Today’s Homer Simpsons Moments (Doh!)

You see that plural? Yeah, more than once today I had a forehead slapping moment. Trying to get out of the station and onto the train, passengers are expected to scan their tickets and it gets time stamped. My ticket wouldn’t work. Three times I scanned, each time it beeped at me. All three people in the closet sized waiting room kept looking at me before the station manager came over to see what I was doing. Naturally it worked for her, because she understands French and the machine was telling me to turn it over. Doh!

At least I got out of Les Eyzies and wandered around Perigeuex for a few hours, checking out the medieval part of the city as well as Vesunna, the reclaimed Roman ruins in an avant-garde museum setting. It was really neat to see how the entire dig site was wrapped in glass but it was a bit too modern, even for me (which is really saying something as I usually love that look).  I learned a lot about the Roman rule in Gaul and how the Empire allowed the locals to hold on to their traditions provided they also adopt Roman ways. Vesona was an important goddess to the Gauls (a branch of the Celts) and the temple to Vesona was one of the prominent buildings in the city. So much so, the Romans allowed the city to be called Vesunna in its later years.

Because I wanted to get back to Les Eyzies early and hit the Prehistory Museum, I looked up departure times in the trains schedule and discovered a 2:10 train. That meant I could explore the temple ruins and Amphitheatre (gladiator games!) at my leisure. Got to the train station at 1:30 only to discover that there was no 2:10 train – on Thursday. Apparently samdi means Saturday and, right, I don’t know French so DOH! I was stuck in the station until 4:08. Which gave me a chance to practice my pathetic French at the brasserie at the station. The waitress was very patient and we used single words (no verbs) to get a ham sandwich with tomatoes, a Sprite and an apple.  Hung out practicing listening to people, learning days of the week and adding to my vocabulary. Train came, I got on (now that I know how to punch my ticket!) and headed back to the Tourist Office for an Internet fix. No dice. Internet down – they advised me try PIP so I hoofed it down the street, only to discover their Internet connection was down, too. Well, I did still need to but postcard stamps, let’s go to the post office. Ah, they close at 16h (4:00 pm) on Thursdays. Super. Let’s take a nap instead.

Also needed to recharge the camera and after the nap, it was good to go. It was only 7:10 so I decided to go for a bike ride. I can read a topography map so I knew the route Joel had suggested was going to be hard, but the downhill part would be a great ride.  Packed my little Osprey pack (thanks Melissa – I’ve used it every day!) and off we went.  Oh my gosh. What was I thinking. The grade on these hills is insane! Not as bad as the climb up Garnsey Road back home, but this was tough. I had to walk the bike at a few point as lactic acid burned in my quadriceps.  It was so worth it. The views were breathtaking! The limestone cliffs were glowing from the evening sun and as I coasted into the village of Tursac, I could see acres of sunflowers, a goose farm (this is foire gras territory), fields with haystacks shimmering in the now setting sun and there! On the hill! A chateau! This must be one of those places they do photo shoots for claendars! Whip the pack of my back, take out the wallet, the whistle (in case I launch myself over the side of a cliff), key to the gite, band-aids for boo-boos, and a pen. Hmmm. The camera must have slid to the bottom. But it hadn’t. It was sitting on the kitchen counter. Doh! Doh! DOH! It could have echoed off the limestone walls that surrounded me, but now I had a bigger problem.

While it was still light out, I needed to bike back the five kilometers to Les Eyzies, preferably NOT the way I came. Mapped out a more level route only to hit a closed road. I could cross the Vezere River and add two kilometers to my return route (but mostly flat terrain along the river) or suck it up, walk the bike up the killer climbs, and get home with a little more light.  Ugh. I’m glad I chose the latter plan – once I hit the top of the cliff (210 m) I was able to coast all the way to my gite (okay, two or three pedals) and get home in time to tell you all about it.