If you want to watch the Tour, stay at home. The last two weeks taught me that people do not come to the TDF to watch a bike race. In fact, the millions of people who descend on France every summer actually come to partake of the world’s largest and longest party (cumulative). Turns out the race is really just an excuse to drink wine and blast music from your camper van in exotic mountainous locations.
I “watched” four stages of the TDF, but saw a total of less than one minute of actual racing. Each day I spent hours and hours waiting in thick crowds to watch the peloton rip by in three seconds. It was worth it, not because of the race, but because of the experience and the energy. I found more interesting people, spectacles, and cultures in this crowd than anywhere else I have ever been. The attached video of a Dutch roadside party offers only the smallest taste of what lined Mont Ventoux for literally 22 kilometers. The crowd in Paris was even crazier with over 1 million people lining the Champs Elysees!
I’ll remember the trip for other reasons... like raw beef. One huge perk of guiding bike trips is that you get to live the lifestyle of a vacationing 55 year old executive for a couple weeks. Foias gras, pate, beef tare tare, octopus, and lots of stinky fromage – I didn't pass the opportunity to try bizarre new (and delicious) foods! The food has been awesome. We even ate in the Eiffel Tower on our last night.
After the bike trip ended, I rendezvoused with Emma Drucker, a friend from Middlebury who worked as a nanny in Paris this summer. We visited our favorite impressionists at Le Musee D’Orsay, walked down the left bank and found a nice café tucked into a side street, then headed for the Basilique du Sacre Coeur. The basilica boasts one of the most impressive views in all of Paris, which we enjoyed for hours by carrying peaches and nectarines up the hill after a great diner in the bustling streets below. We ended our night talking life over mint tea and apricot hookah at a street-side café in the Fifth district. Another Middlebury girl living in Paris, Justine, recognized us and sat down to join the storytelling and laughter.
Eventually the café owner asked us to be quiet because it was so late and his neighbor was sick. We realized that it was actually 1:00AM, and I had missed the last train to the airport. The fast-thinking, French-speaking girls helped me understand the bus schedule and literally run to the last possible metro train headed for the bus station. I had to sprint and slide under a closing set of gates to exit the station, then hop on the last possible bus out of the city, which delivered me to my hotel at 2:25AM. I boarded my plane bound for Amsterdam at 7:40AM, then loaded into my Houston-bound connection at 10:10. It was a crazy, improvised blur of traveling, but I’m glad I didn’t cut my adventure short just to catch the early train.
I’m back in Houston now, spending a night with my grandparents before I drive my car to Dallas to pick up my family's new puppy. After Dallas, I drive for two days back to Colorado. Looking forward to the next big adventure – learning to finance and install solar panels in Vail!
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