week bouldering

i'm back in paris for a few days before i fly to barcelona.
i spent a week camping near milly a foret, 90 km south east of paris and bouldering in fontainbleau forest, where there are circuits of climbs that you can do, following maps and painted signs around, like a gym session/orienteering course. people started climbing there 120 yrs ago to train for the alps but as bouldering became a sport in its own right, bleau became a mecca for intn'l climbers. great fun.
here's a link to my favourite climb: http://bleau.info/95.2/3699.html. the one that got away. i so had it!! but i was borrowing someone's crashmat and after i fell off the last move about six times in a row, they were getting kinda tetchy and wanted to go play somewhere else.
if you climb (and care) note the last move is a right hand sloper. i grabbed that the first time, but the british lads i was climbing with gave me bad beta(!) and told me to cross hands and reach for the crimper on the left instead. i didn't tick it and i'll blame them.
i've been in contact with ziggy, and we'll be in barcelona at the same time. we've organised to go to the salvidor dali museum together. it'll be a trip seeing him out of context. everytime i've seen him has either been with an anglegrinder in his hand in red hill or a glass of plonk in a gallery in new farm!
i put a few more pics up, but i didn't really take too many in fontainebleau. reason being, while i think rocks are sexy, they aren't really that photogenic, so just go to bleau.info and superimpose my face (john malkovic stlye) on the climbers you see there.
apart from the climbing, i met some cool peeps at the campsite, including some spaniards who live in Igualada, near Barcelona and Montserrat. They're gonna take me to a private climbing gym (you can only go by invitation. remember steve in 90210 trying to go to a rave: 'can i buy an egg?') and introduce me to some firemen who's work schedule means they've got the time to take me climbing at montserrat. gotta love loca knowedge. i want to climb this: http://www.bergefelsundeis.de/Spanien/Parets.html
Cavall Bernat.
We'll see.
Me and the Spaniards got into a fight with the local white trash who live in the trailer park. This pykie guy (track suit, gold hoop earing, 500ml can of Amsterdam moonshine in hand) stumbles over, gesticulating and shouting and insisting we follow him. I was scared of getting my head bashed in so Carles, Sira and I follow him to his van where we meet his good wife. at first i thought she had the biggest cameltoe i'd ever seen and then i realised it was her stomach.
anyway, we were accused of stealing some plastic outdoor furniture. they'd stolen the spaniards' tevas in retaliation. putting my south korean hostage negotiation skills to good use (ie, wiping the smirk off my face long enough to make sure it wasn't caved in), i stood by along with all the neighbours, while Sira (who was the only one of us who's french was good enough to understand slurred dialect) rescued her sandles.