After the big effort I did to arrive here, I decided that there was not going to be much cycling for the next week. It was too hot anyway! At the beginning I didn´t know how long I was going to stay here, but I guessed a week. And it more or less was the time that Javi needed to recover and to get to Marseille with Goiznabar.
The city is not very big, but it also doesn’t have much to do, or at least I decided not to do much and rest. It’s true that it has several museums (including a bike museum, of which I will talk on the next post), but What I did was basically take it easy and enjoy the parks, or the center streets with their many bars and restaurants.
The problem was that it was horribly hot all the time, so I didn’t feel like doing much. I forced myself to go for a walk at least once a day, but that was all. Eating and resting. I ate so much; I think I should not worry about doing so in the next month.
The only day I took the bike was to go to Decathlon, to buy myself some new sunglasses, as I had lost the previous ones. It really seems like we are travelling from one Decathlon to the next one.
The fun thing is that on the way back I found on the map “le Rue des Cycloturistes”, so of course I had to go there and get my picture taken. It was in a hill, so my girlfriend was not so happy with the idea, but she did come and took the picture.
One of the other things I tried to do in the city was trying to find the pump head, of my MSR cooker. Javi and Goiznabar called me to inform me that it finally broke. I tried, but unfortunately I was not successful.
In one of the shops I tried to find it seemed a trip to the past! It was a small hardware store. Probably it was the last family owned ones in France, and the only ones that seem to exist are the huge ones on the outskirts of the cities.
As it had some Camping Gaz on the window I tried my luck. How it looked inside and how the clerk was, it seemed I was 30 years ago. It was like you can imagine small town shops. The clerk didn’t speak English, but it didn´t matter, he just talked louder. And when he didn’t know something he screamed asking to a Fracois. This Francois could have been imaginary if it was not because he answered. Well, the end of the story is that there was no luck. Pity, because I really would have liked to buy something there.
And that’s how life went in Saint Étienne, waiting for Javi to recover, enjoying time with my girlfriend, knowing that soon I had to leave to meet the rest of the Biziklautak in Marseille.