Le Parc Procé

My French bicycle (vélo) is blue with neon green writing and red handlebars. The brakes squeal like little piglets, but they get the job done and also do my work for me -- I simply brake and the joggeurs hear, "On your left!" Though here they pass on the right.

Réné, my 61-year old host father, is an avid triathloner. So it shouldn't have surprised me when he appeared for our bike ride wearing black spandex pants, a slick jacket, and a compact little backpack. (He's also French, so of course he's serious about biking, oui?) I felt like a little kid just learning to ride a bike in my running shorts and long-sleeve t-shirt from some high school cross-country race. He didn't seem to mind.

We buckled our casques and pushed off. The Aubineaus live a step away from the beautiful Parc Procé, Nantes's Forest Park/Central Park, so we started our ride on the gravel path around the park's perimeter. And what a park it is -- covered in rolling hills, so many trees!, a pond with ducks and swans (!) in the middle, kiddies on scooters, kiddies on the merry-go-round, teenagers smooching discreetly in trees, teenagers smooching indiscreetly on the grass, old men reading newspapers on benches, women strolling in stilettos, boys running in short-shorts and men running with their socks pulled high (some fashions are universal), mothers and fathers pushing strollers, -- a park of many colors, you might say. My favorites are the jardin dahlia, dahlia garden, and the saules pleureur, weeping willows.

Then we turned onto a wooded path and -- cue the adventure movie music -- kicked it into high gear. We flew over rocks and tree roots, swerved around puddles and unknowing little birdies, pushed up hills and sped down hills, kicking up muddy remnants from the previous night's downpour. I rode behind Réné and he told me about different routes for running/biking/walking and ways to get back if I got lost. Seeing as I have trouble understanding people speaking English when we're riding bikes, I only got about half of it. Luckily, I caught that the river the path follows runs in the direction of their house.

This path connected us to another park, le Parc de la Gaudiniere, the site of a grand chateau (castle) and a golf course. I think the castle was built a few years before the golf course.

The ride back was a bit slower but no less exhilarating. Lunch tasted especially good that day. Broccoli soup, I believe, and some cheese for good measure.

My friend Imin and I take lovely walks in le Parc Procé. She lives a street away on la rue Claude Monet. (We're in the artist section. I live on la rue Antoine Jean Gros, a neoclassical painter who sucked up to Napolean and painted him a lot). Imin and I both requested "close to a park" on our housing questionnaires.
It certainly is nice to get what you wish for.