Merde.

So it happened like this.

I was in a forested area about 60 km north of Paris, just south of Senlis, looking for somewhere to make lunch. It is remarkably hard to find public green space with any kind of water in it (to wash my pot, in this case) in France, so I was looking for a while. Eventually I came across a small creek and decided it was the place. Stopped, locked up Rex, grabbed my stove and some food and trekked it down to the stream. Cooked,, ate, came back to the ultimate nightmare. No bike, no bags, no nothing.

Needless to say I freaked out. Many profanities were screamed to the empty road and the sky. A couple of unhelpful people refused to drive me to the nearby village, so I walked there, a pretty pathetic sight all mopey, trekking up the road with a camelback bladder of water in one hand and a mesh bag with a pot and stove in it in the other. Doing a quick account, I found I was in posesion of nothing but the following items:
My possessions as of present consist of:
one pair of socks
one pair of shoes
one pair of bike shorts
one pair of pants
one wool shirt
one hat
one utility belt
my passport, credit cards, debit card
swiss army knife
lighter
camping stove + fuel bottle
one water bottle
2 liter water bladder
pen
notebook

I literally had the clothes on my back.

Things got a little better at the next village. The people in the town bar felt really bad and called someone who drove me to the police (actually the Gendarmes - local milita who provide police services to the countryside). They took my statement and told me how to find a train to paris, which I did, still dejected. I gave the cops my email and the phone number of Marie, my the lovely and friendly owner of the couch I'd arranged to surf.

Into Paris, where I found an email/phone center, cancelled my travelers checks and got in touch with Mike Kushnir, a vancouver friend living over here. Mike came and met me and took me out for a beer. I got in touch with Marie and - to my serious surprise, found out that the police had called and my bike had turned up with some of my stuff - I could go check it out the next day.

It was a mixed blessing. The theives took my sleeping bag, hammock, tools, food, and some random small stuff. They left me my panniers and clothing, my book of maps (with both sentimental and practical value), thermarest, and ramdom small stuff.

But the bitch is this. Rex is dead.

The bastards ditched him i a field close to where he was jacked from - they had, get this, cut the rear triangle (seat stay and chain stay) in three places to get the lock off. Really now, c'est vraiment stupid - the bike is rendered un-ridable, and thus of any value to them, AND cutting through the bike like that would have taken way more effort than simply stealing the panniers which contained everything that they did decide to take, and probably more effort than just cutting the lock.
I have no idea how I did not hear this happening.

SO.

The situation now is this. I have places to stay in paris as long as I need, and I now need to set about the task of turning up a new frame. All of the other components on the bike are sound, so it will be a matter of sourcing out a frame, and then transferring everything over to the new one. There will probably be some problems dealing with incompatibilities between french and english threaded things (bottom bracket, headset) but the rest should probably go over ok. I kind of doubt I will find a true touring frame used, the right size, and for a decent price so I might have to settle for a road frame (I can at least swap Rex's front fork over to keep the cantilever mounts up front). Some pretty rad friends of mike run a bit of a ghetto bike mechanic opepration and have tools I can use to do some of the work. I've also got to source out a new sleeping bag, some tools, and potentially a tent, though I am considering just getting a tarp and using it to put up some kind of sketchy lean-to to sleep in when I need it - its hot enough over here that a tent is really only for rain protection, not warmth.

The bullshit aside, I'm still having a great time. I've made peace with getting shit done, spending (hey, I'm spending a LOT less than if nothing had turned up - I will be the first to admit I got lucky), and I'm loving paris.

The city is huge and trafic is mental - I've been having a ton of fun riding (borrowed bike) around town. The drivers here are all over the place but by now I'm at a point in my riding where big crazy cities dont scare me one bit, and I am agressive enough to MAKE the space I need on the road (after confirming by eye contact that the driver in question KNOWS I am there). Its a rush, I'll admit. I made it out to the world naked bike ride here, which was a blast - until it got busted up by the police, who arrested 2-5 people and were just about lynched by the bike mob.



There is a butcher (who does deli-ish stuff too) and a baker on virtually every block here and quality, fresh, and cheap-ish food is easy to find (bread price, for example, is controlled by the government). I've never had so much good cheese in my life and I think I am forever spoiled. Eating at home will either never be the same or my cost of living is going to triple. I've yet to really visit a single 'famous monument' but as with most of my trip so far its the living culture that has interested me far more than the dead, and, as with the rest of the trip so far I've somehow stumbled across a good people who are both having fun, making do, and working to make the world better. There is this breed everywhere, it seems, and its truly something inspiring to find. I'm doing my best to spread the vancouver bike love - and the east van flavour too.

This week will consist of getting my shit back together, while trying to be a bit of a tourist, and attempting to spread bike polo to the masses (I think I can get a game going so long as I am able to provide mallets - which means tracking down pvc tubing and ski-poles. Its a legacy I would be overjoyed to leave behind in town).

As before, I miss all you jerks and am homesick everytime I get an email from the velolove or bikepolo mailinglist (god damn you!)