Language matters in this land of fairy-tale castles

“I made a mistake.”

Neil sits down at the table and my mind works. What mistake? Coming to Europe on this trip? Coming to Europe on this trip with me? Taking two months off for a holiday?

What?

I look at the tray he has just set down and burst out laughing. He went to get a coffee. He’s come back with two. Somewhere there’s been a language/communication failure. Just as well he really likes coffee.

Language is awesome. It’s the way most of us connect and communicate. When we try to do it in a language we are not well-versed in, strange things can happen. Like going to get a coffee and coming back with two. There would have been a transaction: him ordering in fractured French, her confirming in French only, him agreeing and paying. Her coming back with two cups. If both were communicating in the same language he would have said, “No, sorry, I only wanted one coffee.” She would have said, “Oh sorry,” and tipped out one of the coffees and charged for one. When you don’t speak a common language, you as the one who is lacking sucks up the mistakes. For the price of a cup of coffee, you shrug and get on with life.

But I did laugh.

Getting out of Angers means a long ride through city streets which is something we’re not used to on this trip (apart from the hell ride in Paris). On the way out as we are riding along a road with a well-marked and well-respected bike path we come across what must be the local equivalent of a council worker sweeping the dust off the cyclist symbol in a bike path. It is like Australian council workers of old – all that is missing is a bloke leaning on a shovel watching. We are certainly not in Australia now!

Once we escape the confines of Angers city, we are on a quiet road making great time when we pass a young man walking along the road pushing a bike with a flat rear tyre. We turn back to help him; one day it might be us needing help. The guy seems a bit clueless,. He’s travelling with no spare tube, no tools. He has.a huge nail in his tyre which has pierced all the way through the tube, puncturing both sides. We use up two patches on his tube and it still won’t stay inflated. We tried to help; he keeps on walking to the train station and we continue on.

The state of the route varies today from fast sealed roads to bumpy goat tracks. At times we eschew the goat tracks and travel on the not-too-busy sealed roads in the interest of getting where we are going in a timely fashion.

As we approach Saumur, our stop for the night, the Cháteau comes into view, and it is fairly-tale castle perfection. It sits high on a hill above Saumur, and its towers, pointed turrets and great wall scream Disneyland at me. Who were the people that built and lived in this exotic, ostentatious and expensive structure? Does it even matter? It’s just pretty to look at.

As we roll into town I spy Jeremy, one of the Kiwis we met the other day. He’s just about to head off for another 15km to a camping place further out of town. We resolve that next time we meet it will involve a bar.

We, on the other hand, are staying in town, and Neil has very cleverly booked Le Patio Saumur, a B&B with a spa pool. After a few days on the road I would relish a soak in some hot and bubbly water. We are too early for check in, which is strictly between 5pm and 8pm, so we while away the time enjoying our end of day beer at a bar close to our accommodation.

At the appointed time we present at Le Patio and check in. This is a delightful historical building (it used to be a post office) with worn stone steps and views of both La Loire and the Chateau. They are bike friendly and put our bikes up in a secure courtyard. When we arrive there are only two other bikes; within a short time the courtyard is full of bikes. The only downside is that we are unable to use the spa; apparently we had to book. I would recommend this place as a lovely stay, but if you want a spa (which comes with a glass of bubbly) do book ahead.

With no spa available, we head out for dinner in the old town area. Dinner can often be a challenge for me, a vegetarian, in France. The restaurant we choose has a fixed menu which has two courses I want, and one meaty course I don’t want. They won’t separate courses out of the fixed menu. Neil takes one for the team and has “donkey balls*” as an entree so I can have the entree from the fixed menu (asparagus), while he eats the meaty main and we share the dessert. Compromise. That’s how you make a cycle touring trip work. In another language failure we almost order a fish course from the fixed menu (having read it and put it through Google translate there was no indication it was fish!).

More cyclists arrive as we are eating. Some very tired looking people sit at the table near us. I know how they feel; you can be entirely wrecked at the end of a long day in the saddle. Neil, uncharitable soul, noticed that they arrived on e-bikes.

“If they’re that tired their batteries must have run out.”

Not nice Neil. Not nice.

* donkey balls: eggs cooked in red wine. If you like eggs, apparently it is wonderful.

Stats for today:

• Distance: 51.38km
• Climb: 57m
• Average speed: 17.4km/h
• Average temperature: 29C
• Moving time: 2:56:49
• See our ride on Strava

The beer picture

At the end of a day’s ride, our tradition is to enjoy a beer, and to photograph it for posterity. Today’s beer picture was taken at a bar just up the street from where we are staying tonight.

Along the way today: