La Rochelle

For the 4th of July, my roommate Louise invited me to her hometown, La Rochelle, on the Atlantic coast of France. After a few small setbacks with my train ticket, I arrived Friday evening relatively unscathed. Louise  met me at the station and we walked into the heart of the small seaside town, which felt like a medieval version of Newport, RI. Her friend Alic joined us for dinner that evening with her brothers, (her mom, who works as a librarian, also sings on the weekends at a night club, and had to leave almost right after we arrived). Her 10-year old brother Hugo had just adopted a 2-week-old kitten, which he vigilantly followed around the house like an overprotective father. The next morning, I woke up to the restless noise of the kitten-sans-nom pawing at the bottom of my bunk bed. Soon after we had our morning tea, Louise's cousin Cecile came over. We made a picnic and then departed a vélo for L'île d'Oré, a tiny island about 8 km from Louise's house. When we went behind the house to get the bikes, I discovered mine was a 1980's rusty blue one-speeder, which served me very well, despite the difficulty on the hills. The beach was absolutely amazing and littered with delicate starfish with transparent limbs like gently curving twine. That evening Louise took me to La Giunette, a phenomenon she told me was very specific to La Rochelle. It turned out to be a cavernous 18th century bar, the only one in town opening at the dubious hour of 3:00pm. It was crowded with huge antique wooden barrels, and the walls were lined with empty glass bottles in which all of the drinks are served (mixtures of white wine, limonade, and one's choice of syrup-my favorite was peach). My last day, Louise decided we would take another bike ride, this time to explore the trails running alongside the coast. Apparently my antediluvian bike that had performed so well the day before was not up to the task. The chain came off just outside of town, which was great, because I was really hoping to reinforce the stereotype of American obesity. Cecile offered me her bike, and she rode on the back of Louise's to transport the vélo en panne. Ultimately, the humor of the whole situation ended up serving as a positive ice-breaker though!