You have to admire the French folks commitment to the bicycle.
Being the home of the famed Tour De France, perhaps they cannot escape the legacy of this momentous event, and so embrace it with gusto - cycling all over the planet with an unencumbered enthusiasm and vivre le passion!
She did not speak much English and inserted French readily as she attempted to converse with me. We got by - don’t we always, when we encounter another language- body language for sure is universal; gestures; eye contact.
I had seen the touring bike in the lounge of the backpackers;
painted an elegant bright turquoise. Being a small frame I imagined its owner to be small.
Cooking my eggs in the kitchen, imagining my day, I was not alone.
A woman sat at the table on a tablet, maps and way-points on the screen. I figured she was the owner of the bike, so I asked. And so began our gesticulated conversation. She stood up to show me the maps as I flipped my omelette - exhibiting a strong tanned pair of well-defined legs.
Yep - she was the owner of the pretty turquoise bike.
She extended the device in my direction and I could see Ireland ringed in red with a gap between Dublin and somewhere south on the coast. She holds up five fingers - “five weeks velo here” she tells me.
I am immediately impressed, she is not a young woman, I guess maybe 60-ish (and she was - 60).
“Wow” I offer
Could I have given a lamer response?!
She had not only biked around nearly all of Ireland, but had biked FROM her home in France to the ferry that bought her there - a 15 hour trip (my idea of hell), but she tells me flying is too difficult with a bike - to take apart wheels and deconstruct then reconstruct- she prefers the slow ferry trip during which she sleeps.
She goes on to explain that her friends think she is crazy but she does not care.
She is a teacher - computer science, to adults. She has to ride her bike back home then start back at work the next day (she screws up her face). She produces an app whereby people can follow her travels and tells me all her students are following her (she laughs at this and shrugs it off as nothing). She was a racer back in her younger days, in France. I can tell. She has not lost the angular lean look of a cyclist.
Now, she explains with bursts of Frenglish, she rides long distance for fun.
She has ridden around both England and Scotland AND France.
This pocket rocket is a MACHINE! I feel suddenly very unfit and boring.
She tells me New Zealand is somewhere she would also like to ride, but she doesn’t fancy the plane flight. I also figure a boat is out of the question!
We exchange further pleasantries such as what we have enjoyed the most about Ireland, what to avoid and how the company of strangers can be so comforting when alone in a foreign country.
“It’s the people I meet” she says - her eyes light up - “in France I feel so alone, no children, husband, only students; but when travelling I meet so many people - I enjoy”.
Yes, I reflected - I enjoy too.
On some level, we humans really are so similar, we may have language barriers and things may get lost in translation, but if we REALLY look and observe, we KNOW what is being conveyed.
