The Relentless Physicality of Traveling at Age 69

 

Cappucino

Personal Pizza

Egg & Asparagus & Fries

Chocolate Hazelnut Muffin

My travel companion and I use the word "schlepping" a lot. Back in 1994, I coined the  French verb "schlepper" although the Academie Francaise  is still debating on adopting it as part of the official French language. Why it is taking so long I cannot understand. Since I left home on May 18,  besides the usual plane, taxi, and car rides, we have taken 5 major train trips.  Paris - Agen,  Agen-Paris,  Paris-Dijon,  Dijon-Paris,  Paris-Lille. And there will be two more major train trips until I get back to Monflanquin. As my son Michael pointed out I am actually circling the interior of France. 

Although, I do my best to pack lightly, it never works out that way.  This time I even  packed  my new 5.5 lb  light weight suitcase with more underwear than clothes for  the schlep. Even so my suitcase still feels too heavy.  Of course more often than not,  I pack all the wrong clothes. Pre-arrival visions of warm spring French days turn into a chilly wintery  reality as on this trip, we wake each day to gray skies, drizzle, and the need for multiple layers. 

The circle journey begins. My back protests as I schlep my new "lightweight" suitcase up and down the train station stairs.  More accurately, my back waits until the next day to protest. Of course, my neck wants to get in on the protest as well. Luckily, April and her  adorable mom who produce the yes2next  videos  rescue me with their gentle stretching exercises for seniors. Each video takes only 10 minutes and offers relief. Check out these stretching videos at www.yes2next.com if your body likes to protest like mine.

Then there is my stomach. After almost three weeks of overindulging in rich and often unfamiliar foods, it decides to go on strike.  In Dijon,  I actually eat the entire pizza pictured above. Not sensible, you think. Well, I used to be able to eat an entire pizza like that years ago without consequences. Not any more.  No more big personal pizzas for me which makes me very very sad. The love affair is over.  C'est fini.

And then there is my left  ankle. In January, during my trip to Melbourne,  Australia I walked and walked without my usual arch supported shoes.  Lesson learned. The doctor diagnosed me with ankle tendinitis and sent me home with several exercises.  The ankle felt great before leaving for France, but in Dijon the cobble stoned streets did a number on the very same ankle.  So frustrating!  The cobble stones in Lille prove challenging as well, but somehow the ankle pain is improving.

I will stop complaining now. The cappuccino pictured above will be limited to once a day and may virtuously be replaced with morning tea. The French American Muffin pictured above represents another lesson learned. Do not let curiosity dictate food choices. I attempt to do well  the other night with a light egg asparagus dish. However  it seems that  fries accompany every dish in Lille. Of course, I feel obligated to finish them all. Today, I smarten up and order two starter dishes which permits me to try  endive soup and tarte  aux maroilles,  a creamy local cheese quiche. Perfect portions and kind to my belly.

Despite all the undesirable conversations in which  my body parts and I engage,  nothing is life threatening. The protests come to an end in time.  Today,  visiting the city of Lille, I walked five hours.  Totally worth it. Will there be corporal protests tomorrow? Maybe. But with the help of April and her mom, I will get through the physical discomfort and enjoy another precious day in La Belle France.