The People of Travel Part 1

It is said that solo travelers meet far more people than those who travel with a companion. I've always suspected this to be true, but now I'm putting it to the test. This is part 1 in a series as I am sure there will be multiple occasions to report on the people I encounter. Be forewarned, reader, I make no apologies for being truthful in these posts. I blog to communicate back home and to have a journal entry for myself to remember this trip. I'd prefer not to have two versions of the story to juggle.


The German
Let's begin with today. On my ride, I "met" a fellow bike rider not far from where I started. After a brief exchange of words it became evident that neither of us knew the other's language. I suspect this guy was from Germany, but can't be sure. I passed him, he passed me back, I started drafting his wheel and I figured he'd be able to easily communicate if he didn't like me sitting there. He was a bit stone-faced from the few times I ever saw his face. Then I took a pull...and he drafted me. Cool, I wasn't riding alone. Soon, we were going deep into the Mallorcean mountains--up, up into the clouds. My heart rate was an alarming 177 (this is race-pace heart rate for me in the thin Colorado air). It's weird to know how hard I was working, yet I wasn't gasping for breath. I can't ever ride this hard alone. We descended fast (I slowed down since the pavement was damp), he waited for me prior to the next ascent. Finally the road split, I signaled right, he, left. After an hour and a half of a fantastic ride, he said "adios" and I returned it along with an enthusiastic "gracias" assuming he understood. I only continued up for another few minutes. It was extremely cold and threatening rain (or snow!) I can endure so much more on the bike when I have someone to commiserate with, even if I can't share the sentiment with that person through words. Thank you, German dude, for the awesome ride today!

The Irishman
Yesterday was an encounter of another kind--this time it was an Irish guy 20 years my senior who races boats for a living. After blogging last night, I went out to a bar that was hosting rock bands. These bands were good. They were on-key and played many of my favorite songs. I never mind hearing American songs overseas (I think there's a reason why our music is so international...it's good stuff). It was a little smoky to begin (later in the night it was forest-fire thick smog) with what seemed to be an English-speaking crowd. Immediately this Irish guy struck up conversation with me so I chatted with him for awhile.

No matter who you meet, everyone always has a story (you do, too, if you didn't know it) and everyone has something to teach. I make a point of learning something from everyone I interact with, especially now that I am on a journey with learning as the number 1 objective. This guy had more than one thing to teach. He shared the story of how he talked his way out of getting robbed in Harlem 20 years ago. He told me of his interactions with the King of Spain and how he beat the King in a regatta. He says he's a 2-time millionaire but not one currently. From the time he was a wee-lad until 12, he was raised with the Arabs...and even though he came from a well-to-do family and they were poor, they fed him every day and took him in as one of them. He wouldn't trade his childhood for anything. Wild tale, eh? Entertaining if not true, I'll never know.

I excused myself from the conversation to go home and sleep. He'd mentioned having a nice blanket he was willing to let me use for the night so he would knock on my door (I didn't mention where I was staying) and leave it. A true gentleman, says he, always walks away. So when the knock came last night, as desperately cold as I was, I let the blanket lie there outside of my door warming the tile floor. I really need to work on my "I'm married, my husband was too tired to go out tonight" story. I have such a hard time weaving a tale that isn't true. The wedding band on my finger is completely ignored by men, in general, from what I can tell. 



The Cycling Father/Son Duo from Liverpool
Bill, Gretchen and I met a man and his 19-year-old son from Liverpool on our ride to Formentor a few days ago. The boy was riding like a freakin' mountain goat up the steep climbs...turns out this was his first road ride in a year after a bad crash in a race. 19-years-old and has been racing for 10 years (he is an elite racer). Oh, and he races every cycling discipline there is, including short dirt track (did you know that exists? I didn't!) It sounds like it's a full-contact sport, too. He taught me all about the category system in England (if we had this same system, no one would ever upgrade from cat 4 except for the freaks of nature). They must have more races on their calendar, too. 150 points=upgrade. 3 points for a first place finish. Do the math. Again, you never know how perfectly true any story is, but it's closer to the truth than what I knew previously. I've never heard such strong accents amongst the English-speaking population as I have here. His accent was particularly thick; it took a lot of concentration to understand everything he said (and I was trying to ride fast enough up the climbs to stay with him, too). Oh well, he can talk and slow down, I can listen and try to keep up. A future Tour racer? I sure do hope so, can't be many with that kind of a background.

Tonight I ate a raw full clove of garlic (ouch) so I expect to not make any new friends tomorrow. 

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Just Chillin' (literally)

Hello from paradise. I'm re-considering the definition of paradise considering this blog entry is being written by someone who is huddled near a tiny area heater in a room that doesn't have any other source of heat and it's a bit cold here tonight. There is one outlet in this room and it happens to be the one the area heater is plugged into. Thank goodness for a VERY long-life battery on my computer. Paradise is meant to be visited in the summertime.

Honestly, though, I'm happy to be here now. There are few things that bug me more than mobs of tourists everywhere. Here, there are tons of cyclists on the roads, and very nice locals doing their thing. There are a lot of people from Great Britain and Germany here, from what I can tell. Funny, it occurred to me that I've never actually heard Germans talking to each other prior to this trip.

Yesterday was one of the most spectacular bike rides I've ever been on. Bill, Gretchen and I finally got out on the bike at noon (the morning was much too cold to consider riding)...turns out that it felt warmer than any of us had expected and I was thrilled to finally be on a bike (can't say when the last time was that I rode considering packing/getting out of Denver took all of my time & energy).

This ride is called Formentor (rhymes with "Tormentor"). The water you see is the Mediterranean. Probably not many other places on earth where one can be this far out into the Mediterranean without being in the water.

This is Gretchen and I at the top, happy to have made it up. Total ride time was 3 1/2 hrs, 2500-2800 feet of climbing.

After the ride, I took a long 1- 1 1/2 hr nap (this is something I always want to do after riding in Denver, but never have time after a ride) and we made dinner at home. Fettuccine and pesto, chicken-kabobs, salad, strawberries and chocolate. I'd woken up at a ridiculous 5 am which was great since it involved reading, organizing, having a pleasant breakfast, wandering down to the docks, wandering back to my favorite little bar/cafe in town and still having time left over.

 

Here's a shot of the docks, very peaceful out there on the water. 

That brings us to today (don't expect super long posts like this in the future...my feet are still cold so I'm still blogging). I thought my body had transitioned okay to Spanish time considering I went all day yesterday without being tired (aside from the nap, of course). Went to bed around midnight last night...and I slept until noon today. I woke up very disoriented and I was sure my friends were joking around with me when they told me it was noon. Yikes! I didn't take too long and I got packed up/out of the condo (they left for Barcelona) and I moved to a hostel not far away. Went to for a flat 2 1/2 hr ride after and returned just as it started to rain. My legs are toast. All of the oxygen allows me to ride too hard. I really like this place (if I don't freeze to death tonight) and the proprietors are super friendly. 

Oh, I must share my mid-ride snack: 2.50 euro for a gargantuan strawberry torte that was very tasty. It was served in a most unusual (to me) cafe. There was some smoke in the air (from smokers inside), guys at a gambling machine in one corner, a group of women with a dog in another corner, hard alcohol poured up for a business woman in a large glass at 5:30 in the afternoon...all under one roof. It's when I see stuff like this, it makes me appreciate how many government regulations we live under in the US and how this translates to fewer freedoms a business may enjoy (like it or not).

Time to fly! The night is young and there's some cool stuff I want to go enjoy...and it HAS to involve more heat than I have right now. My toes are *still* cold.

Quote from a Seer (from "The Alchemist")

"When people consult me, it's not that I'm reading the future; I am guessing at teh future. The future belongs to God, and it is only he who reveals it, under extraordinary circumstances. How do I guess at the future? Based on the omens of the present. The secret is here in the present. If you pay attention to the present, you can improve upon it. And if you improve on the present, what comes to you later will also be better. Forget about the future, and live each day according to the teachings, confident that God loves His children. Each day, in itself, brings with it an eternity."

Snow in Mallorca?

Good news and bad news. Bad news first: I brought Colorado weather to Mallorca. It's cold and it was snowing for much of the morning, raining for much of the rest of the day. Good news: I made it here and so did the bike and right now, that's all that really concerns me.

This is the first Spanish meal (tappas) at the airport, while I was waiting for my bike to fly in.

Bill, Gretchen (friends from CO) and I are hanging out in a coffee shop drinking coffee, eating croissants and checking emails at the moment. Mallorca looks like a beautiful place and the terrain is pretty cool looking. It took awhile today to see the terrain considering the low clouds and precipitation (the largest snowflakes I've ever seen). The snow was even accumulating on the road earlier this morning.

 The flight from Denver to Heathrow was easy & I got to watch "The Blind Side" on the plane. I only slept an hour and a half thanks to not being able to wind down from a pretty hectic packing/leaving process. Fortunately, a friendly guy (don't worry, he was not that kind of friendly) at the airport helped me with my bike bag and other luggage so it wasn't too difficult to get from the airport to the train and from there, a taxi got me the rest of the way to the ferry terminal. I learned that asking for the ferry terminal just confused everyone. "Barco" is the proper term.

There were very few people on the ferry, it left at 11pm and arrived late a little after 8am. I slept so well, for sleeping in chairs with armrests that don't pull up. Today I'm slightly tired, but it's a good day for bad weather. The bike is all together and ready to roll. Pretty sure I'm on spanish time already.

It's interesting how everyone talks about how foreigners are multilingual (with skill in English) and Americans only speak English and no other languages. Agreed, that Americans should know more than one language, but I'd like to know why I have met so few people (doing jobs that are travel-related) who speak or understand very basic words (like "luggage" and "bags"--when I'm pointing at my luggage)? They don't even seem to understand the word "no" as in "no, I don't want to leave the boat without my other bags."

Everything is very hushed, in general. The airport, train station, train, Mallorca, all of it has been eerily quiet. Are Spainards simply quieter or is this because it's so much colder than normal and everyone is in hibernation mode?

Too busy to blog...

Can't believe it's less than a week until it's time to go. Real blogging (with pictures) will begin after I step onto foreign soil. Prep went from very busy to insanity...some of the tight schedule has been really great--catching up with friends, spending quality (unstressed) time with family, purging unnecessary junk from my life.

The good news of today is that I have a second passport so my first passport is off on its way to visa land (Chicago). Whew. The stress of getting a visa was really taking its toll on me. Better now, though, all will be well. Worst comes to worst (if it takes them forever to process the application), I will delay school by a month.

Get this song outta my head before tomorrow

Lyrics from "Annie" kept playing in my head today: "Yesterday was plain awful..." Thank goodness today the visa situation is looking better. Yesterday's major visa headache proved to me how much I care about spending time in Italy (3 months isn't enough)!

Things still aren't necessarily okay since I'm not holding a visa yet, but everything should work out. They always do, don't they? Now I'm not just talking about a visa...it's everything in life...

Change

Unless you are prepared to give up something valuable you will never be able to truly change at all, because you'll be forever in the control of things you can't give up."— Andy Law Creative Company

I'm not the only one in the midst of major life changes and it has occurred to me that I am far better at handling any kind of change when it's my own.  All things go in cycles and it feels like a lot of people in my life right now are experiencing similar things, just in their own way.

Today is the first day of Lent; I have yet to figure out what I will be giving up for this one. Last year I took Lent very seriously (well, it was the first time I participated in it in my life). It resulted in a big shift in my thinking and being that lasted well beyond Lent, it was a life-changer.

One thing I have done is purchased a $15 wedding band from Target. After reading enough travel advice by women for women, this seems to be a sensible thing to wear on the trip, at least while I'm living in hostels and exploring Europe (outside of Perugia). I figure it shouldn't look brand new when I get to Europe so I started wearing it today (actually, I tried it on and forgot to remove it). Oops. No, this is not a subliminal way of saying I wish I were married. And I realize that wearing it could wipe out any chance I have...

Talent vs Passion

This has been a theme of today, starting with a speech made at Toastmasters (much too) early this morning, concluding with a conversation with one of my friends outside of a bar in the crisp Denver night air, accompanied by the Denver skyline. To make a string of long thoughts short: I believe in passion and never, ever losing it. Maybe its focus will shift from one area to another during the course of a person's life, but to lose it is to forfeit life.

Onto other items that have been bouncing around in my head and really need to be put to rest... Not sure where I read it, but it's probably common knowledge that one of people's biggest fears is not being missed when they're gone. My fears about going to Italy were previously centered around what everything will be like there; now they are turning into thoughts of what it will be like to take a leave of absence from this life that I am very well settled into. I'd be lying to say that I'm not afraid of not being missed. I am a little. What kind of difference have I made to those who know me? The answer to that is a tough pill to swallow.

I've been living last month and this one very purposefully, trying to make every activity count, trying to maximize the quality time with everyone that I possibly can. And I know I'm coming up short, but it's been a conscious effort. I like the looming deadline of leaving. I like deadlines, in general.

It is such an odd place to be, knowing you're on your way out. I'm in a no-man's land of sorts. Wrapping up my life here, trying desperately not to take on new commitments, new friends, new anything. And that is difficult for me to do. With each passing activity, I get closer to the people here and I know how much I'll miss them. Or maybe it's that I'm appreciating every conversation more, every moment with every single person more...

Yeah, I know this is rambling and this is possibly disconcerting to those reading. But I'm desperately trying to capture what I'm thinking and feeling right now in this moment of pretty major change. That's the other thing that's becoming more real the more I talk about it: the desire to have a big career change when I get back. Ha, should I use the word "career"? I don't want a career. It's like a bad word to me. I want a vocation, hopefully something that pays the bills but brings true fulfillment. Along with everything else I expect to pick up by living in Italy, this is something else that I will be actively searching for and turning over every rock in my path to find.

January 2010, Month in Review

January pretty much rocked. It was a great month. I made lots of homemade pasta and sauce, spent more than my usual time in the kitchen (though still much less time than the average person), deep cleaned (cleaning, not totally done yet), spent time making the Gelato Diet movie (which was the most fun thing I've done in years...well, since I built the kitchen island. Watch it if you haven't already: www.gelatodiet.com/movie. Putting together the website was also great fun and something I've wanted to do for ages. 

 

I didn't get the time I was hoping for to study Italian or make more connections with my (Italian) relatives. However, the family did find this...the passport for my Great Grandfather--bringing him to the US for the first time from Messina (Sicily)! Cool! 

Training has been going well. After posting messages on forums and learning more about Italian amateur racing, I'm completely frightened about going there out of shape. So I figure some good sessions lifting and decent climbing rides at altitude will help me be in a good place when I get to Spain (where my plane lands, then I'll make my way to Italy). 

 

I participated in a rally at the state capitol for the first time in my life...and I'm really glad I did. It was a pro-life rally. Nothing like seeing cute children running around and smiling who were going to be aborted, but their mothers were talked out of it at the last minute. Sends shivers to think of all of the other beautiful kids who never get the chance to see the light of day. Prior to the rally, there was a mass at the Cathedral.

 

Finally, I got to see Eduardo Verastegui up close at the mass. He is a beautiful person, not because he is one of the most physically beautiful people in existence, but because of his stand on pro-life and morality. He doesn't believe in sex before marriage (he used to, but then he started living his Catholic faith and completely changed his life). Guys, take note. You're competing with this guy when you date me (and not because of his outward appearance). Yes, I realize I could be single forever, and I'm okay with that. I want to find someone with similar values and I do think it's possible.

The coolest activity of the month was going on a hut trip with 21 people I didn't know prior to the trip. As with a group of fun-loving outdoosy types, it was a pretty good gamble that it would be a fine time. I've never been on a hut trip so this was all-new to me. The weather was perfect (sun/blue skies and no wind!)

 

Gordie was one of my snow shoe buddies. He's over 70 and you'd never know it by the speed at which he flies up mountains. He has a great story of discovering the outdoors at 60. Basically, he feels like he has a whole new life since he got outside. There's a lot that he told me that resonated in me. I love hanging out with these kinds of enlightened people! There were a few other conversations I had over the weekend that also made me think. With the Italy trip coming up so soon, I have been thinking more than ever.

 

Me getting sort  of stuck in this position for the picture. This was the high point of the adventure. After this, we went back to the cabin and feasted on a great dinner prepared for us by John, an ultra marathoner (he runs 100 mile races), who also sports a white beard. 

The cabin was so comfortable and warm. Did I mention that I loved the people contained within it? Below are people drinking Coors beer (lots of the people were somehow affiliated with Coors brewing company. To the right are Gerry and Diana (they're friends). They're both such neat people! Gerry often plays Santa Claus at Christmas time. Any wonder? He's as nice as Santa, too.