Breakfast in Bed

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Yesterday morning I was awakened by drops of water hitting my face. I was not locked in a dungeon having chinese water torture, but rather laying in my sleeping bag, on a tarp, behind some trees, near a farmfield in rural eastern France. It was about three o'clock in the morning. I delayed in setting up my tent in the dark until the rain picked up more. I was forced to use rope and rocks rocks because my stakes could not penetrate the extrememy rocky ground. I woke up again to the pouring rain and whipping wind at about 9. I ate and read in my tent until the rain stopped and the sky brightened, hoping that farmer Pierre would not come rolling by to pick up his hay bales.

The day proved to be a short ride, held up again in a small town by more rain. I sat under a bus shelter accross from some 500 year old houses, eating pistachios, smoking cigarettes, and listening to Devo until my sky reading ability told me it was safe to move on. With the sky threatening me all the day long, I rode to a large city called Nancy. Approaching the city, my map became useless. I was escorted off the autobahn by a motorcycle cop and then got very lost on the big -city streets. I was rushing to make it to the hostel by 9. Navigating is difficult when there are few street signs and the street names change every other block. Asking and reciving directions in French is not my fortè, but I managed to get pointed in the right direction.

My route so far has been extremely rural. All the small villages are like living museums, where all the buildings are well preserved and nothing is modern beside the cars. Also, nothing is open on Sundays or Mondays, so i had a short phase of food shortage. The hostel I stayed in last night was more like a castle. I had many short and difficult conversations with french travellers then went to bed early.

I'm hoping to be in Germany by the end of the day. The sky is looking pretty good, but I shall soon see.

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