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Sunday, May 25, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Vienna to Malta
Ok, so I know I have been a bad blogger boy lately, but just take it as a sign that I have better things to do than sit around at a computer. Plus, I kind of wonder how many people bother reading this anyway. Sometimes I think I am doing this for my own future nostalgia more than anything. Still, here I go, catching up...
Vienna was awesome. I loved my time there. Heres the thing: while spending time in any large European city, I have a sneaking suspicion that everyone is having a much better time than I am. Vienna, however, was the exception to this rule. If it wasn't still at the beginning of my journey, I would've stayed here I think. I just want to take this opportunity to thank a few of the friends I made during this time, that made me quite certain I was having more fun than anybody else: Reka, who saved me from a night on the streets when I first arrived and was such wonderful company thereafter, Conny and Hanna who took such good care of me while I surfed their couch, and Nicholas who showed me a night out in the old Viennese fashion. Just to name a few.
In my journeys, there have been times when I see something so beautiful that I cannot photograph it, for fear of rendering it inadequate... less than it really is once captured by the lens. Instead I think: "this is just for me" and just hope that I can remember it forever. Just so, there are certain stories that I choose not to tell in this blog, for fear of making them less than they are. The thing is... I don't know who you are reading this. Likely you are a close friend (otherwise, why bother, right?), and I would be happy to share anything with you. And yet, some among you may feel that some of my earlier posts have already been too sappy, too sentimental, too personal. So some stories I will keep for myself, just as there are things that I have seen that will only ever be known to me. But, when you see me next, and you still want to know, ask, and I will tell you. Promise.
I had a hard time finding out any info about a bike route through Austria to Italy. Tourist info couldn't help and I ended up finding the route in an unlikely place: an employee at the outdoor store where I went to buy new camping fuel. With a route pencilled onto my map, I set out in a general southwest direction. Through the mountains. Real mountains. I huffed and I puffed and I nearly blew out a lung. But I used my mountain climbing mantra: "what goes up must come down" over and over again. And boy did I ever come down. Like, fast.
I made it through the mountains safely, and felt stronger for it. Then something wonderful happened. Just outside of Graz, I stopped for lunch. There I was: lounging in the sun wearing only my silly tight biking shorts, hair a mess, pushing food into my face as fast as I could beside a bike weighed down by an excessive amount of gear, when a friendly looking couple rode up on their bikes and engaged me in conversation. I must have been quite a sight, but it didn't seem to bother them. They are also bike tourers, and last year at this time they had ridden the whole Road to Santiago, in Spain. Thus, they were interested in a fellow bike nut, who was obviously going somewhere far away. Their names are Gerhard and Andrea, and we ended up talking for quite some time at that picnic table in the forest outside of Graz. What was meant to be a 20 minute stop turned into an hour and then, when I tried to get back on the road, they instead invited me to their house. Although it meant covering less ground than I had hoped, I have come to understand that one should never turn down the kindness of strangers, and so I accepted their gracious offer.
I have also come to understand that, if you are willing to see it, there are no mistakes in the world. No accidents. What may seem like a wrong turn or a delay is really a blessing, leading you down a new path, and you should just stay open to it, move along with the current. My time with this wonderful couple was a perfect example of this. Not only did they feed me (lots), give me a comfy bed, and take me into Graz to show me around, they also totally redirected the next section of my route. The trail I had picked out would've been terrible... all traffic and industry. Now, instead, I will follow a section of the route they took last year, and I am extremely excited about it. If I had stopped to eat somewhere else, or made any other tiny alteration in my plan that day, I would not have met these two, and my experience would be totally different. I am not a religious man, but I do believe in angels.
Although sad to leave my new found friends, I did, and rode with renewed purpose. Last year, Gerhard and Andrea were taken in by the priests of a local village on their first night out on the tour since they couldn't find a campsite. They arranged for me to stay here as well, and that night I slept in the basement of a house inhabited by priests. It was a wonderful experience. The following day was Sunday and the priests were busy with ceremonies for the blessing of the bells at all of the churches in the region (seven in all). One was on top of the mountain pass into Slovenia, which I had to crawl up. It just so happened that I arrived at the top of the Radlepass 15 minutes before the commencement of the ceremony, and I could hear a brass band playing traditional music as it drifted across the mountain tops. I decided to go. I rode my bike through the forest and came out at a church overlooking the valley. The smell of Frankincense and Myrrh drifted from the open doorways of the church, along with the singing and sermons. Every so often the bells rang. People were gathered all around in their Sunday finest, and I stood out like a sore thumb. I spent some time soaking in this experience... one that I never would have had if I hadn't stopped in that exact spot for lunch two days before. I tell you, I feel magic happening all around me these days...
I cooked through Slovenia. Pretty sure I left a trail of fire behind me as I came down the mountain. I hooked onto another river, the Drau this time, and followed it back into Austria. At a poorly marked intersection in a village called Neuhause, I stopped at a guesthouse to ask for directions. One of the patrons (a little tipsy) told me where to go and then insisted I come in for a beer. Again, it is poor form to refuse such offers, so I complied. The bar was empty except for a few local patrons, most of whom did not speak English and looked at me as someone who could've potentially come from an entirely different planet. I might as well have had two heads. Still, my abnormality interested them and one beer turned into three, a few shots of schnapps, and a plate of food. If it wasn't for the food, I wouldn't have made it out of there at all. I had to leave with a full beer on the table in front of me, because they were not going to stop until I was completely wasted. People had told me that Austrians were kind of cold in their attitudes, but I would have to disagree strongly with this assessment.
Riding bike while half sloshed is not an experience I hope to repeat, but it was kind of fun. I cant be sure, but I think I went faster than ever. Although it could've been slower... All I know for sure is I ended up somewhere other than where I wanted to be that night. Still, it was a campground and not a ditch, so that's ok. The next day I woke up early and rode hard to the border with Italy. Because I kept getting sidetracked from the road, I hadn't been making the time I had hoped. Still, I would gladly do it again for the experiences I had. Once across the border, I did some further research on the route ahead of me. To my disappointment, I found that there was absolutely no camping in the region. Plus, I was only a few days away from catching my flight to Malta, and I didn't want to mess about just to keep my pride intact. So, instead of risking missing my plane, I did what anyone would do when in this situation: I bought a pizza and caught a train.
And that is the story of how I got to Treviso, Italy. It wasn't the greatest feeling, cutting my bike trip short, but at least I rode all the way to Italy, and in a totally stress free fashion. In Treviso I met up with my new couchsurfing host, Tiziana, who took me around town and gave me a taste of Italy before I caught my plane to Malta. As I write this, my bike is lounging in her garage, probably hitting on her cute violet bike. Shameless.
And now I'm here in Malta, hanging out in the sun with my dad. Coffee in the morning, beer in the afternoon, and a pile of mystery novels at my side. I look at this as my vacation from my vacation. A chance to do nothing but hang out and explore this exceptionally strange little country. Through couchsurfing I have made several friends on the islands and, even though small, there is much to do here. Still, my lack of movement feels strange. Some days are hard because I lack distraction. Homesickness creeps in at the edges. I wonder if I am doing the right thing. I wonder who I am... how I became this way, who I am becoming. Sometimes I feel like I have left little pieces of myself behind on the road, that I am emptying out, unravelling. I think this is a good thing... that this is what I was trying to do. But now that its happening... I don't know, I guess its just difficult. I feel distant, and I want some of you people around to help me sort out my thoughts, some of you who know me well. I am glad to be here with dad, since I can talk about this with him, and he can relate.
I wont be posting here again for a while. Still, dear reader, if you have the inclination, drop me a line and I will respond to you directly. Thanks to those who have let me know what they are up to, I love so much to hear from you.
Now I must go and rid this country of a few pesky beers. Lord knows there are too many of them in the world, and something must be done. I think I'm the man to do it. Wish me luck...
Vienna was awesome. I loved my time there. Heres the thing: while spending time in any large European city, I have a sneaking suspicion that everyone is having a much better time than I am. Vienna, however, was the exception to this rule. If it wasn't still at the beginning of my journey, I would've stayed here I think. I just want to take this opportunity to thank a few of the friends I made during this time, that made me quite certain I was having more fun than anybody else: Reka, who saved me from a night on the streets when I first arrived and was such wonderful company thereafter, Conny and Hanna who took such good care of me while I surfed their couch, and Nicholas who showed me a night out in the old Viennese fashion. Just to name a few.
In my journeys, there have been times when I see something so beautiful that I cannot photograph it, for fear of rendering it inadequate... less than it really is once captured by the lens. Instead I think: "this is just for me" and just hope that I can remember it forever. Just so, there are certain stories that I choose not to tell in this blog, for fear of making them less than they are. The thing is... I don't know who you are reading this. Likely you are a close friend (otherwise, why bother, right?), and I would be happy to share anything with you. And yet, some among you may feel that some of my earlier posts have already been too sappy, too sentimental, too personal. So some stories I will keep for myself, just as there are things that I have seen that will only ever be known to me. But, when you see me next, and you still want to know, ask, and I will tell you. Promise.
I had a hard time finding out any info about a bike route through Austria to Italy. Tourist info couldn't help and I ended up finding the route in an unlikely place: an employee at the outdoor store where I went to buy new camping fuel. With a route pencilled onto my map, I set out in a general southwest direction. Through the mountains. Real mountains. I huffed and I puffed and I nearly blew out a lung. But I used my mountain climbing mantra: "what goes up must come down" over and over again. And boy did I ever come down. Like, fast.
I made it through the mountains safely, and felt stronger for it. Then something wonderful happened. Just outside of Graz, I stopped for lunch. There I was: lounging in the sun wearing only my silly tight biking shorts, hair a mess, pushing food into my face as fast as I could beside a bike weighed down by an excessive amount of gear, when a friendly looking couple rode up on their bikes and engaged me in conversation. I must have been quite a sight, but it didn't seem to bother them. They are also bike tourers, and last year at this time they had ridden the whole Road to Santiago, in Spain. Thus, they were interested in a fellow bike nut, who was obviously going somewhere far away. Their names are Gerhard and Andrea, and we ended up talking for quite some time at that picnic table in the forest outside of Graz. What was meant to be a 20 minute stop turned into an hour and then, when I tried to get back on the road, they instead invited me to their house. Although it meant covering less ground than I had hoped, I have come to understand that one should never turn down the kindness of strangers, and so I accepted their gracious offer.
I have also come to understand that, if you are willing to see it, there are no mistakes in the world. No accidents. What may seem like a wrong turn or a delay is really a blessing, leading you down a new path, and you should just stay open to it, move along with the current. My time with this wonderful couple was a perfect example of this. Not only did they feed me (lots), give me a comfy bed, and take me into Graz to show me around, they also totally redirected the next section of my route. The trail I had picked out would've been terrible... all traffic and industry. Now, instead, I will follow a section of the route they took last year, and I am extremely excited about it. If I had stopped to eat somewhere else, or made any other tiny alteration in my plan that day, I would not have met these two, and my experience would be totally different. I am not a religious man, but I do believe in angels.
Although sad to leave my new found friends, I did, and rode with renewed purpose. Last year, Gerhard and Andrea were taken in by the priests of a local village on their first night out on the tour since they couldn't find a campsite. They arranged for me to stay here as well, and that night I slept in the basement of a house inhabited by priests. It was a wonderful experience. The following day was Sunday and the priests were busy with ceremonies for the blessing of the bells at all of the churches in the region (seven in all). One was on top of the mountain pass into Slovenia, which I had to crawl up. It just so happened that I arrived at the top of the Radlepass 15 minutes before the commencement of the ceremony, and I could hear a brass band playing traditional music as it drifted across the mountain tops. I decided to go. I rode my bike through the forest and came out at a church overlooking the valley. The smell of Frankincense and Myrrh drifted from the open doorways of the church, along with the singing and sermons. Every so often the bells rang. People were gathered all around in their Sunday finest, and I stood out like a sore thumb. I spent some time soaking in this experience... one that I never would have had if I hadn't stopped in that exact spot for lunch two days before. I tell you, I feel magic happening all around me these days...
I cooked through Slovenia. Pretty sure I left a trail of fire behind me as I came down the mountain. I hooked onto another river, the Drau this time, and followed it back into Austria. At a poorly marked intersection in a village called Neuhause, I stopped at a guesthouse to ask for directions. One of the patrons (a little tipsy) told me where to go and then insisted I come in for a beer. Again, it is poor form to refuse such offers, so I complied. The bar was empty except for a few local patrons, most of whom did not speak English and looked at me as someone who could've potentially come from an entirely different planet. I might as well have had two heads. Still, my abnormality interested them and one beer turned into three, a few shots of schnapps, and a plate of food. If it wasn't for the food, I wouldn't have made it out of there at all. I had to leave with a full beer on the table in front of me, because they were not going to stop until I was completely wasted. People had told me that Austrians were kind of cold in their attitudes, but I would have to disagree strongly with this assessment.
Riding bike while half sloshed is not an experience I hope to repeat, but it was kind of fun. I cant be sure, but I think I went faster than ever. Although it could've been slower... All I know for sure is I ended up somewhere other than where I wanted to be that night. Still, it was a campground and not a ditch, so that's ok. The next day I woke up early and rode hard to the border with Italy. Because I kept getting sidetracked from the road, I hadn't been making the time I had hoped. Still, I would gladly do it again for the experiences I had. Once across the border, I did some further research on the route ahead of me. To my disappointment, I found that there was absolutely no camping in the region. Plus, I was only a few days away from catching my flight to Malta, and I didn't want to mess about just to keep my pride intact. So, instead of risking missing my plane, I did what anyone would do when in this situation: I bought a pizza and caught a train.
And that is the story of how I got to Treviso, Italy. It wasn't the greatest feeling, cutting my bike trip short, but at least I rode all the way to Italy, and in a totally stress free fashion. In Treviso I met up with my new couchsurfing host, Tiziana, who took me around town and gave me a taste of Italy before I caught my plane to Malta. As I write this, my bike is lounging in her garage, probably hitting on her cute violet bike. Shameless.
And now I'm here in Malta, hanging out in the sun with my dad. Coffee in the morning, beer in the afternoon, and a pile of mystery novels at my side. I look at this as my vacation from my vacation. A chance to do nothing but hang out and explore this exceptionally strange little country. Through couchsurfing I have made several friends on the islands and, even though small, there is much to do here. Still, my lack of movement feels strange. Some days are hard because I lack distraction. Homesickness creeps in at the edges. I wonder if I am doing the right thing. I wonder who I am... how I became this way, who I am becoming. Sometimes I feel like I have left little pieces of myself behind on the road, that I am emptying out, unravelling. I think this is a good thing... that this is what I was trying to do. But now that its happening... I don't know, I guess its just difficult. I feel distant, and I want some of you people around to help me sort out my thoughts, some of you who know me well. I am glad to be here with dad, since I can talk about this with him, and he can relate.
I wont be posting here again for a while. Still, dear reader, if you have the inclination, drop me a line and I will respond to you directly. Thanks to those who have let me know what they are up to, I love so much to hear from you.
Now I must go and rid this country of a few pesky beers. Lord knows there are too many of them in the world, and something must be done. I think I'm the man to do it. Wish me luck...
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