Sunday, June 24, 2012
Roadies... We're with the band
Trip leading is a crazy whirlwind line of work, and it rocks. All in one minute you are a teacher, translator, bike mechanic, wine aficionado, cyclist, entertainer, friend, and psychologist. What can prepare you for all of that? The answer is simple, flexibility. You'll never know it all or do it all perfectly, the trick is to chill out and accept that with grace. Laugh at yourself and the weird situations you find yourself in.
This job comes with a lot of windshield time. Its like an eternal road trip. For those who live for the road, that's a dream come true. At times it can wear your wranglers thin. Cowboy up and carry on! Daylight's a burnin!
Rolling through little villages with a big van, pulling a trailer with 20 bikes on top is a hoot. What a spectacle for the locals! Everyone comes out to see the show. Even more entertaining when the American wedges the van into a narrow one lane street, then has to humbly retreat in reverse (beeep beeep beeep) To make way for the oncoming 8-row head of a combine (John Deere!). The bartender from the corner cafe comes out to help direct traffic. The entertainment is mutual.
A few highlights from my drive through the Slovenian alps: an old mountain couple, aged in their 90's surely, out for a stroll down the alpine pass road, walking sticks in hand, hobbling slowly but still out there kickin it. I love mountain folk. Timeless.
Mama cow and baby calf halting traffic on an s-curve, calmly chomping away on the recent alpine flower bloom. Oblivious to our hurried human schedules and driving destinations.
Drove up and over Vrsik pass on the way to Kranjska Gora. 45 switchbacks altogether, whew! Cobblestone switchbacks built by hand, brick by brick by prisoners of war.
The population here, locals and visitors, are all outdoors folk. Everyone by bike, foot, kayak, horseback, trout stream waders. Beautiful. It's great to have all these extra bikes for emergencies like this :) riding every chance I get.
Stopped to buy fresh-picked apricots from two lovely ladies. I believe some people were put on earth to be everyones grandma... They love everyone unconditionally with the truest twinkle of the eye. The elder swore by her secret to everlasting energy and youth... 10 Apricots and 2 liters of water per day! Stick to it.
Early mornings await so im off. Stay thirsty and quench it when you can.
Salute
Cm
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Eat Your Beans
Tis the season of sagra in Tuscany, and the timing could not be better! Sagre (plural) are festivals held each spring and summer in many little Italian villages, celebrating the bounties of Mama Earth. Certainly a tradition carried for thousands of years! If you can eat or drink it, then there is probably a sagra dedicated to it; sagra di artichoke, sagra di olive, s.d. cheese, s.d. vino, s.d. strawberry, you name it. Our sagra experience started at the tip-top of the dietary pyramid... Sagra di Fagioli! (Beans!)
I was spinning the pedals through a quaint, hillside village called Penna on a beautiful day when the road ahead was suddenly blocked by a gang of old men. They were the locals, and the 20 of them were wearing matching cycling caps to prove it. The color of these caps?? None other than the striking black and gold of the Iowa Hawkeyes! As I weaved the two-wheeler through the group, who were hard at work setting up a grandstand in the street, the Hawk in me blurted inquiry. "Signori! Where can I get one of your hats??" The hustle-bustle of work halted, and the wisemen of Penna stared back...who was this strange dude in spandex asking for hats?
Carlo was a man with twinkling eyes and a stout, full head of white hair, disguising the truth of his 70+ years. He promptly stepped forward as the ringleader, hat in hand, and planted it snugly on my noggin with a grin. "Sei bello adesso!" (Now, you look good) as he noted my matching Hawks cycling uniform. His gift was priceless. The next gift he gave was a personal invite to the Sagra di Fagioli that night, where every local goes to make magical fruit music in harmonious celebration of flatulation... it smelled even better than it sounds.
The four of us piled in the car, and after being lost and found on a dirt road (thanks to direction by an old farmer with a herd of two-dozen cats), we victoriously arrived at the Bean Fest! The community spirit of the sagra had us seated at long tables in a tent, blended seamlessly with the people of Penna. Until word got out... "Americani! Benvenuti!" We made many dinner friends who happily practiced Italian conversation with us. Before we could finish our first bowl of beans and onions, we were being treated as guests of honor.
"Mangiate! Bevete!" (Eat! Drink!) The two bottles of vino we had ordered multiplied to eight in a flash of generosity from neighboring tables. Our once half-eaten plates of pork chop and pasta turned into mounds of fresh fare still steaming from the kitchen. And plates full of the beloved Tuscan treat "cantucci" arrived along with bottles of vin santo in which to dip these delicious almond cookies. We looked at each other wide-eyed... "are we in Heaven?" Giovanni the butcher overheard, "No, you're in Toscana." he said with a smirk...
The dinner crowd slowly dwindled from the tent, until we were left among only the sagra staff workers. Carlo appeared again, full of excitement that we had come, and told us to stay while the staff had their own celebration of a hard weekend's work. The town priest (who naturally stood out, being the only person from the Republic of Congo within 100 miles) stood on a table, glass of wine raised, and proceeded to give a very comical and animated sermon/toast to his flatulent flock. He was applauded with endearing hoots and hollers from the crowd.
After many rounds of toasts among the townspeople, and jubilant chants and songs sung by the ragazzi (the teenage waiters and waitresses), we were whisked out into the church yard in a frenzy. Everyone was gathered at the steps of the little old church, staring up at the bell tower in eager anticipation... were there going to be fireworks?? a laser show?? Jesus?? At this point in the evening, nothing would have surprised us...
Suddenly, the church bells boomed out a melody that could have been a cover of a Michael Jackson hit, judging by the raucous dancing that ensued among the town folk. Every 30 seconds or so, the ding-donging would cease, the crowd would deflate momentarily with a reluctant cheer, and the tune would start all over again in double time! Jive on! This was one cool church... Even the town mayor could be seen swinging the dosey-doe wearing a cowboy hat which he had yanked from the head of one of us unsuspecting Americani.
Visions of the remainder of the night include learning choreographed line dances to karaoke in the park, and spinning the mayor's wife around the dance floor like an Italian Dirty Dancing scene.
The sagra was about beans, the magical fruit, but it was really about so much more... the magic of being alive in the land of Toscana.
I was spinning the pedals through a quaint, hillside village called Penna on a beautiful day when the road ahead was suddenly blocked by a gang of old men. They were the locals, and the 20 of them were wearing matching cycling caps to prove it. The color of these caps?? None other than the striking black and gold of the Iowa Hawkeyes! As I weaved the two-wheeler through the group, who were hard at work setting up a grandstand in the street, the Hawk in me blurted inquiry. "Signori! Where can I get one of your hats??" The hustle-bustle of work halted, and the wisemen of Penna stared back...who was this strange dude in spandex asking for hats?
Carlo was a man with twinkling eyes and a stout, full head of white hair, disguising the truth of his 70+ years. He promptly stepped forward as the ringleader, hat in hand, and planted it snugly on my noggin with a grin. "Sei bello adesso!" (Now, you look good) as he noted my matching Hawks cycling uniform. His gift was priceless. The next gift he gave was a personal invite to the Sagra di Fagioli that night, where every local goes to make magical fruit music in harmonious celebration of flatulation... it smelled even better than it sounds.
The four of us piled in the car, and after being lost and found on a dirt road (thanks to direction by an old farmer with a herd of two-dozen cats), we victoriously arrived at the Bean Fest! The community spirit of the sagra had us seated at long tables in a tent, blended seamlessly with the people of Penna. Until word got out... "Americani! Benvenuti!" We made many dinner friends who happily practiced Italian conversation with us. Before we could finish our first bowl of beans and onions, we were being treated as guests of honor.
"Mangiate! Bevete!" (Eat! Drink!) The two bottles of vino we had ordered multiplied to eight in a flash of generosity from neighboring tables. Our once half-eaten plates of pork chop and pasta turned into mounds of fresh fare still steaming from the kitchen. And plates full of the beloved Tuscan treat "cantucci" arrived along with bottles of vin santo in which to dip these delicious almond cookies. We looked at each other wide-eyed... "are we in Heaven?" Giovanni the butcher overheard, "No, you're in Toscana." he said with a smirk...
The dinner crowd slowly dwindled from the tent, until we were left among only the sagra staff workers. Carlo appeared again, full of excitement that we had come, and told us to stay while the staff had their own celebration of a hard weekend's work. The town priest (who naturally stood out, being the only person from the Republic of Congo within 100 miles) stood on a table, glass of wine raised, and proceeded to give a very comical and animated sermon/toast to his flatulent flock. He was applauded with endearing hoots and hollers from the crowd.
After many rounds of toasts among the townspeople, and jubilant chants and songs sung by the ragazzi (the teenage waiters and waitresses), we were whisked out into the church yard in a frenzy. Everyone was gathered at the steps of the little old church, staring up at the bell tower in eager anticipation... were there going to be fireworks?? a laser show?? Jesus?? At this point in the evening, nothing would have surprised us...
Suddenly, the church bells boomed out a melody that could have been a cover of a Michael Jackson hit, judging by the raucous dancing that ensued among the town folk. Every 30 seconds or so, the ding-donging would cease, the crowd would deflate momentarily with a reluctant cheer, and the tune would start all over again in double time! Jive on! This was one cool church... Even the town mayor could be seen swinging the dosey-doe wearing a cowboy hat which he had yanked from the head of one of us unsuspecting Americani.
Visions of the remainder of the night include learning choreographed line dances to karaoke in the park, and spinning the mayor's wife around the dance floor like an Italian Dirty Dancing scene.
The sagra was about beans, the magical fruit, but it was really about so much more... the magic of being alive in the land of Toscana.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Musique On My Mind
Paris is a city that deserves its titles as world-class and cosmopolitan. The Parisian people are of many nationalities, religions, and lifestyles, but they all share a vibrancy and vigor that I have only seen alike in NYC. There is an energy about the streets that is playfully stimulating, especially in the gorgeous days of spring when everyone takes to the squares, cafes, and parks with the excitement of a fresh season. The people's sharp fashion and ambitious hustle is complimented nicely with casual enjoyment of daily pleasures and an awareness of quality of life. Business meetings are often held at outdoor cafe tables over leisurely lunch and wine. The wardrobe of the Parisian businessman includes dark jeans, vests, scarves, leather jackets, and shoes suitable for pedaling the bicycle around town all day. Ladies can be seen pedaling faster than car traffic with high heels pumping and sundresses blowing in the wind. Beautiful! The mainly flat city is totally accessible by way of the Velib city bike system. With over 1000 stations around town to pick up and drop off a bike, it's a no-brainer way to get around. I was able to reach nearly every corner of the city for the equivalent of $2 per day. Getting lost in the back streets of Paris on a bicycle is timeless...
I was treated as a guest of honor by my host, Mauro, whom I contacted on warmshowers.org (like a couch surfing community specifically for cyclists hosting other touring cyclists). Mauro is an Italian gentleman living in Paris for his work at an international bank, and his passion for the city proved contagious. Between nights of Mauro's Italian cooking and a special dinner party invite to his friend's luxurious apartment, the culinary arts tour continued with full steam! Delicious recipes from southern France including white fish smothered in buttery garlic gravy, and an after dinner drink made from apples called Calvados that rivals Italian grappa for octane fuel content. The guests at this party were artists, ballet dancers, world bank executives, Middle East war journalists, and me... Ha! I truly felt like an Iowa boy, and was proud to tell of my home to these genuinely interested high rollers. Mauro's recollections of his 1.5 year VW van tour from Italy to Nepal via eastern Europe and the Middle East were captivating and inspiring. He seems to understand the balance between physical risk and intellectual reward in travel. His bold strike into the unknown proved to be enlightening, as he learned how to be both self-sufficient and how to receive gracious acts of kindness in foreign lands.
Without a musical instrument on hand, I was beginning to snap, toe-tap, whistle, and hum almost constantly throughout the day. I was itching for a funky beat, perfectly primed to be blown away by the top-notch grooves of the Paris nightlife. I followed signs to a blues jam to find a piano-guitar duo in a chic bar where no seats were open. Standing room only?? Sounds like dancing is the only option... I made a few friends who were also obliged to two-step in the ten by ten open space, and Marc (the only guy to bring his own mini maraca egg shaker to the show, the first sign of a trustworthy music critic) told me "You ain't see nothin yet! " With that, we were zipping through the streets on Marc's motorcycle to the best live music joint in Paris. You know such a lofty honor is rightfully earned when 1. The place doesn't advertise 2. The jazz professors from the Sorbonne jam there 3. Gigs are played in the stone cellar where prisoners were tortured during the French revolution. Talk about old school soul... I ended up returning for back-to-back nights of jazz-funk jams where dozens of different musicians would jump in and out of 15 minute improv sets. These were truly some of the best musicians I have ever seen firsthand. They were so tight, playing together perfectly with no rehearsal or previous acquaintances on stage...purely ears and soul. Aside from one-time spontaneous tunes, we heard jazzy renditions of classics like Billy Jean (MJ), and Use Me (Bill Withers).
Some of my best spent euros in Paris went toward supporting the arts in the form of street music. Something as simple as a saxophone soloist in the subway can totally change the mood of a public space. I awoke one morning to a tuba-trumpet duo outside my window, playing some funny ragtime tune, and I just burst out laughing. I arrived at the window to see a Mario & Luigi -esque tandem; a short and stout tuba man and a long and lanky trumpet player...classic! They noticed me at the second floor balcony giving a thumbs up, and "Mario" ran over with his cup in hand (maintaining his bass line in stride), and we made the simple two-story transaction with the flick of a coin. This absolutely made their day, and mine too! The mutual gift of music.
The grand finale of a week in Paris was the chance to interview for a dream job as a Trip Leader with Backroads. This was no normal interview, as I was one of 65 candidates gathered in a cultural arts center for an intensive full day hiring event. While the idea seemed kind of intimidating at first, it turned out to be a blast! One day I will surely remember forever. So with that, am now preparing for Trip Leader training in Pernes-les-Fontaines, France. The two weeks of training will be non-stop learning and excitement, I cant wait!
Travel if you can, support the arts, and jam on! Thanks to everyone for constant love and support.
CM
I was treated as a guest of honor by my host, Mauro, whom I contacted on warmshowers.org (like a couch surfing community specifically for cyclists hosting other touring cyclists). Mauro is an Italian gentleman living in Paris for his work at an international bank, and his passion for the city proved contagious. Between nights of Mauro's Italian cooking and a special dinner party invite to his friend's luxurious apartment, the culinary arts tour continued with full steam! Delicious recipes from southern France including white fish smothered in buttery garlic gravy, and an after dinner drink made from apples called Calvados that rivals Italian grappa for octane fuel content. The guests at this party were artists, ballet dancers, world bank executives, Middle East war journalists, and me... Ha! I truly felt like an Iowa boy, and was proud to tell of my home to these genuinely interested high rollers. Mauro's recollections of his 1.5 year VW van tour from Italy to Nepal via eastern Europe and the Middle East were captivating and inspiring. He seems to understand the balance between physical risk and intellectual reward in travel. His bold strike into the unknown proved to be enlightening, as he learned how to be both self-sufficient and how to receive gracious acts of kindness in foreign lands.
Without a musical instrument on hand, I was beginning to snap, toe-tap, whistle, and hum almost constantly throughout the day. I was itching for a funky beat, perfectly primed to be blown away by the top-notch grooves of the Paris nightlife. I followed signs to a blues jam to find a piano-guitar duo in a chic bar where no seats were open. Standing room only?? Sounds like dancing is the only option... I made a few friends who were also obliged to two-step in the ten by ten open space, and Marc (the only guy to bring his own mini maraca egg shaker to the show, the first sign of a trustworthy music critic) told me "You ain't see nothin yet! " With that, we were zipping through the streets on Marc's motorcycle to the best live music joint in Paris. You know such a lofty honor is rightfully earned when 1. The place doesn't advertise 2. The jazz professors from the Sorbonne jam there 3. Gigs are played in the stone cellar where prisoners were tortured during the French revolution. Talk about old school soul... I ended up returning for back-to-back nights of jazz-funk jams where dozens of different musicians would jump in and out of 15 minute improv sets. These were truly some of the best musicians I have ever seen firsthand. They were so tight, playing together perfectly with no rehearsal or previous acquaintances on stage...purely ears and soul. Aside from one-time spontaneous tunes, we heard jazzy renditions of classics like Billy Jean (MJ), and Use Me (Bill Withers).
Some of my best spent euros in Paris went toward supporting the arts in the form of street music. Something as simple as a saxophone soloist in the subway can totally change the mood of a public space. I awoke one morning to a tuba-trumpet duo outside my window, playing some funny ragtime tune, and I just burst out laughing. I arrived at the window to see a Mario & Luigi -esque tandem; a short and stout tuba man and a long and lanky trumpet player...classic! They noticed me at the second floor balcony giving a thumbs up, and "Mario" ran over with his cup in hand (maintaining his bass line in stride), and we made the simple two-story transaction with the flick of a coin. This absolutely made their day, and mine too! The mutual gift of music.
The grand finale of a week in Paris was the chance to interview for a dream job as a Trip Leader with Backroads. This was no normal interview, as I was one of 65 candidates gathered in a cultural arts center for an intensive full day hiring event. While the idea seemed kind of intimidating at first, it turned out to be a blast! One day I will surely remember forever. So with that, am now preparing for Trip Leader training in Pernes-les-Fontaines, France. The two weeks of training will be non-stop learning and excitement, I cant wait!
Travel if you can, support the arts, and jam on! Thanks to everyone for constant love and support.
CM
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Working to Play
I now understand why Spain has always captivated so many travelers, writers, songwriters, and athletes alike. The weather has been nothing but immaculate since our arrival. 65 degrees and sunny by day, 40's and crispy star-filled skies by night. Aside from a few (very) cold days on the bike in Italy, I am beginning to think we have successfully sidestepped winter altogether... A new idea for a Midwestern boy accustomed to months of bravely bundling through the thick of it each year.
The landscape reminds me of a mixture of Southern California, Utah, and Colorado (based on my limited exposure to places around the globe). The rocky hills, full of caves, sharp spires, and sheer cliffs hold a vegetation like the desert. It never rains! Yet from nearly any high point you are struck by the open aqua blueness of the Mediterrenean. Sweet contrast that seems only appropriate in sun-drenched Costa Blanca. One crop that flourishes here, and a delicious treat of taste, smell, and sight, are the almond trees blossoming on every hillside terrace. Row after row of white-pink petals soften the parched, brown soil all around.
We have incorporated the local almonds into every snack of the day, along with the other tasty Spanish treats; figs, dates, oranges, jamon (cured ham that rivals Italian prosciutto), chorizo (spanish sausage cured with peppers and herbs), and cafe solo which is espresso just slightly bigger than Italian espresso, moving us a little closer back to American coffee.
Living at a climber's ranch full of English outdoors people has not exposed us to as much local culture as we were used to on the road, but we are learning just as much. I have learned much about the UK and the cultures of the different regions from London and Oxford to Scotland to Northern Ireland and Wales. I really want to visit more of the UK someday, especially to check out the mountaineering and climbing scene. I have had the privilege to get out climbing with groups of folks from the Orange House, all with far more experience on rock than I. I am definitely holding my own and loving pulling on rock again, but the climbing routes here are longer and more complex than many in Iowa. My new climbing friends still enjoy hearing about the Midwestern crags that we romp on in Iowa!
Remember your first stage fright experience? I was reminded of the feeling this weekend while I successfully killed the engine of a rental stick-shift Fiat 500, at a red light, during rush hour...5 times in a row. Honking, hollering, the whole bit. I had driven stick before in the USA, but never in hilly Spanish cities where the streets are half as wide and every street is a one way. What a trial by fire! By the end of the weekend, I had become fluid in my clutch-control, and whipping through roundabouts and navigating the backstreets and country roads of Spain was a blast! It turns out that renting a car is cheaper than even taking a bus in most cases, perfect for finding freedom and mobility on a budget. Ashley and I took advantage of the widened horizon for the weekend and road-tripped daily to climbing crags, windy mountain roads, hiking trails in national parks, and Saturday outdoor markets which resembled an episode of American Pickers on full display. You name it, somebody's selling it... Old, new, local, foreign, cheap, valuable. Fun to shuffle through the throngs of people and smell frying churros (memories of funnel cakes at the fair), but our favorites were the huge expanses of wilderness where you could hear nothing but the wind.
One hike took us to the top of Puig Campana, the second highest point in the region at almost 5000 ft. In just under three hours we summited from almost a sea-level start, hard work! The visual effect from the peak was incredible, comparable to the feeling on top of a 14'er in the Rockies (peak of 14,000 ft or higher). In the 360 degree panorama was 80 miles of coastline on which the sea looked fake, like a painting with water colors. Inland was more layers of hills, mountains, and rocky outcrops, funneling into valleys of vineyards and almond orchards. The descent is always equally testing, as you must focus on every single foot placement to avoid a rolled ankle, or worse, a slip n slide on loose scree down the mountain. We rewarded ourselves for completing a "black route" trail in 5 1/2 hrs (just like ski slopes, green=easiest, blue=media, black=expert) with tapas and happy hour at the local tap in Finestrat.
I am tramming into Alicante once per week to tutor a 14 year old caballero named Nestor. We hang out and speak English, mostly dribbling the soccer ball back and forth in the park. He is sharp as a tack, and understands everything I say in English. His own speech is improving everyday, and I'm sure he will be fluent within a few years with or without my help. But I enjoy learning from him just as much, so the benefit is mutual for sure. The hourly rate helps pay for date night and the tram to and fro. Great find! A majority of Spanish parents are looking for English speakers to be conversation buddies with their children, and willing to pay by the hour. It's cool that we can find odds and ends even while traveling.
Another beautiful sunny day has passed, new bushwhack running trails have been discovered, the climbers are returning from the crags, and I smell food from the outdoor communal kitchen... Likely the famous chef Chris Moore whipping up a Mediterrenean standard for us. Props to the hand that feeds, he will be missed upon his departure.
Live well, and whenever possible, think big about making dreams become reality. Tis all in the hands of the dreamer to make his journey progress.
Thanks and love,
CM
The landscape reminds me of a mixture of Southern California, Utah, and Colorado (based on my limited exposure to places around the globe). The rocky hills, full of caves, sharp spires, and sheer cliffs hold a vegetation like the desert. It never rains! Yet from nearly any high point you are struck by the open aqua blueness of the Mediterrenean. Sweet contrast that seems only appropriate in sun-drenched Costa Blanca. One crop that flourishes here, and a delicious treat of taste, smell, and sight, are the almond trees blossoming on every hillside terrace. Row after row of white-pink petals soften the parched, brown soil all around.
We have incorporated the local almonds into every snack of the day, along with the other tasty Spanish treats; figs, dates, oranges, jamon (cured ham that rivals Italian prosciutto), chorizo (spanish sausage cured with peppers and herbs), and cafe solo which is espresso just slightly bigger than Italian espresso, moving us a little closer back to American coffee.
Living at a climber's ranch full of English outdoors people has not exposed us to as much local culture as we were used to on the road, but we are learning just as much. I have learned much about the UK and the cultures of the different regions from London and Oxford to Scotland to Northern Ireland and Wales. I really want to visit more of the UK someday, especially to check out the mountaineering and climbing scene. I have had the privilege to get out climbing with groups of folks from the Orange House, all with far more experience on rock than I. I am definitely holding my own and loving pulling on rock again, but the climbing routes here are longer and more complex than many in Iowa. My new climbing friends still enjoy hearing about the Midwestern crags that we romp on in Iowa!
Remember your first stage fright experience? I was reminded of the feeling this weekend while I successfully killed the engine of a rental stick-shift Fiat 500, at a red light, during rush hour...5 times in a row. Honking, hollering, the whole bit. I had driven stick before in the USA, but never in hilly Spanish cities where the streets are half as wide and every street is a one way. What a trial by fire! By the end of the weekend, I had become fluid in my clutch-control, and whipping through roundabouts and navigating the backstreets and country roads of Spain was a blast! It turns out that renting a car is cheaper than even taking a bus in most cases, perfect for finding freedom and mobility on a budget. Ashley and I took advantage of the widened horizon for the weekend and road-tripped daily to climbing crags, windy mountain roads, hiking trails in national parks, and Saturday outdoor markets which resembled an episode of American Pickers on full display. You name it, somebody's selling it... Old, new, local, foreign, cheap, valuable. Fun to shuffle through the throngs of people and smell frying churros (memories of funnel cakes at the fair), but our favorites were the huge expanses of wilderness where you could hear nothing but the wind.
One hike took us to the top of Puig Campana, the second highest point in the region at almost 5000 ft. In just under three hours we summited from almost a sea-level start, hard work! The visual effect from the peak was incredible, comparable to the feeling on top of a 14'er in the Rockies (peak of 14,000 ft or higher). In the 360 degree panorama was 80 miles of coastline on which the sea looked fake, like a painting with water colors. Inland was more layers of hills, mountains, and rocky outcrops, funneling into valleys of vineyards and almond orchards. The descent is always equally testing, as you must focus on every single foot placement to avoid a rolled ankle, or worse, a slip n slide on loose scree down the mountain. We rewarded ourselves for completing a "black route" trail in 5 1/2 hrs (just like ski slopes, green=easiest, blue=media, black=expert) with tapas and happy hour at the local tap in Finestrat.
I am tramming into Alicante once per week to tutor a 14 year old caballero named Nestor. We hang out and speak English, mostly dribbling the soccer ball back and forth in the park. He is sharp as a tack, and understands everything I say in English. His own speech is improving everyday, and I'm sure he will be fluent within a few years with or without my help. But I enjoy learning from him just as much, so the benefit is mutual for sure. The hourly rate helps pay for date night and the tram to and fro. Great find! A majority of Spanish parents are looking for English speakers to be conversation buddies with their children, and willing to pay by the hour. It's cool that we can find odds and ends even while traveling.
Another beautiful sunny day has passed, new bushwhack running trails have been discovered, the climbers are returning from the crags, and I smell food from the outdoor communal kitchen... Likely the famous chef Chris Moore whipping up a Mediterrenean standard for us. Props to the hand that feeds, he will be missed upon his departure.
Live well, and whenever possible, think big about making dreams become reality. Tis all in the hands of the dreamer to make his journey progress.
Thanks and love,
CM
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Oranges and a House
When "ramble-traveling" (constantly moving with no binding itinerary other than the natural rise and fall of the sun), things are only remembered in long chunks of time... Your brain starts defining the timing of events in broad terms like "during the cold spell with fog" or "that sunny day on the mountain road" or "before we met Vincenzo". I am never able to recall "oh yeah, last Tuesday!" or "two weeks ago we did x y and Z". Individual stories do, however, come out of the woodwork in vivid detail once a spark is created. Luckily, traveling with a partner allows you to bounce the memories back and forth between you to recreate each scene to the T. The details of the memories are so searing and real because while living the ramble-travel, you are fully immersed in each moment (at least that's the goal), your brain subconsciously lapping up each new turn in the road with amazing childlike curiosity.
I highly recommend ramble-travel anytime you can break away and commit to simply blowing with the wind. Sure, all the famous sites may not be fit in without a well-planned itinerary, but millions of people have seen the famous sites. Free yourself to take the opportunities that are opened up when you dont have a train, plane, or show to catch. Like being invited to make pizza dough with a 4th generation Italian chef because you were chatting him up and had time to kill. the rambling can be merely a week or a long weekend, or even one day, but allowing yourself this "loosy goosy" approach to travel can often pay off with truly unique experiences that you will never forget.
An example of this happened for us when we rolled into Palermo, Sicily completely unannounced and without a plan on a rainy night (the 8th in a row for us). Our goal to take a ship to valencia, Spain was trounced when we arrived at the port to be informed that the one ship of the week was cancelled due to dangerously stormy seas...rare for such a big ship. So the scramble began, and we ended up at a lovely hostel for a wonderful 12 euro per night where we made some new friends from Norway who were studying there. As we checked out the night life of the cool port town of Palermo with our new Northern friends, we realized that the misfortune of a cancelled ship turned into a sweet chance. Take a day's tour of the legendary Palermo with a "behind the scenes" city tour designed around the true heartbeat of the city and culture, not simply the tourist sites. We learned all about the melting pot flavor of Palermo, centered between northern Africa, Italy, and the rest of Europe, and vitally important to thousands of years of commerce in the region. We also got to talk straight about the Mafia's involvement in Sicily, which essentially governs itself autonomously from the Italian government. Is the Mafia actually real and powerful here? Why do you think the government of a powerful top-ten worldwide nation would leave Sicily alone and let it rule itself?? Yes, the Mafia is present, and are involved in everything from world politics to providing water and other utilities to Sicilian citizens... Just to name one region.
We finished our time in Italy just in just to miss 6ft of snow in some areas as far south as Rome!" The 60 year winter" they are calling it. The plan to continue pedaling north up the Tyrrenian sea coast after Sicily had to be changed... With half of Italy shut down for days in paralyzingly snow and cold, and with my knee giving me sure signs that I better rest it and evaluate my body mechanics before riding more long days, we looked to the weather radar for the most consistent spot for sun in the Mediterrenean... Costa Blanca Spain (Valencia and Alicante receive 320 days of sun per year)
Traveling long distances by boat at 25 mph truly gives you the feeling that you are changing your surroundings drastically. You chug along in the ocean blue, rolling with the waves, only occasionally passing a blip of land on the horizon...a remote, rocky island maybe, before you arrive in a completely new culture on a new day. A combination of two boat rides , 20 hrs each, brought us to Barcelona, Spain. Our second boat ride, we were 2 of 11 total passengers on a huge 9-story retired cruise ship. The experience was funny, as the drained pools and hot tubs, abandoned show-tune auditoriums, and deck-top sun loungers tell the story of a more prosperous time in this boat's cruising days. We were blessed with a private cabin, complete with separate beds (quite new and refreshing for us), and a nice shower. I guess the shipping company felt for us, being 2 of 11, as we literally had a personal barista, piano dance hall, and friendly concierge at our service. Thanks crew!
We are now in an Oasis of rest, rejuvenation, and inspiration at the Orange House in Finestrat, Spain. The Orange House is an adventure ranch in the foothills of the rocky limestone cliffs famous in this area. The whole concept of the place centers around a community approach to active adventure.. everyone pitches in to keep up the superbly entertaining property which is equipped with guesthouses, cabins, live chickens who lay morning eggs, dozens of friendly dogs, delicious orange grove, communal kitchen, and local insight into the best places to bike, climb, hike, and rock out! Our contribution of a few hours of chores per day allows us use of it all free of charge, and separate, cozy tent spots in the orange grove. Breakfast in bed?? I can reach the days finest citrus from my tent door :) A whole tent to myself?? This is starting to sound like a luxury vacation all of a sudden.... Careful.
I am very excited to have found this bustling community of adventurers. We are among about 30 ramblers who are either paying guests here to rock climb the Spanish crags for a week, folks who liked this place so much they found themselves here for a decade or more, or like-minded young'ns like ourselves looking to adventure and stretch the euro.
The next chapter in our traveling cuisine schoolbook will surely include Spanish Iberico ham, aged for more than 2 years its own fat, paella dishes filled with daily catch and spices from the sea, and a new type of pastry that rivals even the Italian brioche of our past month. The first stop in Alicante at 6am this morning after an overnight bus of no sleep? The open air market of course, the #1 way to learn a culture is to walk the street market. Traveling with a chef in training is wonderful...I've really developed a deeper appreciation and understanding of good food and drink learning from Chris. And all on a bike bum budget! Brilliant! (as the English climbers would say here).
Special thanks to Ashley, who rolled out of bed at 4am to be our personal tour guide of her gorgeous city of study abroad.
While stationary for now, feel like the rambling fun is just beginning! Thanks to all you lovely people caring to read. :)
CM
I highly recommend ramble-travel anytime you can break away and commit to simply blowing with the wind. Sure, all the famous sites may not be fit in without a well-planned itinerary, but millions of people have seen the famous sites. Free yourself to take the opportunities that are opened up when you dont have a train, plane, or show to catch. Like being invited to make pizza dough with a 4th generation Italian chef because you were chatting him up and had time to kill. the rambling can be merely a week or a long weekend, or even one day, but allowing yourself this "loosy goosy" approach to travel can often pay off with truly unique experiences that you will never forget.
An example of this happened for us when we rolled into Palermo, Sicily completely unannounced and without a plan on a rainy night (the 8th in a row for us). Our goal to take a ship to valencia, Spain was trounced when we arrived at the port to be informed that the one ship of the week was cancelled due to dangerously stormy seas...rare for such a big ship. So the scramble began, and we ended up at a lovely hostel for a wonderful 12 euro per night where we made some new friends from Norway who were studying there. As we checked out the night life of the cool port town of Palermo with our new Northern friends, we realized that the misfortune of a cancelled ship turned into a sweet chance. Take a day's tour of the legendary Palermo with a "behind the scenes" city tour designed around the true heartbeat of the city and culture, not simply the tourist sites. We learned all about the melting pot flavor of Palermo, centered between northern Africa, Italy, and the rest of Europe, and vitally important to thousands of years of commerce in the region. We also got to talk straight about the Mafia's involvement in Sicily, which essentially governs itself autonomously from the Italian government. Is the Mafia actually real and powerful here? Why do you think the government of a powerful top-ten worldwide nation would leave Sicily alone and let it rule itself?? Yes, the Mafia is present, and are involved in everything from world politics to providing water and other utilities to Sicilian citizens... Just to name one region.
We finished our time in Italy just in just to miss 6ft of snow in some areas as far south as Rome!" The 60 year winter" they are calling it. The plan to continue pedaling north up the Tyrrenian sea coast after Sicily had to be changed... With half of Italy shut down for days in paralyzingly snow and cold, and with my knee giving me sure signs that I better rest it and evaluate my body mechanics before riding more long days, we looked to the weather radar for the most consistent spot for sun in the Mediterrenean... Costa Blanca Spain (Valencia and Alicante receive 320 days of sun per year)
Traveling long distances by boat at 25 mph truly gives you the feeling that you are changing your surroundings drastically. You chug along in the ocean blue, rolling with the waves, only occasionally passing a blip of land on the horizon...a remote, rocky island maybe, before you arrive in a completely new culture on a new day. A combination of two boat rides , 20 hrs each, brought us to Barcelona, Spain. Our second boat ride, we were 2 of 11 total passengers on a huge 9-story retired cruise ship. The experience was funny, as the drained pools and hot tubs, abandoned show-tune auditoriums, and deck-top sun loungers tell the story of a more prosperous time in this boat's cruising days. We were blessed with a private cabin, complete with separate beds (quite new and refreshing for us), and a nice shower. I guess the shipping company felt for us, being 2 of 11, as we literally had a personal barista, piano dance hall, and friendly concierge at our service. Thanks crew!
We are now in an Oasis of rest, rejuvenation, and inspiration at the Orange House in Finestrat, Spain. The Orange House is an adventure ranch in the foothills of the rocky limestone cliffs famous in this area. The whole concept of the place centers around a community approach to active adventure.. everyone pitches in to keep up the superbly entertaining property which is equipped with guesthouses, cabins, live chickens who lay morning eggs, dozens of friendly dogs, delicious orange grove, communal kitchen, and local insight into the best places to bike, climb, hike, and rock out! Our contribution of a few hours of chores per day allows us use of it all free of charge, and separate, cozy tent spots in the orange grove. Breakfast in bed?? I can reach the days finest citrus from my tent door :) A whole tent to myself?? This is starting to sound like a luxury vacation all of a sudden.... Careful.
I am very excited to have found this bustling community of adventurers. We are among about 30 ramblers who are either paying guests here to rock climb the Spanish crags for a week, folks who liked this place so much they found themselves here for a decade or more, or like-minded young'ns like ourselves looking to adventure and stretch the euro.
The next chapter in our traveling cuisine schoolbook will surely include Spanish Iberico ham, aged for more than 2 years its own fat, paella dishes filled with daily catch and spices from the sea, and a new type of pastry that rivals even the Italian brioche of our past month. The first stop in Alicante at 6am this morning after an overnight bus of no sleep? The open air market of course, the #1 way to learn a culture is to walk the street market. Traveling with a chef in training is wonderful...I've really developed a deeper appreciation and understanding of good food and drink learning from Chris. And all on a bike bum budget! Brilliant! (as the English climbers would say here).
Special thanks to Ashley, who rolled out of bed at 4am to be our personal tour guide of her gorgeous city of study abroad.
While stationary for now, feel like the rambling fun is just beginning! Thanks to all you lovely people caring to read. :)
CM
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
The Southern Sweetness
After a week in the dark, I admit that it feels good to connect to the digital world again! Our expectation that large cities will have wi-fi everywhere, not so... This is not the USA, and that's a good new experience. So I will take this 30 mins of connection to rattle off the memorables from the last week.
Arrived In Bologna after riding through freezing fog for two days...eerie. The trees, power lines, fences, everything appeared that an instantaneous ice age had swept through Northern Italy, ice-fog literally hanging from every surface.
We unfortunately do not have the budget or the logistical capabilities to absorb all that the great Italian cities have to offer. While bike touring is, in my opinion, the best way to see the world, you must constantly be aware of where your bici is, and keep a close eye on your bags in the cities. We are not willing to pay 20 euro a night on a hostel, and pitching our tent in the city park is still a bit taboo. The rural, rustic life is the best and most affordable in bici.
As is common in the world of cycling, knee pain has plagued me thus far. Cyclists know that it sometimes takes weeks to find that perfect position on the bike to avoid knee pain while pedaling hours a day. Considering the bitter cold, my knee issue, and the reality that Chris and I have places to be in March, we chose to boogy southward on train. This plan worked nicely! We are now 250 km further south, 20 deg warmer, and the rest day did well for my knee.
In between the then and now, we have slept in a chruch basement (huge thanks to the awesome folks of Ca Morosini), been hosted by friars at the friary in Imola (thanks for the prosciutto guys!), been fed a free family meal in Rastignano, and were treated like local celebrities in Poggio Renatico. All of the warmth and hospitality has been a huge morale boost in these days of tough miles and numb extremities. Gratitude. In 6 nights we have only tented out one night.
Our honest question to the locals each evening has been "where can we camp and be safe?".... That seems to directly translate to "house us, feed us, and teach us all about your lifestyle" because we have been overwhelmed by unsolicited kindness at every turn. (Add this term to your phrase books) "dove possiamo campeggiare?" I haven't looked in a mirror in a week, but judging from the look of my partner (hottie Chris!) and our hosts willingness to care for us, we must look weathered. Haha!
Today was an amazing day on the bike. Rolling hills through grape vineyards, Adriatic Sea to the left, huge snow-capped Appennini Mtns to the right. 10 min climbs to little sun-bronzed villages built into the sides of the hills. Oranges growing within arms reach of the road. Winding decents into river valleys, actually cooling us from the heat of the climb. Very nice to be without stocking caps and coats. My knee was better today, and with a clutch pasta lunch and Internet connection, we are full of momentum once again.
Lanciano, Abruzzo. Great town!
Missing you all! Your words of encouragement help a lot! Pedal on... With love.
CM
Arrived In Bologna after riding through freezing fog for two days...eerie. The trees, power lines, fences, everything appeared that an instantaneous ice age had swept through Northern Italy, ice-fog literally hanging from every surface.
We unfortunately do not have the budget or the logistical capabilities to absorb all that the great Italian cities have to offer. While bike touring is, in my opinion, the best way to see the world, you must constantly be aware of where your bici is, and keep a close eye on your bags in the cities. We are not willing to pay 20 euro a night on a hostel, and pitching our tent in the city park is still a bit taboo. The rural, rustic life is the best and most affordable in bici.
As is common in the world of cycling, knee pain has plagued me thus far. Cyclists know that it sometimes takes weeks to find that perfect position on the bike to avoid knee pain while pedaling hours a day. Considering the bitter cold, my knee issue, and the reality that Chris and I have places to be in March, we chose to boogy southward on train. This plan worked nicely! We are now 250 km further south, 20 deg warmer, and the rest day did well for my knee.
In between the then and now, we have slept in a chruch basement (huge thanks to the awesome folks of Ca Morosini), been hosted by friars at the friary in Imola (thanks for the prosciutto guys!), been fed a free family meal in Rastignano, and were treated like local celebrities in Poggio Renatico. All of the warmth and hospitality has been a huge morale boost in these days of tough miles and numb extremities. Gratitude. In 6 nights we have only tented out one night.
Our honest question to the locals each evening has been "where can we camp and be safe?".... That seems to directly translate to "house us, feed us, and teach us all about your lifestyle" because we have been overwhelmed by unsolicited kindness at every turn. (Add this term to your phrase books) "dove possiamo campeggiare?" I haven't looked in a mirror in a week, but judging from the look of my partner (hottie Chris!) and our hosts willingness to care for us, we must look weathered. Haha!
Today was an amazing day on the bike. Rolling hills through grape vineyards, Adriatic Sea to the left, huge snow-capped Appennini Mtns to the right. 10 min climbs to little sun-bronzed villages built into the sides of the hills. Oranges growing within arms reach of the road. Winding decents into river valleys, actually cooling us from the heat of the climb. Very nice to be without stocking caps and coats. My knee was better today, and with a clutch pasta lunch and Internet connection, we are full of momentum once again.
Lanciano, Abruzzo. Great town!
Missing you all! Your words of encouragement help a lot! Pedal on... With love.
CM
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Life On a Bike and a $10 (euro) Bill
Each mile passed makes it feel more like an adventure. Our goodbyes were said, not always easily, but the excitement of the horizon soon emerged.
Airport terminals are colorful places. In the same realm as food markets, they show the true personality of society and culture. Ultimately, every traveler is in the same boat; shuffling through security lines barefoot, catching up on their journaling, sleeping, reading, wrestling crosswords, or simply thinking.
Thinking gets done during travel. About the place you left, the place you're going, and the people who connect it all. Life is put into perspective. You are able to push back and appreciate.
Being apart brings people together. Each time I leave the people I love, my feelings grow stronger. The time spent physically together is more special, for sure. Soak those moments of togetherness.
Send off exhasution with endless thirst for more, more life, more learning, more loving. Feed your curiosity. Tenaciously live!
Day 4 and so far right on budget. 10 euro per day. The world's best cappucino = 1.30 euro. Fresh, homemade croissant = 1 euro. Prosciutto and mozzarella panino = 1.20 euro. This will be easy!
Until the 3,000 mile bike trip begins Calories, calories, calories.
So far in 3 days we have backpacked up Mt. Grappa, slept in an unheated mtn lodge, partied with the mountain folk on their annual winter festa in the Rifugio (mountain hut). We were treated like guests of honor. Fed homegrown olives soaked in salt, peperoncini, and herbs. Local wine from grapes grown in the back yard. Blueberry Grappa. Whoa! Alcohol content unknown.
We hitchhiked back to town after emerging from the bush. 75 year old Italian signore who spoke such thick dialect of the old language I understood 5%. Ha! He never stopped telling us stories the entire ride. He was pure joy. His parting words..."Bravi!"
The bikes have been retrieved from all corners of Europe, and now we are due ragazzi e due bici! (two guys two bikes) Plan to leave tomorrow, heading South toward the distant Sicily. 700+ miles. The locals all think we're crazy, riding and camping in Winter. My answer "We're from Iowa!" They love our gusto, and everyone we meet wants to be on the team. Giving us snacks, pats on the backs, and tips on the Italian landscape to come. If anyone understands our mission, it's the old timers in the bike shop. They were us once. In their primes. Tackling any challenge. As quickly as they jokingly give us a hard time and say we're nuts, they jump into serious conversation and analysis about our gear, our route, our bikes.
Big shout-out to Zamar Sport bike shop in Castelfranco, Veneto. Luciano is an owner who still gets his hands dirty and lives tenaciously. A pillar of fortitude in the local cycling culture. Head mechanic, Michele, is very thorough and one of the most savvy mechanics I have seen. They love the fact that their work is contributing on such a grand adventure. You rock guys!
Of course, I wouldn't know Zamar without Ron Palazzo, my cycling mentor. Thank you Renato! Pedale forte!
I wouldn't be here, embarking on this life-changing journey, without you all. Friends, family, acquaintences, and total strangers. For it is the people of the world that drive me to go out and experience it firsthand. Grazie!
Airport terminals are colorful places. In the same realm as food markets, they show the true personality of society and culture. Ultimately, every traveler is in the same boat; shuffling through security lines barefoot, catching up on their journaling, sleeping, reading, wrestling crosswords, or simply thinking.
Thinking gets done during travel. About the place you left, the place you're going, and the people who connect it all. Life is put into perspective. You are able to push back and appreciate.
Being apart brings people together. Each time I leave the people I love, my feelings grow stronger. The time spent physically together is more special, for sure. Soak those moments of togetherness.
Send off exhasution with endless thirst for more, more life, more learning, more loving. Feed your curiosity. Tenaciously live!
Day 4 and so far right on budget. 10 euro per day. The world's best cappucino = 1.30 euro. Fresh, homemade croissant = 1 euro. Prosciutto and mozzarella panino = 1.20 euro. This will be easy!
Until the 3,000 mile bike trip begins Calories, calories, calories.
So far in 3 days we have backpacked up Mt. Grappa, slept in an unheated mtn lodge, partied with the mountain folk on their annual winter festa in the Rifugio (mountain hut). We were treated like guests of honor. Fed homegrown olives soaked in salt, peperoncini, and herbs. Local wine from grapes grown in the back yard. Blueberry Grappa. Whoa! Alcohol content unknown.
We hitchhiked back to town after emerging from the bush. 75 year old Italian signore who spoke such thick dialect of the old language I understood 5%. Ha! He never stopped telling us stories the entire ride. He was pure joy. His parting words..."Bravi!"
The bikes have been retrieved from all corners of Europe, and now we are due ragazzi e due bici! (two guys two bikes) Plan to leave tomorrow, heading South toward the distant Sicily. 700+ miles. The locals all think we're crazy, riding and camping in Winter. My answer "We're from Iowa!" They love our gusto, and everyone we meet wants to be on the team. Giving us snacks, pats on the backs, and tips on the Italian landscape to come. If anyone understands our mission, it's the old timers in the bike shop. They were us once. In their primes. Tackling any challenge. As quickly as they jokingly give us a hard time and say we're nuts, they jump into serious conversation and analysis about our gear, our route, our bikes.
Big shout-out to Zamar Sport bike shop in Castelfranco, Veneto. Luciano is an owner who still gets his hands dirty and lives tenaciously. A pillar of fortitude in the local cycling culture. Head mechanic, Michele, is very thorough and one of the most savvy mechanics I have seen. They love the fact that their work is contributing on such a grand adventure. You rock guys!
Of course, I wouldn't know Zamar without Ron Palazzo, my cycling mentor. Thank you Renato! Pedale forte!
I wouldn't be here, embarking on this life-changing journey, without you all. Friends, family, acquaintences, and total strangers. For it is the people of the world that drive me to go out and experience it firsthand. Grazie!
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