You know there’s a problem when you say to yourself: “Yuck, what’s that smell?”
And realize it’s you.
This began to happen a few days ago. But hey, it’s not my fault. It’s rained pretty much every day the past week, there hasn’t been a good place in any of my hotels to dry out my bike clothes after I sink wash ‘em. And there hasn’t been a laverie (laundromat) in more than a week. Things are getting stinky. And stinkier by the day.
Justin has only been here three days, so he’s just starting to ripen.
Even my bike shoes have become a bit fragrant. Maybe especially my bike shoes. They got soaked yesterday, for like the third straight day, so I spent several minutes this morning trying to dry them out with the hair dryer. They dried out a bit, but are still on the pungent side. Like a fine French cheese. Fortunately, they’re pretty far from my nose when we’re cycling.
I’ll get back to the laundry situation, but first an update: The train strike is over! We took the train to Sarlat and rode to Rocamadour, a medieval town on a cliff, and … no laverie. And, no surpermarche. This is a total tourist town, and tourist towns don’t seem to have laveries and supermarches. Laveries I understand: The people who live here have some Euros, and their own washer/dryers. And most tourists are a bit above using a laverie. But the no supermarche? That’s just inconsiderate. But there were 26 shops that sold pate and some sort of special, local nut paste. We checked online and the closest supermarches are in Gramat, which is about 10 Ks away. And so, that’s our first stop tomorrow,
Back to the laundry situation: A bit desperate, I had to wash not only my bike clothes in the sink today , but also a T-shirt, and pair of socks and underwear. I know, desperate times call for emergency laundry measures. And, there’s nowhere to hang any of the stuff to dry in this hotel room (where we’re staying for two days).
Other than the laundry problem: A great day of cycling, and Rocamadour is a wonderful town … so, please excuse me for whining about laundry. Who knows, we may yet find a laverie.