Today,s adventure is dedicated to all of the men and women at th BC Cancer Clinic. May their journeys be good and safe and successful.
Well never on a Sunday, a Sunday, a Sunday, da da da day dah. And yet here I am in Nevers France on a Sunday. I am sitting at my campsite, beside the Loire River, with the churchbells of the city singing their songs of praise. And here lies entomnbed in a shrine, the mortal remains of St Bernadette, a pilgrimage in itself. St Bernadette of Lourdes fame, so the Catholic story goes, was visited by the Virgin Mary 18 times in 1858. A shrine and grotto was built to commemorate that vision. True? False? Well it is a matter of faith.
Got here late last night. Campsite is okay but hot, dusty and no shade. A tad dirty. First thing I did was quaff down 2 Orannginas – the sweet nectar of nature when you are dying of thirst. Orangina is very tasty. I have developed a taste for it. Tasty – oh I already said that. Me mind is playing tricks with my train of tasty thoughts.
A note about Premery. I decided to take the bus in this heat. The nice lady at the tourist office gave me bad information. Sure there is a bus Monsieur. Voici est le schedule. Deux euros. Sacre Blue, I thought. That is cheap. So i go out to the bus arret, but voila – no bus. After 4 hours of waiting, no bus. It turns out there is no bus service in Premery. Schedules? Oui. Bus stops? Oui. But no busses. Non. Sacre Blue. Oh and mon Francais est meilleur chaque jour. Voilà. Reminded me of Monty Python,s sketch about the department of Silly Walks.
At the Premery camp site they had a game of boules, or bocci. My camping neighbour , a very old man, won the tournament they had and then gave me his medal. Nice. We talked in my shattered French and I showed him pics of my grandchild Ruby. He and his disabled wife smiled and patted me on the back. Belle, belle enfant. I looked at him, and his wife and coulfd see the real love betwwen them, holding hands and smiling at one another. Beautiful. I bade them goodbye and left in the 40 degree heat.
Got to the edge of town and stuck out my thumb. I decided not to walk the 10 miles to the next town. After about 2 hours, with my thumb getting tired, a nice young women stopped and gave me a lift. I was very tired. I thanked her and called her my angel. She then told me her name was Angelique. Beautiful. She was from Uzbekistan, living in France for 10 years,yet her French was no better than mine.
The short drive to Nevers was nice as the sun was setting in the west. Air was sweet and the sky a purplish, reddish shade of blue. Having the windows down with the warm yet refreshing wind blowing and swirling around me was heavenly. It reminded mre of my youth in the car with my dad, rolling down a country road, just the two of us with the windows rolled down, and my arm straight out into the warm summer,s evening breeze, trying to catch the wind, just the two of us, silent, peaceful in thought and mind. I lost my pop at a very young age.
La vie est bon, belle – no matter what.