The best weekend of my life in which I nearly died multiple times, that is.
I haven’t written much in the last week as I’ve been busy at school. I’ll write more of my impressions later but at this point I will say that it’s true that French people dip their buttered slice of baguette into their coffee in the morning.
I caught up with the friend I made last time I was in Montpellier on Friday, Eric. Bizarrely after a swim and a walk with the dogs at his house we then went to a surprise birthday party for a colleague of his wife’s. I thought it was bizarre to have some random foreigner turn up at your party but everyone was very nice. No one spoke English so I just had to do my best. I was tired so I said I didn’t want to stay out late and Eric agreed but it was midnight by the time I got home. We hadn’t started eating until after ten so it seems that’s just how they roll here. My host family eat at 7 and don’t have wine with dinner so I think that makes them outliers.
I took a Bolt to get to their place on Saturday morning, I’d had enough of the tram system the day before when I went in the wrong direction several times. They have Uber here also but Bolt is cheaper.
The first thing we did was go on a gentle 10 km trip where I borrowed an E Bike and Eric jogged. Lovely. After that Eric took me on a trip to see the sights. Since it was Saturday and the traffic would be terrible we went on his motorbike. This was my first near death experience and it lasted the whole afternoon. Pillion in shorts and shirt, no gloves, in fact no protective gear at all apart from a helmet. It was 30 degrees so not cold but yikes. “Dress for the slide, not for the ride” it wasn’t. And we were hoofing it along the motorway at 150 k, weaving in and out of traffic. To put that speed in perspective, it’s faster than a cricket ball.
The first place we visited was a bull fight. It’s traditional here but their version doesn’t involve killing the bull thank goodness. The players just have to grab things tied to the bull’s horns. The bullfighting was preceded by a brass band, some people parading in traditional costumes, and then some trick horse riding.
Looking glamorous riding sidesaddle in the heat
The bullfighting itself was also impressive. No person or animal was harmed but there would have been a few bruises. It’s a bit like parkour with lots of leaping about to avoid the bulls who were really quite angry about the whole business.
The players arrive in the ring through a cordon of locals in traditional costumes.
There were seven scheduled fights, each lasting 15 minutes but at half time we’d both had enough so left early. We then spent another couple of hours touring nearby beaches and towns with me in perpetual fear for my life. It was certainly exciting.
Dinner and stayed the night chez Eric and Sylvie, after walking the dogs again.
Slept in this morning, and Eric suggested going on a little bike ride. My advice, never go on a “little bike ride” with someone who does Iron Mans (Iron Men?). 86 kms in 30 degree heat, I nearly died. To be more precise, I nearly vomitted, collapsed, slipped into a coma, and died. Welp. On the bright side, somehow I didn’t get a sore bum so that’s good news.
We visited lots of interesting places, including one very pretty village that was having a medieval festival. It makes medieval festivals I’ve gone to in NZ (I’m looking at you, Levin) seem extremely amateur. Of course it’s easier when you live in a fortified town that actually dates back to the Middle Ages.
We also saw some flamingoes en route.
I’m now being eaten alive by mosquitoes as I write this by the pool so really it’s touch and go whether I’m going to survive to get to school tomorrow.
Thank goodness for Strava, otherwise I would have had no idea where I’ve been
