Hills, hills and some rain

I was given some time off after spending every waking moment with a little two year old whom I love dearly but still; it is a little difficult to take care of a child 24/7. I have much greater appreciation for all those mothers out there, particularly those who stay at home with their children. I know that I will never be able to do that. Certainly not! I am not equipped to occupy myself with children 24/7…so when the time comes, I will definitely be searching out a good day care or a fabulous nanny, but hey, that time is not for a long while yet (thank God) and I have other things to tell. I traveled to the Maconnais, a very lovely area in Burgundy where a lot of wine is produced (surprise, surprise…this whole region is drunk with wine). Unfortunately for me, the hills were not exactly pleasant company. However, as the old adage goes, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. So, I am here to attest to the fact that I am stronger today for my experience in the Maconnais. Okay, part of it was the Maconnais and its hills and part of it was my inability to choose the right direction or better yet to properly read my map and the signs.

Let me recount the (mis)adventure. It started beautifully. I took a train from Dijon to a small city called Tournus, which was lovely, along the Sâone River with some great ancient looking architecture. Eating a fabulous chocolate cake/brownie and perusing an ancient abbey and crypt are two of my favorite ways to pass the time (I have a long list of favorites, so it is not shocking that these are included). After receiving directions, and by golly, following those directions correctly, I felt on top of the world, like a small bird given expansive wings to fly away. I felt so ready for the adventure, especially after being cooped up in the house for so long. I was on my way. All was well until I realized what kind of terrain I was in for. Hills, inclines and not short sprintable inclines, but inclines that stretched for miles. At one point I had three maps with me and despite this fact, I still managed to go the wrong way. Can you believe that? Not only did I go the wrong way, but I rode downhill about 3 miles at about 30 miles per hour – glorious – until I realized I must remount all of that. It took me nearly an hour – at about 4 miles per hour – to return to the point where I had made my directional error.

I learned something, though. I learned how to laugh in the face of pain, which might sound a little strange, but it is true. Standing on the side of the road, crushed and disappointed at my error (worse yet because I had such a limited amount of time to see things that day) I turned my head back towards the hills I must remount and I shook it self-deprecatingly and smiled. What else could I do but let out an uproarious laughter - one inspired by the half-crazed high one gets in an inescapable and unpleasant situation – and mount my bikes and continue.

What a plush region! The whole ride was full of flowers, trees, and vines – such natural riches to behold. As I continued, the sky turned darker and darker, mailing my surroundings look like a combination of Twister and Beauty and the Beast (I will leave that up to you to imagine). Further mounting seemingly endless uphills until my legs burned and my bottom felt on fire, I prayed that it would not rain on top of all of that. Well, the Lord is truly faithful! He did not allow it to rain until I hit the downhills, which were continuous until I reached my destination. Despite being a little depressed with the rain, it was actually an exhilarating combination, one that made me feel intensely alive – the tightening of my muscles as I prepared for the downhills and the stinging of the rain drops as they hit my taut skin. Again, I could not help but smile beautifically as I considered my misadventure and the wonders of the Creator.

Oh, I forgot to recount my encounter with a couple who sold honey on the side of the road. In the countryside of Burgundy, one could remark on the many signs that indicate honey for sale (ici vente du miel). With my obsession over food, of course I was curious and had been wanting to stop for quite some time. Well, traversing yet another small village on my way to Cluny and speeding down a wecome decline, I noticed the for sale sign and decided to turn around and go for it. I decided that at that moment I really was craving honey (normally I am not much of a honey person, well, not on a regular basis). I tasted two different types of extraordinarily good honey and decided on one to purchase, which I later consumed with a fresh baguette and a café au lait – perfect!

So, the rain was coming down when I reached Cluny and unfortunately did not stop the remainder of my journey. Relaxing in a pleasant café under its overhang and watching people go by, I thanked the Lord for giving me the opportunity to have an adventure like this, even though the rain was not welcome. Sometimes, and maybe this is more often the case, one remembers the adventures where everything went wrong more vividly than the times when all was right and dandy.

The reason I was in Cluny was to visit the ancient abbey remains. At one point in history, about 600 years ago, Cluny was one of the great centers of Christianity. Cluny possessed the largest cathedral ever constructed, but distressingly, it was disassembled in the 19th century -after falling into disuse and disrepair - brick by brick until very little remains today. I saw a three-D model of the way it appeared at its prime, and it was quite the structure to behold. All that remains now are two towers and a portion of one of the chapels. It was quite interesting taking photos of the buildings and the grounds while it poured and while the sky opened up its bowels and dumped its excess to the earth (nice imagery, huh?) Thankfully, I had a bus and a train to whisk me away.