Transition Day (or Sleep? Who Needs Sleep?) 21km

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Nothing ever goes as planned, but that's what makes life interesting. The good news was that our flight was not affected by French ATC labour action, and the better thing was that we made it to the airport in time despite a late start and getting caught in Montreal rush-hour 'traffic '(it's hard to call something that immobile 'traffic', but it will have to do for now).

The trip across the ocean was uneventful but somewhat disappointing as we had anticipated seatback screens with the outside possibility of watching the hockey game; alas it turned out the screens were being phased in as part of a process that will not be complete until 2014, so I settled for sneaking oblique angle views at Life of Pi on the screen across the aisle and several rows down. The beef was tasty, though, which led to serious disappointment when the breakfast "snack" arrived but hey - in a short time we were on the ground, our bikes didn't appear to have been trashed in transit, and it was sunny and warm and we were in France, baby!

Here's where things got interesting. Tom and Caroline (our trip coordinator and his wife/our driver, respectively) went off to collect our rental van while others decided to take a taxi to the hotel since the van wouldn't be able to accommodate all of us and our bikes and gear. Since Tom had told me that the hotel was a mere 6KM away I thought it would be nice to pedal there, and proceeded to install my pedals and pump up my tires (hoping my frame pump would be adequate since the floor pump was still packed away) while taxi discussions were taking place. When I was done it seemed that all places had been accounted for in the taxis (including one that had been ordered but hadn't yet arrived), but that Tom would be returning with the van anyways, so I declined the offer of someone holding my bag on their lap and chatted while people waited for the second taxi. Then I heard that Tom had said he wouldn't be returning to where we were but to the "main entrance", so I quickly set off to where we thought that might be. After some discussion with several airport employees I positioned myself at the place we hoped Tom had meant, worried that he might even have already passed by.

Minutes passed. Many of them, in fact, and I finally resigned myself to the fact that I had my bicycle and my bag and no idea how to get to the hotel, which the taxi driver had assured me was more like 15km away and "very dangerous" to ride to. Had he been sincere or only angling for another fare? The story about distance gained credibility when the hotel proved too far away to appear on the map at the information both, but eventually the woman there ended up transcribing directions from Google Maps, albeit with the distance to only one turn indicated and the assurance that I then just had to follow one road that changed names many times. Not able to actually see the screen she had looked at, I went over things several times with her before somewhat warily setting off.

Initially things went more than well: although I hadn't been able to install my mirror for want of an appropriate tool and could really only see my pack when I turned my head, I successfully made it out of the airport, made my first (and supposedly only) turn and found myself in a cycling lane riding by fields of poppies waving in the sunshine; life was grand! Then I hit the T intersection, and was faced with a dilemma. I followed my intuition and then inquired of a rare pedestrian, who informed me that the road I was approaching was indeed one that appeared on my list so I was feeling pretty good, even though I subsequently found myself on a busy 4-lane highway. I readily made it to Saint Priest (although no longer riding in idyllic bucolic splendour) before once again bogging down and having to ask people. At one point I seemed to pick up another of the streets that appeared on my list, but there was no way it was getting me closer to the hotel so I once again had a chat with someone (this time a shopkeeper) who got me back on track and explained that the street I had found stopped and then continued further on, where I would pick it up. Her directions got me yet ever closer before once again I had to inquire. All in all it took me about half the time to get to Saint Priest and half to find the hotel once having got there. If you've ever been to France you will understand; if all you know is North American grid system then it must seem puzzling indeed.



But once settled in I was able to enjoy the European sensibility: the room had a towel warmer that proved quite handy for drying sink laundry, the lights in the corridor were activated by motion sensors, and the entire room circuitry required the room key to be present, to ensure lights were not left on when no one was there. And the tram ran on rails actually laid in the grass, with no fencing to keep folks off them; I guess the feeling is that if you're that dozy to walk on the tracks you deserve to get hit. Also the parking lot had some asphalt and some grass - no need to pave everything when your lot is full only occasionally.

Now after an evening of rain I am looking forward to getting out of the suburbs and out into the countryside. Today's lessons were:


• GPS can get you where you are going, but means you likely won't be interacting with the locals.
• Google Maps bicycle beta is great

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Photos

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At the Lyon Airport, about to depart for St. Priest

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The tram rides on rails in the grass

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Numbered spaces on the grass as well