An Off Day...

I write this little piece at 8:15 Wednesday morning; I forgot to write anything yesterday as the few faithful followers would know. As I look out of the window from the study, I see sunshine and blue sky – unlike yesterday.

We didn’t ride yesterday, due to the threat of weather. 80% chance of rain the weatherman said, along with cool temperatures to make for that perfectly miserable day. At one point the temperature felt tolerable and the question of riding arose, but soon it was raining and blowing and any thoughts of being out in the elements subsided.

We drove to an old mining site where the slag pile is now a hill that people hike to the top of to admire the view of the farming communities and villages that comprise this area. When we reached the top it was raining and the clouds were so low that there was no view to be had.

We also travelled back into Châteubriant in search of a bike shop to see if we could find any jerseys that are uniquely French. No success in that department as the biggest bike shop in town mainly had a small selection of bikes, choice parts and just a few pieces of cycling apparel – nothing that had any kind of printing on it like so many American shops have. No team jerseys, no local club jerseys or even any items with the shop’s name on it. The closest we came was in a sporting goods store that had a bike section; they had some jerseys that were French, but they were also just in a black and white motif. Very boring and unattractive… and also they didn’t have anything in “fat boy” size.

While in Châteubriant we were also looking for some place that might sell mochas (for me… Valerie will take just a strong cup of coffee and be perfectly happy). I’m beginning to think that mochas, lattés or any kind of foo-foo coffee drinks haven’t quite made it to this region of France. I hear rumors that there are Starbucks stores in Paris, but there seems to be nothing here that mimics that kind of shop.

Yes, they have coffee bars and, yes… they have good coffee… I just can’t find my particular style of beverage (although we came fairly close in a bar yesterday afternoon). It seems that a lot of the bars serve alcohol and coffee beverages; it’s your one-stop-shop!

Later in the evening we ventured out with our hosts to find a place to eat. There is a little village called La Touche east-northeast of here (maybe 10 miles???) that had a restaurant they knew of from a few years ago. Apparently it is under new ownership since the last time they were there, but it was open and pretty empty. Either we had arrived after the main dinner rush, it was an off-night, or the locals knew something we didn’t.

The dinner choices were limited and while our hosts speak a little French it was still difficult conversing with the waitress to find out what our dining options were. (Later in the evening the owner came by our table to say hello; he spoke enough English that we could understand whatever concept he was trying to describe. Why didn’t he come by when we were trying to order???)

Dinner consisted of either a cut of beef or a salty tasting piece of fish, green beans and what we in America would call French fries. (I wonder what the French call them?) After dinner came a tray of a few different cheeses to sample, one of which was a fairly big chunk of Roquefort. I tried it, knowing full well I wasn’t going to be putting it on my favorites-list, but it was something that had to be done.

Desert offered a few choices; fruit and syrup (which looked suspiciously like it came straight out of a can of fruit cocktail), chocolate mousse (which was the safest bet for the evening) and something called fromage blanc (white cheese) which had the consistency of a creamy yogurt and was served in a small desert cup with a sugar bowl on the side. Upon first taste it was obvious why the sugar was there.

This morning our hosts have driven north to the coast to pick their daughter up from a ferry that came over from England during the night. We’re here attempting to wake up, and I tried to figure out how to use an espresso machine that they had here at the house. I was perhaps 50% successful as I got the machine to work, made some espresso, steamed some milk and added some chocolate to the works. But in the mocha world, it wasn’t one of the best ones I’ve ever turned out. Perhaps I’ll try again, or maybe I’ll just stick with tea. Our hosts are British; they’ve got plenty of tea.