'PARLEZ VOUS ANGLAIS? 'Thwack! '
Tuesday 08:12 - Main Road into Clairac
"Look, I'm not sure this relationship is going anywhere ", I said
No reply from Vinnie
"I had high hopes that you might make my cycling more interesting, but I really don't think so,quite honestly I think I was better off on my own"
No reply from Vinnie
"OK then, look I'm going to have to 'kick you into touch'"
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| Where is everybody? |
I've been in France for two and a half weeks weeks now and was thinking that I might enjoy the company of a' Fun Chum'; but as I haven't found one I decided to try the virtual opponent on my Garmin (who I named Vinnie) , but we didn't really get on.
I've been surprised by the lack of other cyclists on the road; not that I mind really, I quite enjoy the solitude - it makes a contrast to the group riding of the BBR etc, and gives me chance to take things in and ride at my own pace. Having said that, I have seen some other cyclists who looked French and a bit 'cool', but I thought chasing after them shouting : 'Palez vous anglais?' would be really 'uncool'.
I have become friendly with a guy who walks past my house tout la jours. We have been 'chatting' and he told me he is 81 and has had heart surgery, 'deux valve'. He is the real deal - beret wearing, and with typical French politeness and formality, introduced himself as monsieur....(I didn't catch his surname) , after 'flagging' me down to apologise for walking on the wrong side of the road. Upon pressing him he told me his name was Ernest. I, for one, like this French formality. Even delivery drivers shake your hand, and when shopping in Carrefour the other day the cashier took my shopping (12 bottles of '2 for 1' 14% wine) to my car for me without me even asking. Maybe I'm just an old git, but I hate been addressed as 'mate' by a salesperson , or the one that really gets me is 'there you go', as some pimpley youth hands me the item I have just spent a lot of money on (yes, I'm definitely an ol' b@stard.)
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| BB appreciates the excellent French mapping system |
'Jeeze, yer just can't get fecking lost over here, every fecking road leads somewhere '
At the the time he said this I thought he was just being flippant, but I now understand what he meant: every road has a sign saying where it leads and every road leads somewhere; in England I find there are more unsigned roads and some roads do seem to go nowhere in particular. Over here even if a road leads just to a couple of houses it names the houses or names of the people that live there. Subsequently, we don't have a road name or house name/number just Mr and Mrs Buss and the name of the village. It must be a nightmare for post men/women.
One of my regular rides is the Grateloup loop. It is actually a very challenging ride - I feel it is similar to the Hard Riders course - about the same distance but with more climbing. Starting from my house there is a swift run down the hill, followed by a right turn and then it is pretty much up hill all the way to the top of the Valley, with a few up and downs, and then an exhilarating 'blast' back down to the valley floor. Half way down is a cemetery which always gives me the creeps - bathed in mist the other morning it could have been where Michael Jackson filmed 'Thriller'.
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| Creepy cemetery |
The start of the drop down from Laparade is like a typical alpine (or Majorcan) descent (although much shorter) ; sharp hairpin bends where you can see down to the next level to check for oncoming cars. Once down to the valley bottom there is a straight run into Clairac where I collect my breakfast. Tying my goodies to the handlebars I then have only a mile to cycle home. I have to say though that this is the toughest part of the route. Chez moi is halfway up a really steep hill and then the turn into our house is an even steeper ride over loose gravelly stuff up to the the front door. I have to really grit my teeth and 'go for it' normally the wheels skid and I just about make it and then flop exhausted over my bike, gasping for breath. I am well aware that this sounds melodramatic, but trust me it ain't easy. If you carry on past my house to the top of the hill where there lurks a villa (owned by Germans, apparently) you encounter a 'mother' of a climb. It is similar to the top part of Horsewalk, but much worse! My success rate is only about 50% and I am now quite scared of tackling it all. I have tried to show the hieght gain in the photo taken from my garden , but not very successfully. Incidently, Ernest includes getting to the top as part of his daily itinerary.
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| The mist enhances the beauty of the French countryside |
It is a very beautiful route, sometimes the valley below is clothed in mist and sometimes it's the top of the valley that is misty. I never really see any people, but there is no lack of dogs. They come in all shapes and sizes, but all have one thing in common: they hate me. The other day there was a small dog lying in the middle of the road totally preoccupied in licking something (like they do) , he spotted me and with back leg still pointing forward, he let out an over excited yelp, before rolling forward onto all 4 legs and giving chase.
'Bog off, t@sser ' I said as I guided him away with my left leg.
This part of France is given over to agriculture, so the only animals you see are in private small holdings. There are a few sheep in the garden close to us where the owners also have a sheep dog who spends his days running up and down the other side of the fence trying to round them up - I'm not sure dogs are quite as smart as we give them credit for.
Since spending time here I have been very happy with the response we have received from the natives. You do hear stories from some Brits (probably ones who never been here) :
'They hate us, you know, they call us 'Roast Beefs? '.
So what? We call them 'Frogs'.
Mind you, this description of us is not without foundation. There is a great deli in Clairac where they do amazing home cooking that you can take away in a box. Passing by the other day I saw a blackboard outside saying :' Roti Boeuf '.' I fancy that I thought, but could I, in all seriousness, as an English man go in there and ask for roast beef?. I had a dilemma; fan the flames of French stereotyping, or walk out with some delicious slices of roast beef? - it was a 'no brainer' :
'Un portion de lasagne et pomme dauphenoise, s'il vous plait, monsieur '
Well, there's such a thing as pride, if I had gone for the beef it would have been like a French man going into' Next' at Glynde Gap and asking for a beret. Incidentally, the food was lovely and the rhum de ba ba, which I chose for desert, was awesome.
Our neighbours, Jean-Michelle and Kathy, have been really nice. Jean-Michelle is a drummer in a local band; he has extra large turnups on his jeans and a quiff, and would make a good arts correspondent for BBC 2. On the other side of us is a farmer who doesn't really like me : I tried to have a conversation, but he just grunted ; this isn't surprising because he does look a bit like a pig, I think his mum cross bred with a sanglier. Vicki thinks he doesn't like me because he went past our garden on his tracteur last summer just after I had been skinny dipping in our pool (TMI, I know) ,but I had slipped back into my speedos by then (which would have been even worse!)
I think the secret of not looking a total kn@b over here is to avoid' launching in' with Parlez vous anglais? at the 'drop of a hat'.
I go to great lengths to avoid this, and other cringe worthy words and phrases, such as :
'Coffee au lait ',' crusty bread' and, worst of all 'Franglais' ( English with a French accent.)
It is better to attempt something in French even if it sounds rubbish; apparently they find this quite endearing; this also works the other way around, par example :
I was trying to explain to Corrine, the wife of the guy who will be doing our fencing, that I was concerned about where our water supply was buried and was struggling to find the words. Eventually she understood :
'Oh you mean zee watter peep? '
This had us both in hysterics.
I always keep a potato in a old sock to remind me to avoid using the ' Parlez... ' phrase. And if I have to use it I normally precede it with some humility, such as:
' I apologise, but I have not yet mastered the intricacies of your most noble and poetic language but' :
'Parlez vous Anglais....' I then swing the sock around the back of my head as a reminder! 'Thwack'.
I have had a busy but enjoyable time here and have completed all my 'assigned'
tasks : new terrace, island unit in the kitchen, getting John Deere repaired etc, and have also loved the lack of wind and traffic. I'm really looking forward now to seeing Vicki and Poppy soon, and catching up with my HSLCC chums.
Peter Buss
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