June 28 - Wednesday
France
We've been travelling for over 24 hours. We left Levanto yesterday on a 0741 train. The day before we had asked the travel agent who also had internet service that we had been using while in town if she could help us plan our route to get to Tours. She was less than helpful telling us it would be easier if we just "sold your bikes". The train from Levanto took us as far as Genoa. We had considered riding tho this city but decided not to after reading less than positive descriptions on the ride in one of our guidebooks. We've learned that you never really know where the bike storage portion of the train is going to be or if a train is going to have a designated area nor should one expect the train staff to know. In Levanto, we had arrived in the engine car so we waited toward the front of the station thinking this would be the case to Genoa. It was not. The bike or "bicci" storage area was at the end of the train which that day had many many many cars attached to it. We had already taken the bike bags off in anticipation of loading the bikes up onto the car. When we realized we were at the wrong end we started pushing our bikes down the length of the platform looking for the bike sign painted on the side of the train car. I asked one of the conductors where the biccis went and she waved us toward the end of the train - Oh, my gosh, that's a long ways away and the train was already running late. Jone told me to go back for the bags and that he would handle the bikes. That was a long way to push two bikes. I turned around and started back toward the bags which also turned out to be farther away than I thought - I started running. OK, 8 bike bags is too many for me to carry with any speed what so ever. I did the best I could with the system Jon had set up for me: Carry the four big bags (two in each hand) and carry the four small ones around my neck (he had tied them together so they would hang yoke style from my neck - the only thing missing was the ring through my nose) I started making my way down the platform and the conductor blew her whistle indicating that they were ready to leave. She tried to wave me onto the train but I ignored her. Jon was but a wee little speck at the other end of the train - there was no way I would be able to make it to him but I wasn't getting on until I saw him get on with both bike. By this time passengers had opened the train windows and were sticking their heads out yelling and gesturing at me to get on as only a passionate Italien can. It would have been entertaining if I wasn't struggling under the weight of the bags. I saw Jon get one bike on - so I stopped at a train car door and heaved up a couple of bags onto the floor of the train - it was pretty dramatic, I think I even grunted. I managed to get the rest of the bags onto the train and then my self. Immediately, the train started moving. I collected myself and the bags and just sat for a moment. Did Jon get the other bike on? Was Jon on the train? Does he know that I'm on the train because it didn't look like he turned around and looked for me after he put the first bike on - I bet he's worried about me. Oy, I'm still sweating. Not knowing what to do but knowing I couldn't carry all the bags to the end of the train by myself I just waited with the bags and looked through the windows of the train cars as far I could. Before too long I could see Jon's shirt making his way toward me. Once we were together Jon said he wanted to get back to the bikes right away because they weren't secure. I thought to myself, "we're on a moving train - who's going to take the bikes and where would they go with them"
Jon grabbed the four small bags which were all tied together - he still had the super heavy backpack on and I took the four larger bike bags. Oh, while in Levanto we bought two small, kiddie sized lawn chairs that are collapsible but have added more weight and an added element of manuevering challenge. I I wasn't strong enough to lift the bags over the seats so I had to go low where the seats curved in a bit allowing the wide bag to squish through a little more easily. It was by no means appreciabley wider. Car after car we went through and I got slower and slower, sweatier and sweatier. Jon had to wait for me at the end of the train car so I could catch up, "Can you lift those up over the seat?"
"Uh, NO."
On we went through about 10 train cars before reaching the bike storage cars. This is when I learned that the bikes weren't tied down or secured to anything at all - ohhhhh, that's what he meant.
As I stowed the bags away Jon secured and locked the bikes up as best he could. Once we were both seated we would hear the occasional crashing/banging sound from the bike storage area.
"That's not our bikes is it" - S
"Yeah. It is." - J
"Great." - S
They were stored as they should be - one wheel hanging from a ceiling hook while the other wheel is tucked between two rings. There were a lot of stops between Levanto and Genoa so there was a lot of stop and go movement of the train causing us to cringe every time we heard our bikes knock against each other or the wall.
We got the Genoa and the unloading of bikes and bags was much easier. We had no set plan other then seeing how close we could get to Tours, France before calling it a day. We also weren't sure what would be involved with crossing the border. Genoa was a humid and hazy - not a very attractive city and we were not interested in staying. We had actually had already decided that we were done with Italy, as much as we loved it, we were ready to move on. We know we would have to take the regional trains because of our bikes. Looking at the train departure schedule there were a handful of trains getting us across the border and those that took us the closest to the border didn't allow bikes.
An elderly man approached us asking about the bikes, how we rode them, what it was like, etc then asked where we wanted to go. I knew our ultimate goal but was still looking at the map and the departure schedule to find out what cities we should be aiming for. Jon started talking with the man and they kept saying Ventimiglia. I didn't know if this was an italien bike term or what but it was being repeated and then we were all looking at the train schedule. A couple seconds later another man asked me where we were going. He spoke pretty good english - much better than the elderly man doing his best to help us. I directed him to Jon and Jon said we wanted to go to Ventimiglia - ok, it was a destination - got it. Turns out the man worked for the train station and had a master schedule. According to the posted departure schedule the train going to Ventimiglia didn't allow bikes but when the man from the train station consulted his master schedule it said they did - good enough for us. There was grazie's all around and we went our separate ways. Thankfully, the station had a large enough handicapped elevator to hold our bikes and we were able to go to the correct platform to catch our next ride. We had just under a hour to wait. I figured this would be a good time to find out just where the heck Ventimiglia was located. Jon showed me that it was about 8 kilometers from the border - can't get much closer than that - great! I went and bought the tickets and some water - then we waited. Once we had the tickets Jon pointed out that our train was already there and we could load th bikes up early. What a different experience we had ont this train ride compared to the one we just got off! We casually loaded everything on and took our seats, happy to have been able to get on this train and that it was so much easier than earlier that morning.
The ride to Ventimiglia was about two hours. It followed along the coast of the Med so it was quite picturesque. We have thoroughly enjoyed our time on the italien coast - it's absolutely beautiful.
We both fell asleep (me, shortly after the train left the station, Jon a little later) and awoke to the sound of the train conductor asking us for our ticket. When we arrived in Ventimiglia it looked like a ghost town and I wasn't sure how much farther we could get from this little train station. No stairs, no elevator. We had to push our bikes across the tracks to get to the station and departure schedules. We carefully and quickly crossed the tracks knowing how fast the trains in transit could pass through. One good sign about the station was that they had all digitized platform signs which belied it ghost town like appearance. On our way into the station I did spot a french train and pointed it out to Jon. OK, we can get to France from here - but would they take the bikes?
We parked the bikes and stared at the border patrol guys while they stared back at us. There was trains that would take us to France but the ticket office didn't open until 3pm which is when the next train was schedule to leave so we waited outside the ticket office until they opened and were able to get tickets for Nice which we thought was a large city to have good connecting routes. Ticket in hand we crossed back over the train tacks and positioed ourselves in what we thought would be the halfway point. If the bike car passed we would see and be able to catch up in a time manner and if it didn't pass us we could high tail it to the back of the train in hope of preventing any significant delay. Well, so much for the plan. There was no designated bike car and when I asked one of the conductors he shrugged his shoulders and gave us the "I don't know" sign and motioned us to just get on. But where? We pushed our bikes along the platform for a bit and Jon finally just lifted his bike up and placed it in the little hallway at the end of a car and did the same with mine on the adjoining car. We spent the entire ride to Nice holding our bikes up at the end of the cars surrounded by our bike bags trying to make ourselves as small as possible which is hard to do with the kind of bikes we have. This didn't stop people from wanting to pass from car to car despite both of our bikes blocking each door. Every time someone wanted to pass I had to pull my bike forward and out and they had to squeeze past the bike. Luckily, (amazingly) none of the grease off my bike chain schmeared onto anyone! The ride was about an hour long. When we arrived in Nice it was hot and really busy. Nice is not set up for anyone with large luggage, bikes, strollers, or wheelchairs. Jon held our bikes while I did a little recon after helping a mother and daughter carry their luggage down to the tunnel that would take us to the exit of the station. What a hassle. I was hoping we would not have to change platforms and therefore not have to haul our bikes down those steps - wishful thinking.
I found out that we had to get the tickets in order to re enter the station so we started taking our bikes down the steps. I had to take the bags off mine. The bike would have dragged my down the stairs under it's weight had I tried to carry it fully loaded. When we got the bikes back up the stairs on the other side - thankfully there was an escalator - we entered the throng of people. As we pushed our bikes farther into the station and toward the ticket booth a station employee asked us where we were going. I explained that we were ultimately trying to get to Tours but would take something that would be close by. He consulted his train schedule and said there was train that would take us all the way to Tours but it didn't leave until 1949 which was about 3 hours away. Great! Turns out it was an overnight train. Cool. I get to spend the night on the train. At the time I didn't know what this meant. I just bought the tickets - which weren't cheap. In the long run we think we came out even. Jon had to explain to me what a crouchette is which didn't as great once I knew what it was. Sleeping with four other people including your husband didn't sound so appealing but it did sound like it would be a memorable experience either way. We killed a few hours watching a World Cup game and eating some sandwiches - on baguettes of course. France is the land of sandwiches and I love sandwiches - this is place is GREAT!
The train staff in France are much more helpful than those in Italy. Probably because they realized that it will only help them stay on schedule if they offer assistance rather than just waving us off when we have a question. Luckily we had to catch our train on platform 1 which was just inside the station doors - this was a good sign. We also figured out ahead of time where our train car would be located - also a good sign. We just didn't know where the bike car was located. The train arrived less than five minutes before it's departure time. The bike car passed us by. We still had our bags on the bikes, expecting more time to get loaded because the last train, which was also a sleeper train took thirty minutes to leave. We quickly took the bags off and I grabbed four and got on the train as quickly as I could which was everyone else's idea. The hallway didn't allow for two people to pass each other easily let alone someone carrying four bike bags. Our room was at the near opposite end from which I entered - of course. I threw the bags onto our bunks and went back out into the hallway. I could see that Jon and left the other bags on the platform and was taking the bikes to the bike car. The was a jam up in the hallway with a woman carrying two suitcases both of which were bigger than she was and a large man coming in the opposite direction looking as if he had no intention of moving out of the way. The woman was stopping at each room checking to see if it matched her ticket. She spoke english and when I caught on to the fact that she was confused I asked her what car and room she was looking for. Turns out she was in the wrong car.
"You actually need to be in the next car."
That had her moving a bit faster but she was being a little passive in getting through the hallway and I was getting a little annoyed. I kept say excuse in French since she wasn't which worked for a while until we met up with the guy walking in the opposite direction. What a jerk, he totally didn't move and somehow squeezed his big fat stomach passed all of her luggage, knocking her over at the same time! Whatever, I had bags to get. By the time I reached the end of the car. The bike bags were on the floor in the hallway blocking the woman's way.
"Oh no, these bags are in the way."
"They're mine."
She couldn't lift her bags up because they were so big and didn't know how to open the doors between the cars. So I "helped" her by opening the door and shoving her two bags through to the other side. It was rude, I should have had more patience.
Meanwhile, Jon was taking the bikes down to the bike storage car. While he was waiting for me to return for the rest of the bags the conductor was starting to blow his whistle. Feeling extremely anxious as he had six cars to go down to get to the bike car. He finally threw the bags onto the train hoping that I would get them "in a timely manner and hope they didn't fall out" and run the two bike down the platform. Two conductors were eyeing him and started yelling at him at the top of their lungs to get on the train but not helping him at all (they're still more helpful than the italians) . He laid his bike down and put my bike just far enough in to leave room for his bike in the hallway at the end of the car. As I got the second bike on the conductor "slammed" the door closed nearly cracking the fender off the back of the bike. He stood there for a minute of two trying to figure out how he would manuever the bike through a really narrow doorway and into the bike compartment. He was jammed behind the bikes on the opposite side of the doorway so he had to squeeze passed the bikes to open the door and get the bikes in with the least amount of damage to the bikes or the train. One lady held the door open. After about 15 minutes of struggling he was able to get the bikes secured. The car was pretty full with other bikes and a surf board. Then, all hot and sweaty, he came and found me - a little ticked off as to why it took me so long to get the rest of the bike bags. Once I explained the hallway fiasco it all made sense. We were the only ones in our compartment when the train left the station. Could it be? Do we have the whole room to ourselves? Nope, at the next stop our little room was filled with a young lady travelling alone, a father with a todller age little girl and another gentlman. Jon and I had the middle bunks. They provided a bottle of water, a pillow that was a little hardier than an airline pillow and a sleep sack. Everything was wrapped in plastic to give the illusion of cleanliness. We had all of our bags on the bunk and I also had the backpack. There was half a bunk left for me to sleep on. I spent the night trying to sleep with my body contorted in and L or U shaped position. Occasionally, I would lie on my back. Sleeping on the train is not as exciting as it sounds. The rocking motion that puts me to sleep while sitting up had my in a partial Trentelenburg position with blood rushing to my head when we would round a corner. The snoring from my bunkmates wasn't too bad - it could have been so much worse. I was glad when the night was over and we arrived in Paris to make one last transfer before tours. Luckily it was the end of the line so we could not be too rushed to get off the train. The paris train station is beautiful with all of it's metal work, was was the Nice and Genoa train stations. We had less than a hour to wait and had plenty of time to load our bikes which was so appreciative we were going on 30 hours since we first left Levanto. It was a long haul. The ride to Tours was less than two hours and was uneventful. Tours was also the end of the line for this train which was great since we were pretty tired and ready to be done travelling for a while. We unloaded the bikes and bags, put the bags back on the bikes and made our way out of the station. We went to the information office and found out about the bike path along the Loire and nearby campsites since we had no intention of doing any great distances on our bikes today. After leaving the tourist office, maps in hand, some of them even in english we walked back toward the station to use the rest room (30 cents) and rearrange our bags. There is pretty good signage for the Loire velo path and it started right away at the station. We walked our bikes along a pedstrian only street looking for food on our way to the campsite. There were the most amazing pastries, quiches, baguette sandwiches and other tantilizing goodies on display - so hard to make a decision. I bought some sandwiches and we found a shadey spot to eat. I think we at half a baguette each so we were pretty stuffed but everything was fresh and tastey.
France has dedicated bicyle lanes! What a luxury! It just makes sense. Even better is that drivers actually adhere to the bikes only lane! Why don't we have this in America? We pedaled along enjoying the space, not really having to worry as much about the surrounding traffic but still alert to what was going on around us. Before long we were traveling along a country road and shortly found ourselves at the campsite. It was small-ish, clean, free showers and , get this, you could order your fresh bread and breakfast pastries at the reception desk for the next day's delivery. I love France! We also bought a guide book on the Chateaux of the Loire so we could plan just which ones we wanted to go to, knowing there would be entry fees and to learn a little about the history behind the chateaux. They all looked really amazing - it was hard to choose.
We found a site and set up our stuff, made a quick dinner and then went looking for dessert. The small market at the campground had Ben and Jerry's so Jon got his Cookie Dough and I had an darck chocolate and coconut ice cream bar. No gelato in France.
Needless to say we were ready for bed pretty early. We planned to leave Tours the next morning for our first chateau visit at Villandry.
