Change of plans...

Ok, to be honest I've composed this post in my head about 27 different times and in 27 different ways, as I've been on the emotional roller-coaster that has been today, but here goes.

In my guidebook about France, in discussing this region, it said something like, "The region [Languedoc] is characterized by fierce winds that roar off the mountains.  They're especially strong through the spring and into early summer."  Now, if you're me, and you're planning out this little journey, what would that mean to you?  Would you think perhaps, "Well, I just crossed the Pyrenees, wow!  That'll be great!  Tailwind as I make my way across France!"  If you did, then you would apparently be amazingly wrong.  

I set out from Perpignan with mixed feelings.  It was a very cool city, and I'd had a great time there, but had made some mistakes (leaving my map at home) and spent needless hours wandering around lost.  I had, however, made some friends at a little wine bar and they had a great time talking - more about me than to me, I think.  One of the women said she spoke English, but speaks about as much English as I do Italian (not a ton, but can generally communicate - kind of).  Another spoke it quite well, but not well enough to have a conversation about anything meaningful.  I was able to get some words out of her (like learned some stuff) and generally had a good time.  To them, I was "buo garcon" - pretty boy.  Fun.

Anyway, I rolled out of Perpignan at like 9:30am and had a HUGE day ahead of me.  My tentative schedule had this as my first *big* day and so I was going to try to make it to Montpellier, something like 160km by the map that I generated on viamichelin.com (but didn't print or bring).  I didn't bring the map because I've kind of grown fond of the method of orienteering of getting a map with just some of the towns laid out, and just navigating town to town.  Works very well.  

I escaped the perimeter of Perpignan (which was an industrial wasteland) with my load mostly intact.  I'd tried to add to my load a baguette and a couple of tomatoes, but I'll just go with the short version of that was a failure.  I hate everything about my luggage/transporting situation except that it's attached to my bike.  That I love.  Knog will most certainly be getting an angry letter from me.  But anyway, once I got out of the city, the wind became apparent.  I honestly don't have much of an idea of how to gauge wind, but I'll guess that the wind was out of the NNW at about 20-25 mph.  What this means is that when I'm at a wind-fighting speed of 30 mph (a punishingly hard pace under normal circumstances) I'm really going 5-10mph.  I was in my easiest few gears on the majority of the ride, in wide open flat fields, suffering.  And suffering.  And suffering.  There were some mountains to my left (the west) that I thought would change the wind quite a bit once I got past them (maybe this would become a tailwind, I hoped) but still after passing them it came out of the NNW and hurt me.  So badly.  It was so funny, when the road would turn NE, and I had a 25 mph crosswind, it felt heavenly.  I wanted to sing.

So ridiculous, people shouldn't have to ride their bikes in circumstances like that.  Apparently the mountains (I rode north of all the mountains I could see) that that guide book was talking about was Antarctica.  I took frequent give-up-and-sit-on-the-side-of-the-road-in-a-ditch or go-into-this-little-town-to-have-an-espresso breaks, and so all in all, after a grueling 7h of traveling, I'd gone 80 km.  My Garmin has me at 4:19 of actual riding, but I don't feel like it was leisurely.  Didn't even stop for a proper lunch and I'm now exhausted.

I adjusted my goal to reach the town of Narbonne.  Why I even demanded of myself that I get there (why not just turn around and ride with a tailwind, nobody cares) is kind of a mystery to me.  But I made it.  Built character perhaps.  I got here, though, and found the tourist office and the girl at the desk was kind enough to tell me that pretty much she hates Narbonne, there's no people around anywhere and the town is dead.  She was stunningly Frenchly attractive (as each tourist office it seems has one of those) but not entirely helpful.  She did arm me with a map and a list of hotels and their rough prices.  I went to this international center hostel thing that looked amazingly promising (surely I'll find a friend there!) but the person at the desk, who spoke pretty much no english, on hearing my request asked for a moment to go consult with his english-speaking coworker and came back to inform me, "We're closed tonight."  He was proud of his english phrase and all, but I felt like crying.

I dug myself out of that little hole and went to a hotel that looked promising - a bit out of the city center, but probably less than 500m to bustling streets - and got here.  I was informed that they had a room but it was 40 euros.  I looked sad, and so he said there was a cheaper room with the toilet in the hallway for 38 euros.  Still I was sad as that was too much.  Then he started mumbling a bit (speaks good english, by the way, which is wonderful) and told me that he could book me in a double room, but since it was just me it was only 32 euro.  Well that sounded good, so he asked if I wanted to see it and lo and behold, it's 2 twin beds with its own bathroom featuring a toilet AND BATH!  I was ecstatic, but it didn't show, because honestly I was way too tired.  I came down, we took Stacy out to a little bike parking garage they have there (she has friends to hang out with and none of them are locked, he has the key, so safe) and I came back and asked about finding the internet somewhere.  He looked at me strangely, and I asked about an internet cafe or something.  Still he looked at me strangely (this is like a 25 year old guy by the way) and was like, "Well, if you just want to use it for like half an hour or something, just let me know when you want and you can use my laptop."

Whoo!  So I went upstairs, drew up a bath, (which, in what I presume is a fine european tradition, is like 30 inches long) got in it, and promptly fell asleep.  I was in there for like an hour I think, and woke up to find that all the water had drained out...  I tried to move my legs, but they'd fallen completely asleep given my ridiculous position (I can't even begin to describe or even recreate in my head how I was arranged in there).  Somehow I got out of the tub, however, with a new attitude and some new ideas.

First idea, maybe I'll take a train tomorrow morning up to say, Montpellier, check into a room, leave my stuff there, then take a train like 100km to the north of that and then enjoy that heavenly wind from the north for like 2h as I ride that 100k through the gorgeous countryside.  That seemed like a good idea, and doing adventures like that, I could still make progress on my route to Avignon, but it still leaves me in France for like 4 more days.  I'm still not having the best of time with France, though, since I'm having language problems (severely).  I have this huge mental block against French.  Spanish seemed fine...

Second idea, tomorrow I take a rest day and just take a train to Nice, explore there, and then be in Italy the day after tomorrow?  Better idea, I think.  It gives me a day to recover (my saddle and my backside aren't getting along as well as I'd hoped, I'll have to grab some of that Assos chamois cream tomorrow), and it puts me in Italy soon!  I can practice my Italian and be able to see things written and READ them.  It's stunning to me how anti-intuitive the French language is...

For now, I just finished munching on my baguette (that spent most of its trip here from Perpignan in my jersey pocket with simply the middle of it wrapped in a bit of waxed paper) and cheese that I'd bought at a little market, and am ready to go explore the town.  Perhaps I'll get some shoes...

Thanks so much for the comments, everybody.  They help a lot, this is both as mind-blowing and stunningly difficult as I'd thought.