...and I passed out in the woods. Photo taken in Joigny, France on Monday, August 29, 2005 at 15:39pm.
BACKGROUND: I have a rather high metabolism and usually require sustenance throughout the day, but most especially first thing in the morning. If I don't eat, I get flustered and shaky, and my ability to speak eloquently or do simple math problems rapidly diminishes.
This glorious late summer day in Joigny, a small medieval town in Burgundy, I awoke and, eschewing breakfast, made pâté sandwiches with my mates, which we put into a satchel, and walked across the river to rent bicycles. Alas we were in France, and the bicycle shop didn't open until 11am. We walked to a nearby cafe and sipped espressos and cappuccinos until about half past. When we returned to the shop, not only was I famished, but also trembling from the abundantly caffeinated French coffee (I usually do decaf or tea). I was, however, determined not to break out my sandwich until my friends did, because I knew we'd be riding all day and I didn't want to consume all my nourishment too early. Thus I set myself up for disaster.
As we began pedaling, I felt dizzy and flushed with the heat of the day, slightly nauseous from the overdose of caffeine. I rode on, however, and we came to the bottom of a slight grade that rose upwards into a hill crowned by a verdant wood. I pushed as hard as I could, as I didn't want to fall behind. As we entered the grove, I began to actually feel ill and jumped off the bike. Still, I pretended to be fit and walked my ride around a bend in the road. I was well behind my friends by this time, and no longer feeling the need to keep up my charade I stumbled out of the lane, my knees knocking together, and dropped the bicycle by a tree. It was mid-day by now, and sultry; there were small flies buzzing around my face. My mouth was as hot and dry as the rubber tires. I dropped to one knee and tried calling out to my companions, but I couldn't hear my own voice through the buzzing of the gnats and the hissing of the torrid breeze through the leaves above me. I remember gripping onto the thin trunk as the world spun round, as if I were on the deck of a raft in a typhoon. My ears were roaring though there was no sound. I actually saw my vision go, like an iris-in from a silent film -- blackening from the edges inward towards the center. The forest spun violently and I was forced to let go of my mast, drifting beneath the waves of leaves and insects.
I awoke, by my calculation, only a few minutes later, groggy and sore, feeling swollen as if from a long, uncomfortable nap. I was covered with dead leaves and dirt. I couldn't be bothered to brush myself off. It took quite a few minutes before I could stand and walk again, and I only did so slowly and deliberately, one footstep at a time. I eventually came to the top of the slope and turned out of the wood onto the face of the hill, where my friends were lounging in the long grass, gazing at the rolling vineyards and the Yonne River away to the north.
Ronan: "Oh, look who decided to show up! Where've you been for the last 20 minutes?"
Me: "I felt sick...I think I fainted. You couldn't hear me calling your names?"
Chris: "You swooned? What are you, a teenage girl in a Jane Austen novel?"
Me: "Hey thanks for coming to look for me. I could have been bitten by a snake in that pile of leaves I fell into."
Ronan: "We were just saying that one of us was going to have to go back and look for you eventually -- you've got our sandwiches in your knapsack."
