Chapter 4

Yesterday we left Carpentras headed for Cavillion to make our way to Apt in the Luberon. Unfortunately, we got some faulty information and didn’t need to go to Cavillion, so from Cavillion we had to go back to Avignon and then take an hour and a half bus ride to Apt. Most of the day was spent traveling and I think all of the previous “get up and go days” (we have a get up and go theme song we wrote)of traveling caught up with me. Perhaps the liter of Rosè at lunch in Carpentras had something to do with it as well as the pint in Cavillion.

Since we had time to kill in Avignon, we decided to buy two train tickets to Paris for Wednesday. We weren’t sure if we were going to do Paris or not but we said what the fuck since I have never seen it. It will give us a little structure as well, so we thought.I don’t know if it was the wine, the traveling, or the fact that I realized the wine route was over, but I was a tad down and lacking energy for most of the day. This trip has been a total high and each day produces one great surprise after another.

I got a good sleep in on the bus even though I fought it because I didn’t want to miss a moment of the scenery. When we did arrive in Apt I was feeling much better. Since Bret has been here before, he remembered the way through town to the campsite, which was sold out, but since we only had two small, single tents, they said we could pitch our tents where we could find space. We wound up filling in this circle of sorts next to a Harley Davidson looking couple, complete with bandanas, tattos, leather, a braided beard down to his chest, andtheir bike parked right next to their tent. They were Germans and we were surrounded by them, however it provided a much different feel from what you would imagine France in 1944 to be.

This German group was ariotand we quickly found out they were good people and loved to drink. As always, the onlookers curiously checked us out. The best way to make friends is just to give it a shot and to laugh at yourself in the process. Again, they were curious about our tiny tents. We alsohave this contraption that turns our camping mats into chairs and Bret was laughing, saying out loud, “What are they going to do now? Oh wait, they are turning it into a chair!”This just ads to the gay factor as we sit there in our matching chairs sipping on Rosè.We joked with them and quickly made friends.

The best way to make friends in these camping situationsis to go to the reception and buy a bottle of wine. In case you haven’t noticed, it is what you do down here in the South of France - well -at least we do and the people we interact with. We were all packed in to thistight little circle so we got to know each other quickly. This time we truly were huddled together like refugees in a camp. Lucky for us the attention was quikcly diverted from us and onto another new arrival who blew up their air mattress before they put it in their tent and then were making a big production to get it in. The Germans were loving it and laughing so hard our Harley friendhad beer coming out his nose.It almost became uncomfortable but the jovial spirit continued.

The Harley couple were a riot and I have a feeling we will be drinking some more with them this evening. I hope to get some great video with them as well. Turns out they love au-natural camping, which are these European nudist camping sites. If we have time, we plan to check one out for the experience. When we pulled up, Brigette was wearing a g-string and her husband Tomas was wearing a good old fashioned Euorpean bannana hammock. I may have to get me one of these. You know what they say, “When in Europe...” On second thought, maybe it is best not to firghten the locals.

I wouldn’t be surprised if our new friends areswingers. They are very free and open people which is always refreshing and they are digging what we are doing with Jack Will Travel, granted, they don’t know the real story and that we are full of shit. My writing career is also getting more and more impressive every time we meet someone new. I think tonight I shall tell someone I have a book deal with Simon & Shuster.Our new Harley friends said if we come to Hamburg, they would love to show us their Red Light District and they can garuntee us a good time for 70 Euro. We alsogot a good laugh when they compared Bush to Hitler, but first he called Bush the greater cowboy than John Wayne. “Hey,” Bret said in surprise, “I did’t know you talked about Hitler!”

As I believe I have said before, Bret is a great travel companion. He speaks a smattering of French, Italian, Dutch, and Japanese, has traveled all over the world, knows his European and Asian geography, and has a motorcyle at home in the U.S. He saw his opportunity with Tomas to talk about his bike so this quickly brought us into Tomas’s inner circle. You can never waste an opportunity. I’ll say it time and time again.

After partying with the Germans for a bit, we headed into town to grab something to eat but it was so late already that most places were closed. We found a Kabob stand and sat on a bench beneath an awning of Sycamore trees. Behind us were four cute blond girls and the moment we heard them speaking English, Bret was loose enough after a bottle of wine and two beers to go in hard. Again, you can’t miss these opportunities when you are traveling.Turns out they were four British girls on vacation and one of their parents had a little villa right outside of town. We extended their evening a good two more hours and could tell they took a liking to us; not enought to invite us back to their house, however. We did all we could but they weren’t having it. We said we would meet them in town the next day but they were leaving so the chances were doubtful. We were happy to talk to some fun ladies and left it at that. Sometimes you have to make a connection and move on.

The next day we heaeded into town and straight into the Apt Saturday market. The streets were teeming with people under the hot Provencial sun. Everything you can imagine Provence was here; lavender, fresh flowers, floral table clothes, bread stands, habadashery stands, fresh fish, herbs, scented soaps, impressive displays of fresh fruit and vegetables. It is truly heavenly. We decided just for shits and giggles we would go to the area where we said we would meet the British girls at eleven, not expecting to meet them there. Sure enough, there they were. We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon with them and told them the real Jack Will Travel story as well as our ages. Last night they guessed 28 and Bret said, “You got it!”. They had lot’s of great English expressions like “Oh you’re mad!” and “You’re having a right piss are you?” which means a goodlaugh in this case. When I asked Katie if she had a boyfriend and she replied no, I said, “I don’ get it. How is that possible?”

“Oh Tim,” she replied, “You’re being a bit cheeky aren’t you.” Katie, indeed I was, however there was a bit of truth to my cheekiness as well. She was a cutie, in fact they all were and provided us with a great afternoon as well as some decent footage. During lunch we pulled out some of the interview questions we wrote up and passed them around the table but they didn’t want this to be on film. They left in the meid-afternoon and we headed back to camp. Bret and I are becoming quite good at this travel thing and should there be what we are calling Phase 2 of Jack Will Travel, we will be pros at this.

Traveling is truly amazing and it seems as if interesting people seem to congregate. It is a microcosm of life at full speed. I once heard someone say that traveling can bring out your best self or your worst self - maybe your true self. One of those things. I certainly believe it anyway. We are experiencing freedom like never before, without a care in the world, going where the wind and wineblows us.

Bret does like to be on the move, however, and I am a bit more of a lolly-gagger. Before we left we had all of these conversations of what to bring, and then when we got to Amsterdam, we cut everything in half. I went back and forth on the iPod and decided at the last minute to bring it. Turns out it has been great because sometimes it is the only way I can get Bret to chill and focus so I can get some writing done. I am finding the Hereld Tribune, the European version ofThe New York Times is also great for this purpose. He buys it every day and as I sit here at the Internet cafe, he is back at the campsite reading it.

Tonight is Bastille Day, which is their independance day. Every night of this trip so far has been amazing. I’m curious to see what kind of tomfoolery we will find this evening beneath a blazing French sky of fireworks. Viva la France!

P.S. the damn spell check won’t work again!

Chapter 5