Gord chatting with a gentleman on a Roman bridge.

Toulouse-L’Isle Jourdain 45km
Right now I am sitting in the sun in a square drinking Pernod and thinking about how much I love France. I love it enough to even turn a blind eye on the cultural practice of not cleaning up dog poop. The French get so many things right. Like windows, for example as my sister Sheila pointed out, they open in rather than out. Imagine just how much time could be spent on other things if you could just clean your windows from the inside. No ladders, no hospital stay…. But I digress.

Our ride out of Toulouse was challenging not because of the riding but because we go lost in a suburban town for an hour trying to find the right road to take. Everyone we asked was very helpful and each set of directions contradicted the previous one. Finally we found an autoroute with the name of the town we wanted so we took it. I think it is illegal to cycle on these and that might explain why people honked at us almost continuously for a couple of kilometers. Either that or they were blown away by my stunning good looks.

My back prefers the cycling so far and I even think it is helping. I still can’t walk more than a few blocks, but if I can ride that’s great.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

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