In the morning, we have breakfast altogether, then Mylène, Thibault, and Louisa send us off with bisous and a bouquet of lavender. 

We first head to Crest to get Tamara's derailleur looked at before the shop closes at noon. While the mechanic is working on her bike, I head next door to the boulangerie, where I buy some nibbles for us. Everything in the store is sold by weight, which I quite like! I get a few squares of fougasse, and the rest of the kouign-amann. After Tamara's bike is all set, we leave our bikes locked to one another's at the store while we explored Crest. Lucky us, their market is Saturday mornings. 

I'm agog at how full this market is. It is exactly the stereotype of the morning market. Full of vendors standing behind their fruits and vegetables (particularly fetching this morning are the stone fruit and potatoes), cheeses, baked goods, nuts (we have passed a lot of nut trees), nougat, marinated olives, and saucissons. Shoppers wandering with their picturesque straw baskets. Each interaction beginning with a "bonjour" and ending with the politesse of "merci" and "au plaisir." 

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We pick up pâté (I can never resist duck or boar). Then smoked filet mignon. The vendor, a rotund man in his fourties, was amused and flattered by our very-thorough sampling. After our purchase, he tells us to take another sample for the road. We wander around. Montelimar, not far from Crest, is known for its nougat, and the candymaker is here. We taste the lavender nougat and the olive nougat. The olive nougat is incredible -- soft and gently sweet, accented with salty black olives from Nyons. Obviously, we buy a big slice cut into two batons. One each. Mine goes into my stem bag for easy access. 

I love the small winding stone alleyways, the irregularly-risen staircases, the fig trees prettily dispersing the light. After our little detour, we make our way back to the bike store. With our bikes and our little market haul, it's time for our picnic lunch. 

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Today, we head to Die. A town known for the sparkling wine Clairette de Die. It has an AOC classification. When Tamara and I roll into Die's central square, a group spots Tamara. They know each other from Geneva! What a small world. 

Tamara has found us another WarmShowers homestay today, with Georges and Geneviève, better known as GG. They live about ten minutes out of town in a countryside house with impeccable views. We sit for apéro, and honestly, I am flabbergasted by the speed of the conversation. I am in full "nod and smile" mode. This is also the first time I hear the Marseille accent. We have a hearty countryside dinner -- Geneviève is an amazing cook. Then we are shown to our room, which is like going to your grandparents' place. One big bed, and two bunk beds. After doing our laundry and consulting some maps with Georges' input for our ride tomorrow, we go to bed. The plan is to head to Sisteron.