October 4th, La Piste Cyclable

After two days of actual work and incessant rain, and after actually sleeping completely through the night, I have the entire morning to do what I want. And that is to ingest several cups of dark cafe au lait, two yogurts, three croissants, a container of compote (strawberry and applesauce) and two mini-baguettes. And go for a ride.

I've ridden the roads around La Roche sur Yon for several years, enough that they are familiar to me, yet somehow I'm on the departmental road, direction Les Sables d'Olone. It's four lanes of traffic during rush hour and very unpleasant. I take a first turn off, but it's just a loop through a new subdivision, reminiscient of the Asbury sprawl, and it spits me back out onto the D road a mile back towards La Roche.

Another two kilometers of terror and there's an exit for a smaller D road heading north. The sun is all the way up and the air is moist and dew glints on the grass. Just a short ways up the road, a sign indicates a piste cyclable, I hadn't planned on taking the trail, but it's paved and there aren't any diesel belching cars on it, so west I go.

The good thing about a cycling trail is that there is not traffic, the bad thing is that it's exactly like a cycling trail in the States, so there isn't much to learn from the ride. It's time to think and reflect.

Quite by accident, I met a student last night from Rennemoulin, the town near L'Etang la Ville. He was surprised I was familiar with the town. I was surprised by the actual derivation of the town's name. Renne does mean reindeer in French, but renne is also short for Rennet, a small frog. Thus Rennemoulin=Small Frog Windmill. Not quite as mysterious or interesting as Reindeer Windmill, but I can't wait to tell my misinformed in-laws. I also learned that it was built my Marie Antoinette. One of her hobbies, before losing her head, was to build pretty, little villes in the countryside. This must have pleased her starving peasants to no end.

The paved trail intersects an unpaved trail in the forest outside if Coex, 35k, time to turn around.

Last night I had an amazing dinner with the president of the college, Mr. Bouletreau and a visiting Philosophy professor from La Sorbonne, who was married to an American and spoke English with a New Hampshire accent. Wonderful conversation, mixing Zeno, Socrates, George Bush, the naval battles of the Civil War, South African apartheid and the joys of fresh corn on the cob and butter. Corn on the cob is very rare in France, almost unknown, but can be had at a small market in Paris for only 1€ per ear, about $1.30.

We didn't eat corn, though. Francois is a bit of a gourmand and he insisted we go crazy-his treat. First up was some moules (mussles) in light reduction of muscat. My bowl must have had at least 100 mussles, and they were outstanding. Claude had moules as well, but steamed with a spicy vinager and chorizo. The main course was saumon fume, smoked, raw salmon on toast. Also superb. There is little spice in much of the cuisine I've sampled here, just enough to bring out the flavor of the food, delicate layers of flavor that are easy to savor and highlighted by light wines. For dessert, a creme brule aux fruits flambee. Hard to describe this... a light cream pudding, with sliced fruit and flaming liquor on top. Sweet, toasted strawberries with creamy pudding. Wow.

The creme brule is nearly burned off as I enter La Roche on the north side, following the Centre Ville signs to La Place Napoleon. I need to leave my room at the Hotel de la Vendee by 11 and I'll just make it.