The above picture, from a cafe where I rested after a sixteen-mile walk, isn’t anything special. Neither is the town it’s in, Tournon-sur-Rhône, which is my least favorite of the string of mid-sized and smaller towns I stayed in along the Rhône Valley. It’s a loud town, a result of the old expressway, Route Nationale 86, funneling through it, and France’s love of motocross, which means young men sans mufflers.
Yet even in Tournon, on a boring Wednesday afternoon, there was an active social scene, a communal sense of needing to be, if not directly with other people, then at least near them.
Read Full Article »
