“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller
I think that from now on, I will stop writing
about everyday experiences regarding charging my gadgets. All the time it is
the same story. I am just glad that people are so helpful
I have
realized that I like being called monsieur.
It sounds so hot. Actually, the whole French language sounds hot and for me it
is like flirting by every single conversation. It is really quite fun.
The road
was once again spectacular today, this time led from the second half through
rural areas, thus there were not many tourists, and on abandoned roads I could
speed up a little. I was spared of comfort in touristic destinations such as
benches for lunch break (I had my lunch right next to the main road sitting in
the shadow), but I was glad that I could escape that touristic hustle for a
moment. Interestingly, one cyclist came up to me inquiring from where I come
and how many days I had been on the road. His girlfriend came after a while and
we chatted a little. They had their vacation in the same style as I do, with a
small difference that they were staying in camps. However, judging from the
reaction of the girl, she actually liked it that way. It is not true that this
harsh travelling style is guy stuff only. If one has the right nature and
mindset for it, it is not a problem at all. I wanted to join them for a little,
but they were moving so terribly slowly that after a while I wished them good
luck and rushed away.
My mum
scared me a little with that insect incident at night. She urged me to go to
the nearest hospital to see the doctor.. I hated that idea, but since this
thing worried me as well, I acquiesced. I was near La Rochelle, one of the few
bigger cities that I had on my road in the next days. Therefore it was a good
idea to take care of that right away. I wanted to speed up a little and planned
another detour. This time it worked fine, just the heavy traffic did not make
my biking very pleasant. I was to be constantly on guard from speeding cars. I
have also experienced what it is to be blown away by a speeding road truck. The
air shock could easily take me down had not I kept my eyes on the ball all the
time.
In La
Rochelle I pulled over to check something on a map when suddenly a man on a
truck stopped to ask me whether I needed some helps with directions. He could not
come at a better moment – the hospital I was heading to was actually a
psychiatric clinic. Sometimes even my precious maps can be confusing. He
corrected my directions just in time and said that he did the same route,
Eurovelo 6, but all the way long from France to Turkey. Therefore he sprang to help
me as he saw my luggage that rekindled his own memories; it was a really nice
encounter.
As usually,
it took me ages to find the right place in the hospital. I was advised that I
would pay for the medical examinations. This surprised me supposing that I did
not pay anything in Orleans. Maybe I just inadvertently got away without paying.
Well, let's see how it turns out here
(hospital La Rochelle, 18:30)
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