Metz, in conclusion: What a riot!

30/10/10


Reims, France


Another day, another dollar, eh Donnigan? That's right, though we should really convert to the Euro, all things considered. Speaking of things, Sean and I have made some progress in our inexorable march southward. Alright, most of this last part has been due west, but you've got to spend money to have spent money. What does all this mumbo jambalaya mean, precisely? Well listen up and hear the tale (of murder and mys-ter-y)...

Our final day in Metz did not disappoint, and following our trip to the local bike shop (brakes have that name for a reason) we followed an angry mob out to the train station for some good old fashioned French demonstrating. OK, the protesters could hardly be called a mob, and they were far from angry. Most of them were between 40 and 60 and each of them carried either a flag or a beer. The atmosphere thus was one of a party or social gathering more than a down-with-the-government let's-start-breaking-windows attitude. But I'll give them this: the French know how to fit explosions into peaceful demonstrations. A man with a gas can concealing a bit of gunpowder would light the thing off every five minutes. At first, yes, this was quite startling; but after seven or eight BOOM!s, I was just annoyed. Just plain annoyed. But what was a lad to do? So I stepped back in line and started singing along to the lady with the megaphone, periodically raising my fist in feigned anger/angst (angster). The highlights of this march included: one trip to the post office, where everything has seemingly become automated (except for the man whose job is to explain the electronic process);




Ah, Sarko, you penis face you...





a group of badly dressed teenagers who shouted in unison about how terrible the government was, all the while looking around with the most sheepish of grins on their faces; one stop in the fromagerie, where we secured some fromage chevre and some tomme de savoie (with a rind that is straight, pure mold); a walk past the group of the march directly responsible for lighting flares and then throwing their half-finished remains in the streets, kicking them once for good measure (I'm sure they were qualified); and finally, a rally at the end of the march where one man spoke over a loudspeaker, but I couldn't see him due to some badly placed poles, and the crowd continued its socializing throughout.

But at least they try! At least this gives the aura of direct democracy.

One last night with Mark in Metz, watching some more bad cinema, eating some additional tonnes of pasta and chocolate, and then we took off the next morn after a big breakfast of Sean's handcrafted French toast. Getting out of Metz wasn't too tricky, but the unexpected climb caught us off guard a bit, as did the pristine weather (finally getting to the double digits and showering us with UV rays!). At least that steep rise brought about that unique feeling that we were on top of the world. The landscape of this part of France includes vast stretches of green farm fields that stretch on for miles. It would resemble New York, but the hills do not have that rolling component; it would remind me of North Dakota save the civilization and the climbs we encountered. I enjoyed the scenery, though, especially on such a beautiful day.

Unfortunately, all was not well in the Body Compartment. You see, the previous five days went something like this: 3 mile run, getting calves sore as always; 100 mile ride; rest; 100 mile ride; rest. This much work with such little rest (really, I could have done without the run) led to my right calve becoming extremely sore to the point of being in great pain. The intensity of the rides to Strasbourg must have taken their toll on my legs and caused a strain or some other sort of overuse injury. We had to cut the ride short and set up camp in a field just outside of Verdun due to the trouble I was having in keeping the pain down.

That night, we slept for ten hours, which is quite normal when we're camping out and the sun takes about 14 hours to complete its journey around the other side of the Earth. It wasn't the best of sleeps due to the constant noise of the giant windmills across the way (those things are fairly noisy, if you have never actually met a windmill; also very amicable entities, they are). One of the most certain methods for producing that terrible sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach is to awake in a tent just as the rain begins; not before and not after, but simultaneously, as though on command. Luckily, the rain abated long enough for us to take the tent down and pack up to leave, but unfortunately, the rain was not over today, not by a long shot. Furthermore, the calve pain, which I feel at the very top of the gastroc and almost at the back of the knee, spread to the left calve in the exact same location. Ay de mi Alhama! Needless to say, considering the rain and the pain, today's ride was unpleasant and arduous. As Sean pointed out, it would have been a very scenic route if not for the gray skies and constant precipitation. But you roll with the punches and smile in spite of it all, I reckon.

One aspect we neglected today was proper nutrition, which caused us to bonk a mere 15 kilometers from our eventual destination of Reims. Ah, and this is where the traffic naturally picks up, creating a potentially dangerous situation. But a quick shot of honey and a few minutes to steady the old hands and legs did us a load of good, and we eventually made it to Reims. After checking into the hostel, we checked out the city center, which boasts a huge pedestrian street lined with shops, bakeries, and... frozen food grocery stores? That's right, folks: Sean and I encountered our first (and, I hope, last) 100% frozen food grocer. When all you want is some meat and cheese, this is your sworn enemy. Beware. But following this pointless detour, we stumbled upon the cathedral, which boasts chandeliers inside and some sick stained glass, the likes of which I have never before seen. It's a shame that the pictures can't capture the intensity of the red, yellow, and deep blue shards arranged geometrically to maximize beauty. It's also a shame there was scaffolding on the outside of this cathedral. Europe is the #1 bigdog for scaffolding and scaffolding products (#4 in scaffolders, though, which are 2-pocket folders with pictures of scaffolding on them).

As the clock ticks away to midnight (it's very loud), Sean and I are preparing for bed, a complimentary petite dejaunee, and a bit shorter of a ride tomorrow. Ah, I'm not sure how well I'll be able to sleep with this lump of food in my belly - this delicious, delicious food (what food, you ask? beef/broc/mushroom stir fry, quinoa/grain medley, morbier cheese & complete wheat bread, pumpkin soup, and some Leffe beer... do try Leffe - it is wonderful). Next time, if all goes as planned, I shall be reporting from Paris, a mere 160 km distant (but two full days of riding, I'm sure). Until then, keep the eyes, ears, and mind open and pointed to the distant shores!