First snow in London

Hello everyone

I'm working! Which is great. What's even greater is that we got paid yesterday, that's sort of up there with indescribably great.

But what I really wanted to write about was getting snowed on.

I had gone out (the one night I was glad I took the tube not bike) and met my friend Adrian, we had had a lovely relaxed drink and chat with him and I and his girlfriend Delia at the cafe in the National Gallery. Then we moved on to a fish and chip shop in Covent Gardens.

After our Cod (I refrained from telling them the Cod joke) and chips, we were chatting and I fancifully thought that the rain looked like it was floating - but then it really WAS! And suddenly it was snowing! It floated down all soft and silent, mostly melting on the ground but some remained. We walked to the tube station and on the way i started to resemble a giant snowman, my hair and jacket covered in white. Then I discovered I had a hole in my shoe. Cold. Really cold, and then into the subway and thankful for the first time that it is always stinking hot in the tubes.

I thawed,and getting out at Finsbury Park was just like getting onto the set of those last scenes of Bridget Jones (somehow become a cultural touchstone), the snow lay on the ground and footprints crisscrossed it. It was still snowing as I got on the bus and sat upstairs and watched it fall softly against the windows, rubbing the condensation out of the way so I could watch it all. It was enchanted and I knew it was because i saw something I hadn't seen yet - Londoners were smiling!

When I got home Prita was outside taking photos dressed in a big jacket. We hugged as we stood amongst the still falling snow.

Antipodeans in London

Hello everyone

Well, what a great few weeks - we've moved to a house in Haringey, or Crouch End - it's a bit difficult to work out exactly what's a borough, suburb, etc ...

Our house has seven people in it! (including us). It's a huge Georgian house, with two bathrooms and another toilet, and a gorgeous private yard that has a couple of playful squirrels in it.

It feels just a little like living in an episode of friends, with a variety of interesting characters wandering in and out of the living areas at all times, though our actor is a great deal smarter than Joey. We are almost never in at the same time, in fact in a month being here we have only had a single night of a full house, so it doesn't feel as crowded as we were expecting.

We have the large first storey room with three windows with stained glass, a large Monet print on the wall and a red couch that clashes horribly with the print. But it's lovely.

It was in this room that I had my birthday breakfast - beautiful fluffy pancakes with poached pears and an orange sauce and maple syrup - it reminded me of the blintzes at Babka's in Brunswick St, but more of all these flavours swirling round, and I opened my beautiful cards. Unfortunately Prita had to go off to work so I relaxed all day, sitting in our room and reading my birthday present to myself, another in the series of Master and Commander.

Although a tweency bit further from the city than we would like, the area is magnificent. We are on the highest part in north London, there are only two hills on this side of the river, so it isn't actually that high, but it means that we have cleaner crisper air than in the city, and when we go out jogging in the morning we are treated to the spectacular display of the city lit up by the sunrise. Despite being cheap to rent, the burough itself is quite posh and the streets are lovely and picturesque.

The best bit about the area is the plethora of parks around, including an ancient woods that dates back to Roman Britain and an old rail trail path - it is completely private and significantly raised above the road level so it is quiet and bushy and not so hard to believe we're running through the wilderness (even though it is only 5 or so meters wide).

Despite being a little poverty stricken we have been doing our best to do something a little 'London' each week. We have been to lots of museums, lots of parks, and even a couple of theatre shows (of which I especially enjoyed Spamalot, not that the name really made any sense). Last week we went out to Hampstead Heath, one of London's largest and most magnificent parks. A good idea as it turns out, as it was the last sun we have seen. And even Peter came out to play with the Wolf.

Museum of wonders

Today I went for an interview with yet another recruitment firm (a necessary evil? We shall see) and then met Prita. We wandered to the British Museum. The gates are immense and as you walk through them you are confronted by a vast Romanesque temple, massive columns along a long arcaded front. Entering I looked up to see the ceiling painted with harmonious patterns. Inside the great hall all is light, the internal courtyard has been covered over with a vast glass roof which seemed to me like palm leaves stretching from the central tower. All around the open space stood statues and other treasures, and people wandered between them. The sense of being both inside and outside was strong and very pleasant. We wandered into the ancient Egyptian area, massive statues of pharaohs and other greats looked down on us and we talked of the poem of Ozymandias (?), and then Prita showed me a large but rough peice of granite, which it turns out is a fragment, a fragment! Of the beard which used to hang from the Sphinx. This tiny fragment was apparently not the original even, but a piece of an early restoration, something like 1000 years BC! Time seemed immense.

Then we came to the Assyrian section. Two winged bulls with the heads and beards of Assyrian kings stood guard, and we walked between them to the massive gate of the palace, restored using only the copper bands which had bound the door. It stood 17 metres above us, richly inlaid with bronze. Turning we made our way into a gallery with scenes of Assyrian life, 1000 BC and so complex, castes and professions and order and rules. Each tablet was bas relif but also held rich inscriptions in cuneiform, perhaps Accadian(?), the text, it seemed to me, flowed across the figures, how amazing it would be to be able to read the script and decipher their thoughts and actions!

We then popped in to see the Elgin marbles. I was happy to see that as we walked in past doors designed to keep the humidity constant that they were at least looking after them! As we walked in a woman gruffly shouted directions to her companions across the hall in Greek. She sounded kind of angry and we wondered if seeing them there made her grumpy. They are amazing and the scale f what is there is incredible – the details striking and I look forward to seeing them again. I couldn’t help but be awed at what is there and what remained in Athens (very little!).

After that we walked through London towards the National Library (British Library?), and noticed how the streets of rich houses all offices now gave way to a grungier look as we approached Kings cross – and then we turned the corner and were both stunned again by the gothic imperial splendour of the Kings Cross Station, all spires and pointy turrets reaching for the heavens.

Beer and chocolate

Riding across the French border into Belgium was like riding into Canberra. There was no significant difference in the landscape, shops, cars or people. The south of Belgium speaks French so the ads and the restaurants looked the same. Only suddenly the roads improved. There were bicycle paths everywhere and cars suddenly started treating us with a modicum of respect. Everything else looked the same, but there was no doubt we had left France because the traffic was moving 20km slower on all road size.

Clearly then, we loved Belgium from the start. After months of being cramped and side-swiped and driven into, we suddenly had free reign over huge bicycle only lanes, often separated from the traffic via a gutter. It was truly magnificent, and it was only uphill from there.

I have discovered that the Belgians are the quiet achievers. They were more often the battleground for the surrounding regions than the battle starters. They don’t tend to trumpet the greatness of their country. But throughout the last millennium they were quietly making some of the most beautiful things in the world (paintings, tapestries, diamonds and gold) and of course, perfecting beer and chocolate. Really, a very impressive people and place.

We had the luxury of staying with family (in law) in Ghent, my favourite city in Belgium. It has a great feel to it, possibly because it has the largest university in Belgium and far fewer tourists than Brussels and Brugge. We were able to tootle around the beautiful canal paths while sampling beer and chocolate inbetween. I recommend it to anyone.

And that Ladies and Gentlemen, is the end of the 100 day honeymoon.

C’est la vie dure

Saying farewell to Paris was like leaving behind a new friend. I was sad and a little wistful, but certain that I’ll be back before too long. It is such a magnificent place, despite there being a zillion places I want to visit before returning down under, I am certain I will make my way back to Paris too.

We headed east, to the hillside vineyards of Moët and Piper Heidsieck. The north east was a completely new and undiscovered part of France, so we were very excited.

The Champagne vineyards claim they are unique in all the world. The ground is more chalk than soil, so it soaks up water (such as dew) like a sponge and releases it slowly throughout the day. Combined with an excellent balance of sun and rain, warm days and cool nights, it makes unique champagne blend grapes.

We only had three days to explore some of the region, and of course taste as much champagne as we could!

We camped in a lovely campground right in the middle of the champagne region, in Epernay. This town is the 'home of champagne', or at least of the Avenue of Champagne, claimed to be the most expensive street in the world because of the thousands of bottles stored below the cobblestones of the street (whilst we were there they were busily tearing up asphalt and putting in 'ye olde' cobblestones in part of the avenue - lovely look, but bone shattering bouncing around on our bikes!)

We rode out of Epernay and up hills crammed with rows of champagne grapes. Because the champagne growing soil is limited to only the chalky and inclined parts of the region, every square centimetre that has the right characteristics is crammed with vines - as we rode into many towns we would see vines amongs the houses, crammed into the vacant lots as they become available! Each section has a placemarker, and we drooled as we rode past the Moët, Piper, Mumm, etc. But there are hundreds of small producers as well, as we discovered on returning to Epernay and had a champagne degustation of some of the smaller producers. We loved the blanc de blancs - champagne produced with only chardonnay grapes.

On the morning of our final day we packed hastily and scooted over to the Moët et Chandon mansions, where we were told which wing used to house the royalty, distinguished guests, etc, with a whole drawing room reserved because Napoleon ('our Emperor' they said, that's right, the first empire never died!) once sat there. We next watched a hilarious film comparing making champagne to painting, with melodramatic voice over and dramatic aerial shots of the vineyards.

Finally we were led, hushed and excited, down into the cellars! They were cool and dark and smelled of chalk and mildew. The folk at Moët clearly enjoyed the atmosphere as the lighting was all little brazier style lights, and the whole effect was intentionally, gorgeously archaic. We wandered through the halls - again, there's Napoleon's hall, they really love this guy! Maybe it has something to do with the design of the champagne glass ... And we learnt of the secondary fermentation, the riddling, and how they plunge the bottles into a freezing solution to extract the remains of the yeast! Then, after all that thirsty work, we came to the tasting.

Neither of us are ones to stand on status. I think that's fair to say. We had noticed, turning up in our cycling clothes (clean!) that there was a marked reluctance form the Versacci clad ladies and hunting suited gentlemen in the party to get too close to us. There may even have been diminishing glances down aristocratic well-heeled gallic noses. Which we of course took in our stride because, well, it was like that in most of France. But then to get to the tasting and realise that we were the only people who had paid the extra to try the vintage champagne (a wedding present) while all the other plebs only tried the standard - and to have the sommeliers make a song and dance of the vintage, and treat us as rock stars, even asking us behind the tasting bench, well, it was a sort of delicious Schaudenfreude. The champagne was delicious - the rose vintage was full bodied and mellower, not sweet so much as lusciously fruity.

We drank our two glasses (extremely full - thank you Jose the Sommelier!) and ate the croissants we had smuggled in and were quite tipsy as we mounted our bikes to depart for the south of the region.

With our bikes weaving a little (luckily there were almost no cars on the little roads we followed) we rode south through the blanc de blancs region.

After pleasant meandering we arrived at our lodgings for that night - no campsite for us! A chateau awaited us, towers lifted above the small hamlet of Etoges. And it was to the round tower that we went, a beautiful circular eyrie above the formal gardens, fountains and duck filled moat. Above the fireplace a reproduction of a painting of the Medicis going to war that we had just seen at the Louvre. It was stunning. We lazed about, explored the town, and then it was time for dinner.

Dinner was served in the orangery of the Chateau. At first put off by the fancy silver service and dozens of waiters (this was our first time in such a fancy restaurant), we relaxed into the night - Sean timidly asking the waiter if champagne would go with all the courses ... to which he replied 'of course', of course. The meal was divine, a vegequarian degustation, with the tiniest mouthful of finely minced vegetables to start, a palate starter, to the exquisite entrees and mains, and then to the cheese. Ohh, the cheese. Not a cheese or two - a whole cart full of cheeses! We asked all sorts of questions, before choosing our five or so cheese portions each - and then shamelessly ransacked each other's plates in a tasting frenzy, soft blues, mellow goats, oozing bries and washed rinds, and an amazing soft peppered goats cheese. We thought that was all but were amazed as they brought us two dessert courses! Finally we staggered back to the Chateau, under the stars and moon. Ahhh, what an experience!

Ahh, France, thank you, you came through with the goods ...

Five days in Montmartre

We've just spent a lovely and relaxing five days in Montmartre, perched northerly over Paris.

We are lucky enough to be staying with Beth, who has lived in this part of Paris for about 40 years, and is one of the warders of the last vineyard in Paris, a little further up the hill. We have been looked after, wined and dined with her and her fabulous friends at her appartment.

This morning early we walked up the step hill to Sacre Coeur and realized how lucky we were, two streets up and early it was packed with people selling paintings, offering to do our sketch, people wandering from shop to shop. We walked into the beautiful church at the top of the hill, all cool white marble, and inside a different focus on the sacred heart and compassion. Apparently the church was built to appease God who had punished the Parisians (and perhaps the Montremartians most of all?) for their wicked ways. Later, in world war II, 13 bombs were dropped near the church and didn't kill a single person - which further strengthened the devotion to the sacred heart.

It really has seemed as if we are in Montmartre, and not Paris. Montmartre seems a village first and part of Paris second. I really like it. We have strolled down the hill to the bus or metro and made our way into Paris and it always feels that we are crossing a border or something.

But Paris is beautiful too, the light, the water, the architecture which fits the stone they have used perfectly, and even modern building like the Pompidou centre don't jar here. We spent two days immersed in the Louvre, and explored thousands of years of art and history (and debated the merits of museum versus art gallery - even more hotly contested on seeing the overlapping collections at the Louvre, Orsay and Orangeries).

We have also managed to catch up with friends, and even do a little window shopping at the grand stores. It certainly makes a difference from the tiny villages we have been cycling through!

We have eaten and drunk and gazed our fill of Paris (well, for now), and are heading off this afternoon for Epernay, heart of the Champagne region. I am intent on telling them that we come from Australia, which also makes very fine champagne, to see if I can provoke them into a very un-french rudeness.

Because the French are almost unfailingly polite. At least to your face. Every transaction in the tiniest Boulangerie or here in Paris is accompanied by good-days, wishes for our good health, and our continued enjoyment of the day.

Ahh, Paris, I have the felling we'll be seeing you again ...

Before the Pyramids...

Brittany is crammed with old stones. At Carnac, the largest neolithic site in the world, there is a linear forest of 3,000 menhirs (standing stone pillars) within four kilometres. 4000 - 1500 BC (the Stone Age and early Bronze Age) was a period of rapid and revolutionary advance in western Europe. European people made pottery, tamed animals, built houses and moved from cave-painting to the building of elaborate stone and earth monuments. Many years before the Egyptian pyramids, the Neolithic culture was constructing carefully plotted and painstakingly laboured alignments and circles of standing stones. There are 3,000 of them in Britain, Ireland and Brittany alone.

Sean and I were incredibly excited to make our way to Brittany to see some of these wonders for ourselves, but found more than we expected to.
It was wet, very very wet. It was somewhat a shock to the system, after having 3 months of near perfect weather (except for the middle week of the Pyrenees). All of a sudden we found ourselves battling wind and rain, always in raincoats, and packing up a wet tent every morning, setting up a sodden tent every night. Did I mention it was wet?

Still, all that rain, makes for stunning landscape. From the first kms we found ourselves in an amazingly beautiful countryside, and we got to visit the coolest historic monuments. We were happier than pigs in mud. The particularly large and important ones were fenced in and you paid lots of money to cram inside squishy dolmens with 30 other tourists.

Our favourites were actually the ones that weren't on the 'historically important' trail. You could just pick a tumulus on the map and ride right up to it. No one else was around and you had to go in with a torch to see anything. Some of them were very long and deep, and super atmospheric, we felt very Indiana Jones.

Then there were the gorgeous towns, the beautifully rugged coastlines and the awesome, awesome crepes. They put anything on those babies. From the typical sugar or chocolate, to eggs, sausages, whatever takes your fancy. Sean's favourite was an organic seaweed and blue cheese crepe in a tiny old place in Rennes.
Despite the weather (and the millions of other tourists), we adored Brittany. Possibly more than the Loire, possibly almost as much as the Pyrenees. We figure the weather is what made it such a ripe landscape for the rapid expansion of humankind.

Lastly we just really skimmed past Normandy. We wanted to see a little more but had completely run out of time. So we made the visit to Mont Saint Michel - a magnificent fortified abbey with soaring impossibly amazing architecture.

Le Loire a velo

Ahh, le Valle de la Loire, home of Kings and powerful Queens, their beautiful chateaux rising from the woods and forests next to the rivers, blessed with good wine and great cheeses, what more could we ask for?

After our 6 days luxurious rest we were more than ready to be back on the open road. This lasted all of, oh a long days ride, when we made another stop.
We were lucky enough to be invited along to a weekend gathering of family and friends at Antoine's parents house in the countryside. We arrived with perhaps a little trepidation at knowing only 1 person at this huge gathering, but we needn't have worried at all. Everyone was wonderful to us (despite our not great French) and we had a hugely fun weekend. As well as good french food and wine (and beer, aperitif and even sangria), there was dancing, games, singing, and lots of relaxing too. It was so good to spend time with the French, rather than just moving through their country side as outsiders.

Then it was back on the open road again, this time for real. It's been a lovely few days cycling small roads and the occasional cycle path, with very relaxed gradients. We haven't done a lot of K's either, as we have been far too busy sightseeing.

Our first night in the Loire was to be a stay in a chateau - but we found this beautiful Abbey just near Blois. It was an awesome buidling (the on in the photo above) on a lovely spot by the river, with beautiful rooms. Absolutely magnificent. We topped off the experience with a lovely Chinese/Thai meal - our finest French dining yet!



A most unexpected delight was when Prita and I found that there is a cycle route, on paths and small roads, all the from the Atlantic outreach of the Loire all the way to the east of Germany, and plans to extend it from there to the shores of the Black sea. It meant we could largely travel off the roads. Not only does it make for far quieter, less stressful riding, but we can ride side by side and enjoy the route together.
Now if only we could manage another few months ...

The cycling has been a breeze, it has been great wandering through the stately rooms of the rich and famous. My favourites so far have been the last home of Leonardo Da Vinci, le Clos Lucé in Amboise, which the king granted him as a retreat. It was amazing to see his house, with quotes from his writings, and models of his inventions in the basement. But more amazing for me was the gardens which he wandered in, making scetches for his paintings from the water plants and woods around the Chateau.

In the garden there were projections of his drawings, large scale models of his inventions, and everywhere running water and ponds, and renaissance singing coming from everywhere and nowhere (but actually I think it came from the overpriced restaurant where they served you in renaissance garb. I don't know about you but I didn't fancy one of those sleeves in my gratin!) Inside we found a waterdamaged but still stunning print of the Mona Lisa, and we joked that this was as close as we would get, given the security and crowds in the Louvre! All in all it was a magical, peaceful visit, and possibly the best lunch stop (in the gardens) so far.

For our last night in the Loire valley we went for a romantic moonlight kayak on the river. We started out at about 9 and paddled as we watched the sun set, then on in the darkness, guided by the torch at the front of the boat. We arrived at about 11pm for some cheese and wine. Ahhh, just perfect. It was a real highlight.

Waiting for the Tour

So now that all the dust has settled and we have seen the winners and the sad look on Cadel's face on the podium that pierced my heart, here's our Tour experience.

It all started in the Pyrenees. Imagine cycling up these massive passes, the ones they call 'hors categorie', beyond classification (personally I think that shows a lack of imagination or arithmetic or both, but it does illustrate how steep they are nicely), and seeing the names of the greats emblazoned on the road. It inspires one to feats of greatness, as we battled to the top of the Col de Marie Blanc, Col d'Aspin, Peyresourde, D'Aubusque. And it was all so beautiful; simply gorgeous.


And then, one hot summer afternoon, we stood in the baking sun for hours by a roadside in Nimes and were greeted by the specactle of .... a car shapped like a lion, and scantily clad women throwing things into the crowd. It was the cargo cult of the Tour, the caravan of cars and vans giving out little trinkets to the crowd, who fought to get the key chains, magnets, etc. It was incredible how much these people desperately wanted these bits of plastic (not that i was immune, I am now the proud owner of a yellow cap!)

And finally we saw 'our' Cadel and the whole peleton of greats pass to the
finishing line in a vivid flash, it was fantastic.



The next day we rode out to watch them again but from a smaller town 30 km down the road. The road was already closed off and lined with people waiting to watch them come through. The police were mostly happy for us to proceed cautiously, on the incorrect side of the road (it was closed
so there was no oncoming traffic), and as we road along those waiting crowds cheered and waved us. The whole thing was a hoot; the people were really cute and we played it up with some waving and victory dancing from the bikes. Felt like we were doing the Tour ourselves :-)

From Provence we headed away from the cities to national park for what
we thought would be some quiet country riding and kayaking. It wasn't
the least bit quiet. We shared the 'Remote Cevennes' with half a
million or so German; Dutch and Belgian camper tourists; having their
annual summer holiday in the south of France. Oh well, aside from the crowded roads and rivers and hideously noisy campsites, it was unimaginably beautiful and the kayaking heaps of fun (thanks for the present Clare!!).



Last week my front rack snapped and went straight into my wheel. It completely mangled itself, and bent and broke a few spokes of my wheel. Fortunately I managed to stop the bike immediately and I was fine. We (ok, Sean) managed to replace the broken spoke and true the wheel well enough to get into a town the next day. Unfortunately, replacing my rack is proving impossible and I'm riding around with my extra pannier strapped to the back.

Here is a picture of the rack after we had bent it back into shape in order to get it out of the wheel



Now after almost 10 weeks on the road and more than 4,500 kilometres on the bikes, Sean and I are finally having a rest. A wedding present was a weeks stay in Sue and David's place in a tiny hamlet in south west France. The timing of having it this week is perfect, for our bodies and our souls.
We have been luxuriating in the simple comforts of being in a house rather than a tent. It is so divine to have a super comfy bed, clean toilets with paper, shower with continuous hot water, oven, fridge, multiple cooking implements, music...

We still have our British SIM in the mobile if people want to text or call that. We sorry for not being in touch at all. Life on the bike is busier than we expected and finding payphones that take money (they don't accept our australian credit cards) or internet cafes that have computers (as opposed to wifi) has proven difficult.

Finished!!!

We finished! In time! It was amazing to get our last stamp at the little border town of Cerbere, having just traversed the Pyrenees fro, the Atlantic to the Mediterranean in 10 days over 28 passes!!! Here's a profile of the randonneur route, they only do 18 passes (but then they are doing it all in 100 hours ...) - http://www.randonneurs.bc.ca/odds_and_ends/cycle_tour_raid.html

More photos here - Picassa pyrenee album


Phew. So now we are resting up in preparation for Bastille day in Perpignan - sadly our first contact with a place with more than 12 inhabitants coincided with a sunday, so pretty much everything except this place is closed.

But I digress. The raid was challenging, exhausting and fun - although sometimes as we dragged ourselves and 20kg of baggage up the last pass of the day I could be heard muttering other descriptors.



The weather alternated between searingly hot - and then climbing 800 metres in 10 kms feels impossible - and foggy and misty and cloudy (is there a difference?) I think the Pyreeneens as they are known have about 100 words for fog. Oh, and then there was the thunder and lightning!

We cycled through ancient oak forests, through alpine areas with clanking cow bells and the wind in our faces, descended sharply (and then inevitably had to rise again just as sharply - sigh) which sometimes felt like we were gliding off the mountain. It was amazing and unforgettable. We had our plans disrupted half way up the col du tourmalet by an etape of the Tour de France - where amateurs can try a stage of the tour themselves - and some needed a little help - we pumped up two tyres for competitors, I guess once cycle angels always cycle angels :)

That we had to get stamps at tourist offices or town halls along the way in tiny villages with strange closing times made it feel like a 10 day race against the clock, which really brought out our competitive team work edge - we would descend into a checkpoint town, one to seek the office and brevet, another to find a restaurant or bread cheese and other goodies for lunch.

It was simply incredible, an amazing unforgettable experience.