Today we woke up in Cap d’Agde on the Méditérranean and drove all day to Toulouse. It’s Easter Sunday. The roads were pretty quiet and it was rainy. Only in one town did we see anything that looked like an Easter celebration. Mostly just quiet, narrow roads. And grape vine after vine after vine growing on roadside plantations. I now really understand how everyone in the world is able to enjoy wine with practically every dinner. Until you have driven through the south of France, it might not be conceivable, but once you have driven through the south of France, it all makes sense. The entire countryside is planted with grapevine, maybe like the midwest is planted with corn. It’s mind-boggling. In fact, I got a little overwhelmed and hazy from the repetition of scenery. Here are some photos from the car.
When we arrived in Toulouse I turned on the television and there was the Paris Roubaix. It was really nice to lay back and watch those insane cyclists bash it out on the cobbles, especially the ever-adorable Tom Boonen, who took a gamble, pushed superhuman-hard, and tore open a gigantic gap over the last 50 kilometers. I usually just cheer for whomever is in front of any race (I have no loyalties), but as soon as I heard the commentators start to rumble about Boonen, I knew something was brewing. He pulled out with a teammate and even after he blew out his mate, just kept on making seconds. Amazing to watch, especially since the French don’t disrupt cycle sport coverage as often for commercials, and don’t change the camera view every 1.2 seconds. It was also nice to not see any grapevines along a roadside for a while…