Did I ever tell you how beautiful the landscape of Northern France can be? In the area around Amiens, north of the River Somme, it is open fields of cereals, rolling away as far as the eye can see, disturbed only be the occasional woodland or towering wind turbines. High above, the clouds scurry by like cotton wool. It could all have been taken from a Constable painting.
The main villages and towns seem always to be set in dips where a river cuts through the landscape. For the cyclist this means a fast ride in but a strenuous climb out. Doulens is one such town. It looked like a nice community. In the centre, people were sitting at outside tables or bars and cafes drinking and talking. The whole town seemed to be out and about this evening.
But I wander about towns in such hollows. Do the inhabitants ever getaway? Or do they stay and live their whole lives there? Does the fact that the only way out is up mean that the effort is not considered worthwhile? For whatever is over the brow of the hill could be enticing, or scary. From the numerous young people sitting and drinking outside the bars it seemed that many had already made their own decision.
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