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.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
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!
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