20 years ago today - Day 63

Sunday, May 5th - marooned in Avignon

Hope springs eternal. I get up early without disturbing Mike and go down to the train station to check on our bikes, but they still have not arrived. The agent says they are probably either in Perpignan, which means they did not go very far, or in Nimes. I ask them to please call these stations to ask but they refuse to. I ask to speak with the customer service office to get their assistance in the matter but the are not open until tomorrow.

Mike takes the news of our missing bikes all in stride. "At least we know where they might be. It will all come out in the wash," he says, but I'm not so cool about it. Situations like this make me anxious. I'm doubt the SNCF knows anything and that we are the ones being washed. Sometimes, like at the border, his coolness is infuriating, but today it feels like a blessing. While I was at the station he has picked up a French newspaper on his way back from the bakery, along with fresh croissants for the both of us. He gives me part of the paper and I do my best to read it with the aid of my new French/English dictionary. It has been almost twenty years since my high school French classes.

We return to the hotel and pack our bags in the hopes that are bikes will arrive by 2. If they do we want to move on to Arles, which is a two or three hour ride south. The hotel staff are cooperative. They let us check out and deposit our bags in the dining room near the lobby until our departure. I spend the rest of the morning reading Anna Karenin on the steps of the Palais des Papes, basking in the sun.

Mike and I take turns visiting the station after each new train arrives. By 2pm our bikes have still not appeared. We return to the hotel, book for another evening and move our bags back into the same room.

There is no point stressing about our bikes until tomorrow, when we will visit the customer service office. Mike helps me relax by inviting me to wander around the streets on the east side of town to check out inexpensive restaurants he had seen before. We find a cheap Chinese place that we agree on and we return there for dinner later.

My ribcage is still sore but definitely healing. The swelling has gone done. My hand is almost healed over but it has begun to change colour with blues and purples appearing on the heal of my palm. My head cold has faded as fast as it started, so at these things are positive signs.


PHOTO 1: Avignon Theatre
PHOTO 2: Avignon's tree-lined streets