure to keep me occupied.
Signing off, for the last time,
Michael, Dad, Granda, Mike, etc.
