Since I am fairly confident no one is reading this blog anymore, I am writing primarily for myself, and to segue from one journey to another.
I finished the bike trip. I have been in the United States for two weeks now and have said my hellos to practically every great friend and colleague I have known in my college years since my return. What a whirlwind it has been! I visited Lancaster, Ithaca, Philly, Newark, Baltimore, and Washington- except by car. Far less engaged in my landscape. At first, driving and constantly experiencing my world from a car felt extremely foreign and oppressive but I have slowly taken the burden back on in full and accepted the realities of life. Similarly, my computer use is at approximately 8 hours a day in the face of seeking employment and I am back to *shudder* texting. I can still remember just a few weeks ago how simple and clean my life seemed in comparison.
The riding ended in Hungary. We paddled 4 days below Budapest on the Duna. We got violently ill. Then, one morning at 7 AM in a cool doorway of Csepel, we became I. Brian and I officially parted ways (at least until our Ithaca reunion) and I moved north to Slovakia, Czech Republic, and, briefly, Austria. I visited Jess and her family. It was a very rewarding, educational, and fun trip into the northern worlds of the eastern block- a less known territory for me. I learned more about her past and her mother's life. I also utilized my elementary Hungarian with her aunts!
I spent more time in Budapest, entertaining both Jess and Jadine, a friend I made in Slovenia. I really enjoyed showing people around the city I love. Nora and Karoly took amazing care of me in Labanc Utca and I consumed book after book. I worked lightly on my Hungarian and met with Andras and friends in the evening. I learned the transit system and the city layout better than I ever knew possible in a city for myself.
I suppose, at this time, I should try to reflect and put into words the entirety of the trip. If there is anything I have learned over 2 weeks of trying to explain how the trip went, its that I can't easily. When asked, my mind immediately flashes to those moments of "glory." Everything was for the glory. To explain glory and the scenes washing against my memory and the changes I have undergone is impossible in words. I hope to express myself better through the photos and occasional story telling and in how I live my life and how I present myself to others in the future. The greatest expression of my experience is now me. The adventurer, individual, free spirit I have become.
In that vein, I am now, and have been for about a week, preparing to leave for California. I am crossing another vast mass of land. In my car, I will make my third cross-country journey in 4 years. '05, '07, and now I can add '08 to my American explorations. This round, I go through the middle- Route 70. I can only hope the country and its beauty treat me as well as I have been treated in the past. Alone, aside from my 185000+ mile car, which we will call "Zoltan" (as no one will let me name my first son that anyway), I will fly fish and bounce from here to San Francisco where I hope to finally settle down for a little while and start a "real life." My first one ever. Fingers crossed.
I know one thing: I will keep learning about myself and about the world as I push myself outside my comfort zone and reach out to new possibilities and new people. I look forward to continuing my informal education.
So, lookout, mountains, and lookout, sea, I am coming tomorrow.
Cross country and California Beginnings Blog: www.lookoutsea.blogspot.com
Monday, September 22, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
One Month
As of 6 days ago, I had just one month left in continental Europe. At that time, on September 8, I will be returning to the United States, a future which continues to increase in the clarity of reality and the lens continues to refocus and readjust on changing possibilities. In the meantime, I have one month remaining of my great adventure, yet I have relatively settled for the time being. I have plans, destinations and times and even a roof over my head whenever I like. Still, the next (now) 3 weeks hold many exciting turns and twists which continue to mold me as I meet more and more people who will change my outlook.
As of now, for the record, I cycled 2, 411 kilometers. No, its not 3000 as I had hoped but a fair attempt to say the least. And, for now, the bicycle, and I are resting. I cleaned out my bags and prepared for more touring via train than bike over the next 3 weeks. I will also have more clothing and ready access to toilets, stoves, beds, and pillows. All extraodrinary luxuries I will likely not see as ordinary again anytime soon.
Since my last post, I have visited with family and nonfamily members who have cared for me more kindly than I could ever expect or relate in a blog. It is this kind of giving without recieving hospitality I look forward to passing on in the near future once I can become the too-kind host. If anything can be learned from the past few weeks, it is this lesson, one which I have seen and appreciated everytime I return to Hungary. As a 3rd cousin, son of a high school classmate, or son of an elementary school classmate, I was treated royally. We ate every kind of classic summer Hungarian meal and treat and were force fed pálinka every few hours if not minutes beginning at 7 in the morning and ending as night caps. Brian and I relented to the kind treatment and our specially-trained biking ways fell by the wayside very quickly.
Now, in Budapest, we are resting and recuperating from a lengthy paddling trip up and down the Duna- a total of approximately 70 miles. So, although our legs are resting, our arms continued to fight the current. Self propelled travel is the way to go. Feeling of accomplishment and health benefits aside, it saves extraodrinary amounts on oil consumption and gives the traveler a much better insight into the landscape through which they are traveling. All around, the self propelled portion of the summer has been a great one.
In two days, I will travel to Bratislava and experience another country yet again! Unfortunately, with no ability to speak the language, I will rely on my hosts to assist me in muddling through. Can't wait to add another city and another country to my travels!
As of now, for the record, I cycled 2, 411 kilometers. No, its not 3000 as I had hoped but a fair attempt to say the least. And, for now, the bicycle, and I are resting. I cleaned out my bags and prepared for more touring via train than bike over the next 3 weeks. I will also have more clothing and ready access to toilets, stoves, beds, and pillows. All extraodrinary luxuries I will likely not see as ordinary again anytime soon.
Since my last post, I have visited with family and nonfamily members who have cared for me more kindly than I could ever expect or relate in a blog. It is this kind of giving without recieving hospitality I look forward to passing on in the near future once I can become the too-kind host. If anything can be learned from the past few weeks, it is this lesson, one which I have seen and appreciated everytime I return to Hungary. As a 3rd cousin, son of a high school classmate, or son of an elementary school classmate, I was treated royally. We ate every kind of classic summer Hungarian meal and treat and were force fed pálinka every few hours if not minutes beginning at 7 in the morning and ending as night caps. Brian and I relented to the kind treatment and our specially-trained biking ways fell by the wayside very quickly.
Now, in Budapest, we are resting and recuperating from a lengthy paddling trip up and down the Duna- a total of approximately 70 miles. So, although our legs are resting, our arms continued to fight the current. Self propelled travel is the way to go. Feeling of accomplishment and health benefits aside, it saves extraodrinary amounts on oil consumption and gives the traveler a much better insight into the landscape through which they are traveling. All around, the self propelled portion of the summer has been a great one.
In two days, I will travel to Bratislava and experience another country yet again! Unfortunately, with no ability to speak the language, I will rely on my hosts to assist me in muddling through. Can't wait to add another city and another country to my travels!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Magyarország
It vagyok!
I am so glad to be back to Hungary, bicycling roads I know around Balaton and seeing pieces of my family and my fathers past.
After a great night with our German acrobat friends which involved a dry land version of Marco Polo and my first swim in the Balaton, we rode to visit Tamás, Evelyn, Julics, and József- who took amazing care of us! Sitting high on the volcanic remains above Balaton, we dined on gulyás, gomboc, lecsó, and dinnye while drinking József's home made wine and his mother's pálinka. Havent eaten that much or that well in months! I also reviewed pictures from my édes apa's time in Bourgcastle(Spelling?) and it turns out that we look EXACTLY the same. Also of note, he wore leather jackets in the winter with tight high waters and beautiful leather shoes while riding his bike in the snow.
Leaving in a food stupor, Brian and I rode until a major thunderstorm forced us to set camp next to the railroad tracks I have ridden so many times before around Balaton. Sleeping next to the tracks was not too easy, though, but it was necessary as the storm blew hurricane force winds across Balaton as I have seen happen before! We sat in the bar drinking Arany Ászok, another Hungarian treat, and playing rummy infinity. Now I return to the home I spent so many summers retiring in during my impressionable teenage years along the Balaton, the Kovacs lakás. No Siofok bulizni this time, though, just time with family!
Magyar vagyok.
I am so glad to be back to Hungary, bicycling roads I know around Balaton and seeing pieces of my family and my fathers past.
After a great night with our German acrobat friends which involved a dry land version of Marco Polo and my first swim in the Balaton, we rode to visit Tamás, Evelyn, Julics, and József- who took amazing care of us! Sitting high on the volcanic remains above Balaton, we dined on gulyás, gomboc, lecsó, and dinnye while drinking József's home made wine and his mother's pálinka. Havent eaten that much or that well in months! I also reviewed pictures from my édes apa's time in Bourgcastle(Spelling?) and it turns out that we look EXACTLY the same. Also of note, he wore leather jackets in the winter with tight high waters and beautiful leather shoes while riding his bike in the snow.
Leaving in a food stupor, Brian and I rode until a major thunderstorm forced us to set camp next to the railroad tracks I have ridden so many times before around Balaton. Sleeping next to the tracks was not too easy, though, but it was necessary as the storm blew hurricane force winds across Balaton as I have seen happen before! We sat in the bar drinking Arany Ászok, another Hungarian treat, and playing rummy infinity. Now I return to the home I spent so many summers retiring in during my impressionable teenage years along the Balaton, the Kovacs lakás. No Siofok bulizni this time, though, just time with family!
Magyar vagyok.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Bled, Lake, Rivers, Alps
This place is incredible. From Venice, one of the most dense places I've ever experienced, we moved onto Bled, Slovenia, the most popular Slovenian tourist destination, self titled. It is for good reason. Several times a day, I look up, down, left, right, and my jaw drops open my eyes light up and I realize I have entered a postcard. Since arriving,
I have swum in the most perfect alpine lake which is perfect clear blue and exactly 70 degrees from top to bottom.
I have fished in an even clearer stream for beautiful stream bred rainbow trout and massive brown trout which refuse my flies.
I have managed to catch about 6 or 7 fish, though, and they have all been strong and brilliantly colored. I love just watching the hundreds of trout swim lazily in the clear blue current, ignoring my flies.
I met a very kind and fun Brit named Jadine who left Bled almost as soon as we arrived.
I have swum about half a kilometer to and from the island with a church.
I sat at the edge of the lake while the final moments of light were sucked away from the sky by the sun and the massive Alps cut heavily into the sky through the hazy air left by a violent thunderstorm which rolled thunder through the mountains over and over. The church rang incessantly for many minutes, as if to announce the importance of this beautiful moment in the world.
Despite its slightly ominous name, Bled is possibly the alpine retreat I have alwys dreamed of encountering in my European travels. Let the fun continue, but tomorrow onto Hungary and the motherland. I can't wait to go home.
I have swum in the most perfect alpine lake which is perfect clear blue and exactly 70 degrees from top to bottom.
I have fished in an even clearer stream for beautiful stream bred rainbow trout and massive brown trout which refuse my flies.
I have managed to catch about 6 or 7 fish, though, and they have all been strong and brilliantly colored. I love just watching the hundreds of trout swim lazily in the clear blue current, ignoring my flies.
I met a very kind and fun Brit named Jadine who left Bled almost as soon as we arrived.
I have swum about half a kilometer to and from the island with a church.
I sat at the edge of the lake while the final moments of light were sucked away from the sky by the sun and the massive Alps cut heavily into the sky through the hazy air left by a violent thunderstorm which rolled thunder through the mountains over and over. The church rang incessantly for many minutes, as if to announce the importance of this beautiful moment in the world.
Despite its slightly ominous name, Bled is possibly the alpine retreat I have alwys dreamed of encountering in my European travels. Let the fun continue, but tomorrow onto Hungary and the motherland. I can't wait to go home.
Venice and Running into Mountains
Brian and I jumped headlong into the Adriatic upon arriving in our campsite and then joined the strange, neon lit party club of the campground on the beach. It was not exactly our scene, but a triple jack daniels put me to sleep very comfortably afterward.
We awoke and made a jump to Venice via ferry by noon. Grabbing cafes and pastries along the way, we immediately found ourselves lost among the Venician canals and alleys. Refusing maps and direction, Brian and I explored the island fairly thoroughly, remaining very mobile for 8 hours and just happening to cross paths with Casanova's home and Marco Polo's home. We also crossed paths with hundreds of 3 foot wide alleys, many of which I insisted on walking down, smelling the scent of cool clean laundry hanging many stories above me in the dark shade of the alley. They always ended in water. The water was blue with fish and crabs in it. Amazingly, next to life, there was more aquatic life, not just pollution. We listened to gondolla men sing and play accordion through the canals. Stores full of cut glass of brilliant shades of red blue and green lit up the dark small streets. No cars, no motor vehicles other than boats. TONS of tourists- of all nationalities. It was an experience which is poorly conveyed by words and pictures, Venice is a place only to be experienced in real time. It is one of the most unique places on the planet, known for being so, and actually fulfilled all my expectations of such a special location.
The mash up of people and tourism led to an interestig meeting which led to the current location from which I write this post. Meaghan sat in a cafe where Brian rested as I made a glass purchase. After hearing a brief conversation with my parents, she mentioned she also was going to Slovenia, and would we like to look at her Slovenia book? We talked about our respective travels and went our separate ways, with the possible intent of recountering in Bled, Slovenia, a small alpine lake town.
After this meeting, Brian and I returned to the campsite and took the bikes to ride for the next two days to the Italian-Slovenian border. Upon reaching the border, the Alps stood strong against us, and we doubled over ourselves back and forth across the border three times before relenting in a thunderstorm and setting camp in Gorica-Goriza. Before the storm, however, we swam in a frigid river and happened to be under the largest single span stone bridge in the world. The next morning, we rode off, wet, to the train station to catch a cheap train to Bled- why not? When we stepped out of the train station in Bled, a blue lake with a church set on an island in the middle and massive Alps greeted us.
We awoke and made a jump to Venice via ferry by noon. Grabbing cafes and pastries along the way, we immediately found ourselves lost among the Venician canals and alleys. Refusing maps and direction, Brian and I explored the island fairly thoroughly, remaining very mobile for 8 hours and just happening to cross paths with Casanova's home and Marco Polo's home. We also crossed paths with hundreds of 3 foot wide alleys, many of which I insisted on walking down, smelling the scent of cool clean laundry hanging many stories above me in the dark shade of the alley. They always ended in water. The water was blue with fish and crabs in it. Amazingly, next to life, there was more aquatic life, not just pollution. We listened to gondolla men sing and play accordion through the canals. Stores full of cut glass of brilliant shades of red blue and green lit up the dark small streets. No cars, no motor vehicles other than boats. TONS of tourists- of all nationalities. It was an experience which is poorly conveyed by words and pictures, Venice is a place only to be experienced in real time. It is one of the most unique places on the planet, known for being so, and actually fulfilled all my expectations of such a special location.
The mash up of people and tourism led to an interestig meeting which led to the current location from which I write this post. Meaghan sat in a cafe where Brian rested as I made a glass purchase. After hearing a brief conversation with my parents, she mentioned she also was going to Slovenia, and would we like to look at her Slovenia book? We talked about our respective travels and went our separate ways, with the possible intent of recountering in Bled, Slovenia, a small alpine lake town.
After this meeting, Brian and I returned to the campsite and took the bikes to ride for the next two days to the Italian-Slovenian border. Upon reaching the border, the Alps stood strong against us, and we doubled over ourselves back and forth across the border three times before relenting in a thunderstorm and setting camp in Gorica-Goriza. Before the storm, however, we swam in a frigid river and happened to be under the largest single span stone bridge in the world. The next morning, we rode off, wet, to the train station to catch a cheap train to Bled- why not? When we stepped out of the train station in Bled, a blue lake with a church set on an island in the middle and massive Alps greeted us.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Three Day Tour Three Day Tour
We left Milano early when Nadia left for work and struggled to leave the city as always, running into highways and bike trails and never the right road. We made it out eventually onto the flat Italian roads with the Alps ever present and snow capped in the distance. On day one we rode 110 km highlighted by a stop under a bridge over a river running clear with Alp water and perfect skipping stones. We napped and ate and relaxed. That night, we ate plums and dipped ourselves in an ice cold irrigation ditch as we prepared for a night of sleep under fighter jet fly bys. We ate ice cream in town and safely slept in the Italian countryside which was simply fileld with rivers corn fields and vineyards, feeing a bit like the Mid Atlantic!
One day 2, we rode 105 km through inreased hills and even more vineyards. We ate delicious watermelon to quench our thirst in the building heat of the dayAround midday, we crossed an enormous ruin bridge with stone entrances on either end leaving and coming from a Roman city, with a castle perched high on the hill. We bought lunch and ate and napped in a manicured green lawn town square sprawled in the shade and spots of sun. We ate pizza and stopped in a small town along a large brown river. We camped in a forest glen which happened to be populated by a few very large very loud bats which screeched all night and kept us waking continuously. Prior, the sunset over the Alps encompassed a perfect scene of the church silhouette and local bikers riding their bikes around town atop the berm behind a massive apple orchard with the sprinlers running.
The final day was the push for Venice and we reached it by riding in a few zig zags to avoid hills and rode about 110 km. In the morning, we stopped into a small town with one building in many pieces. It was amazingly old and barely anyone still held residence there It was set just perched onto the hillside and overlooked a valley full of corn and vineyards. The main buildings metal gate led through a vineyard and into an enourmous 5 story stone wall. We ate lunch beneath the shade of a supermarket along a highway where I was attacked by a praying mantis. We rode almost continuously this day to reach Venice early enough to attempt to find camping. We succeeded, but only barely. Finding no way to cross the bridge (though we didnt look hard enough, there was a sidewak!) and the only boat from mainland having just departed, we set back for the train, and reached Venice! Even the train station looked onto a perfect tourist destination. Then we took Pauls advice, a fellow tourer and German, and walked over a rail bridge under a highway and through a fence to reach a ferry which we rode free. We eventually reached camping by 10PM but not before running into a traveling group of gypsey variety singers and dancers. A great end to quite a 325 km journey. We ride to Slovenia today! More on Venice in next post. Needless to say, the words and photos wil never do justice to the experience of visiting, not surprisingly.
One day 2, we rode 105 km through inreased hills and even more vineyards. We ate delicious watermelon to quench our thirst in the building heat of the dayAround midday, we crossed an enormous ruin bridge with stone entrances on either end leaving and coming from a Roman city, with a castle perched high on the hill. We bought lunch and ate and napped in a manicured green lawn town square sprawled in the shade and spots of sun. We ate pizza and stopped in a small town along a large brown river. We camped in a forest glen which happened to be populated by a few very large very loud bats which screeched all night and kept us waking continuously. Prior, the sunset over the Alps encompassed a perfect scene of the church silhouette and local bikers riding their bikes around town atop the berm behind a massive apple orchard with the sprinlers running.
The final day was the push for Venice and we reached it by riding in a few zig zags to avoid hills and rode about 110 km. In the morning, we stopped into a small town with one building in many pieces. It was amazingly old and barely anyone still held residence there It was set just perched onto the hillside and overlooked a valley full of corn and vineyards. The main buildings metal gate led through a vineyard and into an enourmous 5 story stone wall. We ate lunch beneath the shade of a supermarket along a highway where I was attacked by a praying mantis. We rode almost continuously this day to reach Venice early enough to attempt to find camping. We succeeded, but only barely. Finding no way to cross the bridge (though we didnt look hard enough, there was a sidewak!) and the only boat from mainland having just departed, we set back for the train, and reached Venice! Even the train station looked onto a perfect tourist destination. Then we took Pauls advice, a fellow tourer and German, and walked over a rail bridge under a highway and through a fence to reach a ferry which we rode free. We eventually reached camping by 10PM but not before running into a traveling group of gypsey variety singers and dancers. A great end to quite a 325 km journey. We ride to Slovenia today! More on Venice in next post. Needless to say, the words and photos wil never do justice to the experience of visiting, not surprisingly.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Milano
Racing through downtown Milano on our bikes, we immediately knew that riding in Italy would be different and the cars had the right to the road.
We took advantage of the city though and visited the Duomo cathedral which dominated the city center with extraordinary Catholic wealth rising high above us in spires and statues bright white in the clear sun. The interior was equally impressive with colorful scenes and immense spaces.
Another highlight included a visit to the WeeGee exhibit we saw in a very unusual very old building. Lots of photos placed on black walls inside a domed wall painted in a second story open space.
Despite our anticipation, the fashion capital held none of the glamour we expected to see walking around us. Cruising the streets, everyone looked European but not exceptional and I even felt remotely appropriately dressed!
Fortunately, every night Nadia took care of us and helped us to order ourselves and push forward with the biking portion of the journey. Amazingly, one of the most memorable parts of our stay were the relentless mosquitoes! A surprise for an urban location but they were present and ate us alive all night. More info later but needless to say, we covered 325 km in 3 days riding afterward to reach Venice. And what a city. Lots more later.
We took advantage of the city though and visited the Duomo cathedral which dominated the city center with extraordinary Catholic wealth rising high above us in spires and statues bright white in the clear sun. The interior was equally impressive with colorful scenes and immense spaces.
Another highlight included a visit to the WeeGee exhibit we saw in a very unusual very old building. Lots of photos placed on black walls inside a domed wall painted in a second story open space.
Despite our anticipation, the fashion capital held none of the glamour we expected to see walking around us. Cruising the streets, everyone looked European but not exceptional and I even felt remotely appropriately dressed!
Fortunately, every night Nadia took care of us and helped us to order ourselves and push forward with the biking portion of the journey. Amazingly, one of the most memorable parts of our stay were the relentless mosquitoes! A surprise for an urban location but they were present and ate us alive all night. More info later but needless to say, we covered 325 km in 3 days riding afterward to reach Venice. And what a city. Lots more later.
Monday, July 21, 2008
On the Road (Rail) Again
The most amazing part about travel are the moments you know will change the trip and, ultimately, your future. Such a moment arose again in Avignon as Brian and I pondered our options for moving eastward. Being behind in time and distance and pretty clearly needing to move east fast, we decided to ride some trains toward Italy. TOWARD Italy. What a thought. What a difficult circumstance to find yourself in huh? Nice, Milano, Genoa, Torino, Etc! Where do we go and where will it put us in relation for the rest of the trip.
Arriving at the train station with no ideas other than east, we approached the ticket vendor with Cecily and inquired about the possibilities. Marseille. Nice. No Torino. Milano. How much? Extra for bikes? Local trains? How many stop overs exactly? FOUR?! OK OK. And once again, how much for two people?
Milano, Italy. 6 trains (including subways) and 13 hours of travel later, we arrived to the warm smile of Nadia, thank goodness! Although the initial legs were difficult to maneuver since the trains were late and the day was hot so we sweated for about 8 hours, it was the final leg which I was convinced would not even occur.
Arriving in Ventimigilia, the final train station stop, Brian and I hopped aboard a train after asking the conductor and being told that the train does not allow bicycles. We loaded our gear and bikes and stood by them waiting to see what would happen. Of course, another conductor insisted that bikes were not allowed on this train. I walked over and showed my ticket and he said, no, they arent allowed. I crossed my arms, he began making phone calls and eventually 3 conductors were arguing with us as we stood above them, bikes behind us on the car, unmoved and showing my ticket for boarding the train which I claimed we had bought at the local station. In a moment of fight or flight, we chose fight and the conductors relented finally and amazingly and allowed our storage on the train and continued passage forward to Milano! Brian and I both agreed that we had reached a mental stage after many trains and awful travel that "you will have to drag us off the train to get us out of here." An exciting moment to ensure our continued travels and now our preparations for a new and lengthy biking portion of our adventure. Many more mishaps and difficulties to come. Stay tuned!
Arriving at the train station with no ideas other than east, we approached the ticket vendor with Cecily and inquired about the possibilities. Marseille. Nice. No Torino. Milano. How much? Extra for bikes? Local trains? How many stop overs exactly? FOUR?! OK OK. And once again, how much for two people?
Milano, Italy. 6 trains (including subways) and 13 hours of travel later, we arrived to the warm smile of Nadia, thank goodness! Although the initial legs were difficult to maneuver since the trains were late and the day was hot so we sweated for about 8 hours, it was the final leg which I was convinced would not even occur.
Arriving in Ventimigilia, the final train station stop, Brian and I hopped aboard a train after asking the conductor and being told that the train does not allow bicycles. We loaded our gear and bikes and stood by them waiting to see what would happen. Of course, another conductor insisted that bikes were not allowed on this train. I walked over and showed my ticket and he said, no, they arent allowed. I crossed my arms, he began making phone calls and eventually 3 conductors were arguing with us as we stood above them, bikes behind us on the car, unmoved and showing my ticket for boarding the train which I claimed we had bought at the local station. In a moment of fight or flight, we chose fight and the conductors relented finally and amazingly and allowed our storage on the train and continued passage forward to Milano! Brian and I both agreed that we had reached a mental stage after many trains and awful travel that "you will have to drag us off the train to get us out of here." An exciting moment to ensure our continued travels and now our preparations for a new and lengthy biking portion of our adventure. Many more mishaps and difficulties to come. Stay tuned!
La Tour de France
Oh how the Kraftwerk songs continually regurgitate themselves in my travels. This time, Brian and I had a true adventure away from Avignon in the town of St Remy de Provence. Its likely that we did not get on TV since no one told me we showed up, but we had an amazing day!!! It started thusly:
With a cafe in the cool air and heating sun, we watched cyclist after recreational cyclist go by. Clearly, the mood of cycling was in the air. After a cafe in the sun talking about our previous night of camping in a monument parking lot, we grabbed our gear and bikes and set off for the edge of town. Passing the tree lines streets with the morning sun bouncing through and around the full green leaves, we decided to stop and set up in front of a waterfall of a canal. The water roared continually and we laid our bikes, with a fresh blue bed cover over the seats. The bed cover was a creation of the previous night as the mosquitoes bit me in twilight, writing the words TOUR de AWESOME in black shoe polish I picked up in Avignon.
We set up and expected the riders in the next few hours, which turned into about 4 hours before the riders showed up! This did not stop the fun, though. At 945, we opened a bottle of wine and were the only spectators drinking until a kindly family across the route started to smile and laugh with us and then Jean Vincent insisted we come over, share in their Pastise, and joke about doping, the Tour, and work feverishly on my French. Vincent happened to be a shiny headed former chief of police of Avignon with a penchant for Pastise and more friends in town than I have in the world. He was kind and caring and very warm toward us for no reason whatsoever.
Finally, the Tour arrived at 1130, except it was the LEAD PACK in other words, 40 sponsors with floats and freebies being throw out of cars at high speeds. This was a spectacle of American proportions and I did not even know this existed! Between floats and police and cars with empty bike racks atop their roofs, we ran over to Vincent and our new family of approximately 4 adults and 3 children, all amazed by us and our desire to partake in their festivities. They were so warm and I will hope to remember them as the true French.
When the riders passed, there was cheering and holding our banner, and picture taking. Ten men led and then the peloton followed within seconds of the lead pack. All told, approximately a minute of excitement with 4 hours of build up. We returned to our family, they fed us cheese and bread and meats and home made local wine with no label. They insisted we return to their home and continue the celebration and we rode, with a little wobble, about 500 m to their house and sat under a shade tree in their garden at their kitchen table, learning a French card game.
Pushing a jar of fresh home jarred Jean Vincent honey into my hand (hes bored in retirement), Jean Vincent drove us back to Avignon in his white and green 1960s peugeot convertible jeep at about 5 PM. I hung out the window taking photos with our bikes piled up in the back. We finished the day with a picnic of Cecily and friends overlooking the bridge with no end over the Rhone in Avignon.
With a cafe in the cool air and heating sun, we watched cyclist after recreational cyclist go by. Clearly, the mood of cycling was in the air. After a cafe in the sun talking about our previous night of camping in a monument parking lot, we grabbed our gear and bikes and set off for the edge of town. Passing the tree lines streets with the morning sun bouncing through and around the full green leaves, we decided to stop and set up in front of a waterfall of a canal. The water roared continually and we laid our bikes, with a fresh blue bed cover over the seats. The bed cover was a creation of the previous night as the mosquitoes bit me in twilight, writing the words TOUR de AWESOME in black shoe polish I picked up in Avignon.
We set up and expected the riders in the next few hours, which turned into about 4 hours before the riders showed up! This did not stop the fun, though. At 945, we opened a bottle of wine and were the only spectators drinking until a kindly family across the route started to smile and laugh with us and then Jean Vincent insisted we come over, share in their Pastise, and joke about doping, the Tour, and work feverishly on my French. Vincent happened to be a shiny headed former chief of police of Avignon with a penchant for Pastise and more friends in town than I have in the world. He was kind and caring and very warm toward us for no reason whatsoever.
Finally, the Tour arrived at 1130, except it was the LEAD PACK in other words, 40 sponsors with floats and freebies being throw out of cars at high speeds. This was a spectacle of American proportions and I did not even know this existed! Between floats and police and cars with empty bike racks atop their roofs, we ran over to Vincent and our new family of approximately 4 adults and 3 children, all amazed by us and our desire to partake in their festivities. They were so warm and I will hope to remember them as the true French.
When the riders passed, there was cheering and holding our banner, and picture taking. Ten men led and then the peloton followed within seconds of the lead pack. All told, approximately a minute of excitement with 4 hours of build up. We returned to our family, they fed us cheese and bread and meats and home made local wine with no label. They insisted we return to their home and continue the celebration and we rode, with a little wobble, about 500 m to their house and sat under a shade tree in their garden at their kitchen table, learning a French card game.
Pushing a jar of fresh home jarred Jean Vincent honey into my hand (hes bored in retirement), Jean Vincent drove us back to Avignon in his white and green 1960s peugeot convertible jeep at about 5 PM. I hung out the window taking photos with our bikes piled up in the back. We finished the day with a picnic of Cecily and friends overlooking the bridge with no end over the Rhone in Avignon.
Avignon Walls, Ballards, and Metal
New hobbies and new desires are not unlike gifts given you unexpectedly, never asked for just suddenly show up one day. I found a new passion and thrill in Avignon the other day.
Sitting on the side of a scrub brush hill listening to the sounds of the highway and bicyclist bells, Brian and I devoured a bottle of Rose and talked about future plans while watching a mouse duck under the cover of bushes. Afterward, we got bold and started climbing on walls and jumping from ballard to ballard as we meandered back toward the city walls and home to meet Cecilys crew. Unfortunately for them, we became very sidetracked throwing ourselves over poles and using our strength for balance and motion through the city landscape.
Upon returning to historic Avignon, we both concurrently made an unexpected turn from our intended path and began to stare longingly at the wall surrounding the historic city. Using a trash bin, we scurried up the side and onto the top of the historic wall surrounding the city. It was a new lens for the same landscape and we jumped and worked our way through a significant portion before returning to our friends.
That night, Brian and I plotted to make a return trip to the wall. As a dance part began in Cecilys abode, Brian and I slipped away to take photos and make our own dance along a centuries old wall overlooking the medieval cityscape from 25 feet above. The moon and yellow lights made our journey both casual and well lit and we ambled away from the adventure with but a few new scrapes and more excellent photos of the historic city. And a much better idea of how the city operated many many years ago!
Sitting on the side of a scrub brush hill listening to the sounds of the highway and bicyclist bells, Brian and I devoured a bottle of Rose and talked about future plans while watching a mouse duck under the cover of bushes. Afterward, we got bold and started climbing on walls and jumping from ballard to ballard as we meandered back toward the city walls and home to meet Cecilys crew. Unfortunately for them, we became very sidetracked throwing ourselves over poles and using our strength for balance and motion through the city landscape.
Upon returning to historic Avignon, we both concurrently made an unexpected turn from our intended path and began to stare longingly at the wall surrounding the historic city. Using a trash bin, we scurried up the side and onto the top of the historic wall surrounding the city. It was a new lens for the same landscape and we jumped and worked our way through a significant portion before returning to our friends.
That night, Brian and I plotted to make a return trip to the wall. As a dance part began in Cecilys abode, Brian and I slipped away to take photos and make our own dance along a centuries old wall overlooking the medieval cityscape from 25 feet above. The moon and yellow lights made our journey both casual and well lit and we ambled away from the adventure with but a few new scrapes and more excellent photos of the historic city. And a much better idea of how the city operated many many years ago!
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
AVIGNON!
First, apologies for the last post. Second, we have made it half way through France! Avignon is a beautiful and lively tiny city of art and theatre and our dear friend Cecily is taking great care of us. As I write this blog I sit in a street cafe listening to the performers trying to entice crowds to their theatre shows with music and singing and sword fights!
On the way to Avignon, Brian and I spent day after day on the Mediterranean watching the small waves lap at the sandy rocky shore and looking down 20 feet into the sea below us as we swam. We biked through several cities and small towns and continue to face the French with wary eyes as they either shout encouragement or curses at us from their cars!
Our informal campsites continue to improve as we get better at selection and slightly more bold about our presence. We camped on a large hill above the Mediterranean amongst power lines and beautiful clouds accented by the sunset and then the next night along another canal surrounded on all sides by acres and acres of vineyards- and mosquitoes- our nemesis!
Some highlights: Brian and I witnessed a fantastic display of windsurfing and kite boarding in the knee deep bay and I am convinced my next sport will be kite boarding! We experienced a real French Bastille Day celebration in a small town where "Brian is in the kitchen" came back (see Brian's blog post several days ago) and we befriended some French folks while drinking Ricard with water and witnessing a bull running- except the French run AFTER the bulls! What cheaters. Last night, we chatted with Romanians and Americans and went to our very first discotheque. Moderately bad music aside, it was good to dance in Europe again, even if it was a gay bar.
This evening, we joined Cecily and her friend Andrea to see a Hungarian written Romanian adapted play in French. To say the least it was translated a few too many times. But a good attempt at depicting eastern European family life post communism...
All and all, Avignon treats us well and we are taking it all in with many glasses of Rose. Brian and I will try to reach Milan in 10 days between trains and heavy riding after the Tour de France. We will witness the stage beginning in Nimes and ending in Digne-de-Bains on Saturday the 19th. We hope you will look for us in the broadcast that day! With internet access and lots of time, we hope to continue heavy blogging to relate our adventures. Bon soir!
On the way to Avignon, Brian and I spent day after day on the Mediterranean watching the small waves lap at the sandy rocky shore and looking down 20 feet into the sea below us as we swam. We biked through several cities and small towns and continue to face the French with wary eyes as they either shout encouragement or curses at us from their cars!
Our informal campsites continue to improve as we get better at selection and slightly more bold about our presence. We camped on a large hill above the Mediterranean amongst power lines and beautiful clouds accented by the sunset and then the next night along another canal surrounded on all sides by acres and acres of vineyards- and mosquitoes- our nemesis!
Some highlights: Brian and I witnessed a fantastic display of windsurfing and kite boarding in the knee deep bay and I am convinced my next sport will be kite boarding! We experienced a real French Bastille Day celebration in a small town where "Brian is in the kitchen" came back (see Brian's blog post several days ago) and we befriended some French folks while drinking Ricard with water and witnessing a bull running- except the French run AFTER the bulls! What cheaters. Last night, we chatted with Romanians and Americans and went to our very first discotheque. Moderately bad music aside, it was good to dance in Europe again, even if it was a gay bar.
This evening, we joined Cecily and her friend Andrea to see a Hungarian written Romanian adapted play in French. To say the least it was translated a few too many times. But a good attempt at depicting eastern European family life post communism...
All and all, Avignon treats us well and we are taking it all in with many glasses of Rose. Brian and I will try to reach Milan in 10 days between trains and heavy riding after the Tour de France. We will witness the stage beginning in Nimes and ending in Digne-de-Bains on Saturday the 19th. We hope you will look for us in the broadcast that day! With internet access and lots of time, we hope to continue heavy blogging to relate our adventures. Bon soir!
Monday, July 14, 2008
To Montpelier
Unfortunately I am out of time for writing this but 2 more flats and rain made riding difficult two days ago. Fortunately, the aid of a Frenchman delivered us from the side of a highway in the rain in a truck after Brian hitchhiked us out of there. This trip seems to move and churn in waves of euphoria and relaxation constrasted sharply by absolute struggle both mentally, physically, and emotionally for both of us. This is an amazing journey both joyous and difficult. More to come at a later date. Love and miss you all.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
America, Part Deux
As the title might suggest, our time spent in France has been significantly different in experience and landscape than that I had in Spain. Certainly there is a change in people and attitudes and the way we are treated.
First, the landscape: ever much more like the United States than Spain. We have encountered beach towns which could have been ANYWHERE in the midatlantic on the coast including the kitchy American soft rock cover band set up at the end of the main drag toward the sea before the sand and oversized hotels with overpriced food in the bottom floor. We have also witnessed American type foods which surprised us and the Mega Super Market is in full swing and running small businesses out of town. New single family suburbs dot, or more accurately, consume, the countryside. None of these were the case in the Spain I saw. Amazing transformation. The French and Americans seem very closely tied.
On bikes, especially with my French jersey on, thank you Istvan, I am the most popular guy: people shout Vive la France out their windows and people honk and wave and kids on scooters yell Allez Allez! We are now in Tour de France country, also. Outside Beziers, the tour will pass this point in just 6 days! We will catch it somewhere near or beyond Avignon, so look at the replay that night, everyone, for the Americans holding a huge sign: TOUR de AWESOME. We are sure to get on the broadcast! I will give better info on that in the near future.
Yesterday we rode long and hard and even drafted a tractor for about 7 km and have pictures to prove it! We wound through vineyards and had our first rainshower in weeks. The feeling of water dropping from the sky onto the skin to cool us was a religious experience for me. Life giving water. I also had my first tire blow and it really went. Sliced the tire and thank goodness for my tire boots to keep me moving forward after a sweaty dirty tire repair which left me drenched and my hands black.
The day ended in a celebration though we do not exactly know what of. The local mens high school American football team rushed us in the street on our bikes as we rounded a corner looking for a place to end our days journey and force fed us strange alcohol mixed with lemonades and wines. We chugged to their cheers and they threw water all over us. They chanted and jumped up and down and so did we. This was the most exciting moment of the trip and we felt that the once American countryside held some secrets afterall. After a long ride we reached what we knew must be home in this beautiful, excited, lively French town and stayed at the hotel for showers and laundering and the first night of the 4 night festival in the town. Today we ride again, after a brief recovery, back to the sea!
First, the landscape: ever much more like the United States than Spain. We have encountered beach towns which could have been ANYWHERE in the midatlantic on the coast including the kitchy American soft rock cover band set up at the end of the main drag toward the sea before the sand and oversized hotels with overpriced food in the bottom floor. We have also witnessed American type foods which surprised us and the Mega Super Market is in full swing and running small businesses out of town. New single family suburbs dot, or more accurately, consume, the countryside. None of these were the case in the Spain I saw. Amazing transformation. The French and Americans seem very closely tied.
On bikes, especially with my French jersey on, thank you Istvan, I am the most popular guy: people shout Vive la France out their windows and people honk and wave and kids on scooters yell Allez Allez! We are now in Tour de France country, also. Outside Beziers, the tour will pass this point in just 6 days! We will catch it somewhere near or beyond Avignon, so look at the replay that night, everyone, for the Americans holding a huge sign: TOUR de AWESOME. We are sure to get on the broadcast! I will give better info on that in the near future.
Yesterday we rode long and hard and even drafted a tractor for about 7 km and have pictures to prove it! We wound through vineyards and had our first rainshower in weeks. The feeling of water dropping from the sky onto the skin to cool us was a religious experience for me. Life giving water. I also had my first tire blow and it really went. Sliced the tire and thank goodness for my tire boots to keep me moving forward after a sweaty dirty tire repair which left me drenched and my hands black.
The day ended in a celebration though we do not exactly know what of. The local mens high school American football team rushed us in the street on our bikes as we rounded a corner looking for a place to end our days journey and force fed us strange alcohol mixed with lemonades and wines. We chugged to their cheers and they threw water all over us. They chanted and jumped up and down and so did we. This was the most exciting moment of the trip and we felt that the once American countryside held some secrets afterall. After a long ride we reached what we knew must be home in this beautiful, excited, lively French town and stayed at the hotel for showers and laundering and the first night of the 4 night festival in the town. Today we ride again, after a brief recovery, back to the sea!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Lets Start It!
Brian and I had one of the lowest points of the journey recently, when we had left Bareclona and were traveling the rocky Costa Brava. We experienced some physical and emotional set backs. In the face of a failed bike lock tying the bikes together seemingly forever, we waited for the car mechanic to reopen and cut through one of our locks! We decided the day was doomed for riding at 7PM and retired to L'Estartit, where out of our frustration we happened to mount an enormous hill in a residential street, only to become completely exhausted, doubled over, and climb onto a wall overlooking the perfect Mediterranean port in evening and down on an abandon villa carport. Such ended, in our Mediterranean villa, the difficult day.
The town name, appropriate in our state of rebirth and starting new our journies, rang true as we cycled away early and climbed, reached, passed and had a beer in celebration of: CROSSING THE FRENCH BORDER! I have officially cycled through an entire country. I spent 32 days completely excited about Spain, Spanish, and these people of Southern Europe but it is time to move ever onward. Pressing the pedals down, down.
Suddenly, all Spanish has dissappeared, Brian must rely on my French, the poor guy, and we camped on a bluff overlooking the Mediterranean at the end of the mighty continental Pyrenees where they crashed into the crystal blue sea. We ate our dinner in the sea breeze at dusk and shared a bottle of wine with some French people we befriended and I practiced my French! This got easier as the wine consumption continued along, as is to be expected. We are marching ever north now and shoot for crossing paths with the Tour de France in just 7 days!! Vivela France!
The town name, appropriate in our state of rebirth and starting new our journies, rang true as we cycled away early and climbed, reached, passed and had a beer in celebration of: CROSSING THE FRENCH BORDER! I have officially cycled through an entire country. I spent 32 days completely excited about Spain, Spanish, and these people of Southern Europe but it is time to move ever onward. Pressing the pedals down, down.
Suddenly, all Spanish has dissappeared, Brian must rely on my French, the poor guy, and we camped on a bluff overlooking the Mediterranean at the end of the mighty continental Pyrenees where they crashed into the crystal blue sea. We ate our dinner in the sea breeze at dusk and shared a bottle of wine with some French people we befriended and I practiced my French! This got easier as the wine consumption continued along, as is to be expected. We are marching ever north now and shoot for crossing paths with the Tour de France in just 7 days!! Vivela France!
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Home and Road
Having now left the United States 4 weeks ago and now very deep into the book On the Road, I thought I might have a go at discussing a topic which would interest anyone, but is of special excitement to a Geographer. Again, I must nod to a professor of cultural geography, Edmunds Bunkse for introducing me to this concept.
The concept of home and road is one which many of us, either in travel, in situ, or in writing, experience almost daily. We are subject to it because both are our realities as humans. The home and the road are two situations and two sets of feelings and landscapes. However, there are really three possibilities. The third being that the road is the home, but more on that later.
The dichotomy of home and road leaves most undeniably yearning for the other at some point during their situation. Just think- when one is at home, they are bound to routine and similar landscapes and similar climates and, most of all, similar people. There is food, shelter, and familiarity where one has a home. It leads to feelings of comfort and security, but these are not always the most important aspects to humans.
We have other desires which begin to boil to the surface when one is at home. They are feelings of desire for adventure, new places and new people. A need to break away from routine and learn new things about the world and about ourselves. This leads us to the road. The road is the place for adventure and exploration of landscapes and self. This excitement and opportunity to grow draws us away from the home. The person on the road, although they appreciate their situation because it is outside of routine, also finds the unfamiliarity may eventually become too great. The road does not provide comfort and security as does the home. So, those on the road, though they may be envied, experience pangs of ¨home sickness¨which is really just a desire for comfort and security.
Such is the dichotomy of what some geographers consider undeniable human nature. However, there is the third possibility looming, in which the unusual individual finds themselves only at ¨home¨on the road! The charactersitics which define home for many of us are equivalent to the road for this certain group. They are forever bound to the road or they will never be at home. It can be a lonely and difficult existence, one learned early in life and then never shaken.
Such musings often roll over me as I roll through the Spanish hills on my bike, on the road. Fortunately, I have loving and caring homes that I know I can return to. For now, the feeling of security and comfort be damned, I am in Europe again.
The concept of home and road is one which many of us, either in travel, in situ, or in writing, experience almost daily. We are subject to it because both are our realities as humans. The home and the road are two situations and two sets of feelings and landscapes. However, there are really three possibilities. The third being that the road is the home, but more on that later.
The dichotomy of home and road leaves most undeniably yearning for the other at some point during their situation. Just think- when one is at home, they are bound to routine and similar landscapes and similar climates and, most of all, similar people. There is food, shelter, and familiarity where one has a home. It leads to feelings of comfort and security, but these are not always the most important aspects to humans.
We have other desires which begin to boil to the surface when one is at home. They are feelings of desire for adventure, new places and new people. A need to break away from routine and learn new things about the world and about ourselves. This leads us to the road. The road is the place for adventure and exploration of landscapes and self. This excitement and opportunity to grow draws us away from the home. The person on the road, although they appreciate their situation because it is outside of routine, also finds the unfamiliarity may eventually become too great. The road does not provide comfort and security as does the home. So, those on the road, though they may be envied, experience pangs of ¨home sickness¨which is really just a desire for comfort and security.
Such is the dichotomy of what some geographers consider undeniable human nature. However, there is the third possibility looming, in which the unusual individual finds themselves only at ¨home¨on the road! The charactersitics which define home for many of us are equivalent to the road for this certain group. They are forever bound to the road or they will never be at home. It can be a lonely and difficult existence, one learned early in life and then never shaken.
Such musings often roll over me as I roll through the Spanish hills on my bike, on the road. Fortunately, I have loving and caring homes that I know I can return to. For now, the feeling of security and comfort be damned, I am in Europe again.
Zaragoza-Barcelona, Simply.
I am now sitting down to a computer in the home of Bernat´s parents on yet another beautiful day in Barcelona where the winds blows off the green hills to dance among women´s dresses and the sun brings forth the masses to descend upon the sand and play in the oh-so-blue surf.
Brian and I boarded a train in Zaragoza too escape the desert and trecherous heat of the Spanish interior. As we rolled out of town on a much cooler day than our arrival, we followed the Rio Ebro and suddenly the Spanish landscape flew past our big train window. The pace of the bicycle was shattered by the daunting speed of the local ¨slow¨train. We read and slept as the abandon weather-beaten cottages flew past our windows. Hills, dry, full of rock had broken the owners of the lands and the only remaining residents lived in the small towns dotting the countryside. Winter, the wettest, was the only growing season here. Then the Mediterranean suddenly jumped into view and I was beyond excitement. After hearing about it from my family so many times, it was finally mine to hold in my sight and play in for many weeks to come!
We arrived in Barcelona in a beautiful train station and immediately were thrown into tourist frenzy. To find our place to meet Bernat, Brian and I latched onto Americans and Italians who had maps or were going to the subway and everyone was very happy to help a fellow tourist. Unfortunately, this also made me feel like I cheated my way into and around the city whereas until now, I was spoken to only in Spanish and treated like a crazy foreigner- a feeling which settles and becomes a satisfying role. No longer. We made it to Bernat and ate a delicious traditional Catalan dinner in which we spread tomato and oil and salt on the bread and then loaded meats and cheeses upon the bread! Heaven. We have also consumed an inordinate level of wine.
We finished the night in Bernat´s favorite bar where we continued to catch up with him and learn more about his life here while strolling the exciting, vibrant streets full of people even on a Thursday. I spoke with a Slovak fellow who worked for the Red Cross in Burundi with war prisoners. He was on vacation to escape the realities of his daily life for just one week and will return two days from now. I asked him to share some of his life and it was an important reminder of just how easily our lives drift along in the developed world with very few cares relatively. Even my trip made me feel all-too-privilaged and I tried to avoid the subject but I was left in a changed state the rest of the evening after an hour of talking with the man.
The next day, Brian and I spent time in the local area, seeing a bar Bernat´s roommate was opening and getting a cafe and buying a new shirt for me. I decided I need more than just one t-shirt for the next several weeks where it will be warm. I look distinctly more European, or at least Pakistani, in it. We cruised to the tourist sights- Gaudi´s cathderal and park spaces to witness not only interesting architecture but HORDES of tourists. Enough to make a man crazy and so Brian opted out and slept by the end of it while I strolled some more of the park grounds. The cathedral was so ornate and unbeievable that I was glad to spend that time despite the tourists.
In the evening, Brian went to visit a friend who happened to be living in the city as of a week ago and I ate a late dinner with Bernat and strolled the streets to eventually meet his girl, Stella, a very kind Greek who spoke perfect English despite never having traveled to an English speaking country. We spent time in an unusual place full of skateboaders and sitters just talking and carrying on with beers being sold by Pakistani men. The scene is loud and exciting and public- an unusual combination for an American to witness. We ended the evening at a bar which I loved. The front window had aqua con gas pitcher antiques and the place was packed crowded in with good lighting behind the bar and loud with the music loud enough to roll over everybody. The music was all American and British soul, jazz, instrumentals and the crowd would occasionally break out in dance to a good one- though no one really moved far because you couldn´t. I stood with my back pressed against the bar or turned around the whole night talking with Bernat or his girlfriend or her Greek friends. We got home after 3, my first real European night out in several years!
Today we biked to see Bernat´s hometown and swim for the Mediterranean for the first time in my life! The water is clear beautiful blue and the perfect temperature. We swam and came to the house for a great vegetable lunch and will return tonight to town for a beach party! Brian and I are really enjoying the Barcelona scene- Brian says its his favorite location so far. But thats it for my first Mediterranean update- many more to come!
Brian and I boarded a train in Zaragoza too escape the desert and trecherous heat of the Spanish interior. As we rolled out of town on a much cooler day than our arrival, we followed the Rio Ebro and suddenly the Spanish landscape flew past our big train window. The pace of the bicycle was shattered by the daunting speed of the local ¨slow¨train. We read and slept as the abandon weather-beaten cottages flew past our windows. Hills, dry, full of rock had broken the owners of the lands and the only remaining residents lived in the small towns dotting the countryside. Winter, the wettest, was the only growing season here. Then the Mediterranean suddenly jumped into view and I was beyond excitement. After hearing about it from my family so many times, it was finally mine to hold in my sight and play in for many weeks to come!
We arrived in Barcelona in a beautiful train station and immediately were thrown into tourist frenzy. To find our place to meet Bernat, Brian and I latched onto Americans and Italians who had maps or were going to the subway and everyone was very happy to help a fellow tourist. Unfortunately, this also made me feel like I cheated my way into and around the city whereas until now, I was spoken to only in Spanish and treated like a crazy foreigner- a feeling which settles and becomes a satisfying role. No longer. We made it to Bernat and ate a delicious traditional Catalan dinner in which we spread tomato and oil and salt on the bread and then loaded meats and cheeses upon the bread! Heaven. We have also consumed an inordinate level of wine.
We finished the night in Bernat´s favorite bar where we continued to catch up with him and learn more about his life here while strolling the exciting, vibrant streets full of people even on a Thursday. I spoke with a Slovak fellow who worked for the Red Cross in Burundi with war prisoners. He was on vacation to escape the realities of his daily life for just one week and will return two days from now. I asked him to share some of his life and it was an important reminder of just how easily our lives drift along in the developed world with very few cares relatively. Even my trip made me feel all-too-privilaged and I tried to avoid the subject but I was left in a changed state the rest of the evening after an hour of talking with the man.
The next day, Brian and I spent time in the local area, seeing a bar Bernat´s roommate was opening and getting a cafe and buying a new shirt for me. I decided I need more than just one t-shirt for the next several weeks where it will be warm. I look distinctly more European, or at least Pakistani, in it. We cruised to the tourist sights- Gaudi´s cathderal and park spaces to witness not only interesting architecture but HORDES of tourists. Enough to make a man crazy and so Brian opted out and slept by the end of it while I strolled some more of the park grounds. The cathedral was so ornate and unbeievable that I was glad to spend that time despite the tourists.
In the evening, Brian went to visit a friend who happened to be living in the city as of a week ago and I ate a late dinner with Bernat and strolled the streets to eventually meet his girl, Stella, a very kind Greek who spoke perfect English despite never having traveled to an English speaking country. We spent time in an unusual place full of skateboaders and sitters just talking and carrying on with beers being sold by Pakistani men. The scene is loud and exciting and public- an unusual combination for an American to witness. We ended the evening at a bar which I loved. The front window had aqua con gas pitcher antiques and the place was packed crowded in with good lighting behind the bar and loud with the music loud enough to roll over everybody. The music was all American and British soul, jazz, instrumentals and the crowd would occasionally break out in dance to a good one- though no one really moved far because you couldn´t. I stood with my back pressed against the bar or turned around the whole night talking with Bernat or his girlfriend or her Greek friends. We got home after 3, my first real European night out in several years!
Today we biked to see Bernat´s hometown and swim for the Mediterranean for the first time in my life! The water is clear beautiful blue and the perfect temperature. We swam and came to the house for a great vegetable lunch and will return tonight to town for a beach party! Brian and I are really enjoying the Barcelona scene- Brian says its his favorite location so far. But thats it for my first Mediterranean update- many more to come!
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Bilbao-Victoria Gastiez-Estella-Desert-Zaragoza
Hola from Zaragoza! (Make sure you lisp those Z´s!) Brian and I have made serious headway on this journey and we will continue to make serious distance with the aid of train tomorrow, but more on that later!
Last I wrote, we were in Bilbao experiencing the exciting architecture of the city. We went to the Guggenheim and took in some incredible works of art in two exhibitions: Juan Munoz and the surrealists. Juan Munoz I knew and recognized from works at the Hirshhorn in Washington. His work makes the viewer feel an outsider to another world. Our afternoon strolling through these works of art was extremely pleasant and we ended our Bilbao day with the Spanish semifinal in which they destroyed Russia. As in Basque country, Brian and I were the only ones cheering on the national team!!! A thunderstorm to end the day made me happy to be out of the weather in our Hostal, too.
We left the next morning, gear dry, and ready to take on the road once again. Brian climbed his first pass at 645 meters and we ended the day dry and in good spirits. On Saturday, we rode through Victoria- Gastiez with its University and saw lots of young people. It was a very new extremely clean city with enormous development projects at its edge. Brian commented that it may remind him of Dubai! Dozens of tall structures with accompanying cranes protruded from the hills. In town, we ate grand pasteries in the excessive sun and heat and then took off again down the road without an internet connection. With a box of bad but good red wine in an orchard in the sunset, we spent our last night informal camping before reaching Estella. Our tents were ignored by the local farmer, or he didn´t see us in his orchard! We finished the stretch to Estella the next morning and watched the Spanish final in the small town with locals and some Aussies and Kiwis. The heat really began this Sunday. We could not stand the hours between 12 and 5- even at the pool. A sign of things to come.
The scorching, dry heat pressed and increased as we rode out of the hills finally and into the Spanish plain, nay, desert. For the next two days, Brian and I could not bike from 1PM to 6PM. If we did, we got very overheated in a matter of minutes and the continuous sun began to break us. We saw beautiful landscapes reminding Brian of the Mexican Pleatea and ruins and the sun. White houses with residents cooling themselves in the shade of their cool homes when we reached the unusual small town. The sun is the most memorable part of the past two days. It was, however, two days of centuries. The heat may have hit and destroyed the century mark for fahrenheit, but we also rode at least two kilometer centuries. In fact, yesterday, Brian and I rode approximately 120 km to reach the campsite in Zaragoza. We rode 80 km of that after 6 PM! We are certainly getting strong and increasing our endurance drastically. Riding at the right time of day is critical. The Spanish siesta is suddenly very sensible to us.
Before last night which we spent in the Expo campsite- the campsite for the world´s fair entitled ¨Water and Sustainable Development¨. We slept in the desert, after cooling our sun-overheated bodies in a cold, blue canal. It was amazingly refreshing dunking in 50 degree mountain water, but sleeping was not as refreshing. A thunderstorm blew over to our east and we experienced major winds for several hours. Brian and my presence in the tents alone anchored them.
Today, though, we explored the Expo and found it disturbingly unsustainable. I am questioning the use of the spaces, the future use of the site, and the actual water sustainability of the site itself! Watering planted sod in the middle of a 90 degree day and spraying mist into the arid desert air lacks what I would consider a sustainable angle. Brian and I have studied all this at some length and may even coordinate to write a piece on what we´ve witnessed here at the Unsustainable Expo.
Tomorrow is exciting! We will ride a local train to Barcelona! I have not ridden European rail for many years and we can even bring our bikes aboard! No more desert riding. And a serious rest after 220km in 2 days. Our bodies are ready for it. The rest of today we will explore this desert city and retire to the campsite and prepare for a new form of travel!
For those who have emailed and left comments I am wholly appreciative. Your thoughts and comments place my daily activities and current life in a beautiful perspective. Shannon, I hope the delivery is perfect when it happens and I can´t wait to have a new first-cousin-once-removed! Love and miss you all.
Last I wrote, we were in Bilbao experiencing the exciting architecture of the city. We went to the Guggenheim and took in some incredible works of art in two exhibitions: Juan Munoz and the surrealists. Juan Munoz I knew and recognized from works at the Hirshhorn in Washington. His work makes the viewer feel an outsider to another world. Our afternoon strolling through these works of art was extremely pleasant and we ended our Bilbao day with the Spanish semifinal in which they destroyed Russia. As in Basque country, Brian and I were the only ones cheering on the national team!!! A thunderstorm to end the day made me happy to be out of the weather in our Hostal, too.
We left the next morning, gear dry, and ready to take on the road once again. Brian climbed his first pass at 645 meters and we ended the day dry and in good spirits. On Saturday, we rode through Victoria- Gastiez with its University and saw lots of young people. It was a very new extremely clean city with enormous development projects at its edge. Brian commented that it may remind him of Dubai! Dozens of tall structures with accompanying cranes protruded from the hills. In town, we ate grand pasteries in the excessive sun and heat and then took off again down the road without an internet connection. With a box of bad but good red wine in an orchard in the sunset, we spent our last night informal camping before reaching Estella. Our tents were ignored by the local farmer, or he didn´t see us in his orchard! We finished the stretch to Estella the next morning and watched the Spanish final in the small town with locals and some Aussies and Kiwis. The heat really began this Sunday. We could not stand the hours between 12 and 5- even at the pool. A sign of things to come.
The scorching, dry heat pressed and increased as we rode out of the hills finally and into the Spanish plain, nay, desert. For the next two days, Brian and I could not bike from 1PM to 6PM. If we did, we got very overheated in a matter of minutes and the continuous sun began to break us. We saw beautiful landscapes reminding Brian of the Mexican Pleatea and ruins and the sun. White houses with residents cooling themselves in the shade of their cool homes when we reached the unusual small town. The sun is the most memorable part of the past two days. It was, however, two days of centuries. The heat may have hit and destroyed the century mark for fahrenheit, but we also rode at least two kilometer centuries. In fact, yesterday, Brian and I rode approximately 120 km to reach the campsite in Zaragoza. We rode 80 km of that after 6 PM! We are certainly getting strong and increasing our endurance drastically. Riding at the right time of day is critical. The Spanish siesta is suddenly very sensible to us.
Before last night which we spent in the Expo campsite- the campsite for the world´s fair entitled ¨Water and Sustainable Development¨. We slept in the desert, after cooling our sun-overheated bodies in a cold, blue canal. It was amazingly refreshing dunking in 50 degree mountain water, but sleeping was not as refreshing. A thunderstorm blew over to our east and we experienced major winds for several hours. Brian and my presence in the tents alone anchored them.
Today, though, we explored the Expo and found it disturbingly unsustainable. I am questioning the use of the spaces, the future use of the site, and the actual water sustainability of the site itself! Watering planted sod in the middle of a 90 degree day and spraying mist into the arid desert air lacks what I would consider a sustainable angle. Brian and I have studied all this at some length and may even coordinate to write a piece on what we´ve witnessed here at the Unsustainable Expo.
Tomorrow is exciting! We will ride a local train to Barcelona! I have not ridden European rail for many years and we can even bring our bikes aboard! No more desert riding. And a serious rest after 220km in 2 days. Our bodies are ready for it. The rest of today we will explore this desert city and retire to the campsite and prepare for a new form of travel!
For those who have emailed and left comments I am wholly appreciative. Your thoughts and comments place my daily activities and current life in a beautiful perspective. Shannon, I hope the delivery is perfect when it happens and I can´t wait to have a new first-cousin-once-removed! Love and miss you all.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Santander- Laredo- Bilboa
Having left my oceanside retreat in Noja, I picked up Brian at the Santander airport in a beautiful sunny afternoon. By the time we left the airport, having arranged Brian´s gear, we rode for an hour in the rain to reach the home of a couchsurfing host. Manuel was extremely kind and his wife gave us some home-cooked meal, my first in weeks. It was wonderful. Brian got his first mainland Europe experience that night as we got a few drinks. We then saddled up the next day and took a short ride to Laredo- about 35 miles in about 3.5 hours. The hills were long and hard the northern coast of Spain is difficult along the sea. Huge hills, very steep, stood in our way everytime we reached a valley. But, it is green and bucolic and quite scenic.
The hills were unrelenting and we took residence in a formal campsite in the town of Laredo. It was an amazing beach and wonderfully sunny weather. We spent a few hours on the beach splitting a bottle of wine and some food. The next day, we took to the hills once again. Although the views over rocky cliffs plunging into the Cantabrian sea were magnificent and the sun shone strong, the ride was one of the more difficult of my trip thus far and it was only Brian´s second day. He rode hard, though, and tried to keep up on the long steep climbs. The sweaty dripped through and into my sunglasses and I was dripping all over.We finally reached a point where we needed beer and sat for an hour drinking beer under over hanging grape vines before rolling into the suburbs of Bilboa where 30-story skyscrapper apartments, all new, lined the streets where my map didn´t indicate city before. The city is growing exponentially and we retreated to the hills for an informal camp and to watch the Germany Turkey match.
This morning we awoke to throw ourselves out of the tents in the rain and race to the city to find a hostal. Hungry, thirsty, and tired we are now drying our gear and will spend the day exploring the city which I already took to. The old city is full of small streets without cars and there are tree covered boulevards, with parks and some fantastic architecture, not even the best being the Guggenheim designed by Frank Gehry. Somehow Bilboa reminds me of Budapest with a variety of districts and an amalgamtion of architectural styles mashed together, strewn with advertisements and the hustle of a big city. I am very happy here and look forward to exploring the art museum. I finally found a store with english book titles and bought On the Road. Having never read it before, it should be a fine addition to my summer reading.
Tonight we watch the Spain-Russia match in Bilboa! ESPANA! ESPANA!
The hills were unrelenting and we took residence in a formal campsite in the town of Laredo. It was an amazing beach and wonderfully sunny weather. We spent a few hours on the beach splitting a bottle of wine and some food. The next day, we took to the hills once again. Although the views over rocky cliffs plunging into the Cantabrian sea were magnificent and the sun shone strong, the ride was one of the more difficult of my trip thus far and it was only Brian´s second day. He rode hard, though, and tried to keep up on the long steep climbs. The sweaty dripped through and into my sunglasses and I was dripping all over.We finally reached a point where we needed beer and sat for an hour drinking beer under over hanging grape vines before rolling into the suburbs of Bilboa where 30-story skyscrapper apartments, all new, lined the streets where my map didn´t indicate city before. The city is growing exponentially and we retreated to the hills for an informal camp and to watch the Germany Turkey match.
This morning we awoke to throw ourselves out of the tents in the rain and race to the city to find a hostal. Hungry, thirsty, and tired we are now drying our gear and will spend the day exploring the city which I already took to. The old city is full of small streets without cars and there are tree covered boulevards, with parks and some fantastic architecture, not even the best being the Guggenheim designed by Frank Gehry. Somehow Bilboa reminds me of Budapest with a variety of districts and an amalgamtion of architectural styles mashed together, strewn with advertisements and the hustle of a big city. I am very happy here and look forward to exploring the art museum. I finally found a store with english book titles and bought On the Road. Having never read it before, it should be a fine addition to my summer reading.
Tonight we watch the Spain-Russia match in Bilboa! ESPANA! ESPANA!
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Noja
Of course, Holland choked and were totally outplayed by Russia who deserved to win. I harkened back to a month previous watching a certain hockey team drop to another Red team.
Today I took a ride without my gear for the first time ever. I had just the handlebar bag and it was as if I grew wings. At first, the bike and I did not respond to one another well as I longed for the steadfast weight to which I had become so accustommed. I gradually found my legs and the bike and I passed several decked-out Spanish riders speedily with no thought. I feel so strong. I did not even get out of the seat when climbing a mjaor hill. Just pushed hard and fast and left others behind me. My body is physically the best it has been in years.
My mind, too, is working in overdrive as I polish off my fourth book of the journey. My great reunion with fiction has been as beautiful and graceful as I imagined for two long years. Finally I can read the books I accumulated over the two years of book sales and random pick-ups. Thus far, Camus, Fitzgerald, Momaday, and Chevalier have graced my presence. More book purchasing in Santander for sure. Maybe Brian will trade a few with me, too. Sadly, I have left many in hotel drawers or other bookshelves on my route. They will be loved by someone I am sure, but a finished book is deadweight in my mind. Such is the mentality of a touring biker.
Today is cloudy and humid and unlike the past few days. Rain is about and I will pray that I can reach Santander tomorrow without much rain. I have a feeling in my gut I will ride in the rain to get there to meet Brian- same feeling as before it rained last time!
Today I took a ride without my gear for the first time ever. I had just the handlebar bag and it was as if I grew wings. At first, the bike and I did not respond to one another well as I longed for the steadfast weight to which I had become so accustommed. I gradually found my legs and the bike and I passed several decked-out Spanish riders speedily with no thought. I feel so strong. I did not even get out of the seat when climbing a mjaor hill. Just pushed hard and fast and left others behind me. My body is physically the best it has been in years.
My mind, too, is working in overdrive as I polish off my fourth book of the journey. My great reunion with fiction has been as beautiful and graceful as I imagined for two long years. Finally I can read the books I accumulated over the two years of book sales and random pick-ups. Thus far, Camus, Fitzgerald, Momaday, and Chevalier have graced my presence. More book purchasing in Santander for sure. Maybe Brian will trade a few with me, too. Sadly, I have left many in hotel drawers or other bookshelves on my route. They will be loved by someone I am sure, but a finished book is deadweight in my mind. Such is the mentality of a touring biker.
Today is cloudy and humid and unlike the past few days. Rain is about and I will pray that I can reach Santander tomorrow without much rain. I have a feeling in my gut I will ride in the rain to get there to meet Brian- same feeling as before it rained last time!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
My Personal Poly Phonics (MP3s!)
For those of you wondering, no, I don´t have an iPod with me on this trip. Yes, I miss my tunes. My head does not do justice to She Smiled Sweetly or any La Oreja de Van Gogh song, which I invariably get jammed in my head. I do, however, have music, the sound of life playing with me as I jounrey through the European countryside:
Cowbells- Gotta have more! Am I right? No, really. Cow, sheep, horses, goats all have bells and they ring wildly through the hillsides. I love it. The calfs have smaller bells which ring lightly and the bulls sound like churches. They are the most melodic sounds.
Churchbells- More bells. They are rung, for real, not electronic or anything, by someone at the church at the correct times through the day. They are old and beautiful set in centuries-old spires. I slept across from a contantly ringing church in Ezcaray.
Bike gears- constant under me. Less melodic but always there. They are the back beat to the rest of the world´s music.
Birds- not surprising, but everywhere, we just don´t always take note when talking and listening to iPods. I hear birds everywhere always. I bike, camp, sleep, hang at the beach and birds are there.
Wind- In my ears! No surprise, but behind all the other ¨noises¨is the sound of the wind blowing past me, either created by myself or created by a nasty headwind which blew me away for the first 3 days of my journey!
Finally, least OK, Cars and trucks- Either zooming toward me in the every-increasing pitch of approach or quickly barrelling down on me from behind and worrying me with size and proximity.
Cowbells- Gotta have more! Am I right? No, really. Cow, sheep, horses, goats all have bells and they ring wildly through the hillsides. I love it. The calfs have smaller bells which ring lightly and the bulls sound like churches. They are the most melodic sounds.
Churchbells- More bells. They are rung, for real, not electronic or anything, by someone at the church at the correct times through the day. They are old and beautiful set in centuries-old spires. I slept across from a contantly ringing church in Ezcaray.
Bike gears- constant under me. Less melodic but always there. They are the back beat to the rest of the world´s music.
Birds- not surprising, but everywhere, we just don´t always take note when talking and listening to iPods. I hear birds everywhere always. I bike, camp, sleep, hang at the beach and birds are there.
Wind- In my ears! No surprise, but behind all the other ¨noises¨is the sound of the wind blowing past me, either created by myself or created by a nasty headwind which blew me away for the first 3 days of my journey!
Finally, least OK, Cars and trucks- Either zooming toward me in the every-increasing pitch of approach or quickly barrelling down on me from behind and worrying me with size and proximity.
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