France

In 2012, I decided to spend my 40th birthday doing some things that I love. Thus the idea of cycling around Belgium to various Trappist monasteries and drinking their delicious homemade brew was born.

Our peloton of novice bike riders hit the pavement towards the Hainaut province town of Mariembourg on our way to Chimay, the last big day of cycling.

Another French lesson was at the movie theater. The phone rings in the first scene, and the actress slowly picks up the phone and responds, “Allô!” Damn!!! It’s dubbed in French. Fight or flight immediately sets in as I quickly asked myself “stay? go? stay? go?” Due to the fact that it was nice and cool and could zone out a little, I stayed.

Fortunately I didn’t seek out the Tour de France, it came to me in Besançon. For those of y’all who don’t follow athletes in lycra, this is the July event where 160 or so cyclists jump on a bicycle and race around France trying to finish in the shortest time possible so they can wear a yellow jersey.

When my flight from Ireland via Frankfurt arrived during the brisk Geneva evening at 7:30, I had already mentally prepared to stay the night in Switzerland and travel onto France the next day. Yet, the last train to Besançon left in an hour. Not an overabundance of time to execute an international arrival and subsequent train departure.

No Parisian visit is complete without heading up the Eiffel Tower. Yet students had to decide between the Eiffel Tower with me or ride a bateau mouche with the other teachers.

We left the French beaches of Cote d’Azur the next morning on a bus to the home of the 1968 Winter Olympics, Grenoble.

Getting anxious for another adventure, but this time an educational village of 44 teachers and students were taking over narrow France streets.