The Peloton Dream

2012 Tour de France

One of my dreams has always been to race in the Tour de France.  At this point in my life that seems unlikely to happen, but I have been enjoying cycling around the French countryside. It has been a wet Autumn so opportunities to take long bike rides without getting wet have been limited. On most days we have been more likely to be sitting in front of our fire than riding our bikes in the rain. At best, Joan and I have been about do a short bike ride between rain showers.

Joanie on local bike trail

Yesterday, was a beautiful day so I took the opportunity to slip out for a ride. The outbound ride was nice, but uneventful. I followed the bike paths up the Maine, and Mayenne Rivers. Although the paths were still muddy in places, I was able to average over 20 kph, which felt pretty fast on a dirt bike path through the woods.  On my way home, I decided to follow the roads, which usually means a smoother and faster riding surface, but a lot more hills. In the past, I have sometimes regretted taking the hilly route because the French don't seem to mind have a road go up a 15% grade.

The decision to take the hilly route turned out to be a great decision because just as I was starting down a long hill, I was passed by some motorcycles labeled "Sécurité". As I approached the next intersection, I noticed that the motorcycles were blocking the traffic in the intersection for me, which seemed kind of nice. I remarked to myself that they really are nice to foreigners sometimes. Eventually, it began to dawn on me that they might not be blocking the intersections just for me.

Shortly thereafter the lead group of cyclists in their spandex outfits caught up to me on their fancy road bikes. With them breaking the wind for me, it was relatively easy for me to draft behind them down the hill at 50 kph. It was the first time I had really wanted a higher gear because I was having to pedal fast to stay up with them. The lead cyclists were young and they seemed to think that it was funny that a guy in street clothes pedaling a city bike with fenders and lights was keeping up with them. They chided the lead rider to go faster, but with them breaking the wind and a slight downhill grade, they were not able to shake me.

After a couple of minutes, the rest of the group (about 20 riders) caught up to me, They seemed to think that it was less funny that I had somehow gotten in the middle of their training session, and some of them boxed me in and forced me to the rear of the pack.  However, they didn't seem to mind having me hang onto the back of the group.

The group almost shook me on a couple of climbs but I was relatively fresh and determined to stay with the group.  I managed to stay with the group all the way back to Angers. I have to admit that it was kind of nice to be able to speed through towns with people blocking the intersections for you and a pack of riders breaking through the headwind. The net result was that on the ride home I covered 40 kilometers in about an hour (averaging about 25 mph), which may not sound very fast, but it is definitely the fastest ride I've had in France. It may not have been the Tour de France, but it gave me a little taste of what it might be like to ride in the peloton.

Today my stiff body is reminding me why I don't normally ride that fast.

Normandy, Freedom and Terrorists

Omaha Beach in Normandy

It has been 10 days since the terrorist attacks in Paris, and the reaction in France has been similar to the reaction in the United States after the 9-11 attacks: fear, shock, anger, patriotism and talk of draconian responses. People have put candles in their windows, military enlistments are up, and the newspapers are full of "news" relating to the attacks. We have seen more military personnel in public places and we have even seen a police roadblock. Some of the politicians in the U.S. and France seem to want to use these attacks as an excuse to curtail liberty and freedom that have long been the hallmark of both nations. In the ten days since the attacks we traveled to Normandy and I've attended my evening French classes, which are mostly made up of Muslim immigrants and both of these experiences have affected my response to the attacks. 

The trip to Normandy reminded me that 54,000 young men sacrificed their lives to safeguard our liberty and freedom during the battles to establish a beachhead in France and defeat Nazi Germany. Including injuries,  there were 425,00 casualties during the Battle of Normandy. After seeing the battle scarred bunkers, and the fields of graves, it seems inconceivable to me that politicians would allow a handful of terrorist to cause us to give up fundamental rights that hundreds of thousands of young men fought for on the beaches and fields of Normandy.

German guns along the coast of Normandy

My French classes, which are filled with immigrants from many different nations, but mostly poor refugees from Muslim countries in Africa and the Middle East, have given me an appreciation for plight of the typical Muslim in France. When we came to France I was not expecting to be meeting refugees from Syria, Somalia, Libya, Iraq and many other war-torn countries, but it has made the experience of being in France much richer and more interesting than I anticipated. Most of the Muslims I have met seem to be trying to build a new life in a country that provides them with opportunities not available in their home country. 

We think of the United States as a melting pot of different nationalities, but I did not realize that modern France is a modern melting pot. I wish that the politicians proposing to suspend civil liberties and "crack down" on immigration would spend more time talking about the advantages of accepting immigrants from many different cultures. 

I should confess, however, that the thought has crossed my mind that some of my classmates could be terrorists. I don't really have any evidence to support these suspicions, but I suspect that my ignorance of their experiences and culture is a fertile ground to breed fear and suspicion. The large number of refugees is a little scary. My ability to communicate with my classmates is limited by our mutual inability to speak French (they don't speak English and I do not speak their native languages). To the extent that I have been able to learn their stories, their stories are inspiring, but the large number of refugees is a little scary. 

After ten days to reflect on the terrorist attacks in Paris, I am resolved to get to know the Muslim immigrants in my classes and learn their stories. I am also committed to do everything I can do to speak out against misguided attempts to use the terrorist attacks to restrict our liberties and freedom. Most importantly, I agree with the sentiment expressed in Paris that we should not be afraid.  We should not live in fear of terrorists and we should not allow our leaders to use fear to justify repressive policies that are contrary to ideals that lead to the founding of republics in France and the United States.

Demonstrations in Paris after the November attacks

In conclusion, I want to share two quotes.  First, an excerpt from the New York Times (which was brought to my attention by a French businessman):

France embodies everything religious zealots everywhere hate: enjoyment of life here on earth in a myriad little ways: a fragrant cup of coffee and buttery croissant in the morning, beautiful women in short dresses smiling freely on the street, the smell of warm bread, a bottle of wine shared with friends, a dab of perfume, children playing in the Luxembourg Gardens, the right not to believe in any god, not to worry about calories, to flirt and smoke and enjoy sex outside of marriage, to take vacations, to read any book you want, to go to school for free, to play, to laugh, to argue, to make fun of prelates and politicians alike, to leave worrying about the afterlife to the dead.

No country does life on earth better than the French.

Paris, we love you. We cry for you. You are mourning tonight, and we with you. We know you will laugh again, and sing again, and make love, and heal, because loving life is your essence. The forces of darkness will ebb. They will lose. They always do.

Finally, a Ben Franklin quote (which Rebecca Wallace reminded me about in a comment below, but I felt needed a more prominent spot in the blog):

”People willing to trade their freedom for temporary security deserve neither and will lose both.”

Le Loire à Velo (My bike trip down the Loire valley)

Overview of Trip

Map of bike trails along the Loire River

Prior to coming to France, one of my dreams was to travel around France by bicycle. It has been my experience from previous bike trips that traveling by bicycle is a great way to get to know an area because it brings you into contact with more local people and forces you to speak the local language.

Over the last couple of months I have been making day trips around the region so the next step was to make a mult-day trip. I decided to begin with four days of cycling down the Loire River. The original plan was to cycle from Gien to Angers, cycling about 100 km per day (including sightseeing detours). In 1980, I cycled 100-180 miles per day on a cross-country trip across the United States so 100 km per day (about 60 miles per day) sounded easy. My brain tends to forget that the surrounding body is not as young as it used to be and sometimes my brain writes checks that my body is is not able to cash, ... or just barely able to cash. Fortunately, an adverse weather forecast prompted me to scale back my plans.

Day 1 - Angers to Orléans (by train) to Beaugency (by bike)

Early morning departure in a misty rain

My trip began with short bike ride to the train station in a cool misty rain over wet cobblestone streets. My goal was to get myself and my bike on an 8 am train from Angers to Orléans. The railroad web site indicated that the trains along the Loire have six spots to store bicycles which can be reserved, and I had tried to reserve one of those spots when I bought my ticket a few days earlier, but the ticket agent said that it was impossible to reserve one of the bike spots. At least I think that is what the ticket agent said. I haven't exactly mastered French yet.

Actually, I had a really hard time communicating with the ticket agent. Although I had prepared a script of what I would say, and rehearsed the script, my pronunciation of the words was unintelligible to the ticket agent.  Furthermore, the ticket agent's responses didn't follow my script. Things went off track during the first few words of the conversation. It took me a long time to communicate the name of the city where I was going since I apparently was unable to pronounce "Orléans" in a way that any French person could understand. I was pretty sure that I eventually succeeded in communicating to him that I wanted to reserve a spot for by bicycle on the 8 am train to Orléans, but I could see no indication anywhere on my ticket that I had a bicycle.

On the morning of my departure, I approached the train platform with apprehension. Some blogs warned that the bike racks were often full and that conductors would throw cyclists off the train if the bike racks were full. Thus, I arrived early at the train platform prepared with the French phrases I might need to claim my spot on the train. (I also rehearsed how to properly say "Orléans".)  However, my fears were unnecessary, the conductors were exceptionally helpful. They directed me to a car with the one remaining open spot for a bike. Two hours later, I was at the train station in Orléans. Things were going great, but things were about to take a turn for the worse.

There was still a misty rain falling from the sky when I arrived at the train station in Orléans.  After checking the weather on my phone, I decided go straight to my destination and to skip sightseeing in Orléans (lots of monuments to Joan of Arc's victory over the English) because the weather forecast was for harder rain showers in the afternoon and I wanted to get to my destination before the hard rain began. Because it was wet, I decided to turn off my phone in order to conserve the battery and bury my phone in layers of waterproof bags. These turned out to be bad decisions.

In my haste to stow the phone and hit the road, I somehow managed to lock the SIM card on my phone and the message on my phone said that I needed to contact the carrier to obtain my PUK code to unlock the SIM card.  After attempting to get the code from the carrier and failing, I was pretty depressed. My phone had become almost useless. So much for my ability to pick up the phone and call for help if I encountered problems. Unless I could find a public Wifi signal, it also meant that I was losing access to various services I had been counting on using while on the road, such as Google Maps.

Bridge across the Loire in Orléans

In a spirit of frustration, I rocketed out of the train station onto the wet cobblestone streets of Orléans hoping to get to Beaugency (my destination for the night) before it started raining hard. The fine mist quickly coated my glasses making it difficult to see. Without the assistance of Google maps, I quickly became disoriented in the narrow streets and fog, ... so I pedaled faster ... taking myself faster and further in the wrong direction. Before long, I managed to get my rear tire caught between some cobblestones, which almost resulted in a catastrophic crash. When I picked myself up, I discovered that I had damaged the rear wheel and pulled the tire off of the wheel. I also broke the mount for bike pump and a few other minor parts. Fortunately, although I was sore, I was not seriously hurt. As I sat in the rain trying to fix everything, I was tempted to catch the next train back to Angers, but after remounting the tire and truing up the wheel, I set out again for Beaugency - thoroughly wet but determined to persevere.

The chateau in Beaugency

After the disastrous start to my ride, cycling in the rain seemed like a minor annoyance. Although I held my breath a few times when my heavily laden bike I hit potholes hidden by leaves, or I skidded on wet leaves, things began to get better. Eventually, the rain stopped and I raced against a fresh wind to beat the next line of storm clouds to Beaugency. By the time I arrived in Beaugency, I was tired, but almost dry.

The hotel I had booked in Beaugency took me in despite my forlorn appearance. They were exceedingly kind, but I guess that they had plenty of experience with road weary guests. The hotel opened for business in 1299. After the rain passed through town, I even had time to do some sightseeing and eat an excellent dinner.

What had I learned on my first day of riding? First and foremost, there is no point rushing, it just seems to create more problems. I vowed to "smell the roses" more the next day. Also, I realized that I packed too much. Everything would have been a lot easier if my bike packs were about 20 pounds lighter. Perhaps it had been unnecessary to bring 2 guidebooks on the Loire Valley, one 1000+ page novel, and a fresh change of clothes for every day. On the other hand, as I cycled through the rain, I was happy that I had brought my rain gear and that I had a bike with fenders and lights.

Day 2 - Beaugency to Amboise

Bike trail on an ancient levee

After a good night's sleep and a great breakfast, I was ready to take on the road again. The morning was beautiful and the air was crisp. It was going to be a beautiful fall day. My goal was to make it to Amboise, which was about 80 km downriver (assuming that I didn't get lost). 

The first couple of hours were glorious. The bike path was smooth and almost level. For the most part the bike trail was along the crest of the levee under a tunnel of small trees which sheltered the trail from the wind. I managed to knock off the first 24 kilometers in an hour. 

Saint Laurent Nuclear Power Plant

By 11 am, I had passed a nuclear power plant (the first of two I would pass on the Loire River), and I was in Blois. I was already calculating that I could be at my destination by 1:30 pm if I kept up the pace. So much for smelling the roses. 

Crossing the Loire in Blois

I decided to force myself to do some sightseeing. After wandering around checking out the churches and chateaux in every town, I began to get tired and hungry. The catch is that the bike trail was down in the flood plain by the river, but most of the towns were up on the surrounding hillsides. I picked out a village likely to have a boulangerie (which often sell both bread and sandwiches) and set off up a very steep hill from the valley floor. Unfortunately, the only boulangerie in town was closed so I returned to the valley floor and repeated the process again at the next village ... with the same result. The third village had an open boulangerie, which was a good thing because my legs were tired of climbing hills.

Chateau for sale

After lunch, the trail got a rougher. I had been spoiled by the perfectly smooth trail sheltered from the wind in the morning. The bike trail decided to meander between the floodplain and towns and vineyards on the surrounding hillsides. When I was on top of the ridges I encountered a stiff headwind. The trails along the edge of the river tended to be muddy and bumpy. The rough trail, steep hills and wind really slowed me down. I was beginning to really regret not packing lighter.

The scenery made up for the increased difficulty of the trail. I passed many interesting sights including a chateau for sale, and numerous homes built into caves in the sides of the hills (referred to in France as troglodyte homes). The chateau for sale reminded by of sleeping beauty because the entrance was blocked by a tangle of thorn bushes. I imagined that the inside of the chateau was full of sleeping servants.

Chateau de Saumur

After 86 kilometers and a few wrong turns, I made it to my hotel in Amboise in time to walk around the town and admire the Chateau de Amboise. Although the Hotel Chaptal was nothing fancy, the husband and wife who owned the hotel were particularly nice. They let me store my bike indoors in their private space and they even complemented me on my attempts at French, patiently enduring my slow attempts to find the right words and helping me with my pronunciation. When I attempted to switch to English (the wife's English was excellent) she kindly told me that I must speak French and that she would help me. At dinner, I tried to answer questions (in French) from the diners around me.

Sunset over the Loire

Day 3 - Amboise to Beaumont-En-Veron

Chickens for sale at the Sunday market in Amboise

This was the day I had been dreading. I knew that it would end up requiring require at least 100 kilometers of cycling and I was still sore from riding 86 kilometers the preceding day. In addition, I knew that the trail would take me over many hills so I decided to get an early start. When I left Amboise, they were just setting up the Sunday morning market.

The fog lifting on the road from Amboise

A dense fog descended on me as I left town and I turned on my lights to avoid being hit by a car. There was so much moisture in the air that my clothes became saturated and my glasses were almost useless. After missing a couple of turns in the fog, I started individually inspecting each corner of likely intersections for signs.The fog didn't start to dissipate until an hour later after I slowly climbed a 15% grade onto a ridge of vineyards west of Amboise. After stopping three times on the way up a relatively short climb (to take photos), I wondered if there would be enough strength left in my legs to go up the hills that I knew awaited me at the end of the day.

Chateau de Tours

When I returned to the valley floor near Tours, the fog returned. I ended up doing more sightseeting in Tours than I planned when I repeatedly missed signs in the narrow streets and fog. Eventually, I figured that it would be easier to look for the bike trail where it left the town than continually retrace my route to find a trail in the medieval streets. That turned out to be a mistake. As I exited town, I apparently rode across the bike trail in the fog and continued up a long hill before I realized that I'd missed the trail. Fortunately, the fog lifted and the signs for the bike trail were obvious when I came back down the hill. I was starting to worry that I might not get to my next destination before dark.

Sign warning of boar hunt in progress

Cobblestone bike trail!

The sky cleared in the afternoon, but it was sometimes difficult to make good time on a route that included a stiff headwind, cobblestones, and hunters who had blocked off areas to hunt for wild boar. Since it was Sunday, when almost everything in France is closed, I never succeeded in finding a place to eat lunch despite several detours in search of food, so I subsisted on nuts and an orange from my bag. At one point, I did see a wild boar scurry into the bushes and I was so hungry that I was tempted to chase after him.

The cash machine that ate my debit card

I was exhausted and my legs were beginning to beg for mercy as I climbed out of the valley towards farmhouse where I had booked a room for the night. At the top of the hill in the town of Avoine, I decided to use a cash machine to make sure that I had enough money to pay for dinner and the night's lodging (in the countryside of France you can not count on being able to use a credit card). Unfortunately, the cash machine was uncooperative and it decided to eat my debit card. This was really depressing. The bank would not reopen until Tuesday.

When I booked a room at a location at a farm in the country, it seemed like a great idea but I forgot that almost nothing is open on a Sunday afternoon or evening in France. I asked the owner about my prospects for finding an open restaurant or food store, but she was not optimistic. She thought that my best chance might be in Chinon, which was about 10 km away, but she was skeptical about my chances and she offered me eggs from her chickens if I was unable to find anything open. After riding 106 km, I was not excited about the idea of getting back on my bike to make a 20 km round trip in search of an open restaurant or grocery store, but I was really hungry.

I decided to try the nearest villages first - no luck. Everything was closed except the vineyards. As I rode the 10 additional kilometers to Chinon, I passed lots of open vineyards, but nothing was open that served food. I scoured Chinon twice in search of food, but nobody was serving food. The handful of places that were open on Sunday didn't serve food until after 7:30. I could order beer, wine or coffee before 7:30 pm, but not food. I was tempted to drown my sorrows in beer until the kitchens opened at 7:30 pm, but I didn't want to ride back in the dark so I reluctantly set off towards the next town even though my body was telling me that it couldn't go any further.

I prayed for a miracle. To my amazement, a McDonalds appeared out of the mist. Thank God for American fast food. The clerk at McDonalds looked at me like I was crazy when I ordered a hamburger at 4:30 pm. All the French people in McDonalds were just having coffee. Nonetheless, the manager reluctantly fired up the grill just for me. They probably wondered what type of heathen eats at the uncivilized hour of 4:30 pm.

As luck would have it, on my way back to the farmhouse from McDonalds, I stumbled upon a dilapidated house with a sign in front that said "Creperie." Since the "meal" at McDonalds was not entirely satisfying, I knocked on the door and asked if the creperie was open. The owner was very kind, and fixed me a crepe - ham, eggs and cheese melted over a buckwheat crepe. It was delicious. The owner asked if I wanted anything else (at least I think that is what she asked), and in my broken French I told her that I'd like a second crepe just like the first one. She asked if perhaps I wanted a dessert crepe or coffee and I repeated that I really just wanted another savory crepe. She shook her head at the odd eating habits of Americans (remember, it is still only 5 pm, well before any civilized person would eat dinner). After another crepe followed by two scoops of her homemade ice cream, I headed back to my lodging - La Balastière - finally making it back just in time to sit in the courtyard and enjoy the last few rays of sun. My search for food had added a bonus 24 km to my day's ride. At that point, I never wanted to see a bike seat again. 

La Balastière

Day 4 - Beaumont-En-Veron to Angers

All for me. There were not other guests.

Monday morning was the most beautiful morning of the trip. The sky was blue, the winds were calm (at least initially), a beautiful farm breakfast awaited me, and I knew that I would be sleeping in my own bed at the end of the day (even if it meant taking the train home). After a couple of small bike repairs, I was packed and on the road by 8:30 a.m.

Entry to underground "troglodyte" village.
Note doors and windows on left.

The ride though the hills and vineyards was spectacularly beautiful. There seemed to be a chateau on every hill and a 13th century church in every village. Vineyards were everywhere. The bike path followed ancient canals and went underground to pass through a troglodyte (cave) village. 

Ancient canal

Sign warning of 12% grade

There were also a lot of 12% and 15% grades. I found myself lusting for gear on my bike low enough to easily climb a 15% grade with a 30 pounds of gear.

Two routes to Saumur

In some places signs along the trail gave two options to get to the next town. I quickly learned that the shortest route was not always the easiest of the fastest. Even it was longer, the route "par les bords de Loire" was probably going to be flatter than the route "par les coteaux." After picking the shorter "coteaux" route a couple of times and enduring painful 15% climbs, I decided to stick to "les bords de Loire." By afternoon, I decided to try to further shorten the time by trying to cut out a few of the unnecessary twists and bends in the bike trail and to skip some of the remaining hills. The trick was figuring out which bends in the trail avoided a hill and which bends in the trail took you up a steep hill to see something scenic. More than once my "shortcuts" probably added time to the trip.

One of the highlights of the afternoon was seeing the first sign for the town where we are living - Angers. At this point, I knew that there was less than 40 km left and that I could conceivably be home in 2 hours.  Unfortunately, things didn't work out that way. The bike trail to Angers took me through ancient slate quarries (Angers is famous for slate). These quarries presented a maze of trails that alternated between mud and loose piles of shale. Just when the trail seemed to become impassable, I would find another sign indicating that I was on the trail. It might have been fun on a mountain bike, but it was torture on a heavily loaded touring bike.

Home sweet home

Eventually, I made it home. The cobblestone street in front of our house never looked so good. Before I unloaded my bike, I ransacked the kitchen for food (two pieces of chocolate cake and a beer were a good start). 

All-in-all, I would declare the trip a success. I pushed myself physically, and it forced me to get outside of my comfort zone and speak a lot of French (or at least what I call French). I also saw a lot of beautiful scenery and met some wonderful people (who I was forced to speak to in French). However, my body is not the same as it was 35 years ago. It might be a few days before my sore joints recover and my memory dims enough to start planning my next big bike trip. Once my memory of the exhaustion dims enough to start planning the next trip, I will make sure to pack lighter and I will also make sure to have the unlock code for my SIM card.

To anybody considering a bike trip in the Loire valley, I heartily recommend the bike trails in the valley (Le Loire a Velo). Despite my mishaps, it is the best network of bike trails that I have ever seen. Autumn is a wonderful time to visit the Loire valley, with the autumn leaves and relatively few tourists.  Just make sure to leave more time to smell the roses than I did and don't book a place in the countryside on a Sunday evening unless you pack in your own food. Packing light is also recommended.

A Week in Provence

Palace of the Popes in Avignon

It hasn't exactly been "A Year in Provence" but it has been a week.  If you have never been to Provence, it is a difficult place to describe. The climate is a little like south Florida, except with Roman ruins and better food. Provence is a great combination of the culture of Italy, Spain and France with a lot of retirees and tourists. If we spent more time here I think that we would also find that there area lot of Islamic and African influences hiding beneath the surface. The back streets of the larger cities seem to be full of kebob restaurants and women in hijabs.

Provence has a wonderful climate, medieval fortresses, a palace for the popes, a wide variety of scenery and wildlife, and some of the best preserved Roman structures in the world  (I can't call them ruins because they are in remarkably good shape and many of them are still in use for their original purpose).  They also have some great food and wine.

Rice paddies in front with gite in the background

We have spent the week staying in a gite on a farm that grows olives, grapes and rice. The combination of crops might seem unlikely until you see the network of irrigation canals that enables them to grow rice in flooded fields next to hillsides of grapes and olive trees. The ruin of an ancient abbey is visible on the next hill and a Roman viaduct is just over the hill. I get the feeling that life here has not changed tremendously since Roman times. The biggest difference may be that today's barbarian hordes bring gold instead of plundering gold. Tomorrow, we return to the cooler climate of the Loire Valley.

My advice for anybody visiting Provence is to spend at least a week in Provence, ... but a year would be even better. There is a lot to see and it takes time to soak up the ambiance.

Roman Arena in Nimes (still in use)

One of two Roman temples in Nimes

Flamingos in the Carmargue

Fortress of Les Baux

Joan in Roman Theater in Orange

Pont d'Arc in Ardeche Gorge

Roman Arch in Orange

Wild goat in Ardeche Gorge

10 Commandments of Shopping in France

One of the most intimidating things for me about being France is shopping. Not only is the language different, but the customs and etiquette are very different from the United States. My weak knowledge of the French language creates challenges, but the bigger challenge seems to me my poor understanding of French shopping customs and etiquette. I have garnered dirty looks more than once by touching the merchandise offered by a street vendor or walking through an empty checkout lane to exit a supermarket. Both are big "no-no's".

Food shopping seems to be a full-time occupation in France so it seems particularly important to get this aspect of the culture right. Perhaps it is because refrigerators are small and storage space is often limited in most French homes, but it seems to be a necessity for everybody to go food shopping much more frequently than in the United States. Furthermore, the French seem to believe that fresh, local food is worth the extra effort.

At our house, the day often starts with a short walk to one of the several neighborhood patisseries, where we purchase a plain croissant (Bronwyn), a chausson aux pommes (Rick) and a pain chocolat (Joanie). Later in the morning, we may go to a local street market, and for the staples it may be necessary to go to a supermarket. It is a rare day when we don't shop at 3 or 4 different places.

My fears about shopping were heightened by books and blogs that describe shopping as a battle between the shopper and the salesperson to demonstrate superiority. This line of writings emphasizes the need for the shopper to establish themselves as the master and the to make sure that the salesperson understands that their role is to do the master's bidding. That approach hasn't really worked for me. I've found that it works better to confess my ignorance of the language and local products and ask for the advice of the salespersons.  Hence, my ten commandments (or at least suggestions).

1. THOU SHALL GREET THE VENDOR OR SALESPERSON AND EXCHANGE PLEASANTRIES

When you enter a French shop or approach a vendor in a market it seems to work best to try to get things off to a good start by saying "bonjour" and (to the extent my limited language abilities allow) exchanging pleasantries (in French). This is hard for me because I am embarrassed that I have such a limited ability to speak French, but my reluctance to speak is sometimes interpreted as arrogance.  It is considered rude to not greet the salesperson or vendor, and it will definitely get your relationship off to a bad start if you appear to ignore them.


2. THOU SHALL ASK FOR THE SALESPERSON'S ADVICE

We've learned that salespeople are much nicer and much more willing to be helpful if we confess our unworthiness (poor accent, lack of knowledge, etc.) and solicit the salesperson's advice at the very beginning of each transaction. If you ignore this step, you risk having the salesperson try to prove their superiority by humiliating you or dazzling you with their knowledge of their product.

My knowledge of the hundreds of cheeses and bewildering cuts of meet is even less than my knowledge of the French language so it is not hard for me to convince the vendor that I need their advice. Since most salespeople are very knowledgeable about their product, they usually are very helpful. I learn something almost every time I remember to ask the salesperson for advice. If you ask a vendor or salesperson to share their expertise they almost always become much friendlier. Another way to look at this is that you will get the salesperson's advice whether you solicit it or not so you might as will ask for it.

A corollary to this rule is that the customer is NOT always right. Salespeople are not hesitant to give you their negative opinions about your poor pronunciation, pathetic grammar or your choice of what you want to buy. As an example, the salesperson at a local patisserie seems upset that we have an still have American accent after a month in Angers. She seems to feel insulted that we can't meet her standards for pronouncing some basic words such as "un" (one), as in "un croissant" Thus, she makes a point of harshly criticizing our pronunciation. We are not sure how we got on the clerk's bad side, but it has prompted us to give extra care to how we treat the clerks.  Because ordering a croissant has become an unpleasant experience, we have cut back our consumption of morning pastries.

.

3. THOU SHALL SHOP IN THE STREET MARKETS AND BUY FROM PRODUCERS

The best thing about shopping in France is the street markets.  Most urban neighborhoods seem to have at one or two open air markets per week, but on the days when there is not an open air market our neighborhood there is always another street market that is not too far away. The markets are easy to find, just follow the streams of people walking to and from the market with their shopping bags and carts.

If it is Thursday or Saturday morning we shop at the local street market in our neighborhood. There are also nearby street markets on every other day of the week, but we have not gotten to the point (yet) of going to a street market every day of the week. Vegetable vendors are on one side of the plaza; wine, cheese, fish and meat vendors are in the middle of the plaza and clothing vendors are on the other side of the plaza. We try to buy most of our vegetables and our fish at the local market.

The vegetable portion of the market in our neighborhood is divided into two rows - producers and middlemen. When you buy from a producer, you are buying directly from the farmer or artisan. Bronwyn swears that the vegetables are better and the vendors are more helpful if you buy from the producers. They also seem to have the longest lines. Fortunately, nobody knows more about the produce than the person who grew the produce. Similarly, when you are looking for the right cheese among the hundreds of French cheeses, why not talk to somebody who makes the cheese.

4. THOU SHALL NOT TOUCH THE PRODUCE

The etiquette of the market is different than in the United States. I have learned that you do not touch the produce. When it is your turn, you exchange pleasantries, ask for the vendor's advice about what he or she recommends for your next meal, and tell them what you want. The vendor picks out the items for you. If you failed to follow the first and second commandments, you are likely to get a bad selection. However, if you are nice, and if you tell the vendor when you will be serving the item, the vendor may pick an item that will be at the peak of ripeness at the moment that you eat it.


Describing the amount you want can be particularly tricky since we are unfamiliar with the units of measurement and not accustomed to specifying the amount we want.  (In the U.S., most items we purchase are prepackaged in standard sizes.)  In France, we generally tell the vendor how many people we are trying to feed rather than trying to guess at the weight we need. If we followed the first couple of commandments, we generally end up with exactly the right amount of food.

5. THOU SHALL NOT FEEL RUSHED

The shopping process (greetings, getting advice, selecting items, etc.) can take a long time, but one of the great things about France is that when a salesperson or vendor is serving you, they are willing to give you all the time in the world, no matter how many people are waiting in line behind you. If anything, the vendor seems proud of having a long line at his stand. Of course, this can be frustrating when you are at the back of the line and you hear basically the same pleasantries exchanged numerous times in front of you.

6. THOU SHALL LOOK FOR THE LONGEST LINE OF CUSTOMERS

The vendors are probably right to encourage long lines because we have been advised to go to the vendors with the longest lines. Presumably, the existence of a long line is an indication that a lot of people like the product from that vendor and that they like the product so much that they are willing to wait in a long line to get it.

7. THOU SHALL BRING YOUR OWN SHOPPING BAGS

Another rule of shopping in France is that you almost always need to bring your own shopping bags. In general, the merchant does not provide you with paper or plastic bags for your merchandise. If you show up without a shopping bag, the merchant will ask you if you want a bag and then charge you for the bag. This means that, unlike the United States, there are not discarded plastic bags blowing in the wind and clogging up the streams.

A corollary of the shopping bag rule is that when you are buying eggs at the market, you need to bring your own egg cartons ... or figure out how to carry 12 loose eggs home without  breaking them. (We've been unsuccessful in getting all the eggs home intact if we forget our carton.)

Although there are street markets everywhere, France also has its share of supermarkets and hypermarkets. One of the interesting things about the supermarkets and hypermarkets is the allocation of space in the stores. Generally, there is one half of an aisle just for chocolate. There will be two or three aisles for wine and hard liquor. Cheese also occupies a lot of space. There is often one side of an aisle full of unrefrigerated cartons of milk. If you are looking for refrigerated milk, you will need to carefully search the store for a 2-foot wide refrigerated display case with tiny containers of cold milk.

8. THOU SHALL EMPTY YOUR BLADDER BEFORE YOU GO SHOPPING

Woe to the person who needs to use the bathroom when they are in a French supermarket, hypermarket or department store. In general, there are not bathrooms available for the use of customers. If you ask, they will look at you like you are crazy and claim that there are no bathrooms in the store. If you are lucky, they might give you vague directions to a dirty public bathroom on the street.

9. THOU SHALL USE THE PROPER EXIT

Getting out of the supermarkets and hypermarkets without making a purchase can be a challenge (particularly if you need to go to the bathroom). If you fail to make a purchase, you will be sternly chastised and told to go back into the store if you try to exit through an empty checkout lane or slip out through the entrance. Although there are often large signs telling you where you should NOT exit, finding the "sortie sans achat" (exit without purchase) can be a challenge. You need to search for a carefully hidden narrow lane with a gate that says "sans achat" (without purchase), which is usually under the watchful eye of the manager or security guard who will scowl at you as you make the walk of shame. On the day that I took the picture on the left, the "sans achat" exit was blocked with displays and sealed closed with plastic zip ties. Nonetheless, the security guards would not allow me to exit through the entrance. Finally, a customer checking out and a kind cashier, seeing my confusion, took pity on me and allowed me to exit through a checkout lane.

Don't exit through any of these gates

Older department stores and other large stores also have their own unique customs. Some stores require that you get a ticket for what you want to purchase from the salesclerk, then take the ticket to a cashier, and then bring the ticket back to the sales clerk (with a notation that you've paid) to pick up your merchandise. This can really slow things down because you generally end up waiting in three lines.

10. THOU SHALL COUNT YOUR CHANGE

Finally, one unpleasant aspect of shopping in France is that we have been short-changed in France much more than anyplace else we have traveled in Europe. It is unclear whether we are being short-changed because we are Americans or whether this is something that is done to all non-regular customers. Usually, when we bring the "error" to the attention of the clerk, the problem is corrected immediately but in some cases we have had had to argue strenuously to get the proper change. Based on the number of comments on expat websites and blogs, we do not seem to be the only people getting short-changed. Some people seem to regard short-changing strangers as simply a standard business practice and others seem to think that it is reserved for seemingly rich Americans. Regardless of the reason, we have learned to count our change carefully and be prepared to stand up for our rights.