we do not remember days, we remember moments: Francois et Francoisssssssssse

"Do you think Bertetto will remember us?" Jesse asks me on the bus ride to Annecy from Geneva. "I don't know" I replied. If bikes have souls, I'm sure Bertetto would remember every last pedal stroke we took with him last year. The better question is, "Do bikes have souls?" If any bike were to, Bertetto just might be the one. I think it was divine intervention that we were able to climb up those 10% grade mountains last year without becoming stranded and fend off mountain-cheese-thieving Marmots.

We arrived in Annecy Thursday the 15th, to find it in full-vivre. The day after Bastille Day -July 14th- (their Independence Day), the town is already bustling with tourists, sunbathers, runners, cyclists, babies, and dogs. The sun is shining, the wind is barely blowing, and sailboats can be seen in the distance. The lake, oh the lake -Lac de Annecy- is the brightest blue you have ever seen. Shining even more proud than a brand new turquoise Crayola Crayon fresh out of the box, the lake is inviting everyone to jump in. From the bike path I can see kayakers, sailboats, swimmers, water skiiers, and babies with floaties on their arms digging in the sand on the shore.

I tried to speak French yesterday, but failed -- miserably. Just a few shops down from Paul's "Sevrier Sports" is a restaurant that is open @ midi (noon for lunch) and in the soir (evening for dinner), called "Ma Cuisine." We met the owner/main cook last year, and she was the most pleasant woman. We learned she is Italian by blood, Sicilian to be exact, and loves to cook food from all around the world. I walked into the restaurant, up to the front counter (sans Jesse), and said, "Bonjour". She politely replied, "Boujour Mademoiselle." I then told her in my broken French that I was a friend of Paul's, from California. She nodded like she remembered me, and the conversation quickly broke out into English. As she was filling up my water bottle for me, I decided to ask her what her name was." I said, "Comment allez vous?" She replied, "Tres bien, merci." Shoot! I accidentally asked her "how are you?" instead of "what is your name?". In English I told her I was sorry and asked her for her name, and she replied, "Francois". I thought to myself "Isn't Francois a man's name?" I grunted "huh?". "Francois" she repeated. "France-woh?" I asked. The woman in line behind me hissed at me, "Francoissssss-sss-sss-sss" putting a lot of emphasis on the "s" sound at the end that I apparently didn't hear. "Francesca" she clarified. I was so embarrassed that I of course couldn't even think of the word "sorry" in French, and told her "Sorry, thank you" in English, then darted out of her shop. I will try to speak French again -- maybe tomorrow.

Trying to decide what to order from "Francoissssssse's" menu:

It's official. We have a new member of our family. His name is BERTETTO! We found him in the hands of Francois, a cigar chomping resident of St. Jorioz... Ah, Bertetto: Born sometime in the 1970's, a golden color, he is a custom tandem racing bike (so Jesse says - who also says that is very rare). "The tandem" so Paul said, was in the same condition we left it in last year, but at his house, just a bike-ride up the road from his shop in Sevrier (very close to Annecy) in his town of Saint Jorioz. We arrived once again with transportation courtesy of Paul, who lent us his "funky bikes" -- a pair of brand new folding bikes, for the purposes of the 4.5 kilometer trip. We braved a brief stretch of narrow road with French traffic, but it was worth it to find Bertetto hanging in the shed of Le Conty, Paul's second bike shop.

Paul's "Funky Bikes":