Sunday, July 13. A Rest Day.

I was hoping the weather for my rest day would be similar to yesterday – a sunny summer day at the sea! But alas, the sound of rain on the tent this morning knocked that dream on the head. It would have been amazing to lie on the beach today – I’ve had my bikini with me for 700 miles and not worn it yet. Oh well. I opted for a long lie in in lieu of getting up – after all, what did I have to do? I couldn’t even make coffee in the rain. If it was going to rain all day, what could I do? I don’t mind rain so much – I like to go out and walk in it and walking on the beach appealed, but once wet, then what? Life in a tent is different than going home to a house where you can take off wet jackets and gear. Once I’m wet, my wet stuff either goes in tent, gets crammed in the tent vestibule or maybe goes in panniers. My towel was hanging on the fence where I’d left it to dry yesterday – not very helpful today. Ah well, I’d go to the centre ville and find food et cafe. Eventually I dressed to walk to town and planned to be out of the tent for the duration – hoping the weather cleared later and conditions dried out. I walked into town under a light rain with the intention of buying something to eat – croissant no doubt – and going to the cafe bar I was in last night where I could order cafe au lait and eat my two croissants while utilizing the free wee fee. As I came to town, I saw a market with loads of fresh veg that looked amazing, and then a fish market with a huge selection of seafood. More than anything, I wanted to be able to cook. But cooking has dependencies – weather is the primary dependency. Wet weather means I don’t cook. The other main dependency is ingredients that make a good meal. I carry rice, soup mix and a tin or two of tuna – these can be whipped into an emergency meal that is palatable, but it’s not my go to at the end of a long day of riding. Fresh ingredients are what I crave but I’ve not yet succeeded at finding them at the right time of the day to make dinner. Finding a place to camp at the end of the day can be a challenge – throwing grocery shopping into the mix is not ideal. It’s something I need to get a handle on tho because in addition to spending too much on restaurant meals, I’m not able to eat very healthfully. Instead of vegetables and meat, I’m eating a ton of wheat based products – croissants, pizza – crepes and galettes are out after making me full on ill. I’m definitely glutened out – feel awful every time I eat a bread product. France is a culture based on bread. This is bad for me. In every way.

So this morning, I skipped the healthy ingredients on offer and ducked into the patisserie. I ordered pain au chocolat et un croissant. And I found the bar I’d been in. I ordered my cafe au lait and munched away at my croissants. Yes, they tasted like heaven. But felt like hell once in my stomach. I checked mail and media and maps and forecasts and references and wondered how long I could milk using the bar internet while sipping one cafe au lait. Eventually I ordered an espresso as I eyeballed the other patrons to gauge their orders and the time they spent occupying tables. The rain, which had abated, was forecast to turn to part sun by 1pm. I might just wait it out here then, I thought. I watched holiday makers who’d been kitted out in shorts and sundresses the previous day stroll by in jackets while carrying umbrellas. It seemed unfair. This was the French holiday season, and tomorrow was Bastille day. I had no real idea of what that meant in terms of holiday or celebrations but I imagined this to be the French equivalent of Fourth of July weekend in the US. That’s a high holiday for us, a time of barbecues and parades, fireworks and family. Surely the same was meant to be happening here? I felt sorry for the soggy passersby. And I still felt a tinge of sadness for my lack of a sunny beach day. Meanwhile, patrons changed tables – the previous occupants had ordered two bierres between them and taken time to drink them. But they were gone. It was raining. I had no agenda. I had no place to be that wasn’t a tent. I ordered un bierre. The rain pissed down. I worried mildly about my tent. Hopefully it was dry inside. I’d packed my down sleeping bag in the compression sack and arranged belongings in case water came up from the ground. Sigh.

So, it seems I’ve been here for two hours waiting for the change in weather. I’ll need to move on soon. After I finish this second beer, I suppose. It’s still pissing down. Merde.