Nancy Next and I encountered the Pope’s motorcade on my way out of Metz

September 27
I wake up to my Xiaomi 12T Pro’s alarm blaring like crazy at 5:30 AM. I tap the screen to grab ten more minutes of sleep.

I manage to have a decent breakfast before leaving the campsite at 8:00 AM—and then it’s just a matter of getting out of town…

Well, not quite that simple. Maps.Me is sluggish in the morning, as usual, and things get messy if I don’t catch every little path it wants me to take.

It takes nearly 45 minutes before I’m on the right track. After a few kilometers in a small town south of Metz, I encounter police cars and other vehicles with sirens and flashing blue lights; it turns out to be the Pope—Leo XIV—coming to visit Metz.

In France, the Pope is a big deal and draws a huge crowd.

The road ahead is relatively flat and traffic is light—it is Sunday, after all. I’ve already decided to stop for coffee somewhere along the way before noon.

When I reach the main entrance to Pont-à-Mousson, I spot a Lidl and get the idea that they might have a café, but this particular store doesn’t. Further down the road, however,

I do find a café. I just have a coffee and charge my phone; Maps.Me really drains the battery.

After half an hour, I head toward the main entrance and continue on; according to the map, I need to cross a bridge, which takes me over the Moselle River.

By the bridge stands a magnificent cathedral—it’s impossible not to stop and admire it. Almost every town has some form of church; in larger towns, these are often cathedrals—and magnificent, ancient ones at that.

It is called the Église Saint-Martin de Pont-à-Mousson—a Gothic church, if the information board is to be believed.

After crossing the river, it seems as though the entire population of Pont-à-Mousson is out and about. A large square comes into view, teeming with people strolling, shopping at the market stalls, drinking coffee and beer, and simply enjoying the pleasant atmosphere.

After all, it is Sunday—market day—so everyone turns out in force. It takes a little while to make my way through the crowds, but eventually, I am on the right road toward Nancy.

The rest of the ride is fairly easy, with only a few scattered, slightly tougher hills. About six or seven kilometers before Nancy, I encounter a small town with road diversions and construction work, and Maps.Me isn’t up to date. It takes about twenty minutes before I find a route to Nancy that isn’t a motorway.

Just after 1:30 PM, I cycle into Nancy—first along small roads, then through an incredibly beautiful park filled with large green trees and grassy areas where people are sitting, having coffee, or simply sneezing.

On the edge of the park, there are several bars with outdoor seating; I check out a few but can’t find a spot where I can both have a coffee and use a power outlet.

I continue toward the city center, and suddenly I cycle through a beautiful archway and arrive at a gigantic plaza. It is packed with restaurants—many of which look upscale—and the surrounding buildings are magnificent, ornate, and very old.

The square is called Place Stanislas and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Place Stanislas dates back to the 17th century.

I continue up a small street lined with outdoor terraces—places more within my price range. I spot an Algerian spot that looks appealing.

Perhaps it has something to do with the Irish Setter sitting outside that looks just like Jussi.

I couldn’t just order a beer; some rule required me to eat something as well.

I get a tasty sandwich—a generous size, and the flavor is spot on.

I had already booked two nights in Nancy; I need to get new disc brake pads, as the current ones are completely worn out.

I had booked via Booking.com and entered the address into Maps.Me.

After this quick lunch, I cycle through Nancy, guided by Maps.Me, to 54 Rue de la Hoche, where my accommodation is supposed to be.

I find the address and the door, but no one answers. There are four doorbells, but still no response.

I ring the neighbor’s bell; a young man comes out, and I try to explain that I’ve booked a room next door.

He reads the message from the host and claims the address is actually 62 Rue de la Hoche, not where I am now.

The trouble is, there are no street numbers higher than 54.

He mentions a street near the train station and shows me on his phone. I head off to look, but have no luck.

I give up and find a new place right near the train station: Campanile Nancy Centre. I can only get a room for the night; they’re fully booked for the following day.

I take it anyway, figuring I can find suitable accommodation later at my leisure. I handle it via Hotels.com—the Nancy Room.

I check the details and get a response from the owner, including directions and which bus to take to get there tomorrow.

I book and pay, and Hotels.com confirms that everything is in order.

Then I take a walk around the neighborhood to regain my composure after the hotel mix-up with Booking.com.