The hills have arrived

Well here we are. The first hills are behind us and while it might be safe to say that Precious took them in her stride, a little impatiently even, her jockey took a little longer to settle into his stride. Nevertheless, the Col du Ballon d'Alsace, at a relatively low 1165m, did require 8km of hard work at 7%. We are on our way. It's a bit up and down all the way to Lago Maggiore now and, let's just say, I'll be looking forward to the occasional flat bit.
Here, by the way, is Pont de Roide. It's a smallish place straddling the River Le Doubs and nestling in a valley. There's no reason why I shouldn't be raving about it. There seems to be, however, a touch of the Deliverance about it. I'll be locking the windows tonight. The good news, and it is very good news, is that they do a damn good cup of tea here, even if they do all look like Shrek.
Slightly worryingly, there's a good chance I'll be in Switzerland this time tomorrow. What's wrong with Switzerland, I hear you cry. Well, as someone I hold dear once said, "Switzerland, what's the point?". I've seen nor heard anything since that's allowed me to satisfactorily answer that question and neither do I expect to see or hear anything over the next couple of days that will help. Nevertheless, it is there and there is where I must go.
I don't know if this is interesting or not but I shall mention it anyway. In Remiremont and in Pont de Roide, there are kebab shops. There may have been more but I wasn't paying attention. Anyway, both of these shops have been called Doner Americain. That's American Doner to you, unless you're my boss, in which case it is le mange intolerable. If any of you out there have ever known Doners to be associated with America, could you please let me know.
Finally, because I'm sure you're bored by now, Precious is overnighting in the beer cellar. If I were you I'd look forward to the retaliatory puncture.