Cycling Europe Day 25: A Sob In My Belly

I have a sob in my belly that is trying to burst out.

Morning tea in Nice.

I think I have experienced pure sensory overload today. I had to come back to my hotel earlier than I had planned because I was feeling too overwhelmed. I felt as if I was on the verge of a sensory meltdown.

I don’t even know where to start to explain it.

I was in Cannes yesterday. I had a wonderful spaghetti and meatball lunch while sitting on the corniche. I walked all over the city on a beautiful spring day. This morning I got on my bike and very lazily cycled off to my next destination. The whole route today was along the Mediterranean coast. I had a relatively short day today – around 50 km – so I was in no rush. I just cycled, looked at the water, marveled at the surrounding mountains, and enjoyed the day. I stopped in Nice for some tea. Actually, I really really had to pee and the whole area was full of people and buildings so I could only pee at a restaurant. I had Earl Grey tea while sitting on the corniche in Nice. Who does that?

My husband had warned me that to get to Monaco, I would have to climb a steep

This is where I want to spend the rest of my life.

mountain. I wanted to make sure I was taking the right route to Monaco. I stopped on older man on a bicycle. “Yes, yes,” he said. “You just continue straight. As long as you see the sea you will know you are in the right direction. But there is a big mountain to climb! Perhaps you should take the train?” I smiled and told him I wanted to go by bike. I thanked him and set off. To be sure, I asked two cyclists a short time later if this was the route to Monaco. “Yes,” one of them said. “But you will have to climb a mountain!” This repeated talk of mountains put fear in my heart. How bad must this mountain be? I wondered.

The road climbed marginally and I found myself looking down on the town I want to spend the rest of my life in. Villefranche-sur-Mer mesmerized me. The waters were turquoise blue, the town serene, the mountains hovered above it.

I kept waiting for the mountain.

Cycling Europe Day 24: Holding On To Memories

“How does one hold on to a memory?” I asked myself while walking along the marina

Cannes

in Cannes, France. The sky was blue, the weather was warm, the sun was shining, the waves of the Mediterranean lightly rolling. I was feeling content. It had suddenly hit me (not for the first time) how fortunate I was to be able to go on an adventure such as this, to see the places I have seen, and experience the things I have done. How do I hold on to this moment of content so that I can recall it later for many years to come?

The cycle today was by no means an easy one. I cycled 125km from Saint Maximin la

I cycled through a mountain to get to Cannes.

Sainte Baume to Cannes. It involved 872 long, hard meters of ascent and 1111 blissful meters of descent. Basically, I had to cycle over a mountain to get to Cannes. But the moment I saw the Mediterranean I forgot the pain of the previous hours. It’s such a strange thing when that happens. I cycled lazily along the coast for awhile. Everything was so beautiful. Seeing the sea reminded me of one of my other passions: scuba diving. And it got me to think how amazing it is that I can experience life in so many different ways: by bike, diving underwater, hiking and hill walking… I am truly fortunate. Alhamdullilah. All thanks be to Allah.

I haven’t seen many cyclists in France; no where near as many as I had seen in Spain. Some French cyclists I’ve seen don’t wear helmets. I saw a lot of cyclists in Arles. There must be known bike routes in that area. I saw several cyclists climbing the mountain with me today to Cannes as well.

The French don’t seem to be as good-tempered as the Spaniards. I’ve been thinking that the Spaniards might have the right idea with this siesta thing. Shops and restaurants shut down at 1:30pm in Spain and re-open at 5pm. Maybe that’s why I saw more cyclists on the road there: they have more time for leisure activities. In Spain, the cyclists really cheered me on. Motorists beeped happy beeps for me and waved as they passed. In France, the cyclists barely nod their heads in acknowledgement, if that, and the motorists are just angry, aggressive folk. I think the French should consider taking a siesta, getting some sleep, maybe having some sex… They really need to lose the temper and loosen up!

Cycling Europe Days 20 to 23: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Today was my 20th cycling day and it was absolutely miserable – albeit with some

Place de la Comedie, Montpellier, France

really great views.

I was due “miserable”. I just had three absolutely perfect days with my husband. Colin arrived by plane into Montpellier on Saturday morning – I had arrived by bike the previous evening. When I cycled into Montpellier on Friday, I was rather taken aback by how crowded and dirty it appeared to me. Th crowds in Place de la Comedie in the city’s historic center were so dense and noisy that I looked for a restaurant where I could eat inside, just to get some relative quiet. I promised myself to reserve judgement on the city until Colin came and we had some time to see it properly together.

My verdict: Montpellier is a beautiful town and everything looks better when I’m able

Cycling with my husband on one of the few easy days I’ve had on this trip. He no longer believes it’s been challenging.

to share it with my husband. It’s that simple. We spent Saturday walking around Montpellier, Sunday cycling to the beach and lazing about, and Monday we cycled 70km together to my next destination, Arles. Every single day was perfect. Every place we visited was beautiful. The cycling was easy and tremendously enjoyable.

This has given me the chance to see solo-cycling for a family woman like myself in a different light. A very large part of the challenge for me is not in doing this generally; it’s in doing this alone. I have always been able to enjoy my own company and to go places on my own. But solo-cycling for weeks on end, being solely responsible for everything, not being able to depend on anyone but oneself or complete strangers when necessary, having no one to talk to or to share the experience with: I’m finding that very very difficult. I think it has resulted in me seeing and experiencing things in a very different way than if I were to have done this with my husband or with a group of people. Yet at the same time doing it alone has its rewards. The sense of accomplishment is fulfilling. And then I’ve promised myself not to hold back on my dreams when I’m able to achieve them simply because I don’t have a chaperone to accompany me on them.

Arles, France is a must-see.

So I had three perfect days with my husband. And we parted ways this morning: he set off to the train station to go back to Montpellier to catch his flight home to the UK and I cycled off into the sunrise to Saint Maximin la Sainte Baume. Lots of tears and snot were involved. The first 70km of today’s journey were not bad. The road was gradually ascending but barely enough for me to notice. My first problem occurred when I suddenly found myself cycling onto a motorway. I have absolutely no idea how it happened. One second I was on a quiet country road and the next I was on a crazy French motorway. It freaked the heck out of me.