I posted a new album in the photo gallery section of the main site if you want to check it out - called Faces: http://www.shiftingears.net/Photo_Gallery.html

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

God, December already. And we're biking. Ha. Richard and I both got back to Rome on Monday after a week off. Richard ate cabbage, pork stomach and bratwurst, squeezed babies and made daily visits to Hamburg's Christmas markets with Jiffer and the gang; while I ate fondue, raclette and Swiss chocolate in the uninspiring, expensive city of Geneva. (Great to see you Camille, and thank you to Coraline, Simon and JC for entertaining me after she left!)

From Rome, we took a train across the country to the port city of Ancona (big mountains and a lack of time meant the train was the preferred option). Tonight, we take a ferry to Split, in Croatia, where the Eastern Europe tour begins. Things are about to get real interesting!

I'll write more later!

November 19- 24, 2009

Rome has so much to live up to – and yet it does not fail. Walking through this city is literally walking through history. Without even trying, you will fall into the past: busy shopping streets that used to be used for horse races; the place where Julius Caesar was stabbed to death; areas where people were executed during the inquisition.  You really can’t walk more than a few feet before bumping into an ancient Roman temple. That’s not to say the city isn’t modern. It is. But its history is well-preserved and ever-present.  From the Vatican City’s Sistine Chapel, where the Pope is elected; to Palatine Hill, where legend has it Romulus founded the city of Rome; to the Roman Forum, home to the oldest Senate in the world – the sights and stories just never end.

We began with the Vatican City, the world’s smallest country at less than 1 km squared. Home to the Pope and the largest church in the world, the Vatican City should be among the most spiritual of places. Instead, it is riddled with touts lining the entrances to the Vatican museums and St. Peter’s Basilica, who lie for a living.

“The Sistine Chapel closes at 1pm today. We’re offering the last tour of the day.”

“You’ll wait in line all afternoon if you don’t sign up with us.”

“You may not even be able to get in.”

Of course, there was no line; the chapel closed at 6pm; and we got in with no problem. But I’m sure many people have fallen for their tricks and given them 40 euros per head.

The Vatican Museums are wildly expensive – despite a 14 euro entrance fee, you don’t even get a floor plan. But they house some of the most impressive collections of Egyptian artifacts, classical statues, tapestry, maps, frescoes and modern art that I have ever seen.  (And the audio guide is extensive – but for another 7 euros. To top it off, we forgot our handy audio splitter, which gets you two for the price of one). The infamous Sistine Chapel – the Pope’s Chapel – was like a prison, hundreds of people crammed into a dark room, constantly being ordered to stay silent, while plain-clothed guards with walkie-talkies walk around enforcing the no-pictures rule. Not the reflective, peaceful atmosphere I had expected, but Michelangelo’s paintings of the history of salvation covering the entire ceiling and one wall are really remarkable. St. Peter’s Basilica (named after the first Pope), almost entirely in marble, was equally impressive, though a less forgiving guard may not have let me in with my flip flops.



I came home to a professional massage by Toby, a licensed massage therapist, which eased the pain in my feet after a long day of walking.

On Saturday, we cycled 30km east of Rome to Tivoli to see another World Heritage Site – the ruins of a first century villa built by Emperor Hadrian, as a get-away just outside of town. But our UNESCO-fatigue had begun to set in, and we skipped a second Renaissance villa, just a few kilometers away.

Sunday took us on a bike trip around town:  to the stadium, where soccer fans were flooding through the gates in their purple and orange Roma FC scarves; to Villa Borghese’s park; and to Appia Antica, the most important ancient road leading to the city, lined with ruins of temples, aqueducts and catacombs. These are the real stones from Roman times.



Monday was a tour of the heart of ancient Rome – the Roman Forum (the political heart of the city, full of ruins, as well as the spot where Caesar was cremated), Palatine Hill (first occupied in the 9^th century B.C.  and later home to Roman emperors’ palaces) and the famous Coliseum.



Most nights we came home for pasta and wine at the hostel, complemented by our own caprese and salad, often running into Gabriella. On Saturday, this led to debauchery on the street: Richard vogueing a women’s shawl, Gabriella stopping garbage trucks on the road, and me posing for pictures with a Filipino waiter.



Gabriella insisted we pass through her father's home town on the Serbian-Croatian border, while Toby said she'd give us contacts in her native Macedonia, or FYROM, it's technically name (the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia), which Toby refuses to use.

It’s been nice to be in one place for a while, and make some friends. Will, thanks for all your help and hope to see you on the road soon! There’s a bed waiting for you in Beirut or wherever else we may be…

Today, Richard heads to Hamburg to see his Czech friend Vasek and his godchildren and I to Geneva to see my Canadian friend Camille - “a vacation from the vacation”, as Richard puts it. Back to Rome on Monday and then off on the bikes again, heading most probably to Dubrovnik, Croatia.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

We spent yesterday walking through Siena, seeing the usual sights: fortress, church, fountain, narrow streets (after three months, they all start to look alike).

Richard woke up this morning stressed about future job options (here he is in his Capilene layer), and he took the morning off to settle some things on the internet. By the time he was finished it was too late to start biking (the sun sets at 4:45pm or so), so after much indecision, we hopped on a train to Rome.



We both have plans to see some friends in other countries for Thanksgiving weekend (me in Geneva and Richard in Hamburg), so we wanted to get to Rome in time to see plenty of it beforehand.  In fact, we had even debated calling it quits after Rome. We had originally set a timeline of three months, which we passed recently; it’s getting cold; and we keep wondering when it’s time to move on with “real” life and get jobs. But by the end of the train ride, we decided we would try to make it to Beirut, Lebanon after all.

We rolled into the historic city of Rome at 7pm, intending to ride out at least another 10km to a campsite open year-round, 5km from the Vatican City. But as we were trying to find our bearings in the dark at a busy intersection, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned to find a bubbly, blond-haired woman in her 40s.

“Don’t tell me you pedaled all the way from Canada!” she said. She had seen the flag on my water bottle.

After a couple seconds of chit-chat, she asked if we had a place to stay.

“No, not really,” Richard said.

 “Well, I’m staying at a hostel just down the street. It’s 15 euros a night, including breakfast and spaghetti dinner. You should come! And even if it’s full, come for a glass of wine at least.” With that, she turned on her heel and bounced happily down the street.

Until now, we haven’t stayed in shared rooms, but reluctant to ride all the way out to the campsite, Richard found himself following the woman’s directions.

A few minutes later we found ourselves in the kitchen of Freedom Traveler hostel, getting to know German Gabriella, the stranger we had met on the street, and American Will, one of the hostel staff.

Will had gone on his own bicycle tours in Europe, and immediately called his girlfriend to show her our gear.
 
"Look what I found!" he said as we approached her. "Cyclists!" she said, excitedly.

He's trying to convince her to do a similar trip next fall, as well as a hiking trip to Santiago de Compostela (which we somewhat followed on this trip, albeit in reverse), and a sea kayak trip skirting the Mediterranean (which Richard is planning as his next adventure, after the Silk Route).

Meeting new people was icing on the shelter-over-our-heads cake. We don’t have to pack or unpack a tent for some time. We are spending just under one week sightseeing in Rome, before our side trips to Germany and Switzerland. Then we will meet back here before continuing on, either to Greece or Croatia.

“Are you guys hungry?” Will asked, after we had settled our things into the private room we managed to secure. “We’ve got just enough left for two plates of pasta.” Things couldn’t really get better…

Monday, November 16, 2009

Distance traveled today: 57 km
Total trip distance: 2073 km
Total days biking: 37
Spending: 67.65 euros

After a buffet breakfast that far exceeded our expectations, we left our panniers at Hotel Alcide, and headed west on a quick side trip to San Gimignano.

For about five kilometers, we passed signs that said the town was 11km away (signs in Italy are not to be trusted), but it was well worth the confusion.

Perched on the top of a hill overlooking the Tuscan countryside, medieval San Gimignano is a collection of tall, narrow buildings, each made of a combination of stone and brick, each unique in its size and decor, some featuring Byzantine-style windows, others covered in vines colored by the seasons. Jutting out of the houses are 14 towers, all that remain from the 72 that once helped defend the city.

We had a look around and ate gelato in the main square, steps from the old cistern. (I’ve decided we have to start having gelato daily).  Then we hopped back on the bikes for the mostly downhill ride back to Poggibonsi, taking the rougher Via Vecchia instead of the main road to get some nice views.

Richard screamed POGGI-BONSI excitedly most of the way “home”. We picked up our bags at the hotel and continued on to Siena, whose city center is another – you guessed it – World Heritage Site. We picnicked at the side of an abandoned building along the way.

I’ve built enough strength in my legs now that I can actually compete with Richard on the hills. I can’t win, but I can at least compete.

We finally found Siena amid the hills we had been tackling all afternoon, in time to see its fan-shaped sloping public square, Piazza del Campo. We found free wireless at an Irish Pub and ended up spending the rest of the night there, drinking and eating free appetizers. (Our “free” wireless had cost us 30 euros by the end of the night). Richard left his cycle computer in his pocket and sat on it – it hasn’t worked since.

We made a peaceful night-journey to Camping Colleverde at the edge of town and thankfully, open until early January. We plan on taking the day off tomorrow to see Siena, home of Saint Catherine of Siena (not the same St. Catherine of Alexandria). The woman is so famous here, they keep her head and her right thumb preserved and on display at the cathedral in her name. Creepy.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Distance traveled today: 52.04 km
Total trip distance: 2015 km
Max speed: 63 km/ hour
Average speed: 14.8 km / hour
Max and minimum altitude: 412 m / 60 m
Altitude gain throughout the day: 435 m
Total time biking: 3:29
Total days biking: 36
Spending: 127.50 euros

It has to be the strangest name for a town in the whole world, but Poggibonsi is where we ended up tonight. We had planned on making it to San Gimignano, a medieval town with a skyline of towers that won it a spot on the World Heritage List. But Richard was hung-over after a night out with Keith and we soon got distracted by a U.S. war cemetery along the way.

Richard noticed the sign by chance, and we turned off the road onto an impressive piece of property: two huge plots full of 4,400 marble graves; a massive, engraved memorial for those missing in combat; and a long flagpole.

It was the first of its kind I had seen, but Richard’s fifth. I asked him why he was so interested in these cemeteries. He said it was a combination of his cousin’s death as a soldier (he is buried in France), his interest in history, and the importance of remembering people who died so far from home.

“Besides, this was a war that actually mattered.”

As it turns out, Canadians are buried here too.

“Back then, they fled to the U.S. to fight,” the civilian on staff explained to us. “These days, it’s the opposite. Americans flee to Canada not to fight.”

A tall man with sandy blond hair, M. Munstal was a Californian who had married an Italian and spoke both languages perfectly.

“Let me ask your opinion on something,” Richard asked him as we pulled up on our bikes. “My cousin died in the war in France. I found his grave in Épinal. Then I found another grave with the exact same name and a date of death only six months later. I asked the superintendant if it could possibly have been a mistake and he answered: ‘With all due respect, the U.S. military doesn’t make mistakes.’”

“That’s bullshit,” Mr. Munstal answered. “Sorry to use that language, but mistakes like that happen all the time.”

He offered to help Richard look through the military database, and was able to confirm that there were in fact two different William L Balentine Jrs. – both from South Carolina, both sergeants, and both in the army air core (in WW2, the air force was not independent).  Richard’s cousin was in fact buried, as believed, in Épinal. Apparently, the army doesn’t make mistakes after all.

We had a long chat with Mr. Munstal in a conversation that went in 100 different directions, from Obama’s new support for technological advancements at the Battlefield Monuments Commission to Mussolini to respect for religion in the military (At this cemetery, graves of Christians were marked by a cross, those of Jews, by a star of David. Back then, those were the only two “accepted” religions. Nowadays, there is a crescent for Muslims too). I asked about Italian guilt over WW2. He said that in fact, Italians were frequent visitors to the cemetery, and very respectful.

When we finally dragged ourselves away from the cemetery, we found ourselves, unexpectedly, in mountainous territory. We stopped for a late lunch at Mama Rosa Trattoria, and then continued through beautiful countryside similar to that of France’s Provence region. Of course, beautiful countryside usually means hills, and that’s what we got: rolling hills all afternoon. Richard likes them because they keep you breathing, but not for too long a period at a time. But I can’t stand them. You climb, you fall, you climb, you fall. I’d rather climb one big mountain and sail down the other side, then pedal up and down endlessly. Every time the road dipped down, we thought the mountain was over, but it would just climb back up again.

We found the camping in Bambarino closed just as the sun prepared to sleep. So we settled on crashing in the nearby town of Poggibonsi – ha! – and got the second cheapest hotel we could find (still a whopping 70 euros). It said it had free internet, but as it turned out the computer had no keyboard. When it comes to internet, and specifically wireless, Italy functions at about the level of a third-world country.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Being with someone 24/7 is a challenge, and today Richard and I spent the day apart for the first time on our trip. As it turns out, we did many of the same things.

We both marveled at Florence’s 14th century masterpiece of a cathedral (by the way, the word comes from the Latin cathedra, which means seat or chair – reference to the seat of the bishop). Much of its architecture is octagonal – in Christian symbolism, the octagon alludes to eternity, we learned, evoking the 8^th day in which mean are born and die; the day without sunset; the day of the risen Christ.




We also both ate bistecca alla Fiorentina, a specialty of the region: a t-bone served huge and bloody. I ate at a trattoria called Mario, near the central market. It was a busy, cozy place with an open kitchen and communal tables. You have to squeeze yourself past people to get to your seat, and once you get there, you can’t really move. The tables were full of boisterous tourists, drunken Italians and all-together interesting-looking people. But just my luck, I was seated next to a young Japanese man who spoke so little English, he had me type words into a mini-computer to have them translated.

Richard checked out one of the most famous galleries of the world, the Uffizi, home to collections from Botticelli, Michelangelo and da Vinci. Meanwhile I strolled through the city’s streets, falling upon a mosaic workshop that keeps alive a 400-year-old Florentine art form, that uses semi-precious stones from around the world to make pieces so detailed they look like paintings.

It was a well-needed break, but when we reunited late afternoon, we were both eager for each other’s company.  “It’s not fun discovering a city without you,” Richard said. I felt the same.

We met Keith Polo, an old colleague of Richard’s who lives just outside Florence, for dinner, and had a great night tasting Tuscan salamis, gnocchi made of ground chestnut flour and wild boar.

His five-year-old daughter carried around a book of churches and monuments as if it was her favorite doll, pointing to the  Basilica of Santa Croce and comparing it to the drawing in her book, noting the artist’s inaccuracies. A kid growing up in Italy sure does get a more artistic upbringing.

When the history of Italy arose in conversation (the country wasn’t unified into what we now call Italy until 1861), Richard was shocked to hear a less than rave review of his hero, Giuseppe Garibaldi, the people’s knight who fought to free Italy from the leaders of its various principalities and unite it under one banner.

“You know, Garibaldi did a disservice to this country,” said Donata, Keith’s partner, matter of factly. “Some countries, like Sudan (she too has worked there), are not meant to be united. The south and north of Italy have nothing in common.” 

Italy – like Sudan? Hmmm…

Friday, November 13, 2009

Distance traveled today: 90 km
Total trip distance: 1961 km
Max speed: 38.9 km/ hour
Average speed: 18.3 km / hour
Max and minimum altitude: 101 m / 13 m (overcast probably made the barometric pressure lower than usual)
Altitude gain throughout the day: 77 m
Total time biking: 4:54
Total days biking: 35
Spending: 61.90 euros

We saw no blue skies when we left Pisa’s cheap Helvita hotel this morning. Surrounded by dark clouds everywhere, we were sure it would pour down on us at some point. We waited for it all day, but miraculously, all we got was some soft, spitting rain. And as Richard says, if you have the right gear, it doesn’t bother you at all. With our booties, gators, neck warmers, hats and new gloves, we were in high spirits, despite the rain.

We stopped for coffee in the piazza-centered town of Cascina, where a fruit and vegetable seller watched, intrigued, as I tried for the first time to fit my booties over my shoes – not an easy process, which eventually resulted in four hands and awkward Twister positions with my legs before we could get them on. They were too big and fully completed my alien look.

After Cascina, we got off the superstrada and traveled along a smaller, prettier road, but most of the day was in relative traffic nonetheless.

We got lost looking for a specific road to Lastra (through Manmantile), and ended up coming across a lonely restaurant on the side of the otherwise empty road. “Heavy bike,” a chef on a cigarette break commented as we wheeled them into the restaurant. After 65km, we were ready for a break. We walked into Bar Collo, booties and all, apparently looking a bit disheveled. “Toilette?” the first woman we saw said, pointing to the bathrooms.

We each had a huge plate of pasta and coffee before heading to the counter to pay. Nico, the owner’s brother, started up a conversation, which inevitably led to: “Would you care for a lemon liqueur?”

Richard made the ‘Why Not?’ face that he so often makes when he is offered irresistible booze, cheese or prosciutto. The chef and owner, Ado, came out too, and within minutes, every person in the bar was being offered a shot. We stood huddled together cheersing before shooting down the popular Italian digestif.

Before we knew it, Ado was giving us his address, insisting we send him a postcard from Canada when we arrive. Crouched down under the counter, he asked: “How big is your suitcase when you go home?” Then, out came a bottle of sweet Italian wine, or vino santo, which he also insisted we do not drink until we get to Canada (a promise I don’t think we will be able to keep).

After a half litre of wine and the liqueur, Richard was happy to see the white line guiding him on the side of the street. Pedaling the rest of the way nearly drunk, he was noticeably slower than he had been earlier in the day. But the usual burn that accompanies the second post-lunch start didn’t exist today (thanks to the liqueur?) and we were in Florence in no time.

The most beautiful Italian city we’ve seen yet, Florence is markedly different with its rustic Renaissance buildings and its huge historic centre.

Our afternoon with the Italians had already made the day good, but our discovery that there was an open campsite in town on Mount Michelangelo across the river made it even better. Next to Piazzale Michelangelo with a replica of the sculptor’s ‘David’, the campsite provided a great view overlooking the town.  Out of curiosity, Richard asked if they had bungalows for rent. The receptionist told him there were tents with beds that we could rent, for 4 euros more than it would cost to pitch our own tent (gotta love special prices for cyclists).

Beds in a relatively warm tent with space to leave our bikes securely the next day while we explored Florence. It was the icing on the cake.Richard was pretty excited:

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Distance traveled today: 53.63 km
Total trip distance: 1867 km
Max speed: 54.4 km/ hour
Average speed: 16.3 km / hour
Max and minimum altitude: 240 m / 13 m
Altitude gain throughout the day: 170 m
Total time biking: 3:17
Total days biking: 34
Spending: 136 euros

We headed out early today, and pedaled about 30 km over one mountain to the nearby fortified city of Lucca. Its walls are so wide, you can pedal, walk or jog on them! The town’s main attracted is an oval-shaped plaza, its perimeter lined with curved-wall houses and shops. (But beware the prices here. Three cappuccinos were 9 euros).

From Lucca, we headed off to the infamous town of Pisa. We were following the signs to the tourist office down a narrow street, when all of a sudden, the leaning tower emerged from behind the buildings. You hear about this tower your whole life, and to see it in real life is just so climactic! It really does lean. I never knew why until now.

After building the first part of it in 1173, the foundation underneath gave way and the building began sloping. A second architect completed the rest of the tower in an effort to correct the slope, and so the tower is actually crooked. Despite the correction, the tower continued to lean dangerously, and the Italian government feared it might topple. So in the 1990s, they pulled it back from the 5.5 degree lean it had to the 3.9 degree lean it held in 1838 (some lean had to remain, of course, to keep the tourists around).

This is me holding the tower up:

 

And Richard pushing it back into place:

 

We went out for a nice, typical Tuscan dinner: I had ravioli with a creamy chestnut sauce and huge mushrooms, along with a Tuscan soup (a hearty thing – beans, vegetables, bread, etc – and usually boiled twice over) and Richard had pasta with salmon and asparagus with tagliata as a second course: thin slices of steak with arugula and slices of parmesan.

Pisa is actually a nice town, over and above the tower. Its cathedral, or duomo, and baptistery are impressive and it has a beautiful river running through it.

Off to Florence tomorrow!

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Distance traveled today: 64.94 km
Total trip distance: 1812 km
Max speed: 50.3 km/ hour
Average speed: 18.1 km / hour
Max and minimum altitude: 437 m / 76 m
Altitude gain throughout the day: 242 m
Total time biking: 3:35
Total days biking: 33
Spending: 54 euros

Karen, you’d be proud. Last night, I prepared a breakfast casserole (with a little variation of ingredients based on Italian availability), and we had a hearty meal this morning before tackling the mountain to get out of town.

The whole village is on a mountain, so literally as soon as you step out of the apartment or hotel room you’re in, you find yourself on the side of a hill. A 16% grade to be exact. That made for an interesting start to the day, but nothing like some good climbs to help you digest eggs, bread, milk, cheese and sausage. Augostino, the owner of some nearby apartments for rent called La Dolce Vita (120 Via Colombo in Riamaggiore / 0187 760 044 / agonatal@interfree.it) gave me a push to get me going, but I still ended up walking my bike up most of the 200 metres or so. Richard, of course, was already at the top.

After the steep exit from town, we climbed for just under 4 km to get to the main road to La Spezzia. After the second tunnel, we sailed downhill the rest of the way to La Spezzia, which turned out to be a much larger and nicer town than we had imagined.

We stopped at a McDonald’s to use internet before covering some 50km of ugly, industrial coastline, which then morphed into cheap sea-side resorts and generously-starred hotels. We were lucky to find an open campsite in Lido di Camaiore, and even luckier to find a friendly owner, who gave us free t-shirts (“for advertising in America”).

Camping inside the city, for the first time in a long time, we walked over to the nearby McDonald’s for more internet – only to find it didn’t have any. What happened next, you ask? We had McDonald’s for dinner anyway of course. (my doing, not Richard's).