Cycling in Paris Part 2

July25th was our departure date, and we had the car packed and ready to leave
home at one in the morning. Our bikes were secured to the tow bar mounted bike
rack on the rear. The inside was packed with suitcases, bags and panniers full
of everything we would need. Quite possibly the kitchen sink may have made its
way into the luggage. I drove through the night to Dover and we got there just
as the dawn was cracking over the English Channel. Vernon took the opportunity
to sleep whilst I drove, as he would do the driving from Calais down to Paris,
with me navigating that part. We had arrived in Dover in good time for the
Seacat crossing and I took the opportunity to drink in the dawn sea air and
chase a seagull across the car park. Whilst waiting, I noticed how clever the
sparrows of Dover had become. The sparrows had discovered how to take advantage
of the food supplies to be found attached to the front bumpers, number plates,
lights and bonnets of stationary cars. The food supply consisted of all the
insects that had met their doom by impacting on the front of cars. This is a
sought after food supply by Dover sparrows. Quite clever of them to have worked
that one out and a great example of how a species will make the most of
opportunities opened up to it in the strangest places. I mused about which bird
had first come across this ample food source and how many generations of
sparrows had now utilised the supplies presented to them.

The early morning Seacat appeared and we drove on board. How the cars are
packed into the hull of these things! Our car was right inside the prow of the
boat, complete with limited headroom when we got out of it. It sank in
(probably not the best choice of words) that there were only a couple of inches
of steel between our bikes and the cold waters of the Channel. The crossing was
not the best one we've experienced. There was a strong crosswind and one of the
Seacat engines was down. The result was much lurching and swaying of the boat,
with many a passenger looking a little green about the gills. On the plus side,
the crossing only lasted an hour, so it wasn't an unbearable experience. It was
just an unpleasant one.

After disembarking at Calais, Vernon took over the driving and just before we
got on to French roads, he had the sound of Nathan and I nagging, sorry,
reminding him that it was now to be "A droit! A droit!" or "On the right! On
the right!" Both Vernon and I have driven in Europe before, as we took our
bikes to Tuscany the year before. We drove down there for a two-week holiday
with bikes attached to back of the car. It was our first attempt at a holiday
with bikes. We'd also driven to and around Austria a few years previously. It
only takes a little while to settle into driving on the wrong side of the road.
The worst bit I find is negotiating roundabouts by going the wrong way around
them. I never get entirely comfortable going around European roundabouts in the
car! Vernon got us out of Calais and I navigated us on to the road to Paris. We
had a couple of stops on the way down and got to Paris early afternoon. Driving
so far had been easy. Then we came to Paris. Oh dear. Somehow we managed to get
stuck in St. Denis and seemed to be going around and around in circles, not
able to get out of it in the direction we needed to be. Eventually we managed
it and got to the banks of the Seine. This is where we discovered that to drive
in Paris is a foolhardy thing to do. There were no rules of the road as regard
giving way or who has priority at junctions. It was each driver for his or
herself. I admit by now I was worried about cycling round the city as many a
junction we had come to we found gridlock as drivers fought for space with no
thought about other drivers.

Eventually we found our hotel. Phew! I was tired as I'd driven through the
night and then navigated us to Paris and by now it was late afternoon. We
parked the car in the hotel garage (12 Euros per day to park the car), signed
in at the hotel reception, got the keys to our suite, transported suitcases up
to it and then put our bikes in the hotel secure garage ("No charge pour les
vélos, Madam!"). Our suite was great, but also quirky. Nice big double bedroom
for Vernon & I, bathroom, loo, and big living room with huge sofa-bed for
Nathan, TV, mini-bar and, kitchen area. But no kettle: we had to pay a 100 Euro
deposit for that. There was no plug in the kitchen sink, no complimentary tea
or coffee (so much for a four star hotel), a fridge, a microwave, and a
chopping board stuck down to the worktop next to the sink. All very, well,
different. By the time I unpacked our suitcases it was time to eat, so we went
down to the hotel bar where there was an informal eating area alongside. Vernon
and I had delicious seafood salads and Nathan had a French burger. Then Vernon
and Nathan had a tarte tatin each and I had a crème caramel. We followed this
by having an early night.

Saturday morning arrived and we got up and dressed in cycling kit. Today was
the day we needed to cycle into the centre of Paris, down to the Ecole
Militaire where we would find a Tour Village for the Randonnée participants. In
the hotel foyer, I sat down and examined my street map of Paris to work out how
I would get us to our destination of the morning. I was to be chief navigator
once more, as the map would be encased on the top of my bar bag. At this point,
an American voice, in a Texan drawl said, "Excuse me, but are you doing the
Randonnée?" No, it wasn't Lance Armstrong himself, it was Larry from Texas, who
was also over here to do the Randonnée but due to postal delays between France
and the States, did not have his instruction leaflet with him. Luckily we had a
spare, so we gave him this. Larry had just got here after cycling all the
mountain stages of the Tour, and I felt incredibly exhausted just listening to
his tales of doing such mad feats. Vernon, Nathan and I got our bikes out of
the hotel garage and set off for the centre of Paris. I was apprehensive
leading the way. I'm not exactly greatly experienced in cycling in a major city
never mind cycling in a European capital city and our driving experience of the
previous day did unnerve me. I shouldn't have worried. Cycling in Paris on the
main roads was an absolute dream. The motorists who had appeared aggressive the
day before had completely changed now I was on a bike. Courtesy was everywhere
with drivers giving us space. What an eye opener! I navigated us successfully
to the Ecole Militaire with only the odd minor detour as a result of working
around one-way roads. At the Ecole Militaire, a large area of the Parc du Champ
de Mars was allocated to becoming a "village" for the Tour and Randonnée riders
in particular. On showing our Randonnée ID bracelets we were each given a
yellow jersey, retro style, with "Randonnée du Centenaire" in blue letters
across the front. All participants in the following morning's main event would
be wearing these. There was also a multitude of stalls giving out free
souvenirs; little bags of sweets, hats, bags, cheeses. Tell me, why would
anyone want to queue for an hour for a snack size portion of Camembert?
Cyclists were everywhere to be seen and the crowds seemed to be fighting for
souvenirs. A man speaking French very quickly and very loudly thrust a
microphone in my face and asked me lots of things in French which I didn't
understand. My schoolgirl French, even rustier than my schoolgirl German, came
into play. I excused myself, politely, for not understanding all that was being
asked. I heard the man say "Enchanté, Madame." to me, so I am sure I did not,
at least, cause a regretful international incident. An elderly French lady,
complete in elegant dress, highly made-up, bouffant hair and with her tiny
poodle in tow came up to me and started chatting away in French (a lot of this
went on, anyone would think I was in France). I made my apologies again, but
this did not deter her. I whipped out my pocket sized French dictionary and
managed to work out she was asking me why all of these people were wandering
about with bicycles and carrying yellow jerseys. So I told her about the
Randonnée and she seemed quite excited at the prospect of ten thousand
international amateur cyclists cycling round her home city the following
morning. At this point I heard Nathan ask his Dad, "Dad, why does Mum always
manage to get people coming up to her like this? How does she do it?" I was
about to mention my natural charm (!) but I think I heard "Loony on the bus
syndrome" being mentioned by Vernon. Trouble was I think Vernon may have meant
that I was that loony.

After that we set off on our bikes again to cycle around Paris. We found the
Champs Elysées and had coffee in a little café just off the main thoroughfare.
I photographed Vernon and Nathan sat together at a table outside the café and
the photograph now adorns my computer desktop, a daily reminder of our visit to
Paris for the Tour centenary. Off again, we even cycled round the L'Arc de
Triomphe with traffic rushing all around but all giving us much more space than
traffic in the UK. I was absolutely delighting in this; cycling here was just
so easy compared to cycling in traffic back home. I fell in love with Paris on
a bicycle.

On arriving back at the hotel we bumped into Larry from Texas again. He too had
noticed how cycle-friendly the traffic was compared to his experience of
cycling in Texas traffic where, he said, it is not unusual for motorists to
deliberately aim at a cyclist with the intention of pushing the cyclist off the
road. Rather than eat again in the hotel restaurants, we wandered out into the
Paris evening and found a little corner shop selling groceries. We bought
breads, meats, fruits, juices and wines and took these back to our suite. We
ate whilst watching the events of that day's Tour stage on Eurosport with a
commentary not in English.

The next morning we were up bright and early. Dressed with our yellow jerseys
on and ate a mighty breakfast in the hotel restaurant to keep us going for the
rest of the day. I have to admit, I was as excited as a child going to see
Santa Claus at the thought of doing this Randonnée! Nathan had on his CSC team
jersey under his Randonnée jersey, as he was supporting Tyler Hamilton, the
American CSC rider who had broken his collarbone on the first stage of the Tour
and was still cycling in spite of his injury. We were planning to watch the
Tour main event on the streets of Paris once the Randonnée was over and Nathan
wanted to make sure he was supporting his favourite rider.


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