Bread and Whine...

Part 1. The Downside of a Commodity
Olive oil. All I want is some extra virgin olive oil to drizzle on everything. I miss it. For the past six months (since the Italy bike ride trip), it has been a large part of my diet. Yesterday, I went to a large market and came out empty handed since they didn't sell a bottle SMALL enough for travel. 3 euros buy a tremendously large, unwieldy bottle of high quality oil. But I don't want to pour out an entire bottle when it's time to move along from Barcelona. Happily, tonight I found a nice, small bottle. Over 5 euro for this award winning Catalunya Aceite de Oliva Virgen Extra. It has a strong flavor, to be sure. I've been working on drinking wine much more and appreciating the differences. Adding olive oil expertise to my list of things to learn in Italy. Speaking of wine, did I mention the cost of it here? Quite inexpensive. I bought a bottle (not the best, but fine table wine) for 1 euro. I happened to brake that one (1/2 full) all over the floor of the hostel in Mallorca so I would be enjoying some wine tonight if I trusted myself a wee-bit more.

I wasn't going to share the picture of dinner tonight, but what the heck, I'm not there to hear your heckling. Really, it felt great to prepare dinner in civilized fashion at this hostel's kitchen tonight.  You're looking at beets (garlic on top, yep, always looking to make friends with my roommates), balsamic vinegar, olive oil, sesasme bread and chocolates from the Boqueria market. Dee-lish!





Part 2.  Where Not to Ride Your Bike but Thank Goodness I Did
Do not ride your road bike in Barcelona unless you're bike-courier-good with a bike. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not that good, but I got a lot of practice today. Let's put it in perspective. Riding around the streets of New York City is easy compared with cycling around Barcelona. This is a city that feigns being a bike-friendly city. (The people are very bike-friendly, the city layout is not.)

The ride started at noon sharp, ended around 7pm tonight and I covered 50 km which was quite an excellent tour of Barcelona (I took some extended breaks, but much of the time was spent at red lights). I really like to get to know cities by bike. Yesterday I only scratched the surface of the city. Today I felt like I began a relationship with the city, where I got to understand some of what makes it tick. It has a personality and now I can differentiate it apart from other cities. When I started this morning, all I could do was define it by putting in the context of other cities that I know. The hills (just above the city) are steep like San Francisco, it has a Montreal feel (without the french), it's big like Atlanta (but waaay bigger)... Now, however, Barcelona stands alone as its own city to me. 

Definition of a Fake Bike City
There are cute little bike roads here and there (next to the regular road) with lanes for each direction clearly marked...but then, you're cruising along and this happy place disappears and you're tossed onto a major thoroughfare if you don't stop, scratch your head wondering what you missed (nothing, it turns out) and jump on the sidewalk where you now get to dodge pedestrian traffic (which is, arguably, more scary than the cars). The cars were terrific all day--I didn't get honked at once and there were numerous occasions where I was given the right-of-way that I never would have gotten elsewhere. And there are the one-way roads. No rhyme or reason on which way or both a road goes. Parked cars are no indication, either, of which way traffic flows. Fortunately, the signage is pretty decent.

I began the ride on La Rambla since it's packed with stores so I was sure to find a bike shop to sell me a good bike map. NO bike shop. Not one. Not one all day long except for a rental shop with no maps that I found just before getting back to the hostel. And what about other cyclists? It was hours before I saw a road cyclist. I probably saw 5 total all day long and guess where I found them?

The Barcelona equivalent of Lookout Mountain!

The story on that a little later. More about how dysfunctional Barcelona is as a bike city. They also have bike self-checkout rentals all over town. Again, faked you out! These little bikes are fine for kicking around to the stores, etc. and if something happens (flat tire, etc), just return it to the rack and the rental company comes by and whisks the bike away to the super secret place where the only tubes and sole mechanic in town can be found. See? I just spent 7 hours riding a bike in a very populated city and couldn't find a single person to talk bikes with.


There's more, hear me out. The intersections don't have corners so you can't just go straight through an intersection--that isn't safe. You have to go to the crosswalks...very inconvenient. Here's an illustration.

If this is confusing, set it up in your kitchen with the spice jars and play it out like you're a bike heading for an intersection. See how bad that is?! Visibility stinks with this sort of setup, too. Seems more dangerous to me.

Back to the Adventure
When I saw the huge antennae on top of the very big hill, it drew me to it--I just had  to get up to it. And there was a magnificent church up there, too, that was (actually) what I really wanted to see...from the ground it looked like a fortress. Here, this is what it looked like from below: 

Pretty tempting, eh? Without a map or the first idea how to get to it, I ended up riding up and down through all of these cool Barcelona neighborhoods looking for that holy grail of a road that would lead me to the coveted prize in the sky. So those neighborhoods...well, they're all built on the hill so logically the roads were all super steep. There were a few occasions where I was in the easiest gear, going about 2 mph and unable to stand up because the back wheel would skip out. Admittedly, I even walked up one road in my desperate search.

No luck, I decided it was just futile and it was time to move along. It was then (of course) that THE road jumped out at me. I was sure this was the one I was searching for. So up I went, once again, but this time, I got what I was after and so much more. The view was awesome (these pics don't do it one bit of justice. H-E-L-L-O Barcelona!

This is the Tibidabo (amusement park next to this amazing church). Not sure what the church is named. I also ended up visiting Parc Guell which was very pretty and found the bike and I hiking all over. Thank goodness I brought the coffee shop caps for the cleats, really came in handy!

To make many long stories shorter, the ride was very satisfying and I felt better out there on the bike than I've felt in a long time. Foot travel simply doesn't do the same thing for me, even if I walk all day long and see a lot of good stuff.

One of the stops I made was at this interesting outdoor venue--next to a shopping area. It was just the weirdest sort of experiences that I really can't explain. There was music blasting and lots of people wearing red (turns out these are Barcelona soccer fans out en masse). I rode into the area and suddenly, without warning, this whole group of guys swarmed me and they threw this red/white scarf on me (good thing I was wearing red/white already), there were cameras and you would have thought we were long lost bestest friends or something. One guy who spoke a little English just kept saying (in a very drunk, spanish accent): you're sooo boo-tee-ful. Clearly he'd be drinking all day long at this point. Hey, if they're going to get pictures, I wanted one for myself--I handed them my camera for one more round. Then the sober guy in the group apologized for his friends' behavior and drug them all away. "We're not all like this," he assured me. Since they meant well and didn't crush me, I thought the whole scene was amusing.

And my bike asked to go clothes shopping, it's had an eye on a shirt...yeah, I actually rode straight into the mall without being stopped. The pink/black stripped shirt at Desigual was that shirt. :)

The rest of the ride found me pedaling all along the beach next to the Mediterranean while the sun set. It was serene--a very good end to a wild day.

Here's the promised link to all of yesterday's pictures:

Yesterday's Adventure in Pics

Internet Connection Issues

All kinds of stories to share from yesterday, but last night as I was preparing the blog, the internet went down here at the hostel (it´s okay on their computer, not mine). So stay tuned, I hope to have a post up by tonight...if I´m here tonight. Presently I am a nomad with no plan.

Tapas and Rambling La Rambla

It's nearly 2am here and I would like to be in bed, sleeping at 2 am. So here's the 2 minute version of today: played tourist and went to Sagrada Familia, the super amazing Goudi church (pics will be available tomorrow, will just send you a link to all of them), saw a wonderful open-air market (ala Pike Place Market in Seattle but much bigger (no fun fish-throwing guys, however), ventured this way and that to get a good feel of the city. I like it, but it is definitely the kind of place that you don't want to experience alone. Gasping in amazement at the Goudi architecture loses something when no one is around to hear the gasp.

Taka, the guy I met this morning, and I went out to find tapas tonight. It may have taken a few wrong turns, but the girl at the hostel gave us the best recommendation for a good place to eat. We chose the sampler menu--9 different Catalan dishes, wine and dessert. (Yep, you know me, I took pictures of everything. New cool food: cuddle fish. Not sure if that's how it's spelled.) This is just what he and I have been looking for! And it was awesome to have a fun person to share the meal with. It was a good experience (in the painful sort of way) to take the long-long way home (kept getting lost, feet tired, oh, knee is all better) so we were out past 1 am finding the hostel...it was a great way to see Barcelona so late, but there were so many people out, it was impossible to tell it was that late. And the night air is warm so no worries on being that kind of uncomfortable. Oh my, we even saw a group of prostitutes/transvestites who were on the job. Other than that, there wasn't much sketchy about being out late.

Oops, I blew past the 2 am deadline, but I know if I don't write anything now, chances are slim I'll capture the story tomorrow. More pics and a movie from tonight will be coming tomorrow...time to go attempt to digest the wonderful Catalan plants and animals consumed at tonight's dinner. Thank goodness I feel like I've satisfied getting to know the food here; being forever on the search for that "perfectly authentic" cuisine is a frustrating and never-ending chore.

Meet Taka...

This is the look of happiness (and tiredness) at finishing a tasty, satisfying meal at nearly midnight.

Sleeping...

Just a quick update on the sleeping situation...apparently I can sleep through anything as I finally awoke at 10:30 this morning to the cleaning women talking very loudly to each other. There was a lot of commotion in the rest of the hostel when I went to sleep last night, but either that went away quickly or the earplugs and eye mask worked as advertised. It's nicely heated here, btw. I met one guy on his way in this morning--from Japan, lived in Korea, learned English at an immersion school in Orlando. Darn, I already forgot his name. Very friendly and English speaking. I like this guy, he told me repeatedly that I cannot possibly be 32 (he's 23)...and this is moments after I drug my body out of bed. Ha ha.

Here's a shot of the downstairs area where there must have been a dance party going on last night. I was curious to take a look last night, but figured if I so much as peeked in, would join the festivities. Tonight I'll want to stay up later considering how late I just slept. Let's go see what the day looks like and wow, I REALLY need a shower.

And today is summer in Mallorca, but...

...I got to pack the bike away and schlep all of my worldly possessions down to the beach front where I caught the bus to Palma, to make the anxiously awaiting ferry boat. I rarely ever complain about a long commute anywhere so long as someone else is doing the driving. The forced time sitting in one place is always thrilling to me since I can't sit still long enough if I'm not tied down (literally). Seriously, I've been heard proclaiming to love going to the dentist for the same reason. To add up all of the time when someone else was doing the driving today is a little ridiculous. 1 hr in the bus, 25 minutes in two different taxis, 7 1/2 hours on the ferry boat. And I was happy the whole time (so long as I wasn't thinking about the gorgeous riding everyone else was doing in Mallorca...that was a little disturbing).

These are two shots from the bus. Fab!

During this time, I finished piecing the family tree together from all of my random notes. It's a fun puzzle to try to piece together--and draw on a single 8 1/2 x 11 piece of paper. Next was reading all about Barcelona (thanks, Rick Steves) and get mentally transitioned for what was to come next: moving everything from the ferry to the hostel. The idea that I'm staying in Barcelona, in a hostel, with my bike and stuff, has really stressed me out--for weeks now. I've come very close to canceling this stay and just floating over to Italy instead. That sounds so much easier. Therese--this one's for you. I'll be doing the touristy thing a bit, but also surveying the place by bike, too.

Now that I'm here, settled in the hostel and about to dig into a paella dish (with very strange-looking sea creatures in it), I'm pretty sure I'm happy to be here. You know how it's cool when fun scenes are combined with music? The taxi who picked me up (after dark, mind you) was playing Dire Straits "Money for Nothing" and the next song, as we got to the happening part of Barcelona was "Footloose." Yeah. I like this city already, I can feel the vibe. Or is it just the music? Whatever, it does have a vibe and I think I like it.

The hostel has a vibe, too. I couldn't believe how my feelings of happiness, the thrill of excitement jumped at merely walking into this place. The girl at the front desk is sweet, but I couldn't quite place the accent. She's from Zimbabwe. I've never met someone from Zimbabwe before! They serve breakfast, have computers, wi-fi, a full kitchen for anyone to use, lots of loudly-colored couches, a foosball table (that a group of french guys around my age were playing when I was chilling down there looking at maps). Aaaaah. Definitely like this place.

When I checked in (each room has bunk beds accommodating lots of people) I asked how many others will be in the room. She replies that there will be a couple of other guys. "Guys...you mean men?" I ask. Yep. Hmmm... Sounds potentially sketchy to me (yes, I have the voices of mothers and grandmothers in my ear at all times) so I ask for a room change. She goes through all of the rigmarole of getting me switched and discovers that this room is also all guys, just more of them. This time, I'm okay with it. More guys is less scary than fewer. And I can keep my bike with me in this room.

When I opened the door to the room, there was a guy brushing his teeth (did I mention the shared bathroom is in this room? Yeah...he seemed a bit surprised...possibly dismayed at having a girl roommate). He seems nice, I have no need to be worried. The lockers are HUGE and everything (door keys, locker, etc) all work via an electronic key. Pretty advanced. AND considering the time difference, I don't have to worry about you (moms, grandmothers) not being able to sleep since you'll be awake during the time I'm sleeping tonight. The full report will be forthcoming tomorrow. :) 

Oh my goodness, the waiter just came and refilled my wine glass (to the brim)! Paella is good, though I think the shell fish are just for decoration. There are legs and tentacles everywhere and I can't seem to get into the meat beneath the shell. This must be in a very locals place. The only people here are guys all huddled in a corner doing something that could possibly involve a sporting event. No idea what language they're speaking. It's not Spanish (maybe Catalan?) There's a tv on the wall, but they are more concerned with what's on a laptop. It was weird, when the waiter seated me, he put the key to the wireless internet down in front of me. After awhile I asked for a menu. I'm glad I brought the computer, almost left it at home.

Here's dinner:

That's all to report for today. I have no idea what to do tomorrow. Just looking forward to catching some zzzz's and having breakfast with travelers my age tomorrow morning. Buenos noches!

Spring has Arrived in Mallorca!

Today is the first day of spring, I'm convinced. The birds were chirping, the children were laughing in the streets, shutters were wide open and the air smells and feels of spring, too. There was a slight chill in the air, but it was pretty comfortable. I walked around all day wearing my fleece pull-over since I refuse to be chilly for one moment. And there was no bike ride today, I was concerned about doing damage to my sad knee and it was nice to do something different, anyhow. 

It worked out that I started the day on a nice stroll throughout town. I really needed to go to the market to get some basics (bath soap, dish soap, plate for food, etc). Last night when I went out in search of such items, I found the town was completely shut down. On a Saturday night? Hmmm. I asked the proprietor of this hostel about it this morning. He said it's tradition here for everything to close Saturdays (because it's a tourist town). At least there's an explanation.

On the walk around, I found some very nice areas I hadn't seen before. Stopped for a mini breakfast (I'd already had leftover breakfast cereal earlier). Note in the pic, it's a mini-computer, too, so it's all smaller than usual. I worked on family tree stuff over breakfast. I've compiled a little info from my Italian side, it will be nice to show my relatives in Italy and be able to fill in the blank spaces. It's a little weird to see me on this tree--this is where I fit and how I got here, from all of these people I don't know, lived long ago and happened to be married, happened to have a child who happened to have a child who happened to have me. And this is only 1/2 of my full tree (I have to get my Mom's side someday). If you're ever having a bad day, be thankful to have ever have been born, to have ever had even a single day on this beautiful planet. Really, it's like winning the lottery...but winning much more than any lottery has ever paid out and the chances are so much smaller than winning the lotto. My brain hurts, back to the day.

On the walk, I ran across the Catholic church in town. It's handy to be Catholic, I never seem to have issues finding a church away from home. This one is huge, next to a lovely open area (in Italy it'd be called a piazza. Not sure if this has a name or not). It was stone and frigid inside. I was very happy to be wearing fleece as every person in attendance was wearing a winter coat and no one considered taking off the coat for mass (in the States, that would be considered rude as it's a sign of wanting to bolt for the door the moment communion is over). Probably a good place to hang out in the summer. Some restaurants in town have on their signs (in large letters) "Air Conditioning." Must be a differentiator amongst establishments. I enjoyed mass. No, I can't understand the meaning of the homily or readings, but, like with the Prima Domenica mass in Denver (given in Italian), every word is clearly pronounced so I can understand some of the mass since I know some vocabulary and I know the English translation of everything they're saying (aside from the readings since those differ week to week). My ear is getting better at picking up the slight sounds important to hearing the distinct words in Italian (and that translates easily to Spanish, though I haven't figured Mallorcean out yet. They get you by saying "hola" and then start speaking what sounds like a very different language from Spanish. I thought mass sounded like it was Spanish.)

After church, I found the soap and random stuff I was looking for, wandered around a bit more and came home to do laundry. Those washboard/bucket setups that our ancestors on the prairie make a lot of sense. The sink worked fine and everything is hanging on a clothes line attempting to dry (nothing is).

I really want to say a heart-felt thanks to everyone who's reading this blog and commenting here/Facebook/sending emails. It is soooooo nice to have this be a way to communicate back with you (only way with there being limited time) and it's great to hear from you. This blog helps give me focus and purpose throughout the day. I take pics that I otherwise wouldn't when I think of one of you enjoying the story or the picture or something. It's really fun to share the trip with you. And I think that's one reason why I'm getting excited to be in Barcelona (and even moreso Italy)--since I'm staying in a social hostel (well, there will be quite a few others in the room where I'll be sleeping so it has to be more social than this place).

Really, I am perfectly okay being alone, I don't mind. But the FABULOUS days of travel (or bike rides, for that matter) NEVER, EVER happen alone. 

On that note, here are some shots from today:

Walking along the beach, drinking in the smell of the water, listening to the happy birds, feeling the spring air...

The cop cars are more cartoonish than taxi cabs...

This was simply a pretty picture. I assume the architecture here is heavily influenced by Spanish style and I can't say I know what that is yet, but I'm guessing this is sort of it (cute!)

Thanks for the setup, Dad...it works (no fires yet and everything is recharged)!

Good night little street...

Good night Mallorca!

Warmer...at sea level

It was a little warmer today. Honestly, it was hard to sleep last night because it was so cold. If I wanted to change positions, it would involve touching a freezing part of the bed. It was really hard to get moving this morning considering the cold and no way to get warm prior to getting on the bike. Right now I'm tucked in and a bit warmer than yesterday evening...I'm remaining hopeful. 

The sun was shining and it was a fine day to make my way into the mountains of Mallorca. These are some seriously huge, dramatic mountains. They reach into the clouds (and the humidity is so much that the road has no incentive to dry after being precipitated upon). It is cold, cold, cold up there. And the sun that was visible in town completely disappeared. The sun makes all of the difference in the temperature. I have been dressing properly (and am no stranger to epic riding) but still, when I'm soaking wet and cold I don't care to get too far from home or need to stop for any reason.

When the climbing was no longer fun and the pavement more wet than dry, I flipped around and headed back. There was a bit of climbing to do to get out of there. Finally, the sun returned and I was down to sea level. Happy, happy!


This is a shot from Pollença (I detoured and rode around this cute town. It had tiny, narrow roads similar to those I saw in the small towns in Italy, except this was a much more modern town with pavement).







I pedaled home, got more water and food and returned to Formentor. It's not every day one can experience a peaceful evening with the setting sun, great climbs and the Mediterranean Sea under foot.

Total ride time: right around 4 hrs, 2800 calories. Unfortunately, my left knee is very unhappy with me...I will play with my position on the bike tomorrow. If I can't get it right, I won't be able to ride. It felt like it was going to explode by the end of the ride today (that never happens...maybe it's all of the climbing?) 5800 feet of climbing total (if you believe my Garmin on that...not sure if I do yet). On a side note, the GPS has been a life-saver. I have leaned on it quite a bit and have found it very useful for leading me home when I've gotten slightly disoriented.

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.