A Wine Lover's Tour de France. Barry Johns
much good advice about getting around Paris and the attractions of the 10th arrondissement, in which the hotel is located.
Bede’s first impressions of Paris were of a place full of life and dynamism. The crowded footpaths and roadways busy with vehicles provided a sea of constant movement, colour and sound. For Bede, the most immediate and obvious symbols of Paris’ peculiar brand of dynamism were to be found in the buildings. Even the rooftops, many fashioned in the characteristic double-pitched mansard style, had a special charm and appeal of their own.
His second night in Paris was spent eating out at L’Enchotte, a café in the Rue de Chabrol. He enjoyed a simple but well-prepared meal consisting of a noisette of beef fillet, fired in butter and served with Anna potatoes, artichoke hearts and French green beans, washed down with a pichet ( jug ) of red wine. Bede was in bed early and jet lag was not a problem after that.
He woke at 5.00 am the next morning, excited and ready for the journey proper to begin. He had to hold himself in check until petit déjeuner at 7.00 am. This consisted of the usual light, fluffy croissant, jam, and a large cup of café noir. By 8.00 am Bede was on the road cycling his way through the quiet streets of Paris towards the Gare d’Austerlitz. It was a bank holiday.
As he neared the Gare d’Austerlitz he came upon an area of heavily cobbled roadway. It was at this point that one of the panniers fell off. There he was, stranded in the middle of the road with cars racing around him as he scrambled to recover the fallen bag and his composure. In the process his bicycle, which was by now unbalanced and awkward to manoeuvre, reared up, with the result that the chainwheel gouged into his right calf, causing a nasty flesh wound.
He eventually managed to retrieve the situation and limped to the side of the road. Throughout this whole episode a gendarme had been quietly observing the incident but without making any effort to intervene or come to his aid. When he initiated conversation with the gendarme in his best French and lightly spoke of being on a tour des vignobles and a lover of rugby, the gendarme lightened up a little, uncrossed his arms from across his chest and wished Bede a bonne journée. Clearly not the same interest in his welfare as shown by M. Salot, but not unexpected given the face of the French enforcement authorities.
What a way to start. There he was not even out of Paris, yet already injured and somewhat chastened by the whole experience. The wound to his right leg was not to completely heal and disappear for about eight days, by which time he had completed his tour of the Loire Valley.
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