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France: Photos and Video February 18, 2009 · No Comments Here is a video as well as a few photographs of the ride through France. Click herefor the text that goes with these! I am now in Laigueglia, Italy, on my way to Genoa, and things are looking up! The coast is beautiful, I have never seen so many cyclists, and I just rode about fifteen miles of the best bike path that I have ever seen, going east out of San Remo. Wide, great pavement, water fountains, huge lighted tunnels, amazing. Now, the coast of France (and a little bit of Spain):

On the road E from Barcelona. These are moments when I feel good, having made it out of a city and onto open road. I am moving again and the scenery looks good. Either in a city, or moving. Escaping from a city is always sort of like purgatory, fraught with thick traffic, billboards, low energy, confusing navigation, etc.

Costa Brava, NE of Barcelona. I turned on "sepia" mode because I could not get the colors to look right.

One of these things escaped from Spain and into France. He was looking a bit lean and hagared once had made it to this point.

One of my first photos in France. A small beach near Cerbere, France. It was a cold, drizzly day, and there was a person on the beach fishing off to the left, who does not appear in the photo.

A drawbridge in Arles, as it appeared to Vincent Van Gogh in the late 1800s when he painted it. The bridge is now called the "Van Gogh Bridge" and is a major tourist attraction.

The Van Gogh Bridge as it appeared when I went to visit in 2009, looking a bit more ominous.Arles.

Marseille.

Campsite near St Tropez.

Hikaru, a Japanese touring cyclist who was passing through Monte Carlo on his way to Portugal. His tour began in China, passed through southern Asia, India, Central Asia, and then through Eastern Europe before we crossed paths.

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France - the Words February 17, 2009 · 1 Comment

Here is the story of France, pictures to come soon. My laptop battery is almost dead, so the photos will be up as soon as I can charge the battery and find more WiFi!

It feels as though I made my way through France quickly. The only places where I stopped for more than a day to go sight seeing were Arles and Marseille. I passed through Perpignan, Montpelier, Cannes, Nice, and Monte Carlo without laying over. I passed up opportunities to go to Toulouse, Paris, Nimes, Lyon, Orleans, etc. I did not travel in France, but rather I just made my way through it to get to the next phase, whatever that turns out to be. It can be tricky here, to strike a balance between pushing inspiration and telling things the way they are. Hopefully some of you will find the following story inspirational in the sense that, even though there can be some low points during a long journey, that low points do not change the fact that you still want to continue the journey.
The past several days have been interesting. Certainly the most lonely of the tour. I have found myself for days on end feeling a bit depleted in terms of energy, and a bit low on morale. I think that it is just because I am so alone out here. After having a random encounter with a man who seemed to be having trouble with his bicycle, and who, later turned out to be just fine - at least in terms of bicycle issues - I realized that the encounter had been my first long conversation with a person in several days. I also realized that I felt quite a bit better for it. He was stopped with grocery bags hanging from his handle bars, his bicycle leaning against a bus stop shelter about 30 miles west of St Tropez. Whenever I see someone standing next to a bike, I habitually ask them if all is well as I ride by. This time, my query turned into a long, long conversation because this guy was drunk. At first I thought, “Just let me get on the road.” But then I thought, “You know what? A little conversation can be a good thing…even if it is with a drunk guy with dirty clothes. I am a sober guy with dirty clothes, and my French gets better with every minute this goes on, as does my outlook…” It started drizzling, and the road pulled me east, but I stayed a bit longer, a bit longer still. After twenty minutes or so, I said goodbye after what was a happy encounter. Now I will remember him for the rest of my life. I think that his name was Jonah, although through my poor French, through his accent and slurred speech, it was tough to be sure.
It has been a bit interesting too, because loneliness is not a challenge that I expected to face on this journey. Of course I expected to deal with it, but not for it to be challenging per se. I have traveled a lot, it feels like, doing this kind of stuff, but now it feels different. I had the sense that the traveling on this ride would be easy. That the challenges would come only from seeking publicity, working out logistics, getting visas, fund raising, etc. Now I realize that the travel itself is a bit challenging too. Which is, I guess what I am looking for. People will often ask, “Don’t you wish you were traveling with someone?” Well of course, but not so badly that I would give up the tour. That is, to me, one of the most spectacular parts of bicycle touring - or any kind of travel, really - if you allow it to be so. The freedom to load your panniers, put them on your bicycle, and to start riding. In any direction, at any time. There comes a point when you realize that you do not need to find someone to go with you, but that you can just go. It is wonderful. It does have its drawbacks, of course. For me, I only began to experience them after four months though. And I believe that it was a conspiracy of various circumstances that led to feeling down: I got a cold, I felt like a cheap bastard in France, and for whatever reason, I went for several days without talking to anyone. This, conceivably, could have happened during the first four days as well. For me it just happened after four months. And it is easy enough to avoid, even when you are traveling alone. Now, enough on loneliness, here is a little bit of the story of France.
I found myself looking at beautiful - spectacular - cliffs, blue lagoons, and incredible highway which ran all along the coast. Everywhere you might want to stop there was a café, or a bar, or a vineyard if you went a little further inland. Only I couldn’t stop, because of the nature of the tour. Looking out at the sea, I saw boats of various kinds: in the morning, between 7:30 and 9:30, tiny fishing boats with 2 man crews, roaming around through the orange mist, pulling fish out of small coves. At mid day, I saw power boats motoring up and down the beaches, in the afternoon, and small sailboats racing against each other as I passed through the towns and cities. I saw sailboats of various sizes at all times of day. They stood out particularly at night when I saw lights flashing at bow and stern, making them clearly visible in the harbors. These were small sailboats - 30 and 40 foot boats - at anchor in the middle of their cruises. The bicycle tourists of the ocean. Only with a lot more money. The harbor between St Tropez and St Maxime seemed to be the nexus of sailing activity along the Mediterranean coast of France from my point of view on the bike.
I am glad that I took a few days to see Arles. It was a peaceful, beautiful place. I saw the Amphitheater there, as well as the Cryptoporticos: vast underground structures which the Romans built to hold up the Forum, a tiny part of which is still visible above ground. I also saw the Van Gogh Bridge, a draw bridge which Van Gogh painted in the late 1800s, coincidentally located a couple hundred yards from my campsite. The highlight of my time there was Cinema. I saw three movies, all great experiences. I constantly feel starved for movies, and since my arrival in Europe have only seen six or seven. For me, this is not very many.
When I entered the famous cities of the French Riviera - Cannes, Nice, Monte Carlo (not actually in France) - they would have been spectacular if I had not come from a bicycle tour which had already involved thousands of kilometers along the Mediterranean. Seeing super yachts in front of ice rinks in front of hotels there just made me want to push, hard, for Italy, in order to see something different. Just as I was packing up my Casino brand lunch meats and bread that I had been eating, I spotted another bicycle tourist riding through the Plaza. I waved him over excitedly. Perhaps Monte Carlo wasn’t all bad.
It turns out that the tourist had been riding from China, on his way west to Portugal. Very similar to the reverse of my route, although he had gone through the central Asian countries of Kazakhstan, Kyrghistan, and Uzbekhistan. My tour does not have those countries on the itinerary. At least not presently. His name was Hikaru, and he was from Japan. He had a Blue Trek 7.3FX bicycle with Deuter and Mont Bell panniers as well as stickers of the flags from all of the countries he had visited stuck to his frame, all done very artistically. In the map case on his handlebar bag he had what looked like crossword puzzles, small comic pictures, and perhaps number puzzles. He also had a map, of Italy, inside the handlebar bag, out of sight. I gave him my map of France before we parted ways, as Monte Carlo is right at the border of Italy, but not before recording some video footage, and not before we shared a few stories of our adventures. It was a great encounter, and it always makes me happy to know that there are other bicycle tourists out there.
I am now writing from a campground just across the border en route to San Remo. Truth be told, I would love to break free from the coast for an inland route. There is only so much spectacular coastline that I can take! I fear that an inland route might freeze me solid once again as was the case in Spain. So I stick to the coast for the time being until the time comes when I must choose, which will come very soon. All of my gear seems to be holding up fairly well, and I am constantly wonder about which pieces of gear will make it all the way around, which pieces will get replaced, etc. The panniers seem to be in a constant state of repair, although I am optimistic that soon they will finally start to just hold up. The drive train is beginning to wear out, although I think that I will just let it go until the whole thing needs to be replaced. The bike now has a pair of $10 plastic pedals on it because one of the Egg Beaters fell apart. The cost was 10 Euros for the $10 pedals, and it also cost the left crank arm - a brand new Ultegra arm at the start of the tour - half of its threads as I watched an Italian mechanic with a USAF jacket force a pedal halfway in when it was cross threaded. Fortunately I stopped him there and saved the remaining threads. It will probably need a helicoil at some point soon. I watched him do some other horrible things to the bike too. It was a painful experience. I rolled the dice on a shop full of Huffies and paid the price. I cannot write any more about it. And I cannot answer questions, so please do not ask, just imagine.
So, for those of you who are feeling a bit down after this somewhat negative update, I say: suck it up. Positive updates will be back again soon. I am in Italy now, and am excited, once again, to see what a new country has to offer. What’s more, I speak no Italian. This should be exciting. If it weren’t, what would I be doing out here?

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Barcelona February 8, 2009 · No Comments

Sometimes I will ask myself, as I start an update (i.e. right now) what might mix things up? What might make it fresh? Different? Exciting? The answer, at least for me, at least this time, is Barcelona.

La Pedrera

I spent five days there. Long enough to get bored. But I didn’t. I had some regular experiences to be sure: I got a haircut, I changed money, I asked for directions, I went to a bike shop to fix my bike, I checked into a hostel. However, in Barcelona, every experience felt a little bit more energized. As I got a haircut I watched tourists make connections with locals, and when I asked for directions people might speak to me in Catalan instead of Spanish. And I was often genuinely lost, not just a little bit lost. Well…maybe not genuinely lost, but quite lost. On two occasions I asked police officers for directions, and they pulled out Barcelona city maps, which are about the size of a postcard, with three or four hundred pages inside, each page a blow up map of a small neighborhood. The streets are that complicated. When I asked an officer and his partner how to find Calle Terrol, his response was, “Oh *&%$, we were just looking for that…” It turned out that we were three blocks away.
So, in a sense, it also has the feeling that everyone is in the craziness together. I arrived in town feeling relaxed with the approach that I would take however long it would take to post an update to the website and to take care of whatever errands needed taking care of: fix the bike, return emails, etc. I still had nights free to go out with new friends from the Barcelona Mar Hostel. We went out to a couple of the more touristy bars near the hostel, and we also met a few Canadians who were studying in Barcelona for a few months through their university. Our small group from the hostel, which coincidentally also included two Canadians from Montreal, wound up hanging out with the other Canadians on a couple of occasions. During my first day, I felt a bit like I was missing everything because my only experiences were either working with my tiny computer in the hostel or hanging out with other travelers. But then it dawned on me that perhaps this is a huge part of what Barcelona is: a city of travelers and people from different parts of the world. It also dawned on me, very quickly, that as long as you are surrounded by great people, that it really does not matter where they are from: enjoy it while it lasts.

The great people (just visible at the bottom of the photo...this was actually taken standing just below a small apartment).

I met a fascinating bunch at the hostel. A journalist who grew up in various parts of the world, a theater director from Mexico, a guitarist from Brazil, two explorers from Montreal taking time off before the next phase of school. This small group became, for a short time, friends. Just as quickly, the group evaporated, each of us moving in different directions. Customarily, email addresses were exchanged, none of us really knowing what kind of communication to expect. For me, it is great to know that there are more people out there who share the story. That is what I like most about the exchange of contact info between travelers: they are links between people who understood, if only for a little while, each other’s stories. And occasionally, people will stay in touch regularly for 30 years.
Before we all went our separate ways, I enjoyed some great experiences with friends at the hostel. Wandering around the streets of Barcelona at night, winding and narrow, with beautiful lights. Meeting other travelers and hearing their stories at different bars in town, and celebrating Australia Day at one such place. We also made our way into a couple of slower, more-local places (if any place in Barcelona can be considered local) on side streets with fewer people. One of them, a bar called 68, had empty gasoline cans and cannibalized circuit boards in use as part of a super-cheap but super-cool lighting system, whose overall theme was the color red. Barcelona has the feeling that wherever you look there is another bar, club, pub, restaurant, discotheque, etc., that cannot be passed up.
Another night, we skipped going to the bars in favor of climbing Cerro Juic (Juic Hill) to get a view of the city. On our way up the series of ramps and staircases leading to the broad summit, we passed a pair of people smoking crack, then a couple of people making out. Up top, we saw dozens of groups out jogging, all of them wearing high tech clothing and running shoes. It was a great mix, although none of us commented on it at the time because it just feels so normal in Barcelona. On Las Ramblas, a series of busy streets that make up the heart of Barcelona, dealers will sell you beer for a Euro at most times of day, and offer you cocaine when you get close enough to hear them whisper. Prostitutes will sell you their bodies at all times of day. This is something that, upon arrival, feels like, “wow!” but within a day, it is just another part of the city. None of it dangerous, none of it threatening, just another part of life. So I spent my nights with friends from the hostel, wandering around, finding places to have a drink, and just taking in what I could. I tried to experience what I could of Barcelona night life during my time there, and it was cool. Really cool. That was just my experience at night, however. Daytime in Barcelona is equally vibrant, for different reasons.
After I clicked “Publish Post” to upload “Valencia and the Dream,” I was ready, at last, to see the city at large. My first target was La Sagrada Familia. It is interesting in the sense that this Cathedral is, without a doubt, the most famous building in Barcelona. I had a tourist map to get me there, glanced at it quickly, saw “Cathedral,” hopped on my bike, and then arrived at the original Cathedral, thinking initially, when I saw a crane towering above it, that it must be Sagrada Familia. But no, this was the old Cathedral, and not Sagrada Familia. If I had to guess, I would say that there were about 150 tourists there to see the Cathedral, compared with roughly ten times that to see Sagrada Familia. The old Cathedral is a phenomenal building as well: massive, tall, huge, etc. I took a quick look around the outside, and then decided not to go inside when I learned that the price of admission was 5 Euros. I wondered how many people had come here by mistake, said to their friends or to themselves, “Oops, not Sagrada Familia. Let’s roll.” I was one such person, so I took off.

Barcelona's original Cathedral. Watch out - this is not Sagrada Familia.

After a quick ride over to Gaudi’s work in progress, I saw what is, surely, the most insane building I have seen in my life. I did not count them, but there were roughly six cranes at various elevations, none of them in operation, lurking above, within, and around Sagrada Familia. It was either a lack of funding or an excess of wind that kept the cranes still that day, I am not sure which. Or perhaps it was just a day off for the construction workers. They have a different system of scheduling their work days and hours in Europe, which I have mostly, but not entirely, figured out. I paid the admission fee to get in, paid another fee to get the audio guide - they asked for some kind of document as collateral for the guide, but would not accept my bike helmet. So, I put on the headphones, under my helmet, slung my handlebar bag over my shoulder (it converts into a shoulder bag!) and began my work as a tourist. And I looked like a tourist! I found myself surprised by how tiring it can be to walk around sightseeing. But I got ‘r done.

La Sagrada Familia

I learned that Gaudi did not make detailed sketches, but rather that his system of design is based almost entirely on scale models, in plaster, of his buildings. So, in the bowels of Sagrada Familia, and visible to the public, is a huge plaster workshop where you can watch technicians creating models, or essentially plans of each upcoming phase of construction. Occasionally they will actually use the workshop to produce pieces to be used in the construction process in this workshop. Remarkable.

Sculptures on the outside of the building, made by another architect (not Gaudi).

Also, I learned that Gaudi would make frequent trips to the Hospital Santa Cruz to make casts of the faces of recently-deceased patients so that he could use them in sculptures for the outside of the Cathedral. Gaudi, who died in 1926, spent the last 12 years of his life working exclusively on Sagrada Familia, getting his plans written down and into the minds of younger architects so that the project would get finished, eventually.
Eventually is definitely the operative word here. Construction is slowed by a couple of factors. 1)The plaster process is a bit cumbersome, apparently. 2) Funding comes entirely from private donations. Depending on who you ask, the system of donations is either a great thing or a travesty. Some people want the government of Spain to simply pour money onto the project until it is done.
The building itself is absolutely wonderful. Columns shoot high overhead before forking, forking again, and then blasting apart altogether into a sort of a star burst pattern. The impression, for me, of all of these patterns was that it looked like war zone overhead. After reading about Gaudi’s influences, it was easy for me to see that the patterns overhead could look, perhaps, like the canopy of a forest. However, when I first walked in, my only thought was, “whoa.” The outside of the Cathedral is adorned with sculptures of all kinds: fruits, vegetables, knights, Jesus being crucified. It is all so incredibly dramatic that I could not keep from smiling. And staring. This place makes an impression, and I wish that it were done. But at the same time, it was great to see it in progress, and it made me happy to see that stuff like this still happens. Or at least, it still happens in Barcelona.

Ceiling of Sagrada Familia.

I saw a couple of other sights while I was in town: Gaudi’s La Pedrera, one of the piers in town, and, of course, Cerro Juic. But, before I knew it, five days had passed, and I had already extended my stay at the hostel twice. It was time to move on.
For now though, I am happy to have found Barcelona, which has become one of my favorite cities. Right now I am in Arles, getting out to see Roman ruins, Catholic Churches, and also a bridge that Van Gogh painted in the 1800s (late 1800s), which is just a short distance from my campsite. Tomorrow I get back on the road on my way to Marseilles.

Stephen

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One More Randonneur February 2, 2009 · No Comments

Today’s post is not about Seize The World at all, but rather, it is about a tour that has just begun from Barcelona to Lisbon, and about the people who make bicycle touring possible. While I was staying at the Barcelona Mar Hostel in Barcelona, I met a traveler there, Vitor, who was moving around the world by plane, train, etc. and traveling with his guitar. In other words, he entered the hostel as a tourist and left as a bicycle tourist. After some conversations about Seize The World, and after taking a look at the website, Vitor decided to buy a bicycle and panniers from a sporting goods store, and go on tour himself. Vitor was at a point in his travels where an encounter with any person on a bicycle tour would have likely tipped him over the edge, but it was somehow an honor to be that person.
It was remarkable to witness, over the course of the five days I was in Barcelona, the excitement as it began to build. He can be a sort of a quiet, pensive person at times - other times just the opposite - and he would ask a question about cycling, and then he would get the look in his eyes. The look that he was thinking about how everything would go into action, how things would play out on the road. It was exciting to see. He had thought about traveling by bicycle before, but had not, until hearing about Seize The World, and reading the website, quite known where to start. Now he has that start, and he is on his way to Lisbon.
I told him, while I was at the hostel, the night before he bought the bike, that the most difficult part of the entire tour would be tomorrow - the day he had to go to purchase his bicycle, his panniers, and his tent. That if he made it past that day, that he would surely be going on a bicycle tour.

candid photograph of Vitor's bike (background) and my bike locked up in the laundry room of the hostel, pre-departure. Hopefully, as Vitor travels along, he will update with more pics!

It does not matter if he makes it all the way to Lisbon, or if he has crazy mishaps along the way, or if he takes buses for certain segments. He will have experienced traveling on a loaded bike, he will have known what the distances between the larger cities are like, how big they are, what you find in between those cities. Cool. He will actually feel what it is like simply to get on a bike that has a load on it - something that few cyclists, even those who ride their entire lives, ever experience.
I will look back on that conversion Vitor into bicycle tourist - temporary or one time though it may have been - and likely attribute it to the magic of Barcelona. A place where anything can happen. I felt during my entire time there that I could wake up and go to China - in a way I did, I suppose - or if I wanted to, I could do anything that I thought of. Vitor really did do that. He arrived holding a guitar and left pedaling a bike. Even though I felt that vibrance while I was in Barcelona, I did not truly allow it to take me the way that Vitor did. I did not, for example, leave town by train holding a guitar, with a new destination in mind. Because to me, freedom is beautiful, but experiencing it within the context of a bicycle tour seems to be about the best way to have it. Somehow it makes me really happy to know that there is another bicyclist out there, touring, even if he is going in almost exactly the opposite direction.
On the topic of touring, I would like to take a moment to write about an organization in San Diego which has been very supportive of Seize The World during the past month. They are called the San Diego Randonneurs, and, as you might have guessed, they are based in San Diego, California. The Randonneurs are an organization based on, in their words, “Adventure and Camaraderie of Long Distance Cycling.” Bringing people together who enjoy riding bikes. For a long, long ways. What has been such a pleasant surprise for me is the generosity that they have shown for a randonneur so far from San Diego. As any long distance cyclist knows, adventure and camaraderie are difficult to avoid when cycling over a great distance, and I seem to have found camaraderie with the San Diego Randonneurs. You will find, on the site, maps and route descriptions, of rides and races that have been established in California if you feel inclined to repeat. However, my favorite part of the site is the “Reports” section, in which members write about their own tours, races, and rides. Pay them a visit, register for a Fleche if you are up for the challenge, and most importantly to them, I am sure, just get out there like Vitor, and try some Randonneuring yourself!

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Tagged: active lifestyles, being active with epilepsy, bicycle epilepsy, Bicycle Touring, Bicycle Touring Europe, bike epilepsy, Cycling Europe, cycling with epilepsy, Epilepsy Cycling, seize the world, seize the world foundation, seize the world foundation inc., Spain Bicycle Touring, Spain Touring, stw, stwf, Touring Epilepsy

A Touring Store?? Are You Kidding? January 28, 2009 · No Comments

A week ago, I sent an email to a shop called Bike Tech in Barcelona to ask if they had a few replacement parts for my Ortlieb panniers, which were given to me by a friend in Telluride, Juju, the day of my departure. The answer, from Koos, the Dutch owner of Bike Tech, was yes. Parts were in stock. So, after a harrowing journey to get there - most journeys along city streets here are harrowing for me - I arrived at the shop to replace some parts that were breaking on my panniers. After half an hour, I had assembled a small pile of Ortlieb equipment which I decided to purchase in order to make life easier - dry bag, map case, replacement hooks and rails for the panniers in case they failed catastrophically. It seemed like a good investment to make while I was in an Ortlieb store - who knows when I will find another one?
Koos did not ring me up for these parts. I was ready to pay, he said no, and I suddenly found myself saying thank you, a bit dumbfounded at the unexpected contribution. Koos replied to my thanks with a simple, “This is what we do here.” Meaning that Bike Tech is a touring shop. And I was a tourist coming through. Incredible. Koos and Jeroem, who also came from Holland to work at Bike Tech, were interested in hearing all about Seize The World, the systems we are using to fundraise, publicize, and sustain the project. Although I had the feeling that the support they were giving was more simple. . . When a touring bike rolls into Bike Tech, it is a bit different. That is not to say that Koos and Jeroem were not two of the most interested people with whom I have spoken about STWF. But I think you get the idea. Their store supports tourists around the world it seems, Biciclown is one such example, though I am sure that there have been many, many more during the years.
So, the bike I am using for this tour now has a Bike Tech sticker on it. My friend Kenneth from Bicycle Bob’s might say that the bike now has its Mojo. Or he might say, “&$%(# Bike Tech!” Tough to say with Kenneth… At any rate, I would put Bicycle Bob’s stickers on the bike as well. If I had them.

Jeroem was kind enough to give the bike a quick tune!

To give a bit of history with the bicycle, gathering parts began at Bicycle Village in Boulder, Colorado, where managers were generous with their help in finding parts. Assembly occurred later at Telluride Sports, in Telluride, CO where managers there were also very helpful with finding parts. The bicycle was complete in time for the Mountains to the Desert Ride. The theme throughout the assembly was thrift, for our success, especially at early stages, depends as much on thrift as it does on successful fund raising. That is why it has mismatched shifters, a rear hood cover on the front shifter, cranks and handlebars that were taken from a different bicycle with a damaged frame, etc. The bike cost roughly $600.

This is what the sticker looks like that is now on my frame.

Returning to Barcelona, my experience at Bike Tech was immediately comfortable, like walking into your home shop. “This is my shop,” kind of feeling. Then to begin talking to people, and to have them remember the email, I sent, to have them be excited to learn about the tour… Perfect. Parts donations in that kind of situation are just a bonus. A very generous bonus to be sure. However, it is the conversation and the atmosphere that makes a shop your shop. I am just happy that I found this place. After 2 hours of riding around asking police officers and pedestrians for directions. At any rate, I look forward to keeping in touch with them, and will try to keep the Bike Tech sticker - which is stuck to the seat tube of my bike - intact as long as possible during this journey. When the chain needs to be lubed, or a barrel adjuster turned, I will be boxing my bicycle, shipping it to Bike Tech for service, and waiting for it to be shipped back. Whenever it happens. No matter the cost.

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Tagged: Active Epilepsy, Alforjas España, Barcelona Bicycle Tour, Bici Barcelona, Bici España, Bicicletas Barcelona, Biciclown, Bike Tech, Epilepsy, international bicycle touring, Ortlieb España, Ortlieb Spain, Spain Bicycle Tour, sports epilepsy, Touring Shop Spain, Touring With Epilepsy, Tur España

Valencia and the Dream January 25, 2009 · 1 Comment

Valencia, Spain

I spent four days in Valencia, and for those four days I was living there. I arrived with goals in mind: fill a prescription, update the website, get phase two of STWF publicity underway. Between time spent seeing beautiful sights, hunkered over my computer, and running errands, I felt as though Valencia was a home away from home. Or perhaps I feel as though the road is now my home. Valencia just happened to be the point along the road where I happened to be at the time when several different things needed to get done at the same time. I have now reached the point where I will arrive at a city - always a great, beautiful city - and I no longer feel rushed to see the sights. I will arrive, and usually spend time working on STWF and running errands for a day or two before I go to see a Cathedral. It is an new, interesting, and welcome feeling.

At last, my bike has (almost) reached the Mediterranean. Looking back, maybe I should have gone all the way to the water, put both wheels in, and pointed the bike east or something. I don't know?

The prescription was the only task in Valencia that would really force me to stay put, and it did keep me for an extra two days, but who am I to complain? It was time spent exploring and seeing a new place. It was also time spent in the cyber café of the Purple Nest Hostel, reaping the benefits of internet access. You have hopefully noticed a couple of changes to the website. It is now possible to navigate to the various pages of the site by clicking the links to the right of this post. Also, there is a miniature map that displays many of the places I have visited. There is also a box that displays a few of the recent comments that people have made on the site.
My experiences in Valencia, and at the Purple Nest, aside from website work, were really fun. They brought me into contact with various travelers. I met Lily, an English student who arrived the day after I did at the front end of a 6-month study abroad program. I also had a conversation with the bar tender at the hostel, whose name I never learned, about his experiences traveling in Africa, South America and Europe. In a hostel, I am just one more traveler, and similarly the people around me are so many more travelers. I like to find out about the context in which other people are making their journeys: vacation, study, or traveling as their way of life.
In Lily’s case, she was studying in Valencia for six months as part of a requirement for her university in England where she is a language student. The day she arrived in Valencia, she had only recently finished a four month stay on Reunion Island, a small French holding in the Indian Ocean, where she had completed the French component of her studies abroad. Her stories of Reunion Island were interesting, as were stories of her parents and grand parents continuing their travels into middle and later years of life. We talked about how it will be important to continue traveling, ourselves, even when we are older. Hopefully I will find ways to swing it. I am sure that I will.

Benicassim, Spain.

The bar tender on the other hand, pursued his travels in the classic style that seems so clean to me: work for two years, travel for two years. He managed it even more successfully by working in places in Africa where it was no problem for him to find jobs as a French citizen. This idea, work then travel, is simple and pure, although the reality is often not terribly appealing when you are not traveling. That said, it seems that often the most compelling stories are written about travelers who use the system. A person works construction for a year, eating only Ramen, and then that person puts up a first ascent on a new route on some 7,000-meter peak in Pakistan that previously nobody had heard of until they climbed it and got written up in Alpinist. It is romance to be sure, but for me it is painful to operate within such a reality. That is part of how Seize The World came about, in fact. My need to find a way to work while traveling. Or to work while dreaming. Put simply, be productive while exploring.

You probably have a dream too, whether it is travel, or to be an athlete, or to go shopping every day, or to go scuba diving, or simply to go for a hike with friends. In my case, the dream is travel. The important thing is to find a way to live the dream. You may have epilepsy too. That is another hurdle to overcome. Just like money, time, and distance are hurdles to be overcome when traveling. The key is to be inspired to find solutions. Once you realize - or decide - what your dream is, the hard part is over. It is not likely that you will have the dream, as was the case with someone like Howard Hughes and the construction of the Spruce Goose, or with Alexander the Great and the creation of an Empire, but you will start somewhere. Bear in mind that Howard Hughes had to make a long series of decisions which led to the creation of TWA, to the construction of a successful business empire, and to the construction of the Spruce Goose. He may not have benefitted from an all powerful dream either. Very few people do.

Leonardo DiCaprio as Howard Hughes in The Aviator. That is (unfortunately) not a model of the Spruce Goose.

The Spruce Goose.

However, I believe that Howard Hughes certainly had small, reasonable dreams - goals - that he chose for himself: mergers, airplanes to build, people to hire. These are the kinds of small dreams, if not necessarily building the Spruce Goose, or establishing a monstrous business empire, that might be important to quality of life. They are also the kinds of dreams that depend upon motivation and a series of decisions without which they can very easily unravel. If you don’t have a dream, maybe you can figure one out.

The challenge for me has always been to choose the dream. Pursuing it is easy. And epilepsy certainly does not have to prevent you from creating it or from living it. Neither, for that matter, does anything else. If you know what your dream is, and if you know what is holding you back, then you are all set. Because at that point you no longer have a just a dream, you also have a mission: overcome the obstacles in your path, and live your dream. Now, stepping off of my soap box, I find myself still in Valencia, Spain.
During my forays into the city while I was in Valencia I did not go out a single time without getting lost. I was in the old part of the city, with narrow cobbled streets and frequent changes in direction. I have a very bad sense of direction by any standard, and staying oriented was a hopeless task. I found myself spending 30 minutes to cover distances of about two city blocks. Or rather, the distance should have been that of two city blocks from point A to point B; I took routes which involved various circles, spirals, twists and back and forth detours that lengthened each excursion by many, many blocks. Or miles. Of course, I probably could have been a bit more diligent with the map in order to avoid such floundering, but when I am not under time pressure, I usually cannot be bothered to read maps. On my first excursion into Valencia, I went to visit the Cathedral, which is in La Plaza de la Reina. A short ten minute walk from the Purple Nest, or in my case a forty minute bike ride.
The Cathedral was the most impressive church that I have seen so far in Europe. It was the most simple as well, lacking the size of the Cathedral of Seville and the complexity of the Mosque in Cordoba. It has white, vaulted ceilings that are well-lit. The layout consists of one primary corridor and two secondary corridors with a large dome at the end of the primary corridor, and smaller domes along the secondary corridors. On the afternoon that I saw it, there were about five or ten tourists there. Although it is smaller than the other two Cathedrals that I have seen on this journey, it is still massive. For a building of its size, it felt empty. This made the experience, well, an experience.

Valencia Cathedral

Ceiling of Valencia's cathedral.

I remember having the Lonely Planet guidebook to Chile, and going down the list, one by one, checking off churches, museums, and monuments as I visited them in Santiago. Seeing the Cathedral in Valencia reminded me of a visit that I made to a church that was about fifteenth on the list in the Santiago Guidebook. I rounded up another exchange student, we went to check it out, the priest said, “Well, I suppose I could let you in and just show you around a little bit if that is all you’re interested in…” Clearly nobody had come for a visit in quite awhile, and we were not there for mass. This made for a great experience, talking for about ten minutes with the priest about the building and its history, all of which I have since forgotten. However, the encounter and the visual experience will remain in my memory forever. By contrast, Valencia’s Cathedral had the full infrastructure of tourism set up: audio guides, admission prices, reception desk. None of this prevented it from being a spectacular building: quiet, bright, open, and empty. I left feeling calm, and unlocked my bike to ride around a little bit more in Valencia. It is an exciting place to ride.
As I rode around Valencia, lost most of the time, and as fast as I could most of the time to keep up with cars, I experienced new noise, new crowds, different bumpy streets, and new bright lights. Although there are not bike lanes per se, there are lanes that are reserved for Taxis and EMTs, which get a lot of use from Buses, bicycles, motor scooters, police, and, of course, Taxis and EMTs. I rode around in these lanes a lot when I was on the bigger streets. A nice thing for me is to ride around in cities when my panniers are stashed in a hostel, because for those short periods of time, my bike is light, and I can feel like just another person on a bike. These are the times I have talked about when I can pretend that I am a bicycle messenger. Or something. Also, despite the general lack of bike lanes, there is a fabulous bike superhighway in Valencia, in the Turia Gardens, which I believe follows the original route of the river, and is now full of gardens, soccer fields, etc. There is also at least one bike path that runs from the old city to the beach, and there is a good path that runs along the beach. So if you know your way around, Valencia can be safe on a bike. If not, it can be exciting.
At one end of the Turia Gardens, you will also find the Ciudad de Artes y Ciencias - The City of Arts and Sciences. This is a massive complex which includes Valencia’s Opera house, Museum of Natural History, Aquarium, and, my personal favorite, l’Hemisferic, a spherical IMAX theater. Much of the architecture of the Ciudad was designed by the architect Santiago Calatrava, and I cannot decide if it is either incredibly relaxing or incredibly stressful to wander around and look at the buildings. A bit of both perhaps. Like swallowing a few Benadrylls at 2a.m. to catch some sleep for a 7a.m. final right before you remember that you have a 20-page paper due after the final in your 10a.m. class. At which point you brew a full pot of coffee to offset the Benadryll and you start frantically working, trying to produce, to caffeinate, and to work before fatigue, and drugs kick in, and you fail out of college.

Museu de Artes y Ciencies. Valencia. Santiago Calatrava.

My feeling looking at the buildings in Valencia was similar. On the one had they are huge, clean, and brilliantly white. On the other hand, they are brilliantly white, and built with sharp angles at nearly every opportunity, and they have shapes and angles which sometimes look alien. Lines and angles are mixtures of sharp and curved, with the exception of the Opera House, which is all curves, but which also looks like the Nautilus. And that makes me think about giant squids and electricity. Yikes.
I spent an entire day at La Ciudad de Artes y Ciencias, not wanting to feel rushed at any juncture during my visit. The Aquarium was deeply satisfying, (heh) as I had the opportunity to walk through a tunnel of tropical fish and through another tunnel of sharks. Ever since I passed up an opportunity to see the Monterey Bay Aquarium on a bicycle tour in California, I have felt a pang of regret whenever I think about tubes of sharks. Until now.
After taking in all that I could stomach of the aquarium, I went over to the Museum of Natural History to walk around, push buttons, see lasers, and look at comic book characters. Then, as the sun was setting, I made the short walk over to L’Hemisferic, which has to be the world’s classiest IMAX theater. If not, I would like to see the step up. L’Hemisferic is hot… It is hemispherical in shape, as you might imagine, both outside and in. As I entered, I saw the Opera House behind it, which is also hemispherical in shape, only much larger. Like a monstrous opera house preying on a friendly IMAX theater. Both buildings are behind a massive, light blue reflecting pool which separates them from the Museum of Natural History.

L'Hemisferic in front of the Opera House in Valencia.

Before reading this paragraph, you should know that I love movies…that is part of why IMAX was so exciting for me and why you are getting such a full treatment here. At the entrance to L’Hemisferic, there is a short flight of stairs, an espresso bar, and a small selection of posters for current attractions. I was there to see The Mystery of the Nile - price of admission included in my day pass to La Ciudad de Artes y Ciencias. They scan your ticket with a boarding pass type machine. With no fanfare, you walk past the projector, which is protected by a giant, spherical piece of glass. A technician - projectionist? - dressed in fleece and blue jeans, was pushing some buttons as the projector, which said IMAX, began to move up out of sight, the film stretching from somewhere down out of sight up to the projector. I was filming all of this on my video camera, in classic style, in hopes that perhaps one day my footage would be stretching up to that projector, when the woman who scanned my ticket informed me that recording was prohibited. Oops. I put my camera away and made my way sheepishly up to my seat, gazing out at the screen, which looks like a gigantic planetarium. I put on the headset that every Hemisfiric goer was given: touch the green button once for Spanish, twice for French, three times for English. The woman who told me that recording was prohibited made rounds of the theater during the film to distribute new headsets as their batteries died. Mystery of the Nile was a good movie - about running the Blue Nile in inflatable rafts from source to sea, and passing many interesting places, including the Great Pyramids, along the route. I left La Ciudad de Artes y Ciencias feeling like a tired child leaving Disney Land.
The following day, day three in Valencia, I woke up and went immediately to the pharmacy - again. I was check the status. No dice…I left them with a phone number and headed out to see the Museum of Fine Arts, which is free. This museum has a couple of paintings by Goya, as well as countless paintings of Jesus Christ being crucified. The paintings were made mostly between the 15th and 19th centuries. It is a very thorough collection, though I am no expert. I noticed that, throughout the collection, every single painting that I saw, has people in it. There are a few paintings upstairs that show landscapes, but even they show farmers. It made me wonder about what will be shown in museums of 20th and 21st century art. What will be the focus? Surely not portraits. Surely not Jesus being crucified. Open space perhaps? Photographs of people? It was a thought in passing, and nothing original to be sure, but something many people wonder about, and this was the first time that I wondered about it.

This is how it looked as I rode past the Torres Serranos and into Valencia in 2009.

This is how it looked when Cristo del Salvador floated past the Torres Serranos and into Valencia in the late 1600s. Painting by Vicente Salvador Gomez.

The following morning I went to the Pharmacy and bought seizure medication at long last. I won’t tell the story here because it is a bit tedious. Suffice to say that rigamarole relating to medicine is something to be dealt with for most people in life, and for people dealing with epilepsy, of course, it is a very regular part of life. Sometimes it controls your life, most of the time you just have full bottles of medicine. At any rate, when I have negative experiences with pharmacies, it provides so much more motivation to succeed with Seize The World: perhaps our contribution will, in some way, lead to some people being freed, at least a bit, from that system.
I have now arrived in Barcelona. The ride here was easy by comparison with my move to Valencia: warm riding, few climbs, a long descent on the outskirts of Barcelona, and some nice encounters with people. Challenges were mostly with navigation as I neared the city, and I am considering riding to a point to the north or south of the next major city along my route and then taking a train into downtown in order to avoid the mess of navigation and sometimes sketchy riding that is often involved in the outskirts of major cities. Then, when I leave, I could take a train to the point where I left off, and continue the ride. Time will tell how the system evolves.
Another sense in which the system is ever-changing is gear. Things get broken, lost, damaged, used up, worn out, or replaced because I think of a better way to use a certain piece of gear. In Seville I replaced a sleeping pad that had a hole in it with a cheap foam pad. in Cordoba I found a shop that sold Therma Rest Pads and replaced the foam pad. I also purchased a new rack in Cordoba; the one that started the trip broke. In Puertollano I purchased patches and tubes, in Benicassim I got a new water bottle to replace one that was forgotten in Valencia. In Barcelona I have repaired my panniers and gotten an Ortlieb dry bag to add more storage space over the back wheel, and to relieve some stress from the panniers. I find most of these stores with Google Maps. At first I operated on the premise that word of mouth would be the best way to find specialized stores in huge cities. No - Google Maps is the best way to find specialized stores in huge cities. Sometimes when I make errors, I will say, impulsively to myself, “I am learning.” I take comfort in the fact that I do not say it as often as I used to. I am learning.
Many of these experiences, in which I seek out bicycle stores or camping stores to replace gear, are energizing in the sense that they put me into contact with people who understand the journey. Owners of bike shops and mountaineering stores understand the nature of the journey in a somewhat refreshing way. From the perspective of having gone on similar trips before. On the flip side, it can also be remarkably energizing to discuss the journey with someone who rarely rides a bicycle, although it is often a different kind of energy. In the end, every encounter is different, and if people are good it doesn’t matter if they understand the cycling perspective or the travel perspective. However, when they do, it is great.

In the case of gear shops, they have been, almost without exception, bright spots along my tour. Places both to replace gear and to find people who understand what I am doing. I need to mention a few of them here because they have made small, unsolicited contributions to Seize The World. After learning about what we were doing, they threw some essential pieces of equipment my way to help to keep the bike rolling, the tent working, etc. This is a huge boost both for my equipment and for my morale. If you repeat one of the segments of this tour, pay these shops a visit, or check out their web sites for info on local riding or adventure! You will find good people there.
Córdoba, Spain: Alùa, Tienda de Montaña. Mountaineering store and adventure tourism company in Córdoba. C/Miguel Benzo 16 957 450 491 (www.Alùa.es)

Puertollano, Spain: RUTA, (Bikes and Accesories) Calle Muelle 8 926 41 28 38

Benicássim, Spain: Rodamón, (“The World on Wheels”) Avenida Castelló #15. 964 30 20 96 (www.Rodamon.eu)

Soon, I will head out into Barcelona to explore the sites, to take pictures, and post another update to show what Barcelona looks like through my eyes. Or rather, through the eye of my camera. The tour continues. STWF continues to operate both here in Spain and in the United States where the directors of STWF as well as our other volunteers are sending our stories to epilepsy organizations and to travel publications around the nation. Seize The World is our dream.

Plaza de España, Barcelona. One of the first views as I rode into the city at night.

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Valencia DOWN! January 15, 2009 · 2 Comments

At long last, Valencia has surrendered and I find myself safe and secure in a downtown hostel writing another Seize The World update. I have spent one night and one day in the city, and Valencia makes an impression, both day and night.

The (approximate) route for the past twelve days.

The Purple Nest Hostel. There is also a Red Nest Hostel a few blocks away. In case you were interested...

This is sort of like a lot of the places where I stayed during the past several days on the way to Valencia… Play one of your favorite songs before starting this video because it has no sound. Something by Rammstein perhaps?

My goal with every update is to provide context to the journey. The most important, and constant context of this journey is that of Seize The World: global bicycle tour to promote our two primary goals. With regard to promoting those two goals, we are about to begin the next phase of work on publicity. This will involve the directors of STWF working to promote adventure-based stories and photographs among newspapers and epilepsy organizations within the United States. It will also involve my working to generate interest for STWF in Europe, which has already begun to a small degree with epilepsy organizations in Spain and Europe at large. Furthermore, it will involve side projects from other friends and people who I meet along the way - for example Don Mitchell posted flyers to promote STWF within the town of Telluride to keep the story alive, my parents work continually to generate connections with relevant people and organizations, and there are friends who have been made along the way who continue to provide helpful contacts and advice. Some of the connections that have been provided by my friends Keith, Murry, and Gordon in Little Rock, AR, have proved to be invaluable in terms of triggering our pursuit of relationships within the epilepsy community. Today, my friend Mike, who lives near Pell City, AL, called my on my cell phone to let me know about a news lead in Birmingham, AL, and it is amazing to hear from friends who I met along the way, who have continued to have interest in the story.
We are still waiting to see what comes of inquiries that have been sent out to organizations such as the International League Against Epilepsy and the Epilepsy Foundation of America. Hopefully they prove fruitful. In the meantime, we will pursue relationships with other relevant organizations and people. In terms of our own publicity efforts, those of you who have followed STW from the beginning will remember the dogmatic pursuit of slide show dates and venues in the U.S.A. We have broken from that approach in Europe to pursue a different plan which will allow us to reach a larger audience. This plan will go into motion before I leave Valencia, as soon as stories and photographs of the journey can be organized for submission to the publications and organizations which appeal to us, and to which we will appeal as well. I continue to meet people every day who are excited about what we are doing, and who tell me about relatives and friends with epilepsy who need to hear the story of STW. This is why we are working hard to publicize the story. Soon, I believe that we will crack the shell of publicity. It is just a matter of time, creativity, and hard work. We have all of those things at our disposal.
Returning to the idea of context, it is important for me to link the events, people, places, plants, animals, and other things that I encounter during each ride between updates into some kind of meaningful context. The journey from Cordoba to Valencia could be viewed in many ways. Dedicated readers will remember that the last text update was posted from Fuencaliente, a town East of Cordoba. However, the story of this segment, to me, is the story of the ride from Cordoba to Valencia. This is because, mentally, I give myself way-points or targets to aim for as I move east: Charleston was one such way-point, Lisbon another, Cordoba another, Valencia another. Unexpectedly, Cordoba also became such a way-point in the journey. From Cordoba, I spent twelve days riding toward Valencia - that is to say that each morning I would wake up and think, “Okay, time to start moving toward Valencia, where it is warm.” Looking back on this journey twenty years from now, it is conceivable that I might look at some of these segments as stand-alone tours and that I might return to repeat parts of this journey. It is also my hope that there might be a cyclist or two out there who might read these updates that I have written and decide to repeat a segment that I have ridden as its own stand-alone tour. That is one concept of context that I have during this ride: manageable, meaningful segments.
One could look at the context of the journey from Cordoba in one sense as a freezing cold tour of Spain’s olive production country. Alternatively, one could look at it as a frigid tour of of Spain’s various forms of electrical power production facilities - wind, solar, petroleum, nuclear. Or, if one chose to look at it another way, the past twelve days could be seen as simply a constant struggle to stay warm during which I was able to take some pictures and talk with a few people along the way. There are a few other ideas that I can come up with, but none of them would be without the theme of cold. How would I put the ride into context? I would say that it was a combination of all of those things, and I would add that I had the opportunity to meet a few incredible people along the way. I might also add that constant forward motion is a theme, because no matter who I meet, or what I see along the way, I am always thinking about the experience in the context of my continuing journey east.

Wind Power. Near Villanueva de los Infantes.

Petrochemical facility. Puertollano.

Nuclear Power plant. Cofrentes.

Solar Power. Valencia. Taken from Biodisol.com. (I saw many such arrays along my ride, and did not take photos of any of them, so I used this picture instead)

I began the journey out of Cordoba as the sun was setting on January 2nd after celebrating the New Year. The bike bounced along Cordoba’s cobbled streets, past the Mesquita, or the Mosque, Cordoba’s Cathedral, and then turned left at the Puente Romano - The Roman Bridge. The Bridge and the Mosque both bring the word fortification to mind. It has been continually amazing to me as I ride through Spain to see, visually, what looks like a history of war in the architecture of buildings and in the lay out of towns. Castles and churches on top of hills, surrounded by towns, surrounded by walls.

Cofrentes, Spain.

With thoughts of war on my mind, I made my way east through Cordoba’s network of round abouts and onto the Autovilla, essentially interstate highway, which would take me out of town. This, of course, is not an ideal place for a cyclist, and especially not at night. After a mile or so of sketchy riding, I found myself at a gas station where I took advantage of the car wash, which was a do-it-yourself powerwash kind of operation. I dropped a 1 Euro coin into the machine and in return, I got 6 minutes of high pressure, high heat, spray. This was the fast, dirty alternative to taking my bike into a shop and having the drive train cleaned, which likely would have cost around 30 Euros.

Super clean after being power washed.

Soon a conversation started with the owner of the gas station, Ángel, who upon hearing my plan to ride east of the city in search of a campsite, loaded my bike in his van, and drove me a few miles out of town. I will never turn down an offer for a ride out of an urban area at night, especially one with which I am not familiar. The ride lowered the risk level a bit, provided some good conversation, and got me very close to decent camping. A successful encounter. Ángel told me a bit about his experience traveling in Egypt, which was interesting to hear. The following morning, I awoke, and was once again on tour, having made it away from the Hostel in Cordoba and back to the open road. The wet, muddy, open road.

Campsite outside Albacete, Spain. I went to a double feature there: I saw The Spirit, and Pride and Glory. good times...

During the following days, my experience varied between different degrees of coldness, wetness, and snowiness as I made my way east. There were sporadic, and sacred moments of sunshine and warmth, which I thoroughly appreciated. There was also some fairly substantial climbing and descending along the route, which was really nice, and made for good activity. I had one night of camping along the way, close to the town of Villanueva de los Infantes, that was just barely comfortable because of the cold. When, the following night, it was even colder as my odometer clicked past the 40-mile mark - my daily goal - I made the decision to stay at a Hostal

.

What are these things? There are fields and fields and fields of them all over southern Spain... (the scrubby tree, not the dirty glove)

The decision was a good one both at the time and in retrospect. I certainly could have hacked it in the tent that night, but it was actually good to be able to plug in all of my various electronic devices - computer for two hours, then Nintendo DS for two hours, then video camera battery for five hours, then wake up to an alarm to unplug the camera and swap it out for the digital still camera battery for another two hours, which brought me just about up to departure time. I only have one adapter for plugging things into Spanish outlets, so it is always a bit of a juggling act to charge my devices… I also enjoyed drying off wet clothing, warming up thoroughly, and starting out early in the morning. I appreciate the most basic things on this trip, which is nice. That day, I rode from Villanueva - site of the Hostal - to Albacete. A distance of about 70 miles. My body was grateful for the reprieve from the cold. It is amazing what a difference it makes to start warm.
The cold did not stop after that, however, and I continued to ride and to camp during a few more days and nights of uncomfortable conditions. At this point in the story, there must be a few of you who are thinking, “Seriously…just suck it up!” So it is important to point out as well that even when riding and camping is cold, that there are parts of the experience that are very enjoyable, and that it is not all bad. There were times while riding along that I might be the only form of traffic along a small back road for several minutes. That is a long time. It could be amazingly peaceful. I would stop for a bit to windmill my arms, centrifuging blood to my fingers, which makes my hands feel like they are about to explode with heat. I would do the same with my feet, although with my feet I cannot do the full windmill, of course, skip tracks on my iPod perhaps to listen to something by the Editors, pull up the hood on my down jacket, and continue for another twenty minutes of motivated excitement in the knowledge that the coast was getting closer, and that there - on the coast - it would be warmer. I will be the first to admit that I am a fair weather rider. I draw some of satisfaction from commuting by bicycle in adverse conditions, and it is fun to ride for short stretches in rain and snow, but I am not the kind of rider who will often be found - until now - on the road, day after day, in cold, rainy, snowy, conditions. And it is really nice to have reached Valencia, where the temperature is, once again, moderate.

That about sums up the adversity that Valencia put in my path… I have written in previous updates about the idea that destinations provide challenges along the routes which lead me there. Valencia was such a destination, and it is somehow more satisfying to arrive after riding for twelve days in uncomfortable conditions than it might have been to arrive under less-challenging circumstances. Looking back on the ride into town, which ended only yesterday, it felt great. To make it even better, I met, during the final day of the tour to Valencia, a man named Vicente, who stopped when he saw me approaching Valencia last night to make sure that everything was okay.

A sort of a secret, rugged, beautiful region of Spain called Cortes de Pallas. I got lost there for most of a day due to a combination of factors. . . map not good enough, sense of direction not good enough, sense not good enough, etc...in the end I am happy because I got to see that much more spectacular country. e.g. I would not have seen this vista if I had been on the right road.

My bike in night mode. This photo was shot about ten seconds before Vicente walked up and asked if I needed assistance.

Just as I will never turn down a ride out of an urban area, I will also never turn down an easy opportunity to avoid riding into an urban area at night. After a quick conversation on the shoulder of the road which connects Montserrat with Valencia, Vicente told me that I would be welcome to stay in the guest bedroom of his house. Along the way, I have had opportunities to make many such quick decisions, and I am very glad that in the case of Vicente I accepted the offer to stay at his house. We loaded my bike into the trunk of his car, and I quickly learned that he is also a touring cyclist, having done many tours throughout Spain, and having traveled in other places as well such as Norway and Canada. I also learned that he was on his way to the gym, where there are jacuzzis, steam rooms, and saunas. Things could not have been better from my point of view. Vicente asked if I wanted to lift weights, use spinning machines etc. I was pretty much just interested in jacuzzis and saunas. I spent a full hour relaxing before we returned home for paella, wine, mandarins, and hours of conversation about travel and adventure, and viewing photographs of various journeys on laptops. When I bid Vicente farewell, I finished my ride into Valencia already feeling welcome in this city where I don’t actually know anyone at all.

omg!

Now I find myself in the Purple Nest Hostel, sitting at one of six computers that they have set up in their cyber café. The Nest is a giant, brightly painted hostel geared to handle Valencia’s backpacker tourism in the height of summer, and staying here now, at the height of winter, is a bit strange. There are only a few guests. However, for my purposes, it is a very efficient place to be in the sense that I can write, upload photographs, do laundry, and otherwise do all of the STW things that require a city.

Sign in Montserrat. Does this mean that there is an intense traffic of bikes or an intense traffic of cars? Or both? At least it gave me something to think about as I rode along.

My work-related and errand-related goals for Valencia are several - initiate phase two of publicity for STWF, which will require several hours of work, finish this update, which also requires hours of work, refill a prescription for seizure medication - I have no idea what is required to do that in Spain - replace a water bottle on the bike, repair one of my panniers, which has a fairly large hole that is tearing open, repair several small holes in the tent (or at least buy a needle and thread), and download language software to learn Hindi. It will be nice to finally be able to talk to my computer during lonely evenings in the tent. Even if it is in a language that I don’t understand. That is what is going on with STW. I will be in Valencia at least for two nights, and I look forward to seeing what this city has to offer. It is the largest port city in Spain, and my first impressions = very busy streets, exciting riding, beautiful buildings and people. Like all of the other cities I have seen so far in those senses I suppose, but. . . different. The photographs in the next update will, hopefully give you an improved sense. Keep checking back, and thanks for reading.

Stephen

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Photo Update - Seville to Cordoba and Points Beyond January 6, 2009 · 1 Comment These are photographs which document the time I spent in Seville as well as the ride from Seville through Córdoba and on to Puertollano, Spain which is where I am now creating this update.I apologize for breaking up the photos from the text - I always like to put them up together, but the most important thing to me with updates is to continuously put some kind of new material onto seizetheworld.com. There is not always time at each internet connection point to put up both text and photos…you get the idea. Here are the pictures. Enjoy!

La Mesquita, Cordoba, Spain

Patricia and Me standing on the floor of the Amphitheater at Italica.

Patricia and Isidro, my Sevillian hosts.

This is kind of what it looks like when I take all of these pictures. This picture was taken by Olivia...

inside La Mesquita, Cordoba, Spain

Photograph of Italica taken by Olivia, daughter of Patricia and Isidro.

One of Spain’s famous black pigs. Jamón is big business here. For 48 Euros, you can buy the leg from a similar animal at a supermarket; for 17 Euros you could (and we did) buy a few slices of such an animal at a small café in Córdoba; for no charge, I ate delicious slices of ham with olive oil and toast every morning that I spent in Seville with Patricia and Isidro. This is a common breakfast in Spain. The animals themselves are easily startled. But they soon return...

Nice Descent from Puerto de Niefla.

Two locals head toward the centro urbano of Fuencaliente, Spain - a city of perhaps 1500. In every town or city that I have ridden through, there are signs for things such as churches, urban centers, local hotels, etc. Street signs are a bit more difficult to encounter (usually found painted on the sides of buildings) and navigation is based on riding through round-abouts and picking destinations. Sometimes I make two laps of a round-about when I am having a difficult time choosing...

The door of the Albuergue where I stayed in Fuencaliente - sort of a hostel funded by the church and by the government.

Building outside Puertollano, Spain.

La Torre Giralda, Seville, SpainEl Catedral, Seville, Spain

Archivo de las Indias, Seville, Spain

Sevici bicycles - free to use for anyone! At least for the first 30 minutes.

Ready to ride! I checked out Seville on one of these bikes for a day. Thanks go out to my friend Raul for lending me his Sevici Card.

→ 1 CommentCategories: Spain
Tagged: active lifestyles, being active with epilepsy, bicycle epilepsy, Bicycle Touring, Bicycle Touring Europe, bike epilepsy, cycling with epilepsy, Epilepsy Cycling, South Carolina touring, Spain Bicycle Touring, Spain Touring, Spanish Touring, sports epilepsy, Touring Epilepsy

Seville to Cordoba and Points Beyond January 4, 2009 · 3 Comments

***Photographs for this section to come soon, check back in the next day or two***
The ride is moving along once again, and it feels really good to be riding, camping, listening to my iPod, and otherwise doing the things that are involved in moving from place to place. It is a cold, rainy night in Cordoba, Spain as I type this update from my hostel room, and the weather has been sort of drizzly, rainy, and chilly for the past week while riding from Seville to here, and while in Seville. Seville was wonderful. It was very fulfilling to take time to see one of the great cities here, and to meet some of the people who live there. The story of Seville will be told below through photographs that I took around the city - of the Cathedral, of the Archivo de las Indias, a building used to display documents, paintings, and artifacts relating to Spain’s history of empire in the East and West Indies, and of other things such as Seville’s public bicycle system. What is on my mind now, is the idea of the pace at which things move - this trip, other travelers, the peoples’ lives who I meet along the way. One thing that is nearly impossible to miss while traveling is scenery, but something that might be a bit more difficult to appreciate is pace. It has been very interesting to me to see the different speeds at which everything out here moves.
Cordoba is a three-day ride at my pace, or an hour and a half train ride, or a forty minute fast train ride, which is also an option, or perhaps an hour’s drive from Seville. It all depends on the way you travel. The fast train costs 29 Euros, the regular train costs 8 Euros (The receptionist at the hostel here wrote the departure times for each train down on a piece of scratch paper - “Rapido: 13:25. Lento: 13:45″ “Slow: 1:25p.m. Fast: 1:45p.m.” I almost took one of the trains back to Seville to retrieve a video camera which, after various delays relating to stocking and customs issues, has finally arrived. Now, through the help of a family friend who will be arriving by train to Cordoba tomorrow, the camera will be in my hands tomorrow assuming all goes well.
The trains that move between Cordoba and Seville are trains that I saw passing me in both directions during the entire three days that I spent making it here from Seville, rolling along silently until they were almost upon me at which point they were anything but silent, sucking electrical power from overhead cables, making noise occasionally with horns. There were moments when I thought to myself, “Wow, I must be an idiot riding a bicycle right next to this beautiful electric train set . . .” There were other times when I had a smile on my face for long stretches, pedaling in the drops, as I rode through drizzling rain listening to The Shins, and I knew that there was nobody on the passing trains who was enjoying their experience as much as I was enjoying mine. I felt the sensation of speed much more, at 12,13,15,18,25Mph than they did at 140Mph or however fast the fast train goes. Although for me, the happiness that comes from pedaling hard is more from a sensation of moving, and getting somewhere than it is from speed. Although I will never be one to deny that it feels good to ride fast down a hill for its own sake.
All of these issues relating to pace are things that interest me and occupy my thoughts as I ride. The pace of travel. I sometimes find it interesting how quickly people can shift between different paces of life. I consider backpacking to be an example of a slower pace of life, whereas living in a downtown area and traveling regularly by car, bus, etc. to be a faster pace of life. On this tour, I find myself, generally, living at a slower pace, made necessary of course by the speed of the bicycle, which forces me to take in many of the things around me that I might miss - or simply choose to pass up - if I were in a car. It is also a personal choice to live at this speed, but even without the bike, this is about the pace at which I would choose to move, and very close to the amount of time I would choose to remain in each place. The bike also allows me to get away from a given place pretty fast if I want to. e.g. one could get through the entire state of Colorado in just a few days on a bike…or less. This usually winds up coming in handy on a smaller scale in situations where it is late in the day when I am in a city and in need of a place to stay - it is easy to just hop on the bike, get to the edge of town where there are trees, and pitch the tent. It has not yet come in handy for a place the size of the state of Colorado, fortunately. This pace feels very natural to me. The interesting part, however, is the changing nature of the pace of this tour.
Cars fly by, their occupants might notice me for a second, think, “oh, a bike,” and then move on to considering, fleetingly, all of the other things that rush by as they move along at 60Mph. Another interesting aspect of a bicycle tour that might distinguish it from other forms of travel is that the pace of movement is ever-changing. In Seville, I found myself in the back seats of cars looking at bicycles as we rushed by, and thinking, fleetingly, “oh, a bike…” In Lisbon, I was on a ferry, looking at the waves move by as we crossed the bay from Lisbon to Almada. In Charleston, SC, the pace changed from hard riding days on the bike to the speed of walking around in airports and sitting in airplanes that fly quite a bit faster than bikes roll. In this way, touring by bicycle along the Seize The World Route involves an ever-changing pace which is in many ways just as interesting as the ever-changing scenery. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of pace that I encounter regularly are varying paces of human life. I experience, even if for only a minute, or five, or a day, or a week, from each person that I meet, the pace at which they live their lives. During that minute, or five minutes, or day, or week, I allow myself to the extent that I can, to live at the pace of the person with whom I am interacting in order to see what it is like.
At the Richland Bar in Greensboro, Georgia, the pace is probably slower than I would choose to live myself, but that does not mean that what happens there is not amazing. People go there each day, talk for hours, move to start a fire, have a bowl of chili, and the conversation goes on. As the night goes on someone might play a game of pool. Then afterward, things move back to the fire, conversation goes on, and people know each other. As Patrick, one of the people who works there said, it is just, people growing together.
By contrast, the pace of life in a hostel - the one where I stayed in Cordoba, for example - might be a bit fast for my taste. I heard excited conversations about whether Seville is worth two days or three - or just one, and then a day trip to Cadiz perhaps? They reminded me so much about when I was reading my first Lonely Planet book - the guide to Chile - and about wanting to see every single place in the book.
Cordoba, and the Hospederia Duque San Martin, was an incredible place to spend the New Year. I made quick friends with neighbors who lived two floors below me - the Duque San Martin is a tall, windy, narrow hostel. Anna, Zion, You-Lee, and others. Together we saw a thoroughly satisfying celebration in the central plaza of Cordoba - Plaza de las Tendillas. We each ate twelve grapes, for good luck during each of the coming twelve months. We drank Champagne - too much champagne. Here it is called Cava. This New Year’s Eve I feel as though I had extreme good fortune in meeting the people whom I met in Cordoba. They were the perfect people with whom to spend New Year’s Eve on the road. Young, enthusiastic about travel, from all over the world, and practically bouncing off the walls with excitement about where their travels (mostly by train) would take them next.
Now I am typing with very cold fingers in the plaza of a tiny town called Fuencaliente, facing down the Plaza’s dominant piece of artwork: a bronze sculpture of an elk, a pig, what looks like a pronghorn (but surely is something else), and what looks like a gazelle (but again, is surely a different, Spanish animal). Hunting is a major part of life in the smaller towns out in this part of Spain - gunfire is common - in fact I can’t go for more than five minutes it seems without hearing gunshots in the hills. This statue commemorates that. Well, it is 7p.m. and time for me to go get dinner - I am to meet a contact who has lined up a place for me to stay at the local church and I don’t want to be late. Thanks for reading, and check back soon for the photo component of this update.

→ 3 CommentsCategories: Spain
Tagged: Bicycle Touring, Bicycle touring in spain, Cycling, cycling with epilepsy, Epilepsy, international bicycle touring

Beja to Seville December 23, 2008 · 1 Comment

The Route of This Segment

After five days of riding, I have completed the journey from Beja Portugal to Seville, Spain. The ride to Seville was wonderful. I encountered more interesting people, saw some beautiful scenery, and had the opportunity to recover more from my seizure to the point that I can now say that I am once again healthy. During the journey to Seville, I camped or otherwise stayed in the towns of Serpa, Aroche, Las Pajanosas. I also spent one night camped along the side of the road, not really close to any town in particular, before arriving in Las Pajanosas.

On the road to Seville. All of these numbers, of course, are now in Km...rejoice!

I saw these birds near Rosal de la Frontera, Spain. One nest per power tower. Remarkable.

Serpa involved camping at the local Parque de Campismo, or essent9ially an RV park which also allows tent camping. I was sort of excited to try this out, because the Parque de Campismo in Serpa is located just outside of town - in other words, the only thing that separates it from an entire street full of houses, people walking around, street lights, cars driving by, etc. is a chain link fence with three rows of barbed wire on top of it. For some reason the barbed wire is overhanging inward - as though at any moment the town of Serpa may feel inclined to close the gates of the Parque de Campismo and quarantine its inhabitants - just in case. I took my chances, paid the Euro3.50 admission to get in, and pitched my tent right next to the fence so that I could say hi to pedestrians, hear people coughing in houses across the street, and otherwise enjoy an urban camping experience which is fairly rare in my travels. My tent was underneath one of two large red brick archways which sheltered it entirely from the rain which began at about 3a.m. - it sounded very faint on the bricks overhead. I felt cozy in the tent.

Interesting lighting on the ride toward Aroche.

Aroche was the only place along the road to Seville where I did not camp. Instead, I stayed with two brothers, Celestino and Antonio, one of whom I met outside the local grocery store. Celestino was happy to offer me a place to stay in their tiny three story apartment. “Tiny” and “3 story” sound as though they are at odds with each other, but if you saw the apartment, you would understand what I mean. In Aroche, where everything is built on remarkably steep inclines, and where cobble stone streets are as steep as the most sketchy ski runs I’ve ever descended, it is not uncommon to see situations like this. People built upward rather than outward. The apartment shared by Celestino and Antonio is a humble place, just wide enough on the first floor to accommodate a queen size bed shared by the two brothers, big enough on the second floor (which has no lighting, and is completely dark at all times of day) to accommodate a dining room table, and big enough on the third floor to accommodate a tiny attic. I did not visit the attic.

This is how Aroche looked when I arrived at 5:30p.m. or so.

A truck rolling around town in Aroche.

My experience in Aroche was incredible. I had crossed the border into Spain earlier that day, and then taken the turn off for Aroche at around 6p.m that evening as things were getting dark. As you have probably gathered by now, Aroche is steep everywhere, and this characteristic of its nature defines existence there: it makes rooms small, engines loud, people nervous (or me at least - I think that it has an effect on everyone though). Aroche is about 2 kilometers from the main highway which connects Seville with Portugal - that’s my perspective of the world at this point anyway - so I decided to climb the 1.5Km and see what Aroche had to offer. I saw businesses tucked into little niches on these streets, a hardened populace wandering and driving around through them, and a spectacular sunset going on as I arrived. As I travel around I kind of have the continuing point of view that not many things are going to surprise me, and typically my expectation holds true even as I go to new places - people usually act as I expect them to and cities usually look as I expect them to. However, Aroche was a surprise. I couldn’t believe where I was standing as I walked its streets. 20 and perhaps 25 degree cobble stone streets that cars and pedestrians were struggling to navigate, stores with fully stocked shelves selling everything you might need to live, brightly lit bars selling beer, wine and cigarettes overflowing with people on this Friday night, filled with either laughter or hecklers depending the scene, school children walking past talking about their grades, and all of it normal in a way.

Downtown Aroche, Spain.

When I see a particularly unique or impressive place, it gets logged in my brain along with other unique places - among them Torres Del Paine, my home mountains, the Wind River Range - and I wonder if Aroche will be among those places? Difficult to say. But I felt some of the excitement in Aroche that I have not felt since experiencing the Winds or Torres Del Paine for the first time, which was exciting. Only time will tell how much of an impression it really left, but at the moment I arrived I saw something new and different, which was great.
After a cup of coffee and a pastry with Celestino and Antonio the following morning, I was once again on my way, on the road to Seville.
The riding between the small towns along highway N-433 (I believe that is the name of the highway that runs east/west from the Portuguese border toward Seville) is wonderful. There are too many small towns to count, each with beautiful red tile roofs and great small coffee shops which double as beer parlors, and each with an abundant supply of goats, pigs, chickens, and cattle outside and within the town limits - always denoted by easy to read signs. When entering a town or a city in Portugal or Spain, there is almost always a sign, with white background and black lettering, displaying the town’s name; when leaving the town, there is a similar sign, the only difference being that there is a diagonal red line running through the name of the town, similar to a no-smoking sign.

Campsite at a random spot along highway N-433. See if you can spot 2 lights, a can of dinner, a SPOT device, a saddle bag, 2 panniers, and a bike helmet in the photo. Just kidding. No - seriously. I'm kidding. But really...

Campsite just outside Las Pajanosas, Spain.

As I neared Seville, I began to notice along the highway, in addition to the usual flow of cars, trucks, horse drawn carts, and other traffic that I had become accustomed to, a large number of motorcycles. Everything from Harley Davidsons to Ducati crotch rockets to little moped type scooters. I happened to be about 70Km from Seville on a Saturday, which put me in prime recreational motorcycle territory. I was amazed by the number of really expensive looking BMWs, and crotch rockets which were out rolling around in groups of 2, 3, 4 or more. It was particularly common to see couples in their 40s and 50s, both fully decked out in leather/plastic/graphite/plexiglass armor rolling around curves at alarming speeds (and at similarly alarming noise levels) as I was rolling around at my usual 11Mph - still haven’t converted my computer to the metric system. My bike has no engine, and it’s still running on standard measurements. Another Luddite from the USA. Common story here I suppose. So it seems that where in Texas, Alabama, Arkansas, and South Carolina, it might be common to witness couples in their retirement enjoying a leisurely cruise through the hills in an RV, it would appear that in Spain, couples retire and go for terrifying races through the mountains on fast motorcycles. Of course, I saw people of all ages out there too - but I also noticed people old enough to be retirees, which I thought was interesting. Perhaps the inclination to ride motorcycles is a result of gas prices. Perhaps Spaniards have simply realized that the highways here with their smooth pavement and rolling hills are better used as racetracks than as herd paths for RVs. My friend Isidro, who has lived in Spain his entire life, and who is putting me up for a few days in Seville, points out the proud tradition of Spanish motorcycle racing in which there have been many champions to emerge from Spain.
Whatever the reason, it was interesting for me to witness, if only for a couple of days, the culture of fast motorcycles that exists in the hills outside of Seville wherein all of these people get on their bikes, weave through the other vehicles on the road from café to café, and then, presumably, return to the city where they lead lives as bankers, doctors, contractors, shop owners, retirees or whatever else it is they do to do to afford the machines they have and the costumes they wear. My impression of crotch rocket culture in the USA is that most riders are in their early 20s or 30s, and that, if they have a girlfriend or a child, the helmet usually gets worn awkwardly by the other rider. This is not the case in Spain - here it seems that both riders get full leather costumes, helmets, boots, etc. Pretty cool. The scene has developed quite a bit more here - or perhaps it is just more high class. Enough on motorcycles though - this is a story about a bicycle, and living active lifestyles with epilepsy. Not rolling around with an engine.
Europe is becoming an exciting place to me. I have arrived in Seville, where my Uncle Paul’s Wife’s Sister Carmen’s sister Patricia and her husband Isidro have an apartment, where they live with their two children Olivia and Louis. The family lives in a beautiful neighborhood of the city called San Bernardo, and it has been fun hanging out for the past day since I arrived. Seville is a somewhat hectic city from a transportation point of view, although I only witnessed one car/motorcycle crash during my ride into town. It was a minor fender bender in which a motorcycle and a small car were both turning right, the motorcycle ran out of space, bumped into the car, both vehicles stopped, profanities were exchanged, and I kept on moving not wanting to get too involved.
There is a well-developed cycling culture in Seville which seems to center around a green bicycle path that runs along the sidewalks of various streets of the city - I say green because it is literally painted green. There are hundreds of bicycles pedaling to and fro all around the city, there are many times that number of mopeds zipping around, and a similar number of motorcycles, which all made an impression. Also worth pointing out is a system of free bicycles which the city has made available all around the city. Every half-kilometer or so, there is a bike rack with about ten bicycles on it which pedestrians can rent for free by swiping a credit card (as liability) if they feel the desire to be converted from pedestrians into cyclists. The bikes are cruisers with lights front and rear, and it is possible to rent a bike from one rack and return it to another rack. The first 30 minutes are free…don’t even know why there are still pedestrians really.

Candid photo that I took of a bicyclist riding along Seville's Green Pathway... I was about to put away the camera when the rider went by, and I kind of took this shot from the hip.

Seville has a nearly-complete array of vehicles moving around on its streets: cars, trucks, bikes, trains, motorcycles, mopeds, horse-drawn carriages, taxis, etc. Presumably as I get further East on this tour (the cities of Asia) the cities will become increasingly insane from a transportation point of view, although Seville has a satisfyingly crazy scene. Riding around town on my touring bike and cruising through the round-abouts (“Rotundas”) is excitement enough for me on pretty much any day of the week. City riding is always a refreshing change after days of steady focus and pacing on the shoulder which just involves maintaining pace and working to make it to the next destination. I was happy to ride around in Seville - here I can pretend that I am a bicycle messenger or something.
I will now be staying with my family friends, Patricia and Isidro, for the next few days until a replacement video camera arrives from the United States. I ordered a camera which was to arrive in Charleston pre-departure, but unfortunately it did not catch up with me there. Now I will be in Seville at least until the camera finds its way through customs to the apartment here. Not a bad place to be stuck! I am looking forward to seeing some of what the city has to offer. Check back often for updates.

Stephen

→ 1 CommentCategories: Portugal · Spain
Tagged: active lifestyles, Bicycle Touring, Bicycle Touring Europe, Epilepsy Cycling, Spain Bicycle Touring, Spain Touring, Spanish Touring, Touring Epilepsy

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