Cycle complete!
France. My final foreign country on this journey and finally it was time to put into practice the only foreign language I can speak; French. Not that I'm fluent in it, however I've got a good enough grasp that I can explain what I'm doing, where I'm going, what I like/dislike, so can keep up conversation pretty decent when about in France. First day I got here I had been reciting in my head the best way to ask someone if they wouldn't mind refilling my water bottles. Thankfully when I asked this lovely man gardening this question 'en francais' he understood perfectly, and even returned with an extra 2L bottle of iced water out of the freezer on top of the 3 bottles I already gave him! I joked to him about where was I going to find space to put the extra bottle but I found a spot alright. So with 6L of water, which is in fact far more than I've ever carried at any point in my entire trip, I set off back into the fabulous french countryside to a jovial shout of 'Bon Courage!' coming from the gardening gentleman.
The next day as I was climbing a hill outside the large town of Saint Quentin a young man in a car beckons me over to stop for a chat. 'Parles Tu francais?' He asks to which I reply 'Oui, mais pas beaucoup.' (Yes, but not a lot.) Seeing my flag Irish flag fluttering we continue our conversation 'en anglais' and after learning the basics of what I was doing, he generously invites me to dine with him and his family for lunch at his farm house up the road. He quickly produces a pen, draws a map including the names of some villages, a roundabout and says to just pop in when I get there. Warmly thanking him for this surprising and welcome invite I press on for a half hour, following his directions carefully and reaching his house without any mishaps. Then as I enter the beautifully crafted iron gates I cycle into the courtyard of this wonderfully typical old french manor house, complete with 12 large rectangular windows complete with open wooden shutters, grand stone stairs up to the front door encased with tumbling ivy amid a scattering of blossoming shrubs to give a very pretty picture indeed. A row of outhouses ran off to the left of the house, and although empty now one could imagine them having being filled with cattle stall, horses and hay. If you Googled 'Old French Manor House' I'm pretty sure something similar to this would appear. Matthieu, for that was the young man's name, came out to greet me and although he spoke english well after 2 years spent working in South Africa, his father and 2 brothers whom I would later meet, would have next to no english and so any conversation with them would have to all be conducted in French. There's something strangely satisfying at being able to successfully converse in a foreign language, I think that's born into any traveller at whatever level of the foreign language they may speak; and it wasn't long upon entering the house that Matthieu's father came over to greet me and ask many questions of my trip. He brought me to a giant map of the world hanging on a wall and for the next 15 minutes we chatted about my route, some interesting things about the different places and also noting some pinpoints on the map I in turn inquiring about the many places that he had also voyaged to. Trying to focus your mind to understanding a foreign language is surprisingly taxing and it was with some relief that we made our way back to the kitchen where I was able to revert to english again when speaking to Matthieu. Meanwhile Matthieu had created a tantilisingly tasty looking spicy chicken curry along with a pan of fried green beans smothered in mascarpone cheese and butter. If there's one thing I've taken from french food so far, when it comes to enjoying meals, there's very little room for low fat. Here, it's 'All in!' and enjoyment is paramount rather than counting calories, although I must admit this was an all lads affair so perhaps it may be a bit biased. Anyhow out to the garden we went, where a 6 person pine table sat in amongst a circle of Hydrangeas. In total there were 5 of us sitting down including; Matthieu, his 2 younger brothers, his father and myself. Traditionally for lunch we began with a few typical crusty, crunchy baguettes alongside 2 pates, one of salmon and the other of pork, if I remember correctly. All I remember is, they were good! Next to come out of the kitchen came the aromatic spicy chicken and the green beans. These as you can imagine didnt take long to devour with 5 hungry men around! Finally for 'Dessert' we had more baguettes although this time with cheese, namely Brie and a local harder cheese, whose name escapes me at present. I guess it wouldn't be France if I failed to mention the array of drinks on display. From red to white wines, ciders, to fresh juices the drinks make up as much a part of the meal as the food itself, most of it being produced locally. As we ate, the conversation flowed freely, and mainly in the language of french so it was good to practice it some more. During lunch I learned that the Father had been to Ireland in 2003 as part of a tour group and had taken some video footage of the trip. And so after lunch we headed to the sitting room to re-watch the footage most of which was stereotypical Ireland. There were painted sheep, stone walls, the cliffs of Moher and the Burren were visited and there was rain, lots of rain! Their final night appeared to be spent in an Irish Bar drinking Guinness and listening to live trad music so you could say they got the full works! And so after a few photos with the bike it was time to pedal on again towards Amiens. Hard to believe it is just 600kms to go till the ferry port in Brittany and then it'll be back to Ireland. Let's hope I'll bring this sunny french weather with me!
1 Comment
Brendan Lyons
9/2/2016 11:09:47
The last lap. I am just nominating you to the Sports Editor of the Southern Star who is looking for 50 local sportspeople – https://twitter.com/KieranMcC_SS/status/771457430194626560
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The AuthorName: Daniel Ross Top Tips:
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