Postcards from Provence and beyond

It may not have been the way we planned our trip to Toulouse for the Rugby Final, but we ended up having the best of days (even though we lost the match).

After all our plans were derailed, due to a cancelled train and we cycled home, exhausted and  flat , we pulled ourselves together, had an early night and woke to the alarm at 3am, to drive to Toulouse for the match. We weren’t going to miss it!

As we drove towards the city, my neighbour messaged to say that she had just read an article about us in the La Provence Newspaper, which had come as a lovely surprise over her morning coffee. We had done the interview with them, but I had imagined it would end up in the Editor’s waste bin, but no, it was a really lovely piece, about our love of Provence and passion for the rugby and cycling too.

After that exciting start to the day, we pulled into the city a few minutes before 8, before it was really awake, and after a coffee & croissant, we headed out to explore.

Toulouse is one of those cities that we have always driven around, or we have stayed on the outskirts, When we have been on our cycle rides , but we’ve never been into the heart of the city itself. We had missed a treat.

It’s a beautiful place, with buildings made of a soft pink brick, stunning architecture, narrow back streets to explore, and is pretty-much free of cars, which gives it a gentle, calm, yet vibrant atmosphere.

We spent the morning ambling and visiting a large brocante market, which I had visited as a contestant on a Channel 4 TV show, (French Collection) many years ago. That had been a great experience, and it was nice to revisit the memories.

We sat at a café, slightly dazed after the last 24 hours of chaos, enjoying watching the cyclists and pedestrians stream past. It was just a delight to be in an almost car-free space, the street was still busy, and clearly thriving, without the traffic.

As we sat watching people passing by on the rentable city bikes, a thought hit us. We may not have been able to get to the city with our bikes, but perhaps we could pedal out to the stadium on one of the ‘Velo Toulouse’ bikes. We downloaded the app, signed up for a 24hr pass for the grand sum of 2 euros, and worked out what we needed to do.

After lunch, we pulled on our Provence shirts, grabbed our flags and went back out onto the streets to find a bike. As we walked out, the street in front of the apartment had been transformed into a colourful, noisy scene, as the floats for the city’s Pride Parade were getting ready for the afternoon event.

But we couldn’t stop. We had bikes to find, and a few minutes later had unclipped 2 bikes from their racks and were off, joining the stream of cyclists pedalling through this beautifully pedestrianised city centre.

With their big, comfy saddles, sit-up-and-beg handlebars and a basket too, they were the perfect way to travel. We fixed our Provence Rugby flags, into the baskets, enjoying the sight of them billowing in the wind, as we pottered along, with Cheshire Cat grins on our faces.

Disaster averted, we were in Toulouse, we were on our way to the match, and on bikes too … was it any surprise that we were smiling so broadly.

The atmosphere as we cycled along was incredible. Rugby fans are a class apart to the supporters of any other sport. Yes we all support our own clubs with an absolute passion, but first and foremost, we share a love of the game. there isn’t animosity, there is rivalry and respect, and that is something that I love.

As we pedalled past groups of Vannes supporters, they interrupted their singing to call out ‘Allez les Bleus’ to us, with us shouting back at them, as we slipped past.

Without doubt, the Vannes supporters far out-numbered the Provence Fans (they had been pretty certain of their place at the Final, long before us) and the city centre was a sea of blue and white, with more Breton Flags than I could keep track of.

As we pulled into a square, by the river, we were met by the sight of a queue of cars that were having to make their way through a crowd of Vannes fans. Flags were being waved, songs sung and even blue and white smoke flares being lit. Each car was being stopped by the fans, some even being used for ‘scrum-practice’, yet in a city that is used to rugby fans, it didn’t seem to be a problem.

We stood to watch, and soon our flags were spotted, and Vannes fans came over to chat, shake hands and even give us a hug. We chatted about the match, wished each other ‘Bon Match’ and just enjoyed sharing the experience of what was going to be an amazing day.

Finally tearing ourselves away from the spectacle, we pedalled on, taking the well marked and secure cycle paths and routes through the city towards the stadium.

Taking a few minutes to sit by the boats in the basin, all we could hear was the singing and chanting of fans, and cars sounding their horns in recognition and support. It was fun, noisy and vibrant, and we weren’t even at the stadium.

We enjoyed riding the bikes so much that we found a longer route around to the stadium, having to slow down as we got closer, caught up in a wave of supporters, before leaving our bikes at one of the drop off points, and joining the growing swell.

By this point, I was ridiculously excited. We may have been exhausted after the tough day on Friday, and the hideously early start, but it all melted away, as we showed our tickets and walked into the stadium. At our age, we should be able to take things like this in our stride, but the passion that comes with rugby turns me into a kid again, and I love it!

We were early, of course, and took our time to walk around the stadium, bumping into other Provence fans, with over 2000 having made the trip across. It was lovely to see Will, who we sit by, at Aix. He’s instantly recognisable, thanks to his beard (he’s won various competitions when it has been styled into amazing designs), and he had clearly met his Breton counterpart. I know I’m biased, but I think Will would have won a beard contest.

We grabbed a pitcher of beer, and soaked up the atmosphere, which built to a height as the team buses pulled in.

No one had been allowed into the stands, which meant that almost all 18000 spectators were there to welcome the teams and cheer them into the changing rooms.

The noise and excitement made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, so I can’t even begin to imagine the impact it must have had on the players, having to make their way through the crowds.

For the Provence lads, this is the first time they have got to the Final, and the experience must feel almost overwhelming.

We made ourselves heard, as best we could, and once the teams were in, made our way into the stands.

The match proved to be everything we had hoped for.  An excellent game, with the players pouring everything they could into their play. I screamed, shouted and yelled as loud as I could, my nerves fraying at times, especially when, with 5 minutes left to play, we were within a score of winning.

It may not have been our day, the final result Vannes 18 – Provence 14, but the match and the occasion was really very special. I love that the french term for being a spectator at an event like this is ‘assister a’, and that really makes you feel part of the team, doing your little part to help them.

It goes without saying that the explosion of joy from the Vannes supporters at the end whistle could probably have been heard in the city centre, above the music from the Pride Floats, and the requests for fans not to invade the pitch were well and truly ignored by everyone, including us!

We joined thousands of people on the pitch, soaking up the atmosphere and being able to talk to the players who despite their exhaustion, were taking the time to chat to the fans and have selfies taken too. I know they will have been devastated, but respect them even more for their interaction with fans who had travelled to support them.

I think the sporting rivalry between fans is best shown by the young Vannes supporter (probably 12 or 13 years old), who walked up to us, and said ‘tres bien joue, bonne chance pour la semaine prochaine’, and that sums it up perfectly. No animosity, no gloating, just simple respect for a good match played by 2 well-matched teams.

And that was all we found as we walked away from the stadium, in search of bikes to ride back into the city, to find some supper.

The thing is, we now do have a game next week. Another chance to secure promotion into the Top14, in a match against Perpignan, who came 13th in that league. So we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves down and get ready to do it all again, next Sunday

We were absolutely shattered by the time we had found supper, and then got back to the apartment, the effects of the previous day’s drama, very little sleep and an exciting day finally catching up with us. We were asleep, before our heads hit the pillow.

This morning, we woke a little sad that we weren’t able to cycle out of Toulouse, spending the next week making our way back to Provence for the match, but at least we could start planning again.

The last 48 hours (is that really all it is), has taken its toll, and we need a few days just to get ourselves back together and rejig our plans, but at least we now have the bones of a plan, for the cycle adventure back to the UK.

We will spend this week pottering, and enjoying a few bike rides around the Luberon, enjoying the sight of the lavender coming out. Then we will go to Aix for the match on Sunday, before setting off again, early on Monday morning.

Our current thoughts are that we will cycle to Nimes, catch a TER train to Clermont Ferrand and start pedalling North West from there. We will have plenty of time to find a quiet route that will take us through parts of France that we haven’t really explored in depth, and it will be nice to explore new areas too.

If that train is cancelled, we’ll just take a train somewhere else (wherever we can get to) and set off from there, making everything up as we go along. Having had one cancelled train ruin all our plans, we won’t let it happen again!

So it’s all a bit ‘hurry up and wait now’. We have our tickets for next Sunday’s match and we will be there to ‘assist’ our team in their efforts. I just hope that my voice has recovered enough to make my ‘best fish-wife self’ heard.

Then, let’s see where life takes us.