Welcome to France. The land that made Caesar’s career, the country that gave us Charlemagne, a place where you cannot name your pig Napoleon. A country famous for its wine, its cheese, and its general sophistication. A country where if I listen to something I partially understand ‑which happens very often‑, I automatically consider it to be Polish so I answer accordingly.
Welcome to the Loire valley, where our trip has just been born. The land of the two hundred châteaux, where faithful to its historical background, things escalate quickly. A land where, once more, one of the biggest features of last year’s trip, that feeling of having too many memories in too little time, just took its place as well.
Welcome to the Chateaux of Nantes, Angers, Saumur, Chinon, Azay-le-Rideau, de l’islette, the-one-we-will-never-see Ussé, Tours, Chenonceaux, Amboise, Chaumont-sur-Loire, Blois, and Chambord. And count on the gorgeous cathedrals of Orleans and Chartres as well, where we met a memorable man at Chartres who happened to be a church architect and restorer and who is a close friend of my tourist guide at Salisbury two years ago, to whom we talked about churches for hours.
This time I’m making way less pictures and complaints, and I’m more bike proficient ‑not only I got a more audacious driving, but I also got knowledgeable of the mechanics-. I’m looking forward for what made last time memorable: the anecdote, and not the site. Being invited to a castle in St-Michel-sur-Loire and received by an old old man with an outstanding set of anecdotes and sense of humour was highly valuable to an extent that made me stay an extra night, so we spent the French National day there, drinking Loire wine. The way there got us lost through a proper highway I did not remotely like, so we escaped through a jungle Jorge did not remotely like, and we found our way to Azay through a forest I indeed appreciated.
A lot of energies ‑and fun!- has been to push Jorge into a thousand of bike tricks and agilities ‑and into speed, for God’s sake!: after all, in a bike, your needs are different. You complain about holes bigger than your wheels on the ground, or strong wind against, everything else is just secondary. I admit enjoying his “Sargent” nickname.
Oh, enjoy yourself, the highway we just tried to escape: https://youtu.be/BtACGWvpz1Q
Welcome to Paris, a city Jorge was reluctant to visit ‑he already did an Erasmus here- and where now he’s obliged to accompany us for quite a while.
Last days of the route gave us beautiful cathedrals, but castigated us with the scourge of Helios: over forty degrees on our heads blackened our skins to an interesting point. We passed by Versailles, the entrance to Paris was completely peaceful in contrary to what everybody warned, and now we are just waiting for Leon.
Oh dear, here comes the one missing.
Eiffel Tower, Paris.
Ante dies XIII Kal. Avg. MMDCCLXIX A.V.C.