Nissan

Two days ago we rode into a small town called Nissan looking for a place to buy water. The town was setting up for a festival, for what I still don't know, and we realized that it was Friday. As we rode further into town, a gaggle of teenage boys in matching blue t-shirts ran around the corner. We had seen them before pushing each other around on a float, in there very own parade. As they rounded the corner, they yelled something about cyclists and handed us each a bottle of unknown alcoholic concoctions. We drank as they jumped around yelled "allez!". After a long ride in the sun, we were equally excited about whatever it was that they were celebrating. Our new friends turned out to be an American football team, not a soccer team as we had imagined. It all made sense- out of context, the chugging ritual that I would have snubbed my nose at seemed perfect.

Compared to Spain, it seems that France looks much more towards American culture. From huge supermarkets to pop music to fashion, sometimes I feel like I am in the States. Some beach towns feel like they could be in New Jersey, down to the cover band playing "Fly me to the Moon."

Once in the rural areas, the landscape is covered with vineyards, hilly topographies yielding microclimates that I can feel on my skin. We drafted behind a tractor for for about 5 km- it was going the perfect speed and blocked the wind. It always seems like we are riding into a headwind, but at this point no riding conditions are too frustrating or difficult. I laughed to myself when, conversing with another pair of bike tourers, I described the Pyrennean pass from Spain to France as a "good hill." I imagine that we can ride forever at this point, but we have decided to ride hard in the mornings and evenings, leaving most of the day to wander around towns or hang out on the beach.