How does this happen? A snowy day in early February, we are both holding plastic snow shovels and losing the battle to keep the deck clear of snow, while our eight-month-old black lab alternately grabs each shovel thinking she at a 'festival of giant plastic bones'...pulled out for her enjoyment. I pop up and say, I think we should go ride bicycles in France this year...mysteriously, Lisa answers, "I was thinking that too." We'll have to find a dog-sitter, a house-sitter and a bike shop-sitter. Hopefully the same person.
Small and medium-sized villages separated by vineyards, forests and fields of sunflowers. Connected by small roads (petite rue) that aren't afraid to wind and climb over formidable ridges that define healthy drainages, which are sprinkled with more villages and vegetable gardens and places to erect our humble tent for a night or two.
Seriously a dream world for cyclists and romantics who long for simpler times and honest relationships with the natives. Motorists in France do not bully the gentle traveller. The courtesy we are shown each and every day is disarming. You can cycle everyday and never feel a moment of anger toward the motoring public. This cannot happen in California or any other American state. We avoid the larger settlements, knowing there is an 'attitude change' when too many people gather in the same couple of square miles.
People quality and food quality keep us coming back. This will be the sixth time we've chosen to invest a month or more of life wandering the hills of France. When you find a place that works for both of you...you submit to the addiction. You can stop seeking out a better place. We love where we call home...Chester, California is outstanding...and we deeply love where we cleanse our souls and take refuge every couple of years... The hilly 'South of France' where pedaling, swimming, camping and imbibing keeps us smiling and feeling young.