The Big Marathon / Triathlon Trip to
England and France

If you can dream it, you can do it. Always remember this whole
thing was started by a mouse.

Walt Disney

Eight months of training, countless dollars and time spent on one objective: to complete the UK Half-Ironman triathlon , the biggest and most intimidating triathlon of my life. My sweetie runs the Medoc Marathon near Bordeaux, France a week later. We're both nervous and excited and vibrating with energy, and as the quote at the top of the page points out, both aware that this trip all started with a dream, a "What if...?" and "Why not...?" followed by a "Sure...why not!"

• Thursday August 28th Hello from England! This country reign's as possibly the world's friendliest, kindest place. My sweetie and I were greeted by a smiling woman at the immigration point who joked about our passports. What a great start to our trip. We arrived in Heathrow after an uneventful flight in the most uncomfortable seats in the airline industry. Then we waited anxiously at the bagage carrousel for our backpacks and, of course, my bike. Oddly enough, I was quite sanguine about whether or not the bike would show up and if it would be rideable: here we were in England, and that was all that counted. But the bike made it-and in one piece, to boot! The steering is a bit iffy, but that's my fault since I did spend the previous day banging away at it with a hammer to loosen the headset. My sweetie finally gently suggested I stop doing serious damage to it and that I just take the front wheel off and turn the handlebars. What a hero!
          The next step: eat, then off to find our rented car at Practical Car Rentals. The wonderful staff there patiently and enthusiastically gave us directions to Yeovil and told us we'd be OK when I asked them for driving advice for North American drivers. She showed us our car: a Nissan Micra that I've named Love Kimmy after the licence plate (LV03 KMY). Then the adventure began: driving on the other side of the road (and car) in England after a flight and jet lag and no sleep in 24 hours. The only correct turn we made was the first one. The next thing we knew we were heading toward London rather than away from it! After finally getting the hang of roundabouts (well, not really) and about an hour later, we were on the M3 to the Southwest, laughing and joking about our London adventure.
          As we went down one hill we saw Stonehenge and of course, had to stop and take lots and lots and lots of pictures. Back in the car, to Yeovil and around and around Yeovil as we got lost, finally parked the car, and walked to the Globetrotters Inn (fabulous!).
          I really can't believe that we managed to get here, after 26 hours without sleep and on the opposite side of the road, without hitting anything. Did I mention what a great guy my sweetie is? We've had supper, found a bike shop (though I'm almost embarassed to go there tomorrow and tell them what I did to the bike) and boy are we ready for bed. Here's one of a gazillion photos my sweetie took of Stonehenge:
  
  

  
  




• Friday August 29th Woke up to rain this morning. Imagine! Rain in England! By the time my sweetie and I had figured out some itinerary, the weather had cleared up and it was after lunch. We had a few errands to run in the morning, including dropping off my bike at the bike shop (also Tri UK's home) so that someone could check the headset. Lunch was a takeout from a corner kiosk.
          After lunch we visited a few towns, though the real adventure was still driving. The first stop was Marston Magna, which we had seen when we had gotten off the A303 yesterday on our way to Yeovil. A huge church had caught our eye so we went back to visit. Some photos of this really cute town:
  
  
  Walking around the cemetary was actually beautiful with all the rolling hills and quiet country feel everywhere. We got back into a car and, on a lark, decided to visit a spot called Cadbury Castle. Both my sweetie and I were expecting a real castle. We climbed the longest hill in the middle of nowhere through a cow field to come to a huge clearing. No castle. We continued to climb until we saw a concrete cyclindrical marker marking the site of what used to be Cadbury Castle. Well, not quite what we expected, but the view was unbelievable:
  
  

  (Hint for triathlon bike course: note the hills!)

  
  We could see Glastonbury Tor in the distance. On the walk down there was a little sign with some information about the Castle, noting that most thought the castle was possibly the former castle of Camelot! Well, it made sense. And it made us feel quite lucky that of all the spots we had decided to visit we picked that one out of the blue. CLick here for tonnes more information about the Castle,
          Next stop was a tiny town called Compton Pauncefoot. Driving through the countryside was idyllic. So was the town. We stopped at another church and graveyard, just to admire the scenery (and of course take pictures) then back home to pick up the bike by 5pm. The wonderful people at the shop had taken everything apart and regreased it all and the bike was looking great. It was still early evening so off I went for a hard bike ride and hard run before supper while my sweetie went for a run as well. Biking again in England was a joyous experience. I actually headed toward Sherborne on small B roads, most of them quiet now. Turned around at Sherborne, back to Yeovil for a run with lots of sprints, then out to supper with my sweetie at a great little Italian restaurant with outstanding tiramisu (made by a very nice person on the premises!)
  


• Saturday August 30th Up early today, hoping to make it to Sherborne for swim practice in the lake between 9am and 10am. We decided to make a day out of the triathlon stuff because there was so much to do: practice in the lake (though I eventually chickened out of that), pick up race kits, check in bike, check in transition stuff, and athlete's briefing. The site has to be one of the most spectacular ones of the Ironman - or even triathlon - world. The Castle grounds were at the center of all the action. The entire area for miles around looked like a giant, manicured golf course with big hills and round, soft trees. The castle itself is huge. There were massive tents everywhere for the events and a triathlon sports equipment expo.
          By the time we were done it was time for food, then to our new inn at Montacute (the Kings Arms Inn. Not recommended: cold people, bland food, overpriced. Try the much friendlier Phelips Arms Inn just down the road.) That evening we took a walk around the town and ended up back at the:
  

  
  You might recognise that second photo: it's Montacute House, used in the movie Sense and Sensibility with Gwynneth Paltrow.




• Saturday August 30th The big day today! It starts at 4:15am when the first alarm goes off. At 5:30am my sweetie and I are in a traffic jam as 1638 triathletes try to enter the castle grounds to park. We park at the far end of a huge field, then make our way to the transition area. It's SO COLD!!! I enter the transition to check my bike, so far I'm not too nervous, change into my wetsuit, hand my clothes to my sweetie, and stand in line for the porta-potty. My feet are frozen in the wet grass. The start is delayed from 7:00am to 7:30am because of mist on the lake. My sweetie takes a breathtaking photo of the early morning transition:
  

  

  It's so cold I eventually make it to the changing tent to warm up. That's where I meet Sheila, competing in the women's 64-69 age group. She's done 95 triathlons and is trying for a spot in Kona. The start is delayed until 8am. We groan and worry about how hungry we're becoming and whether the roads will still be closed for the bike. The crowd starts shuffling out and we go out. To calm my nerves I focus on my goals: finish; finish under 6:30 if possible, and run the half-marathon.
          It's even colder outside this time. I'm shivering so badly I can't talk anymore. The shivering makes me sick to my stomach. Then I'm at the water's edge.
  

  

  I get in. Hey, that's not so bad. I can even dog paddle! And I'm not panicking! I dog paddle up to the start line and let most swimmers by me. I relax and smile, waiting for the 30 second warning gun. The gun goes off but it's not the warning gun, it's the start gun! 1638 pairs of arms are churning and splashing in front of me.
  

  

  The lesson about my attitude on the swim setting my attitude in the triathlon is still with me. My speed is slow but I keep it there. I can barely see where I'm going and realise that there are no buoys to guide us, just kayakers forming a line up the middle of the lake. The water is disgusting: it tastes like mud and looks like it too. Keep swimming, keep swimming. Above all, be grateful and thrilled at the fact that I've made it here! Months and months of dreaming and planning have culminated to this one moment! But keep swimming.
          People are unfailingly polite. Whenever we bump into each other we excuse ourselves then straighten out and keep swimming. The turnaround comes. It seems like forever until I see the buoys at the start line again. Then the Ironman arches and a wall of volunteers standing ready to help haul us out of the water. I spot one and he reaches out his hand to pull me out. Next thing I know two women are on both sides stripping off my wetsuit to the waist. I smile and start running down the chute to the transition area, wave at my sweetie....
  

  

  ....and go to the corner of the transition tent to get my bags. "You have to yell out your number" says the first volunteer. "Uh oh," I thought, "Here we go." "Six six six" I yell out. All 20 or so volunteers handing out bags stop and boo, then laugh. I get my bag and put my sunscreen on with the help of a volunteer, then I'm out of the tent and going to my bike. At the mount line volunteers are joking telling us how great we're doing. One man tells me to keep smiling. I don't need reminding! Next thing I know the bike and I are heading out of the castle grounds and everything is glorious.
  

  

          The bike ride is now a strange and faraway memory. It's a whirl of hills and sunshine and people cheering us on. It's also the thrill of being on the road on a bike again in England, something I had done a long, long time ago. I climb lots of hills, pass lots of cyclists, and am alone for long stretches. The entire time I keep reminding myself the importance of pacing and that this event isn't even halfway through. The leader whooshes by me not long after I settle in. Then I pass Sheila up the longest hill to Giant's Head on the first lap. Right after that hill is a thrilling downhill, so fast and crazy on the chip-sealed road that it feels like my teeth will fall out. There's no wind; it's a perfect, perfect day. The crowds and volunteers are so incredible. Above all, I'm focusing on my goals, reminding myself to ride MY race, not someone else's when they whiz by me on the bike. The hills are a bit longer on the second loop and I'm a bit more tired. I start worrying about the run. I stay on the aerobars as much as I can to save my legs and take it easy. And above all I'm surprised at how truly well things are going. Then a right turn instead of a left to head back to Sherborne Castle, a long downhill, and into the grounds.

  

          The transition is OK. I cover my feet in Vaseline since my right shoe sometimes gives me blisters. I chuck my ClifShots in my back pouch and out of the tent I head. The first thing I notice when I hit the paved path is how easy it feels to be running. Hm, is that right? Shouldn't I feel like I've just been amputated from the waist down? Shouldn't I be discouraged by now? The crowds are absolutely since we're so close to the tents and the main event area. There's an aid station and I grab a can of Pepsi. Then off I go.

  

  The running is amazing. I find my pace so easily, it's just so easy to run. People clap (they also point and yell about my number.) Then the path becomes crushed gravel and we're onto our first hill. Everyone is walking it - it's THAT steep. But my goal is to run the entire half-marathon. Thank goodness for that goal: it motivates me when I falter. I slowly chug up the first steep hill, passing everyone, including lots of men who do a double-take when I pass them and then start running. I grab a Gatorade at the top of the hill, turn around, and go back down. It really helps that the distances are marked in miles rather than kilometres: it seems so short! It's much more motivating to tell yourself that you've got seven miles to go rather than saying you've got 14km.
          Going downhill is just breathtaking because of the scenery: the castle in the center, the lake, the manicured grounds, the English countryside. The path leads around the end of the lake, then up another hill. This one is far longer than the first, but at a much easier grade. I follow a younger guy who seems to have a great stride. He's running slowly and smoothly, even up the hills (which most are walking up.) Then another turnaround to the bottom of the hill, and along the far wall of the castle grounds. It's very quiet here. My pacer seems to have sped up and I can't quite keep up with him. He finally drifts ahead while I remind myself to run my race, not someone else's. We turn back to the main event area and repeat the loop. There are half the number of runners on this lap. I have to walk just a short bit at the top of the first hill, and my legs get a bit discouraged somewhere at the far wall beneath the ruins of the old castle. Then I see the last aid station where the course turns to the finish and...my sweetie perched high on the wall, cheering me on! I yell at him to get to the finish line to take my picture but he doesn't seem to move.
          The finish is so wonderful. As I approach the finish line I start sprinting, and I hear the announcer note my name and that I'm from Canada. People are cheering. The final time: 6:17. I finish 1156th out of 1600 starters. I moved from 1331st place aftre the swim to 817th place on the run, if you account for all the DNFs in each stage. But most of all, I achieved all my goals: I had finished feeling great; I had finished under 6hrs30min, and I had run the entire half-marathon. That run was the best part of the event. It was like floating, and I probably could have floated forever. Nothing is as important as a goal. Second only to that is discipline in training. Two big lessons learned.
  





• Monday September 1st Up early again today. My sweetie and I drove back to London without getting lost once! Not even around the hotel where the car rental agency was located! No mean feat, I tell you. The weather was beautiful once again. We proudly returned our little silver Nissan Micra - without a scratch - to the agency at exactly 10:00am...

  

  ..... then got a lift to Heathrow where I left the bike until my return. Took the Tube to London/Victoria Station, just as we had last year at the end of the Greece trip. Our place for the night was only about two blocks from Victoria train station, a dormitory called Wigram House at the University of Westminster. Can't beat the location. The afternoon was at Buckingham Palace, admiring the incredible care and work that go into the facilities.

  

          But the best part of the entire day was our evening run, my sweetie's idea. We ran down to Thames and crossed Vauxhall Bridge, then took the Thames Path up to London Bridge. It was late evening and the sun was setting; lots of people were wandering around. We listened to Big Ben chime 7pm, saw the Millennium Wheel and wondered why, checked out weird balloons at the Tate Museum, and stopped at the Globe Theatre. There was a crowd gathered in front of the theatre; apparently Prince Charles was rumoured to be attending a play this evening. My sweetie and I decided to check it out. Not ten minutes later, Charles appeared with Camilla! What a treat!
          On to London Bridge, where we crossed over to the other bank. We checked out the London Tower area and little facts painted on a wall (some darn eery stuff happened in that Tower), then back home after catching a glimse of St. Paul's Cathedral and running in front of Westminster. Almost two hours of running - the day after my triathlon - and I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. But worth every minute.
  


• Tuesday September 2nd A big travel day. We left Wigram Hall early to catch an uneventful bust to Dover, then took a peaceful ferry to Calais on P&O Lines. We took a seat outside on the deck of the stern where we could see the white cliffs of Dover (you can actually see these from Calais. And the French don't call the English Channel the English Channel: they call it the Pas de Calais.)

  

  Then at Calais we found the train station and left for Arras, the closest town to stay for Vimy. Taking the train in France is such a pleasure. All train systems should run like this.
          We found a fabulous place to stay in Arras (The Hotel du Beffroi in front of City Hall) and the view from our window:

  

  with lots of windows and bright sun. An evening walking around town, admiring the cool architecture and a hokey carnival that had pulled in for the evening, and eating a fantastic supper.
  


• Wednesday September 3rd My sweetie and I have been looking forward to this day for quite a while. The big ticket was visiting Vimy Ridge, site of the famous World War I battle where the Canadians seized an important piece of land from the Germans. Just getting to the site was an adventure for us, involving a bus to Thelus and lots and lots of walking (though fortunately in beautiful weather.) My sweetie first spotted the Government of Canada sign for the site and was taking a picture from the side of the road when a truck drove by. The driver honked his horn and saluted us. After about 30min of walking, we came across the first trenches. The entire site is absolutely eery. It's still pockmarked from the artillery of the battle on April 9th 1917. The German and Canadian trenches are a casual 25m apart - so close you could toss a football between the two.

  

  The depth of some of the craters is incredible. A guide (from Ottawa) found us and not long after we were on a tour of the tunnels and "subways" used for battle. By far the most impressive part of the site, however, is the memorial itself. It's indescribably graceful and dignified. It sits on Hill 145, the highest part of Vimy Ridge and one of the hardest parts of it to seize. The view is from that hill is magnificent: you can understand why it was so important to each army.

  

          The afternoon we went back to Arras and took the TGV to Paris. Damn that thing goes fast! And it's so quiet. In less than a peaceful hour we were at the Gare du Nord in Paris. We figured out the Metro system and found our delightful hotel (Hotel Marignan) in the Latin Quarter near the Sorbonne. After supper a quick walk around Notre Dame and, of course, a kiss on a bridge over the Seine (hey, it's Paris!)

  

  
  


• Thursday September 4th An incredibly beautiful morning in Paris: cool, blue sky, people clattering everywhere....and my sweetie and I spend it doing laundry. If you had smelled us, I'm sure you would understand. While in the laundromat we met a couple from Dallas who had been to a friend's wedding in the Loire Valley (they had rented - yes, rented - a chateau for the wedding and brought 16 of their friends and family over. Hopefully the divorce is less expensive than the wedding.) A quick walk to a boulangerie for some food, then we set off from the hotel to do a sort of walking tour of Paris.
          We couldn't have picked a more beautiful day to do this. The temperature was perfect as we crossed a bridge in front of Notre Dame Cathedral and made our way to rue de Rivoli, one of my favourite sights in Paris. Spotted our first traffic accident since arriving in Europe, then walked aaaaallllll the way up to the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe, doing a detour through the Louvre and the Place de la Concorde. Both the Place de la Concorde and the Arc de Triomphe have traffic roundabouts that are best described as swirling metal, or, as my sweetie puts it, Highway 401 spinning in circles. The roundabout at the Arc de Triomphe has SEVEN lanes. Do we even have a highway that wide in Canada?
          Then to the Eiffel Tower, passing by Trocadero and soaking our feet in the cold, cold water in fountains in front of the buildings of the Palais de Chaillot.

  

  My sweetie kindly paid me a ride on a carrousel at the foot of the Eiffel Tower (a fond childhood memory), then we bought our tickets for the Tower to the highest floor - the very top! - and up we went. The elevator actually brings you to the second floor near the bottom first, then you switch to a smaller elevator to take you all the way to the top. Oddly enough, there's hardly any wind at the top, and the air was surprisingly clear. Clear enough, in fact, that you could just make out the curvature of the Earth by looking at the far horizon!
          After the Tower we walked down the Champ de Mars where Napoleon used to put his army through drills (Mars being the god of war.) We kept walking by L'Hotel des Invalides. I'm embarassed to state that I really don't know what that building was for, except that it was very impressive and had the most exquisite gardens in front and a beautiful golden dome. I was happy to make it back to the Latin Quarter, where things are so much livelier and more bohemian. We had supper a sweet little creperie, then discovered old cobblestoned pedestrian passages to spend the evening. Today's punchbuggy score: 5-5. My sweetie vows he'll win tomorrow, but we're taking the train for five hours so I'm feeling quite confident it'll be a draw again.
  
  
• Friday September 5th Another big travel day as we left Paris and made our way to Pauillac, west of Bordeaux in the province of Aquitane, for my sweetie's marathon. I really can't believe how many modes of transportation we took today: the metro to Gare Montparnasse where we bought a ticket for the TGV to Bordeaux, then took an ancient rickety two-car train to Pauillac, then a little boat to our bed & breakfast. The TGV was remarkably smooth and quiet. The only hard part about the high-speed train is going through tunnels. Because the air doesn't have time to move out of the tunnel as the train enters, the air pressure in the cars will suddenly increase and wreaks havoc on one's ears. By late afternoon we were on a very hot, crowded train from Bordeaux to Pauillac, traveling through wine country and vinyard after vinyard in a dusty, old part of the country. The soil is remarkably white and sandy here. It is so disheartening to see the effects of this summer's drought and heat on farmers' fields. Field after field of corn from Paris to Pauillac is burnt brown. The corn stalks are so dry and dead that they look like the decorations you usually hang in your kitchen. Even the trees along the Champs Elysées had been toasted dry.
          In Pauillac my sweetie and I called our B&B thanks to a kind American woman from Texas who lent us her calling card, then we rushed to pick up his race kit for tomorrow. Finally a short walk to the port to meet the owners of the B&B who were to transport us to a large island across from Pauillac where the B&B was. You have to check the place out for yourself! (Click here . The history of the island is fascinating.) It's an old farm bought by the most delightful young couple, Suzi and Al, who are renovating and cleaning it all up to make what's now a B&B and will later be apartments for weekly rent. We were there with two other families that had members in tomorrow's marathon. Actually, one of the highlights of the day was supper with all of them, as well as Suzi, Al, and John, late that evening. Oh, and the two dogs, Prince and Tessy, and four shy cats.
  


• Saturday September 6th It was my sweetie's marathon today! What a special time! We were the first up this morning. After breakfast Al and John shuttled us to the start line. My sweetie and I strolled along the waterfront, fascinated by all the people dressed up in the most incredible costumes and all the dancing and music before the start. The marathon is very unique: it's really a three-day party to celebrate wine-making. In fact, wine is served every two to five kilometres during the marathon (as well as oysters at the 37th km, ribs at the 40th km, cheese at the 41st km, and dessert at the end.) Participants get a bottle of wine at the finish (two if they're dressed up in a costume.) Some of the costumes were mind-boggling: a man dressed as a horse pulling his wife in a Roman chariot; lots of bumblebees and men dressed as women; lots of pink tutus; a few men dressed as Playboy bunnies, including thongs (!); Bam-Bam; a tomato; a wine bottle; and it goes on and on. The point of the marathon is to have fun. Time is secondary. My sweetie's goal was to finish and finish happy.
          After the start I cut through the town of Pauillac in time to see my sweetie at km 2, then walked out to the countryside on a road with vinyards on both sides and a lovely chateau. I staked out a spot on the shoulder just past km 19 and waited in the summer sun for my sweetie to go by. Watching the runners, particularly the slower ones since they had better costumes and seemed to be enjoying themselves more, was such a treat. Finally my sweetie came along. After waving to him, I ran back into Pauillac. I had a bit to eat while the rain poured. When it cleared a little I found a spot 200m, before the finish line and watched the runners come in. It was wonderful to see the joy spread over their faces when they saw the finish line in front of them. Most of the costumes made it through the rain and the marathon intact. When I spotted my sweetie he waved his arms for a photo. I sprinted for the finish line myself to catch up to him. He was thrilled! The run had been wonderful, the scenery amazing, and the food and drink just great. Al kindly brought us back to the island to rest a bit. That evening we went back to Pauillac for the post-marathon party. The party is actually wine-tasting, food vendors, concerts, and dancing all along the waterfront. We had a bit to eat, walked around to look at everything going on. We even danced a little! AFter that we found the main stage where a great Afro-Caribbean band was playing and topped it off with the waterfront fireworks at 11pm.
  





• Sunday September 7th What a rough morning. My sweetie and I had to get up early to catch our train back to Paris. The rain made it a good day to be traveling. In Paris we went back to the Hotel Marignan. This afternoon we visited Notre Dame Cathedral and its towers. The hordes of tourists in front of the Cathedral were almost as impressive as the Cathedral itself. Our theory was that tourists were bored since they couldn't shop today and so were out visiting monuments.
          We started by climbing up the towers via the 422 steps (all in a dizzying circular staircase.) You don't actually go straight to the top; instead, you first exit in the room that supposedly adjoins Esmeralda's in Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame , then you climb to the first exterior balustrade. From there you wind your way across the front of the cathedral and check out the horrific gargoyles, including one of a mother lizard thing eating her young. The best part is the bell, which involves a climb up a wooden staircase. The bell is absolutely huge and equally impressive. After returning outside, you take another even more dizzying staircase up to the very top of the tower. Two Spanish women were making a fuss at the foot of the staircase and as my sweetie and I were climbing we heard all sorts of commotion between the guide and the Spanish women who didn't want to move. The staircase was more interesting than the tower, but going down was almost nauseating.
          When we had straightened ourselves out we followed the flood of people into the Cathedral. It is awesome in the truest sense of the word. An organ recital was going on as we walked through it. Parts of the cathedral are in terrible shape; you can still see charred walls of fires from a long time ago. The stained glass is almost black with soot. But the roses (the two huge round stained glass windows on either side of the altar) are breathtaking. Most incredible of all was was the sight from the entrance of the cathedral to the altar. The glorious, soaring heights of the supported walls are something else. I lit a candle for the family. In the evening we walked around the tiny pedestrian streets in the Latin Quarter and saw a cool tiny lane called La rue du Chat Qui Peche . Tomorrow we hope to make it to The Louvre, as well as Sainte-Chapelle and La Conciergerie.
  


• Monday September 8th My sweetie and I are convinced that Paris likes us. It was supposed to rain both yesterday and today, but we had clear blue skies and perfect temperatures both days. Well, we sure like Paris. We started today with a visit to la Sainte-Chapelle, a small church built on Ile de la Cité by Louis III to house the crown jewels and other historic artifacts he had bought (with half of the revenue of France at the time!) It was part of the original Royal Palaces. We joined a small tour going around both the Lower and Upper Chapels. The Upper Chapel's walls are almost entirely made of stained glass. It is an engineering wonder, given that the structure dates back to the 13th century. But more shocking than either chapels is the just how destructive was the French Revolution: in 1789 as the Revolution picked up speed, rioters looted and trashed anything related to the monarchy, including churches such as Notre Dame and La Sainte Chapelle. They ripped up paintings, stole jewels, and ravaged walls. I think the Revolution caused more damage to all of France's great monuments than all other floods and fires and even time since then.
          In fact, that observation was confirmed when we walked across the Palais de Justice to La Conciergerie, also on Ile de la Cité, which was originally a place for soldiers, then, during the Revolution, where prisoners were kept to await their trials and execution. The condition of La Conciergerie was immaculate. Signs and posters were everywhere telling us about various rooms and lots of history. There were mannequins in different cells to replicate the purpose of each cell, including a grisly one where prisoners were prepared for their execution (a basket of hair from the shaved napes of prisoners about to be guillotined was thoughtfully included.) Just as morbid was a room with the names of all 2780 people executed. We also saw Marie Antoinette's cell (and an inscription of a letter to her son telling him not to avenge her death, since it was more important to forgive and move on.) Contrast such meticulousness with the sad state of the churches we saw, and you have to wonder at French priorities and sense of history.
          For lunch we went back to the Latin Quarter (the best place in town for atmosphere and food) via Pont Neuf. We went back a fantastic store called Grim Art, which we had seen Thursday night, to buy wax seals for each of us. Then a walk across Pont Neuf, Paris' oldest bridge and most romantic (of course we had to stop for a kiss!), a visit to a patisserie, and to the Louvre for the rest of the day. We entered by the controversial glass pyramid in the center square (I personally don't like the pyramid, but it's very useful for orientation once you're inside the museum.) The Louvre used to be a royal palace and was expanded and renovated with each new king. In fact, the palace was probably more fascinating than the artwork in it! Our purpose was to see the Mona Lisa, but we got detoured into the most incredible exhibition of Egyptian artifacts that really impressed the advanced state of the Egyptian civilization. They even had a pair of dice, all sorts of mirrors, beautiful sphinxes, and huge sarcophagus for burial. We saw statues by Michaelangelo (wow!), then went back to the pyramid for a bite to eat. We waited for the crowds to die down after supper, then made our way through French and Italian paintings, dodging the innumerable Spanish and Japanese tour groups all the way to her, the Mona Lisa. She's something else, if only for all the history behind her. My sweetie describes her smile as "Are you done yet?!" to Leonardo.
          We walked back to the Latin Quarter that evening in the rain and stopped for fantastic crepes at a little hole in the wall. Tomorrow: back to London. I will miss Paris.
  


• Tuesday September 9th Another travel day, this tiem to London. We did a few errands in the morning, mostly shopping, and then started the eventful suburb train journey to Charles de Gaulle airport. On the train. an accordian player decided to entertain everyone, against their wishes. My sweetie and another woman had some words with him. Oh well.
          We took an easyJet flight back to London, then the bus from hell from Luton to Victoria Coach Station. Both of us thought we were going to throw up on the bus, which not only had a brake problem but ended up being an hour late. Back to Wigram Hall for accomodations, though this time in a decidedly less glamourous room than the first time. For our last evening in Europe, we walked up Grosvenor Road, then Hyde Park, all the way to Oxford Street, looking for the restaurant at the Cumberland Hotel. Unfortunately, the famous restaurant had closed, so we walked through the Mayfair area streets for another restaurant. Afterwards, yet another walk back to the hotel, through a very, very posh neighbourhood that included lots of expensive cars and the American embassy.
          Tomorrow we fly back to Fredericton. It has been a truly incredible, rich trip. We covered so much ground, saw so much, and did so well in our respective events. Thanks for reading. The Running Journal will be back in September.
  

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Last updated January 12, 2004 by Helen Rooney