It’s funny, every fourth year everyone suddenly seems to become a sports fan. OK, maybe not everyone, but certainly people seem to discuss sport a great deal more than usual during this time.

I rarely watch Olympic events but do make an exception for sports I might watch anyway. The exception to my exception so far has been brief but has included the table tennis final (mostly because it’s the Chinese Olympics, and China was in it, and it was on after something I was already watching) as well as the tennis final.

Other sports I’ve watched, and watch every now and then include boxing and cycling. Track and field, gymnastics and the even more obscure “sports” (dressage, I’m looking at you) are right out.

For me, though, the Olympics has really been another football (futbol, soccer, whatever) World Cup. The aforementioned viewing comes to maybe a couple of hours but I’ve watched at least three or four football matches. Mens, womens, whatever.

This evening, Argentina and Brazil play in a semi-final with the winner playing one of Nigeria and Belgium (who are playing this very moment; I suspect Nigeria will win). The Argentina/Brazil match will be, I expect, the highlight of tournament and probably more interesting than the likely Argentina/Nigeria final which will probably result in Argentina winning (again).

So, bring on the 2012 British Olympics World Cup!

At least I think it is La Saone, it’s hard to tell just from Google Maps.

Lyon is around two thirds from the top of France (with Paris being one third from the top), so a great place to stop. It’s famous for being a centre of great food as well as (and I only just found this on Wikipedia now) being the home of Interpol.

The three French cities we visited are, ironically, the three largest. Our stay in Lyon was short, but it was quite a lovely place.

Trav has posted the tenth and final part of this story. You can read the entire story at it’s Collabowrite page. May I suggest reading the entire story from beginning to end, even if you’ve been following along?

     The adults may have left, but they didn’t go far.  They came prepared and retreated to their camp which Yakov realised must not have been far.  As the sun rose beyond the hill over which their attackers had marched, he saw two dark figures shrouded by the morning fog standing, waiting.  Watching.

     Yakov watched the adults stand still for what seemed an eternity; he ordered Evan to take the youngest and hide in the barn.  They were not to come out under any circumstances.
     “If I don’t come back, you’re the leader,” he started, “don’t let them take us back.” Yakov made for the two adults, fighting the urge to head back and cower with Pietra, who resumed sobbing.  During the restless night he had toyed with the idea of setting up an ambush, but he understood nothing of such things and figured it would end up in disaster.  Setting aside the dead had been terrible enough.

     He neared the two adults, they extended their arms upwards and outwards to show Yakov they meant no harm.  The tall dark man on the left lurched forward; Yakov gasped and slunk back, tripping and falling backwards.  The dark man caught Yakov’s arm and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice, “Sorry mate.  Didn’t mean to scare ya.  We just want to talk.”
     “Talk?  You tried to kill us!”
     “Look, things got out of hand; we didn’t want this to happen.  There were two groups of us and the group I’m representing tried to talk everyone — including your Dad — out of taking you home by force.”  Yakov looked at him skeptically.
     “What is it you want?”
     “When Abdul told us where you were we wanted to,” the man blushed, though it was difficult to see, “that is to say we do want to,” he stopped mid-sentence.
     “Oh you big girl’s blouse,” chastised the woman, her flowery voice chirped with restrained excitement.  She bent down to meet Yakov face to face, “Yakov, we think you’re right.  You’ve ignited hope in us; we realise there’s a better way and we want to be a part of it.”
     “I don’t believe you,” Yakov snorted.  He knew they needed protection.  He knew they needed help.  “Wait here,” he ordered, returning down the hill.

* * *

     That the others had voted to accept the adults into Eden had not surprised Yakov.  That they maintained he continue leading had.  Even the adults accepted the decision; whether or not they liked it he dared not guess.  Some of the kids returned to Kilda, deciding the mistake had been theirs and not the adults’, but there were more than enough hands to work the land.  Over the following months, the harvest had been long and ardous, but the results were worth the extended hours and aching backs.  The crop they yielded was more than enough to feed all and to celebrate they danced all night around a large bonfire. Yakov’s leg was still weak but the fresh air and sun made him feel alive.

     Life was good.

Trav has posted the eighth part of our story. You can read the entire story so far at it’s Collabowrite page, if you’d prefer.

While walking back to our hotel after a long day at Luzern, I noticed the sun was casting some great shadows and was a beautiful colour. The combination prompted me to snap quite a few shots in this light.

Just a few minutes earlier I had been swilling a large beer from a can while walking down the street — perfectly normal. We also passed a large group of homeless beggars outside a church or town hall.

This was our last day in Bern and pretty much the last photo I took in the country (other than some documentary shots). I like the colours, lines and shapes and the way they all intersect with one another.

     “Can we open another tin, Yakov?  I’m still hungry.”
     “Evan, we have to ration now.”  Yakov had been unable to shake his lethargy for weeks.  He underestimate the physical effort required to transform an overgrown patch of land into a farm.  Spirits were still high, but goodwill and promises only went so far.  In their time at Eden, they had nearly exhausted their supplies and grown nothing.  The blackberry bushes had long been picked clean.  Despite the difficulty working the land, Yakov enjoyed life at Eden.  He dared not tell the others this was not the place sought but instead continued with his lie: The previous occupants must have abandoned the farm; the journal was left for him.  The lie had been eagerly accepted by all; whether they knew the truth was unclear.

     In their haste to begin planting, investigations of the large shed near the homestead had been neglected.  A cursory inspection had found nothing but rusted machinery which Yakov supposed was for farming but otherwise ignored.  On Pietra’s advice, Yakov took a group of boys to investigate the machinery.  Yakov had dismissed her suggestion, but when Pietra put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer twice.  Yakov looked over the machines with a close eye and tried to understand each machine’s purpose.  He knew Pietra would be smart when she grew older; probably already was smarter than him, Yakov thought, but machines were his specialty and after careful consideration he ordered the other boys to pull a small tractor from the shed.  They dubbed the tractor ‘Daisy’ after the only flower they knew.  Yakov began to repair the machine immediately; he worked from dawn until dusk every day, leaving Evan and Pietra in charge.

     Repairs of the tractor were interrupted one sunny morning when Yakov heard yelps of excitement from some of the children.  On investigation, he saw all had gathered to meet a visitor.  One of those who had abandoned their group early on had, instead of wandering home, stumbled upon Eden!  The children celebrated Abdul’s arrival into the early hours of the morning; their parents would have disapproved.

     Yakov resumed work early next afternoon, eager to complete his time consuming project; the tractor was close to functioning, he knew it was only a matter of time.  Sitting in the driver’s seat, Yakov impusively leaned over to connect a loose wire.  His impatience, brought on from the previous night’s festivities had dulled his senses; he noticed the tractor tipping too late.  Legs crushed beneath the beast, Yakov passed out.

* * *

     Thanks to Pietra’s splint, Yakov became mobile earlier than she had expected.  She said it had probably been a fracture since his legs weren’t swinging forwards, but it still hurt to walk and Yakov had taken to staying indoors for long periods.  Abdul came to visit Yakov as sat in his room, alone.  “Yakov, ” he started, “I have something I need to tell you.”