Incense, incessant, insensed
Incense. This, mingled with cigarette smoke was a constant presence whilst we stayed in the air bnb near Bayonne. It was an interesting experience all round. The whole of Bayonne was populated with people wearing white T shirts and red neckerchiefs. In the end, I asked our host why. It turned out that there was a festival for the whole weekend in Bayonne. I learnt that it was to involve much singing, dancing and drinking but my French comprehension didn't stretch to the reason for looking like a cross between sailors and cheerleaders. However, the other guests in this house were young. It doesn't matter how much we like to think that we're 'down with the kids', we just aren't. The revellers returned at regular intervals throughout the night, ranging from the considerate to the 'too anebriated to care'. There was never more than a two hour gap and we completed the sequence by getting up at 7am.
incessant. The day was how I hoped it would be. One, giant but excellent cycle path going due north to our next destination, Mimizan. Right from the start, we saw cyclists every 500 yards at most, ranging from keen looking young people in all the gear to whole families with kids either on their own bikes or in trailers. There was also a great many power assisted bikes. Some of these are beginning to blur the lines between power assisted bikes and full blown electric motor bikes. We saw very many young fit looking people on these hurtling along. My thoughts about this are probably best reserved for other irascible and cantankerous people of more mature years....
We cycled over 100K today. (That sounds more impressive than 64 miles) The first 30 miles were full of interest. Little 'flesh pots' cropped up regularly where you paid prices for coffee as exorbitant as you do in the the UK, and many distracting twists and turns helped keep the interest as we negotiated the always excellent cycle path.
The second 30 something miles were the incessant bit. Miles and Miles of nothing except tall trees and deafening cicadas. I've never heard such volume from a single cicada. And there were lots of them. We were thrilled, at one point, to reach a bend in the track. We savoured it. And here's the thing, this track goes up the coast for the whole 60 miles but we never saw the sea. Not once! We knew that, at times, we were tantalisingly close but never did we spy the big blue wobbly thing.
Insensed. well, slightly cheesed off, anyway. After cycling this track forever, we reached our destination, a static caravan in a holiday park. On arriving, we rang Monique, as instructed. A little woman, completely clad in white appeared and marched us off to our caravan. I attempted conversation in my best franglais but to no avail. She opened the door of our caravan and was gone. The caravan is pretty grubby and much of it is broken. The hot water didn't work. It took an hour for that to be put right but it is intermittent now, at best. I asked the man in the 'welcome' cabin at the entrance if there was WiFi? "Non!" Said with such vengeance, I wondered if my French had let me down and I had asked for his wife??
We have now bought and consumed a very good pizza made on the premises. It's surprising what a very good pizza made on the premises can do to improve moods. The sun is hiding behind cloud. We are happy to be sitting out on the veranda and contemplating the day. These days are certainly growing times, much to Kate's disappointment when it comes to the whiskers on my chin.
So you safely negotiated the 100km cycle ride; the caravan looks better than it actually was; the pizza was better than you imagined it to be; and you didn't have a fight with the owner when you mistakenly asked for his Mrs!! Sounds like you're having a great time! 😎 x
ReplyDeleteKeep practicing the franglais 🤣
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