ALMOST LIVE FROM FRANCE (July 20th-30th)

This was to be a very different trip than those before, as it was the first time I've done everything entirely on my own (not part of a tour group anywhere along the way) and I took the gamble that my son was ready to take on the huge mountains of the Pyrenees. I plan to post something soon detailing how to go about a trip like this yourself... all the little details that you might not find in a book or travel website that can make the difference between having a great time vs trying to figure out how it's possible to have a great time when so many things are going wrong.

In the end, we had just one kinda "bad" day out of 10, which, I think, is a pretty good ratio! And even that "bad" day had its share of fun. So, if you ask me if you should try to do something like this yourself, and you speak dreadfully-little French, I say sure, go for it! Just make sure you're ready to go with the flow and make adjustments on the fly as need be. The fun isn't found in the things that go exactly according to plan. Rather, it's in all those little unexpected things that come with the journey.  --Mike--
 

7/22/07- (pm edition) THERE'S A GOOD & BAD SIDE TO TARBES. My initial impression of Tarbes was quite favorable, based on its rather "unspoiled" nature as something other than a touristy place for Americans (or, for that matter, anyone but the French). But there appears to be a downside to that as well. I wouldn't quite say that the town infrastructure is backward, but its people, some of them, well... they live in that version of France that confounds many Americans. A version in which you go into a local cafe and ask to see a menu (and "menu" is one of those pretty darned universal words) and the first thing they want to do is find someone who speaks English. Well guess what? You can communicate in severely flawed French and severely flawed English if you want to try! And in Tarbes, a good number of people clearly do not. Very strange. Later this evening (an evening that went on forever, as the restaurant seemed to lose track of each course of it) my son & I dined in a fairly nice (food was exceptional and pricing fairly steep) place, in which the most English offered was a rather-well-perfected "Sorry, I don't speak English." To which you're thinking fine, maybe she doesn't. Trouble is, I had asked for, en Francaise, "Eau Ordinaire." French for plain tap water.

The upshot of the endless dinner ordeal (which started at about 8:10pm and ended at 10:55) was that we got to ride back in the dark, without lights, to our hotel. Fortunately the city's fairly well lit up, so it was more an adventure than a dangerous ordeal, but it certainly wasn't part of our plan. In fact, we'd left for dinner far earlier, but spent about an hour circling the city looking for the very few places that are open on Sundays. I'd guess there might be 100+ places to eat in Tarbes, of which maybe 6 were open.

OK, so you don't think I can make my case with a couple anecdotes. Here's another. For lunch we found a very nice family-run Pizza place (Tarbes seems to have quite a few Pizza places, by the way). Excellent service, excellent food. Had fun figuring out the menu with them. But they couldn't figure out what to do with a US-style credit card, which doesn't have a "chip" in it. European cards have little coded ICs so they don't have to be "swiped", just inserted into a slot in the machine. No scanning of a strip, like in the US. OK, so that's one place. Well, it also happened at the previous-night's dinner, and again at tonight's endless meal ordeal. In each case they'd look at my card and look at me and wonder, what's this? Why is this card different? Well, it isn't any different than any of the other 100 million+ cards probably issued in the US, with commercials telling you they work anywhere and everywhere. And in each case, these establishments had machines that did work with the card. They just didn't have people who knew what to do with them until they found someone who could help figure it out. (The credit-card snafus are meant to support my premise that they don't have much contact with Americans, and are not an indication of poor behavior or whatever).

That's the charm, and the downside, to spending time in a less-touristy, urbanized area of France. If you're in a more rural area, even one that doesn't see many tourists (perhaps especially so?), it's quite different. People seem to have a desire to communicate. I think that's normal. That's my own bias, I'll admit. I think there is, or should be, a desire to try and learn something about others, and help them communicate. I don't get mad when somebody thinks someone who can't speak French well isn't worth the time of day. I don't even get frustrated. Rather, I get a little bit sad.

Maybe that's why when, if I'm on the floor and I overhear someone asking one of our salespeople for a "camera", I'll quickly stop what I'm doing and explain to the salesperson that they're asking for a bicycle tube. It wasn't all that long ago that I would have been thinking that somebody coming into our store and expecting someone on our staff to speak Spanish was an unreasonable person, not someone to spend much time with. And I still believe that, if you live in a country, you ought to learn the language spoken by most of its people. But I'm also convinced that, no matter what someone's situation is, we should do whatever we can to try and make their day just a little bit better. I know I fail, too often, in this regard. I know I can do better, and I will try. That's the message I take away with me from today's encounter with a few of the citizens of Tarbes. A few, mind you. There were many others... well, OK, a few others, who knew that the best communication was often 10% verbal and 90% smile.

07/26/07- A DAY IN THE VILLAGE AT THE TOUR DE FRANCE starts well ahead of time by either putting up some serious dollars with a tour group that has the connections, or knowing someone yourself in high places. Fortunately this was one of those times where I did, in fact, know the right person who was able to get my son & I a couple of passes to the "Village" at the start of today's stage. The "Village" is a fenced-off secured area where the riders and media and celebrities and such hang out. I'd been into the Village on one other occasion, way back in 2000 during my first visit to France. Not sure how I got in that time, but it was definitely a lot easier then than it is now.

The spotlight is on 2nd-place Cadel Evans (Three years ago, this press mob would have been surrounding Lance Armstrong). But today the media attention is all over Cadel Evans, the no-longer long shot to win the Tour de France. He still has about two minutes between himself and Discovery's Contador standing in his way though, and that won't be an easy task.

Evans is an excellent time trialist, and the odds favor him beating Contador in Saturday's 55 kilometer race against the clock. But Contador, the current holder of the Yellow Jersey (after Rasmussen was pulled from the 'Tour due to possibly-intentional missing of drug tests in June), may find sudden strength with that jersey, as many others have in the past.

You'll note that 1st-place Contador is not wearing the Yellow Jersey in today's (Thursday's) stage, a decision made by the Tour de France organization after having Rasmussen, the former leader of the race, removed from the event.

Getting the Yellow Jersey due to the misfortunes of others isn't a great way to get it anyway, and the "White" jersey he's seen wearing (for Best Young Rider) still carries quite a bit of weight in prestige.

Shortly after the end of today's stage, Contador was in fact given the Yellow Jersey, which he will wear at least through Saturday, assuming he doesn't get injured.

Levi Leipheimer moves into 3rd place, a position he would like to improve upon, which would require him to beat Evans in the final time trial by just under a minute.

So barring a disastrous time trial for Contador, Evans and Levi, they are the only contenders at this point for the 3 places on the final podium, since the next-best rider is another 3 minutes back.

Of the three, only Cadel somehow seems to have escaped the harshness of media and fans believing that they didn't earn their newfound positions, probably because he doesn't have the strong team behind him that Discovery offers both Levi and Contador. Not that Chris Horner isn't a good person to have in your corner, but Chris seems to be the only person in Cadel's corner on the Lotto team. Sprinters just aren't much good in the mountains.

Speaking of Chris Horner, here he is posing with Kevin before the start of today's stage. Chris is one of the most sought-after interviews in the English-speaking media, because he always has something (intelligent) to say and doesn't mind the glare of the spotlights.

But Chris Horner wasn't the only celebrity Kevin got to see. Here he is having a polka-dot King of the Mountains jersey signed by none other than Richard Virenque, 7-time winner of that title.

This is significant for Kevin because that's his favorite riding jersey (not a signed one, of course!) and after having ridden both the Port du Bales and Col d'Aubisque in the last few days, it seemed particularly appropriate.

Of course, he didn't know who or what Virenque was until I pointed him out, at which point my wallet became precisely 65 euro lighter since Kevin had to buy a jersey to have signed.

I tried to get Kevin to pose with the polka-dot-clad podium girls nearby, but he wasn't interested. Is life really that simple when you're 14?