The departure and arrival to France represented a huge test to our resistance capacities. One day before departure I received a message saying the grape harvesting were delayed by at least one week - it's a very specific kind of grape and the picking days constantly vary with meteorology. All that clumsy situation made us think it would be rather good to delay the flight and keep on grape harvesting at Cadaval. We thought it would be easy to find a job within the contacts we already had. At the end of that working day we (literally) ran into a colleague's house we've met that same day to access the internet and make those flight changes. Cellphone ready to make work calls in the meantime. We had ten minutes to decide everything. In case the answer was negative, the mission would be aborted and we had 10km to ride to catch the very last train that would take us to Lisbon. From there the flight would depart the next 6AM.
With sweat dripping down my face and 86€ to be paid for the flight amendment, we realized that the working teams were already full and we hardly would find any house that still needed someone. We dropped everything and ran to "our house". We packed and mounted all the luggage on the bikes, plus ten grape varieties, rocha pears, royal gala apples, and off we went! We arrived early enough to the station, at least enough to read the warning signs "rail works" for that same day. Fortunately, the train we were taking was one of the few that wouldn't be affected. Uff! Even the memories of that day get me almost exhausted!
Arriving at Lisbon another marathon was waiting. Re-packing, weighing the bags, dismantle the bikes, protect and put them in boxes. Everything would have gone more or less okay if my pedals weren't too attached. There goes Fernando out in the street at two in the morning. From the second floor the only thing I could hear was a shrill tim tim tim, echoing off the street that sounded more like if someone was breaking the bike into pieces. Mission accomplished, he went sleeping. Needless to say I did not. Charged of the bags I only stopped at four in the morning, just in time to go down and get the taxi-van that would take us to the airport. Inside we didn't pass unnoticed - from one side to another with giant boxes. Check-in employee: "Did you deflate the tires?" I looked at Fernando certain that the answer would be positive: "I forgot." Boxes opened, arms deep inside, deflating tires, boxes closed...
Inside one of the hand luggage was all the kitchen paraphernalia plus a compressed sleeping bag on top. X-ray employee: "Can you open the bag, please?" Anything but that... Puff! Everything pops out as soon as I opened it. After some researches we found the problem: a large piece of soap wrapped in aluminum foil... We couldn't help smiling at each other. Who would have thought? "You can close it. I've seen that you have all the necessary ingredients to make a good meal." Inside the plane I felt some relief at last. Finally I was going to get some sleep... that if Fernando had managed to hide his excitement and kept it silent... But no.
Already on French soil we realized we were all alone. No one to inform us, no carriage to help us carry the boxes and luggage out. So we decided we would assemble all the stuff right there, on the exit hall. We were there for so long that three policemen armed to the teeth came to check what was going on, the precise moment Fernando decides to go to the toilet (at the opposite corner of the airport) leaving me on my own. They stood around me, guns prepared, a good ten minutes that seemed more like an hour. Disappointed, I believe, they retreated certain that I wasn't assembling no bomb but just bikes.
Three hours and two apples later, feet on the pedals and off we go. In one mile we were entering the rocade (motorway). Brilliant. Fortunately after the next exit it was "toujours tout droit" (straight ahead). That's what we were told at the first and only store we would find that day selling something to eat (not counting a McDonald's). It was Sunday. The only thing we wanted was to get to the center of Bordeaux, if we had a place to stay, or to the campsite. Since the answer wasn't coming we went to the second option.
Hungry, exhausted and after riding too many miles on roads that seemed to be right next to the campsite (and they were), we arrived at last. There was still nothing to eat even at the campsite. It was Sunday. On Sunday you eat at home. After 20€ and an ice cold bath in the swimming pool we were right on time to get into the tent, seconds before the beginning of what would be the biggest storm I've ever seen. At least inside a tent. The sky was dressed in an electric yellowish orange. Fernando was ecstatic watching it by the little tent window. I just wanted to sleep and forget hunger. Not that we didn't have food but we had no gas bottle because it's not allowed to carry it on a plane. And Decathlon (and every store basically) was closed. It was Sunday.
Not even fifteen minutes after the deluge it was already dripping inside the tent. Not much laughing will was left but rather one last brilliant idea. To put up our second tent... inside that tent... without leaving. We had no time to find the idea silly or feasible - off to work. Even today I find it difficult to visualize how did we manage such trick... but we did. When an immense stuffy heat settled we were sure our task had been successful. Time to sleep. A text message finally arrives (the phone had been switched off for a few hours): "Where are you? You can come sleep at my house!" It was from our host in Bordeaux. Too late indeed... I fell asleep at last hearing the sound of thunderstorms, wind blasts and what appeared to be an opened dam on top of the tent.
Welcome to France!
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