By motorbike from Prague to the Sahara – part 3
From Mylhous to Lyon
Mylhous here I go
I enjoyed Mylhůz hospitality to my heart’s content, but it is still cold and action is needed! I have to get to the south of Europe before I freeze my ass to the motorbike.
The days are beautiful and the sun is shining, but the temperature around 15 degrees Celsius bothers me a little. This does not change the fact that I am in France for the first time in my life and I have a wonderful feeling about it.
My lunches and snacks couldn’t be more French. In supermarkets, the cheapest thing you can buy is a baguette and cheese 🙂 This becomes my diet for every day spent in France. My low-cost travel style is not exactly ideal for driving through one of the most expensive countries in Europe. Every day I spend in France comes to 40$ USD in the best cases (food, accommodation, gas), so you need to hurry and not stay here for long even though I have a great time here.
Besançon
I stop for the night in Besançon before arriving in Lyon. It is a small village not far from Dijon. Unfortunately, I did not go to the city of spicy mustard, but as I later find out, if I wanted to visit every city that has a well-known name for some drink or food, I would spend years in France.
I looked for a nice room in a family house on Airbnb. The French are known for not having a good command of English, not only because they are not good at it, but mainly because they, like the English, have a fleeting contempt for the language for historical reasons.
When I once lived in a quaint seaside hostel in England, I witnessed an argument between a drunken English woman in her forties and a French woman in her twenties. The English woman’s half-hour roaring to hysterical monologue reproached the young French woman for the fact that they don’t welcome the English in their country and don’t like them, so she shouldn’t be surprised that they won’t like her in England either and that she’d better leave. Although it almost brought tears to the French’s eyes, she didn’t say a word. I felt sorry for her, but the truth is that France didn’t understand a word of her anyway, she didn’t know English.
But back to my accommodation. I arrive at the family house and I am already greeted by an estimated 45-year-old woman who welcomes me with complete enthusiasm. She explains to me that their children have moved out and that they are renting out their rooms to travelers. This was the reason for her to learn English herself. For basic conversations such as: lock here, keys here, wifi here, that was enough, and the rest of her communication was provided by her smiles, a can of Krušovice beer distributed in Slovakia and a block of excellent French cheese that I received from her as a gift. Explaining where the beer came from was already beyond the available vocabulary. Although actually “Guest, Slovak, last week, ha ha ha!” is completely sufficient for a person to understand.
Zobrazit příspěvek na InstagramuPříspěvek sdílený Ondrej Andy Huk (@huko),
I must admit that I was more than pleasantly surprised by the generosity and warmth of the French.
The journey continues, but the cold creeping into my jacket from the brisk ride is killing me a little. I’m starting to feel that something is wrong. During the night spent in Bourg-en-Bresse with the eccentric man, I already loaded myself with one tea after another. And it is here. I’m on my 4th day on the road and my health is starting to wane.
I don’t give up and arrive in Lyon. I am staying in a pleasant hipster hostel decorated with old suitcases and comics. I liked it here and there was no point in continuing with a cold. So I spent a few days here recovering. I fell in love with Lyon… if the roommates fell in love with my snoring at night, I’m not so sure.