Saturday, July 2, 2011

Albi

Saturday 2 July
Just gone past 1600 miles on the odo.
Out of the Ibis hotel yesterday morning and crossed the Rhone, nowhere safe to stop and get the 'been there' pic, but this mornings hum triggered, (with a bit of poetic license),
"3 german officers crossed the Rhone, parlez vous...
Its a long climb out of the broad valley, more market garden on its floor than vineyard, but I'm soon at 1000m onto a high rocky plateau, so cool I more than once ponder getting the jacket out.
I forgot to mention the redolence of rural France, today the smell of high country pine. The ride through the Alpes was simply incredible, nearly all day in fumes of something like wysteria is it? There used to be a white florreted thing draped outside my mothers back veranda, and I've got a wattle sort of tree up my drive that has purple catkins, pretty similar fumation. There's a loud bird I dont recognise, going nuts in the purple flowered tree outside the hotel window.
The ride through Provence was similarly punctuated by the fields of lavender, like a helmet full of soap.
Host Richard, of a few nights back, has told me I need to jack up my commentaries for a wider audience, be a bit more outrageous, even bullshit some. I really enjoyed his huge gins and conversation, and didnt want to feed an impression to future guests that they could expect that of right. He's given me Peter Mayle's "Toujours Provence", a sequel to the best seller, "A Year in Provence", and hugely amusing. It's an English emigrees take on the local French characters and situations he encounters. I've just read the chapter about pharmacies. They're everywhere here, any respectable size village you pass through has its flashing green cross neon, and rural interests are well served by smart little ambulances and house call doctors.
He says I could pretend I'm someone from a foreign land taking a year settling in Whangaehu, and I could invent outrageous and comical yarns about all you people I know. Now that would be fun, names and all that bearing no reference to actual persons, of course!
I could take the nom de plume, Bierrey Crumpe....
Anyway, back to le discourse.....
fuel indicator down to the last 2 bars, time to dial GP in for nearest source de essence, I get turned up a goat track 5km, and pop up on another highway, right beside a service station, gas up, and am soon down linking to a major highway, the A75 turns out, 130k limit. Slip into the traffic, drop the Bandit into overdrive and its happily humming along at 4750 rpm, but after a couple of weeks at 60-70kmph average it feels like 300 to me.
Most of the way here to Albi now on freeway, the 300 odd km trip cut out quickly and I arrive at the hotel early for a change.
Another nice hotel booked via http://www.booking.com/, Interhotel Cantepau, the receptionist is a slightly fuller-faced dead-ringer for Sandra Bullock, she tells me her English est ne pas bon, do I parler Francais, ne probleme pas...
When the technical rapport is OK, only the doing words need filling in, hand-waving often sufficing, and I'm such an expert at hotelling en France by now, je obtenir le drift ces bien, whats even better, she shows me the underground garage where the bike will be locked away for my sojourn!
Looking out my early morning window
Smallish room, but man, do these Francais know what a good bed is, always fresh white linen, fluffy duvets like nothing I've experienced.
The wifi isnt so flash but the email works coming and going. I've run a few pings at odd stopovers, (did I mention?), and have figured, while the actual speed isnt high, I think the band width is pretty wide, as opposed to speed at home, but down a skinny pipe that stalls if your neighbour's downloading dirty movies.
Nice town Albi, I have a sundae for dinner, you dont have to eat large everywhere, great for the travel budget. I have a few beers, French 1664, at 3E a bottle, $6NZ, not outrageous by any means, I was paying that in a night out in a bar at Ellerslie couple of years ago, and you can bet Auckland and Wellington will be loading the charge for the coming RWC fiasco.
Vanille, citron, nougat et chantilly
You pick things up as you go along, across the sidewalk there's a shop headed up Kanga-ou in green and gold livery, with a joey painted on one side, restauration rapide, sur place ou emporter.
Get that? Ocker fast food, have here or takeaway, LOL

I watch a cafe-side chanteuse, is it?, girl singer, very complex lyric, both cooing and staccato, dont understand any of it except the Simon/Garfunkel number she does quite well, I down my armagnac and leave them to it.


Today, I'm giving adherence to the TdF course the boot, only 200 odd km to the next stop, and doing le cultural thing to have a gink at the St Cecile Cathedral and the Toulouse Lautrec Museum, man after my own heart, except I cant draw as well, dont have broken legs and have to use a couple of canes, and didnt die before 40 from too much dissolute boozing and womanising.

The couple of BMW tourers in the garage are cranking up, so time to go, a bientot...
Design Francais en route de Albi

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