Ups and downs

I've developed a love/hate relationship with France.  My mood goes from one extreme to another depending on what new cultural idiocy or idiosyncrasy the day hands me.  One moment I'm depressed by the gloomy Parisian weather, the next I'm as pleased as the cat that got the cream on finding a fast way in and out of the city.  Today was one of those days.

I was in a real funk all morning, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed with a large pile of Lindt and Pride & Prejudice, even though I had to go into the city to buy my books for class.  Didn't want to.  I was in a real funky funk.  But my sense of duty wouldn't be denied, so I pulled on my crumbling backpack and took the RER to Saint-Michel, just south of Notre Dame.

I heard about this bookstore called Gibert Jeune from the other exchange students as the place to buy cheap books in Paris.  I looked it up online - there's about seven stores scattered around Place Saint Michel, each with a different area of specialisation depending on the type of books.  I was still in a bit of a funk when I arrived, and this didn't improve when I couldn't find any of the books I wanted in the main store, and none of the others seemed to fit the bill.  Eventually I asked the clerk on the third floor where I would find the books on my list.  "Oh, they're livres de poche ('pocket books')," she said.  "You'll find them in the Pochotheque on the next floor."

It was like entering another world. The funk vanished. The whole floor of the bookstore was filled with livres de poche, like Penguin Classics in English, but with better covers. It's all alphabetical, and if there's anything you can't find just ask the staff. They can put their hands on any book with 30 seconds (I speak from experience) and if there are none on the shelf then the pull one from the stock in the cupboards just behind the bookshelves. It's a pretty neat set-up. The best part about Gibert Jeune is it's a combination of a new and a used bookshop. Any book with no markings or stickers on it is 'neuf' - a brand-new book - and those with an orange sticker saying 'occasion' are second-hand, and therefore cheaper. I found most of the books I needed and then got so distracted by the pretty orange stickers that I had to grab a basket. I forgot why I usually avoid bookstores. Oops. You can see the results below.

I had just left Gibert Jeune and was heading into the metro station (which accesses the RER station) when I found my second treasure of the day. I could hear music coming up the stairs of the metro as I descended. Buskers are pretty common around the Paris metro, and some even jump on the trains with their violins, piano accordions or portable microphones and speakers to serenade you on your way to work or class. Most of them aren't that great and are easily ignored. But this one was different.

It looked like a collaboration between one of the two girls I'd seen as I passed through the metro earlier and two guys who had come to take their place when they left. The girl had a violin, one of the guys had an acoustic guitar plugged into a mini amp, and the other guy was sitting on what looked like a large speaker that turned out to be a digital drum kit (where you touch the speaker and with how much pressure determines the type and volume of drum). They were doing an improv instrumental piece between the three of them that was so good it drew a crowd of people, something I've never seen in the metro before.

When they finished, to a loud round of applause, the girl and her partner packed up and left the space to the two guys. I stayed and listened for a while longer. I think I stood there for about half an hour with my huge bag of books and feet sore from standing. I have no idea if the boys were playing from memory or just improvising too, but the choice of chords and the poignant melodies were so lovely that I couldn't help but smile. It was even nicer because they looked like they were genuinely having fun too, and the whole experience made me feel a lot lighter. I was glad I had the presence of mind to grab my camera and take a video. So, guys, if you're out there, c’était absolument incroyable, merci beaucoup pour aviver mon journée.

I got back from my cycling weekend away yesterday.  Sunday went pretty well - I caught a taxi to Chateauneuf-en-Thymerais after breakfast, where I was able to pick up my official press pass and make my way up to the GreenEDGE team bus to introduce myself.  I left the team around 4pm in Tours and made my way down to the press room in the mairie (town hall).  The presence of a tiny, young-looking journo with two big bags on crutches raised a few eyebrows, but with my nice shiny press pass around my neck no-one tried to stop me.  I grabbed a seat in the press room and got stuck into my article for Peloton Cafe, taking a quick break to listen to the interview with race winner Marco Marcato.  It wasn't until the second question that I realised the language he was speaking was Italian (and being translated into French for the journos), since I was writing down the key words in both languages regardless!  Polyglot much?

I left/got kicked out of the press room at 7.30pm and headed down the street to where I could take the bus to the youth hostel.  It was several minutes late, but it was the right bus and I was able to buy a ticket without any trouble.  The driver told me when I reached my stop a few minutes later, and I thanked him and got out.  Even though the street sign told me I was in the right place - rue Bretonneau - I couldn't find number five and saw nothing that looked like a youth hostel.  The couple I stopped on the street to ask directions put me straight - I was on rue Bretonneau, The Suburbs, not rue Bretonneau, Tours.  The husband kindly drove me back to Tours and walked me to the door of the hostel to make sure I got there safely.  And before anyone starts lecturing me about accepting lifts from strangers, it was 8:15pm on a Sunday night and I was on a street far from where I was meant to be, on crutches with no discernible way of getting back, and I've found that it's usually less of a risk when the strangers in question are a kindly older couple who remind you of your grandparents.

Absolutely starving, I dropped my bag off in my room and headed out to find somewhere to eat.  Thankfully there was a whole slew of restaurants nearby, and I parked myself in one of them with some tagliatelle and Tyler Hamilton's new book The Secret Race, which I'd downloaded in Macca's the night before.  Heading back to the hostel, I spend the rest of the evening trying to re-send my article to Jarrod, since my email account had apparently gone on the fritz.

I was up early on Monday morning, checking my computer, packing my bag and having breakfast.  At 8.30am I took my room key downstairs to check out and asked directions to the Tourism Office for my bus tour.  Being too far to walk I was going to have to take a bus, but I was beginning to cut it fine.   Thankfully a bus showed up to the nearby bus stop by quarter to, and by the time I'd gotten off in the centre of town and walked to the Tourism Office it was five to.  But here's the catch - apparently my 'reservation' wasn't a reservation after all!  My bus tour wasn't booked!  The lady in the office made a few phone calls and was able to get me a space on one leaving that morning at 9.30am, and I thanked her profusely.  I was taking a trip to the chateaux of the Loire valley.

I actually really enjoyed Amboise Castle.  Most of the original castle has been pulled down - just two small wings remain, the edge of the foundations and one or two other buildings, like the lovely little chapel where Leonardo da Vinci is now interred.  The gardens are really stunning, but I didn't have time to explore them.  By the time I'd seen the chapel, admired the view of the town and the river over the castle walls and walked through the main building, we'd run out of time and had to meet the bus.

Our second and final stop for the day was Chenonceau.  Some of you might be surprised to find you're already familiar with this castle - remember that giant white chateau in last year's Tour de France coverage that was stretched over the river Loire, like a house build on a bridge surrounded by beautiful gardens?  That's Chenonceau.  It was a beautiful day, misty, cloudy, and raining a little by the time we reached Chenonceau - just lovely.  I'm not being sarcastic.  It's easy to love things when the sun in shining.  Everything looks so pretty and romantic in the golden rays that you fall in "love" with everything you see.  If you can appreciate something in miserable weather then you've really and truly enjoyed yourself instead of just being swept away by the sunshine.  In fact, the misty rainy greyness of the day added a lovely element of wistful nostalgia that you simply won't experience when the sun is out.

I didn't like Chenonceau as much.  The big draw of Chenonceau is its architecture, its unique location built right on top of the Loire, and you can't see that from within the castle.  Inside is standard Fancy Old Western Building - tapestries, paintings, decor, sumptuous four-poster beds, the kind of stuff you can see anywhere.  What I really wanted to enjoy was the view of the chateau over the water, and no matter how much I hung out windows I couldn't really get a good look.  If you really want to visit Chenonceau, then take a helicopter flight over it or a boat trip under it.  Walk through the chateau, explore the gardens and the maze, but make sure you see the castle face-on if you can.  I felt a little like I'd missed the point of the trip for not having had that experience.

I bought my train ticket home at the Tours station and had lunch, followed by hot chocolate, in a mall not far from the station.  It was an easy, two-hour trip home on the TER, the slower regional trains that are cheaper than the TGV.  My plants missed me while I was away - did I mention that I've also adopted some miniature cyclamens that I'm naming Cecilia 1-6?  I'm slowly clearing all the junk that's accumulated in my room, and continues to accumulate, since I moved in and am finding homes for all my genuine acquisitions, like books and fridge magnets.  This place has an unmistakeable mark of 'Caelli' on it now.

For Kiri, after our little discussion

Departures and arrivals at Paris Gare Montparnasse

Double decker train to Chartres

Me at Amboise

Leonardo da Vinci's grave

Looking out on the town of Amboise from the castle

The chapel of Saint Hubert at Chateau Amboise

The chateau

Looking at the chateau from inside the chapel

The grounds of Amboise

So turns out I'm also terrified of suits of armour
(along with mannequins, heights and garbage trucks...)

Amboise from behind

The sweeping drive of Chenonceau

Chenonceau from the landward side

The Great Hall at Chenonceau

Looking across the Loire at the castle

The outbuildings and gardens

The castle from the second floor

There's 12 books here and I got change from 50 euros.  Not bad