Biking 1001

            Before coming on this vacation, I had read minimal literature on the biking portion of the trip. Because of the company’s luxurious reputation for organizing bike trips world wide, I expected a low level of athletic intensity, mostly leisure riding throughout the rolling lavender fields of Provence, France. After all, a van would be available for us to hop in at any point in case we needed rest. How tough could it be?

            When we arrived at the hotel where the guides would pick us up, we noted groups of people dressed in spandex and padded shorts, guessing whether or not they were on our trip. The two six-foot plus young men walking along the breakfast buffet line looked extremely fit, not to mention their sixty plus year old parents, whose bodies provided inspiration for my twenty-two year old self. We met our guides and gradually made the rounds of each family group in the hotel lobby. Enthusiastic to begin biking, we boarded the bus that would take us to our launch point. My family sat near the honeymooning couple, an adorable pair who had met in college. As an active duo, they really wanted to do something athletic on their getaway, a point I fully resonated with.

            The bus arrived at a small village where our bikes, helmets, and water bottles were waiting for us. For a last bathroom break before we hit the road, we crouched into a cave with a toilet that barely flushed. For some reason, I was under the impression that the bike route would loop back to this village and we would stay here for the night, and I was skeptical of this small-town experience. But, the guides handed us a list of directions to follow in order to arrive at our destination. Come again? I had foreseen both guides following us throughout each twist and turn in the road, essentially providing a tour of Provence. Instead, one guide would bike along the trail, looking for stragglers and finding lost bikers. The other guide would drive the van, which did not follow us but stopped at various points to provide snacks, beer, and refreshment breaks. This would get interesting with my weak sense of direction.

Getting ready for the big adventure!

Our first pit stop. There was a very small market selling
meats and cheeses. One of the cheeses literally had green
and blue mold on it. Bon appétit!

            Before leaving, the guides had told us that today would be a nice warm up for the four days of biking to follow. One guide even went as far to say that the biking schedule was zen like, and we would find the days going by quickly. Initially, the ride was smooth. My bike felt great, better than the one I use at home. I adjusted to reading directions while watching the narrow gravel roads of Provence. Then, we hit our first village, the picturesque Críus. I should have stopped and taken pictures of the quaint town, as it transported me to another century. However, I was not yet comfortable with the format of the biking and relying on myself for timing and directional instruction.

Taking a photo break. There is a very green river in the background. 

            Naturally, I missed a turn after the exiting the village. It seemed others faced similar complications when I discovered others from our group biking in the opposite direction as me and meeting me at intersections from other roads. Eventually we found our way and continued on to Pierrue, where we would have a locally-sourced Provencial meal.

            Over the last four days in France, I had been disgusted by the amount I was eating and the amount of exercise I was not doing. I wanted to take full advantage of the high quality French flavors, but I feared that two weeks of overstuffing myself was not worth it. The “warm up” ride we had just embarked on ensured me that my calories out would compensate for the calories in. Whereas I had expected this trip to be more cruising the country roads of Provence, I felt more like we were training to join the Tour de France, which would begin in just one week.

Enjoying lunch. The bag in front of us is filled with ice to
keep the white and rose wines chilled.

            That being said, our lunch consisted of a three-course meal. We started with a beautiful, fresh salad topped with cheese, avocado, and a light vinaigrette (and proscuitto for the meat eaters). For the second course, meat eaters had a lamb cooked to perfection while others had a fig and goat cheese ravioli. And for dessert, I cleaned my plate of apple pie. Paired with this meal, I sipped on a few glasses of white wine and a rose. Post-lunch, I was in no condition to get back on my bike, stuffed with food and wine, however, our guides reassured us that we did the hard riding in the morning. I quickly learned from this faulty assumption.

I couldn't help but giggle at this herd of goats camped out in the shade. They all wore little bells around their necks so every movement they made added a little jingle to the scene.

            Though the second leg of the trip was a bit shorter than the first, my body strove much harder to attain the same level of exertion. In the afternoon, temperatures rise, winds increase, and I swear there were more hills. By the time we reached the hotel, I was wiped. Instead of heading to the gym for weight training, I threw my swimsuit on and headed down to the pool. I almost fell asleep on my perfect bed in my perfect room, complete with a balcony, but somehow pried myself up and outside.

My gorgeous room.

I was speechless when I discovered my
private balcony.

The pool set the perfect scene for relaxation. The sun was beating down us, a feeling this Minnesotan has not felt since Senior Beach Week in San Diego. I closed my eyes and woke up to my mother tickling my feet. She joined me and we socialized with the others from our group who also were enjoying the pool.

I know it's really dorky, but I started laughing
from joy when I first turned on my shower.
It fell rain from a cloud. So cool!
my shower 

            At five o’clock, our guides had told us a charismatic 72-year-old man would lead us in a game of pétanque, the French term for bocce ball. Too cool for this, I sat on my balcony until about seven o’clock, blogging and primping for dinner. I came outside just in time to be lured into a couple games of Botche. As the good sport that I am, I passed on happy hour and got competitive. I was drafted to play on the losing team, who was losing 9-0, so our opponents only needed 5 more points to finish the game. My first round was less than perfect, and our opponents gained 2 more points. During my second round, however, I threw my first ball centimeters from the small red ball. All our team had to do was maintain our lead. During the last couple throws, one of my teammates accidentally knocked my ball further from the target, but he redeemed himself by throwing his last ball close to the target. We jumped up 11-7. The next round, I my first throw actually touched the target. But, our opponents knocked my ball out of the way, ending the game with a final score of 15-9. I may not have been the MVP on the bikes today, but I rose to the occasion for patonk.

Action shot!

Sea bass in a mango gastrique. Funky looking but super scrumptious.

            At around eight o’clock, we headed to the outdoor terrace of the hotel for our 6-course meal. Wow was this meal incredibly delicious. We started off with a small plate of chopped beets. The second course was probably the most interesting dish I’ve ever tasted. It was a fish transformed into a dish resembling a pizza, though had no pizza-like qualities. The menu called it a "sea bass in a mango gastrique." Third, we had another white fish, topped with an asparagus cream sauce that was so tasty, my taste buds water just thinking about it. Interestingly, we had just as many courses for dessert as we did “real food.” One of the desserts came in a martini glass, and had lemon sorbet and meringue somehow prepared to make this very light and refreshing dish. We completed our meal with a plate of macaroons, nougat, and micro-mini loaves of sweet breads. The macaroons tasted just like caramel delights (the Girl Scout cookies also known as Simoas).

            The night ended with our vivacious Brazilian group member, with whom I became fast friends, informing us that tonight the moon would be both full and the closest to the Earth than it would be all year. We watched it slowly rise over the trees, bringing the perfect day to a perfect close. Full of joy, everyone giggled their way back to their rooms and into a deep slumber necessary to prepare for the day to come.

Full moon behind us.