It look less than 15 minutes, reports say. On a sunny Saturday morning, after leading Nebraska to two losing seasons out of his four coached at the university, Big Tom has sent Little Bill packing. Those two losing seasons were the first of their kind in more than 45 years for a football program that's fallen a long way during the last 10 years. And while many people believe the outcome of Friday's game could do nothing to change todays decision, Callahan didn't help his cause - even a little bit.
I witnessed Bill's last hoorah yesterday in Boulder. The game was covered on ABC, and to let you know the general sentiment, I saw people holding signs that read:
Adios
Bill
Callahan.
One of these signs was black and gold, the other red and white. I don't think very many people are upset about this one, including Callahan, who'll pick up a nice $3m + buyout for his troubles. Anyone interested in a new job?
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
...And I'm back.
My uncle just introduced me to Shelfari this weekend, and if you consider yourself much of a reader - or even just someone with a passing interest in books - you should think about joining. It's an online networking site that allows you to share the books you're reading/have read/want to read with your friends, family and anyone else who thinks books are neat. It's also a great place to find your next read. For example, if your name is Mike D, maybe you could expand your wholly liberal views on, well, everything, by picking up something by an author named Ayn Rand - just an idea.
And that's how it works. Here's my shelf.
Monday, November 12, 2007
I'll get back to you as soon as possible
My blogs don't usually get too deep into what's really happening in my life, and this one won't be much of an exception.
Last weekend, Jacque and I went hiking up Bear Creek Canyon (in Mt Falcon Park) in search of what we'd heard was an old Elk's Lodge up a side canyon. After negotiating Bear Creek and hiking for a few minutes, we came upon the remains of what was listed in Jefferson County's anthropological register of the park as nothing more than "an unfinished homestead or other building." That's not exactly the analysis for which we'd hoped, but nonetheless, we had a great time on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
On Tuesday night, we saw Neil Young on his Chrome Dreams tour at the Wells Fargo Theater. It's an intimate 5,000 seat affair, but the sound quality was outstanding and Neil Young's doing alright, too. After seeing Bob Dylan a few times during the last five years, I expected a similar performance (old, decrepit, out-of-tune, unintelligible, difficulty moving on his own, etc.), but was blown away by his clarity - both physical and mental. The sets seemed to speak to my emotional state at the time - ah, the power of music.
set list
Yesterday I enjoyed my first "friendsgiving" with a few friends from college. Laura and Rachel, again, thanks. I'm sure everyone had a great time. Between flag football, guitar hero, beer pong and copious amounts of great food, how could you not? I'll be back next year...
Last weekend, Jacque and I went hiking up Bear Creek Canyon (in Mt Falcon Park) in search of what we'd heard was an old Elk's Lodge up a side canyon. After negotiating Bear Creek and hiking for a few minutes, we came upon the remains of what was listed in Jefferson County's anthropological register of the park as nothing more than "an unfinished homestead or other building." That's not exactly the analysis for which we'd hoped, but nonetheless, we had a great time on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
On Tuesday night, we saw Neil Young on his Chrome Dreams tour at the Wells Fargo Theater. It's an intimate 5,000 seat affair, but the sound quality was outstanding and Neil Young's doing alright, too. After seeing Bob Dylan a few times during the last five years, I expected a similar performance (old, decrepit, out-of-tune, unintelligible, difficulty moving on his own, etc.), but was blown away by his clarity - both physical and mental. The sets seemed to speak to my emotional state at the time - ah, the power of music.
set list
Yesterday I enjoyed my first "friendsgiving" with a few friends from college. Laura and Rachel, again, thanks. I'm sure everyone had a great time. Between flag football, guitar hero, beer pong and copious amounts of great food, how could you not? I'll be back next year...
Saturday, November 03, 2007
It's snowing in Colorado. Well, that's not entirely true, but it has snowed - a lot. In fact, four ski resorts are already open; winter is upon us. This is only important to me because I haven't done much more than see snow from a distance for a long time. I've missed it...
Near Fremont Pass.
I've missed a lot during the past year or so, actually, and transitioning back to the "real world" has been a balancing act I sometimes feel like I'm struggling to master. Between a new job, a new female friend, and a strong desire to see and do everything, I find myself only making brief stops at my apartment to change clothes, pick up and/or drop off books, shower, and occasionally sleep. I wish I could pay rent based on actual occupancy time. I think it'd be about $54/month.
Step Out to fight diabetes.
I'd like to thank all of my friends and family who helped me raise money for the American Diabetes' Association's annual Step Out to fight Diabetes walk. I'd also like to thank the aforementioned "new female friend" - her name is Jacque - for showing and signing me up for the walk, as well as for supporting me by choosing to walk with me. It was a bittersweet event for me; at times I felt near tears, at others excited to be part of a fight to end something that's played an enormous role in my own life. Again, thanks to everyone who chose to support this cause.
Loveland Pass.
(Just an aside. I've received about 5 text messages while writing this blog reminding how great Nebraska's defense is playing this season. Thank you, I hadn't noticed. I think Big Tom is going to re-tool the Big Red after this season, and tackling may again become part of the agenda, right after he fires everyone on the coaching staff.)
We're not as tough as we look.
After the walk, Jacque and I headed west to Grand Junction on the western slope of Colorado to get out of the city, visit her aunt and uncle and hike around the Colorado National Monument. Between baseball and football games, we cooked Indian food and enjoyed being inside when the weather outside wasn't so hot. We finally made it onto the monument late Sunday as the skies cleared. It was cold but clear, crisp but beautiful. It was the first time I'd really been out of a city for a long time, and it was great.
Colorado National Monument.
We left Grand Junction Monday around noon and decided to take the long route back to Denver. Instead of traveling I-70, we headed south toward Aspen and the Maroon Bells, which were covered in snow after the weekend's weather. Independence Pass was (remarkably) still open, so we headed up and over and through a lot of snow. The sun was out but it was still well below freezing on the summit. Of course that didn't prevent us from taking a few pictures... We ate dinner that night at The Beau Jo's pizza in Idaho Springs. Just a recommendation, stay away from the gluten-free wheat crust. It ruins the pizza.
I'm just that happy to be at the Maroon Bells again.
At Jefferson County, I feel like I'm finally being paid to act like the 5-year-old boy I once was. This week we had bulldozer training and I spent an entire afternoon pushing dirt around a construction sight. The previous week I helped clear a clogged culvert with a backhoe. When we're not driving heavy machinery, we've been repairing some of the damaged trails and spending a lot of time outside - and it's been a great few weeks to spend outside.
World Series game 3. Photo courtesy of Andrew Schaefer and Schaefer Photography, LLC.
As some of you know, the Colorado Rockies made it to the World Series this year. While they didn't perform as well as anyone'd hoped, I was fortunate enough to attend the first World Series game in Coors Field history, thanks to my good friend Andrew Schaefer. Due to his flexible work schedule (he's a wedding photographer, if you know anyone getting married soon), he was able to sit in front of his computer for three hours one afternoon last week and get tickets to each of the scheduled three games in Denver. While the Rockies were swept from the Series, the experience was unmatched. Our seats allowed for wide-angle viewing of the game, which was exciting until Brian I-Don't-Ever-Want-to-Pitch-for-the-Colorado-Rockies-Again Fuentes did what he does best, which is not keeping a close game close. The loss was disappointing, but it was well worth the $101 ticket (yeah, Andy, I swear I'm good for the balance of my ticket. I get paid Monday.)
Plans are starting to come together for a trip to...
Check these guys out, they used to be the Refreshments. Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers.
Maroon Bells, mid-October.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
In the name of national security.
In case you've managed to miss the last 3 weeks of life in America, the Colorado Rockies are currently putting together one of the best runs in recent sporting memory. They've won 17 or their last 18 baseball games, including a first-round playoff sweep of the Philadelphia Phillies, and are now about to begin the National League Championship Series against the Arizona Diamondbacks, a team they beat twice in three games two weeks ago. In Denver, the Broncos are experiencing unheard-of competition from a team that hasn't played an October game since 1995. People are Rockies crazy, almost instantly buying every available ticket to the upcoming home playoff games. A lot of it is bandwagon-ism, but I don't care. The excitement is palpable, and I'm happy to be a part of it.
The problem with our instant fanatics means tickets have become a luxury unfordable to most people. With this in mind, I'm suggesting we (Rockies fans) stop competing with one another and start buying seats in Phoenix. To attend two games in Denver, you're looking at spending around $300 per ticket to sit 35 rows behind the first base dugout (www.stubhub.com). That comes out to about $1250 for two people for two games. If you were to buy tickets to the first two games in Arizona to sit in the same area, you'd only be out $468. That's because Arizona's fans still haven't bought all available face-value tickets. You could fly round-trip for $614 (two people) and stay less than a mile from the ballpark for two nights for $360 at the Holiday Inn Express, which also has the benefit of making you feel smarter - which you probably are to take advantage of a Rockies playoff opportunity. They don't come often. Throw in around $200 for food - you're thrifty, shopping at the local market - and your total trip cost is about $1650 - only $400 more than seeing the game in Denver. Now, if you're lucky and have friends/family living in Phoenix and can cancel some of those hotel and food costs, you're in the black. It's cheaper to fly down to Phoenix for a couple of days, cheer the Rox on the road, and bask in the glory of the hottest team in baseball's incredible run.
From your Holiday Inn Express to Chase Field, only 0.9 miles.
View Larger Map
Unrelated: My place is coming together. If you decide to forgo the above travel itinerary and stay in Denver for the League Championship Series (and World Series?), consider this option.
Also unrelated: This morning I visited the Green Mountain Exempla Health Care Clinic for my pre-employment physical. Aside from being healthy enough to "eat a double cheeseburger," I also signed away my medical confidentialities in the name of national security. Under the section labeled "Special Situations," the clause shown below was listed.
Really? I'd like to know how my height, weight or blood pressure could possibly demarcate me as a risk to "the President, other authorized persons or foreign heads of state." "Hmmmm, he's 5'8", 151 lbs., and has yellow pee. We've got to get this son of a bitch!" I don't buy it.
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Wolverine
Most of you have figured this out by now, but I'm back in the states. I arrived in Omaha a couple of weeks ago after leaving Prague on a cool, wet morning. It seemed appropriate - the weather was nearly the same as when I first arrived nearly 8 months previous. During my intermittent visits, I'd seen rain, snow, naked trees and cold winds, early summer, green, crowds, more crowds, "all the sights," and again the cooling of the seasons; autumn. Sitting in my hostel the last day or so and watching the rain fall, I knew it was time to leave. New travelers came and went, full of the excitement of being in a city they'd never seen, I didn't feel that I was missing anything by staying warm and dry.
My family and a few friends still live in Omaha. I spent about a week there visiting, catching up and sharing stories. I also interviewed for a permanent job with Jefferson County's Department of Open Space for a job with their trail crew. I worked there last year before going abroad and while I like the work, I like the people more. It's a good place to work and it gives me the opportunity to live in Denver with my friends without being too far from home. Napa is a long way from Omaha.
It's been a busy week and a half since I arrived in Denver. Aside from seeing as many friends as possible, I've also been apartment shopping, and consequently, apartment-furnishing shopping. Right now I have a lot of clothes and some assorted sporting goods, but not much on which to sit or sleep. Two days ago - within about 45 minutes of one another - I received (and accepted) a job offer from JeffCo, and received (and accepted) a 1-bedroom apartment near Cheeseman Park. I move in on Monday. Things are going well.
My new address is:
1420 E 13th Ave # 9
Denver, CO 80218
View Larger Map
I will keep my PO Box, so if you're mailing stuff there, no need to stop.
I'll get a picture or two up when I move in next week, but if you're in the area, give me a call. New phone is 303-905-2750.
My family and a few friends still live in Omaha. I spent about a week there visiting, catching up and sharing stories. I also interviewed for a permanent job with Jefferson County's Department of Open Space for a job with their trail crew. I worked there last year before going abroad and while I like the work, I like the people more. It's a good place to work and it gives me the opportunity to live in Denver with my friends without being too far from home. Napa is a long way from Omaha.
It's been a busy week and a half since I arrived in Denver. Aside from seeing as many friends as possible, I've also been apartment shopping, and consequently, apartment-furnishing shopping. Right now I have a lot of clothes and some assorted sporting goods, but not much on which to sit or sleep. Two days ago - within about 45 minutes of one another - I received (and accepted) a job offer from JeffCo, and received (and accepted) a 1-bedroom apartment near Cheeseman Park. I move in on Monday. Things are going well.
My new address is:
1420 E 13th Ave # 9
Denver, CO 80218
View Larger Map
I will keep my PO Box, so if you're mailing stuff there, no need to stop.
I'll get a picture or two up when I move in next week, but if you're in the area, give me a call. New phone is 303-905-2750.
hmmmm
If you're having a resolution problem with the slideshow below, you can watch it directly by clicking here. Thanks
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Furthur – An Epilogue
Rhine River
Greg, Joel and I planned a trip to Germany this week to visit Christian, a friend I met in New Zealand, whose family owns a winery. We needed to relax and decompress a bit from the last two months on the bikes, and we figured drinking wine and sleeping in real beds was a good place to start. We caught an overnight bus from Prague to Frankfurt and a train on to Bad Kreuznach, where Christian met us on Monday morning.
Old Town Frankfurt.
Frankfurt
We only traveled a few hundred miles, but we might as well have boarded the magic time-travel bus into the future. Arriving in Germany, we were pleasantly reminded what it’s like to exist in the first world. I’m not saying Prague isn’t a great city – it is. But there’s something undeniably “eastern-European” about it. It’s a combination of characteristics (tangible or otherwise) that are present across the Czech Republic and down through the Balkans (uh-hmm, communism). So walking into a modern, clean, traveler-oriented train station was amazing. Automated ticket machines gave us the option to pay by credit card, customer service representatives weren’t sitting behind dirty glass windows with cigarettes hanging from their mouths, and smoking in designated areas was actually enforced. Things got off to a good start.
Famous vineyards on the Rhine.
With the last-minute change of plans, Christian didn’t get our email explaining that we’d arrive Monday morning rather than Monday afternoon. It wasn’t a problem, though, and we headed to Langenlonsheim, stopping for breakfast along the way. After a mean breakfast fry up (and naps), we set out with Christian and his girlfriend Julia for a tour of the Nahe wine region, which is near the Rhine River. The weather cleared up just in time for a relaxing afternoon drive through dozens of vineyards, and we had coffee overlooking the Rhine in the late afternoon sun.
Christian and Julia above the Rhine.
Wine tasting in Jacob's vineyard.
After dinner, Christian presented to us a selection of his family’s wines. Not adhering strictly to a tasting format, we drank the better part of 6 bottles that night. Christian has a degree in oenology and viticulture (winemaking and vine growing, respectively) and will be the winemaker at Clemens Honrath Winery (his family’s) when his father retires. Therefore, he was able to explain to us many characteristics about each wine, from the soil types of each vineyard, to the time each wine was in barrel, to the specific weather conditions each year that produced certain attributes in each bottle. It was the best wine tasting I’ve ever done because we were able to ask him anything without being made to feel stupid or un(der)educated. The wine is quite nice, too.
It would be difficult for Julia to look less interested.
The next two days were full of late mornings and visits to many of Christian’s friends’ wineries. We tasted and learned a lot, and it’s clear that Christian and his friends are passionate about what they do. That was reflected in their patience with us, the quality of the wines they produce, and their desire to continue to make a better product every year. Making good wine is a full-time, year-round job, and as Jacob said, he’d do it even if he wasn’t making money. The difference is that I believe him. Each of Christian’s friends welcomed us and made us feel at home, even helping Joel with his German.
Joel and Greg soak in the view.
Greg left on Thursday morning and Joel and I took some time to visit Bad Kreuznach. That evening the four of us made dinner and relaxed with a few more bottles of wine. Christian managed to outdo himself by presenting a Clemens Honrath 1982 noble-late-harvest sweet wine, a Reisling, from his personal library. He followed that with a 2001 Bordeaux blend (merlot, cab franc, cab sauv) from Robertson Winery in South Africa. Both of these wines were phenomenal, and Joel and I felt very fortunate to experience them with Christian. Seeing as it was nearly impossible to go up from there, we decided on a nightcap of a few German beers.
The future of Clemens Honrath Winery gains inspiration from the past.
And so I sit in Frankfurt waiting for a bus that will come shortly to take me back to Prague (again overnight). I spent the day walking around the city, most of which is really new, at least relative to many of the other places we’ve visited during the past couple of months. From the pictures I’ve seen, Frankfurt was leveled during WWII. The “old town” is nice but small, and much the city is now modern, lacking a “personal” feel. It looks more like Minneapolis than anything I’ve seen lately, complete with a big river running through the center of town. But my first trip to Germany has been a memorable one, and I hope to return.
Frankfurt's banking district.
Greg and Joel now gone, our trip is really over. It’s sinking in that I’ll be in the states in a few days, and I’m having mixed emotions about returning home. I’m excited to see my family and friends – it’s been too long. But this experiment – this experience, this past year – has been the best of my life. I’ve struggled with my own limits and been forced to change course more than once. I’ve made new friends, seen old places, and learned that you can never lose your “family.”
If you want some unsolicited advice (after buying property in Montenegro and visiting Bosnia, which I’ve already covered), get “out there.” “Out there” may be Peace Corps in Swaziland, it may be teaching English in Prague, or it may be making a decision that’s really for you, but it’s got to be uncomfortable, and it’s better if the odds are stacked against you. Take calculated risks. Don’t hesitate to try something that everyone tells you is crazy, and if you fail, fail well. Fail because you’ve given it all you’ve got, fail because you’ve run into a wall at full speed, fail because there’s no overtime and you chose to go for the win instead of the tie. But don’t fail because it’s too hard, too steep, or too long – for then you have truly failed. What’s more, you’ll probably succeed anyway - we’re smarter than we think and capable of more than we know. And that’s why I don’t want this to end.
This didn't make the cut from Belgrade. I know I'm acting like an 11-year old. It's still funny.
go furthur
Sunday, September 02, 2007
And So It Ends...
Downtown Bucharest
We left Veliko Tarnovo and rode north toward the Romanian border, losing elevation as we approached the Danube River Valley. We arrived in Ruse at the end of another long, hot day, but this time with the added joy of humidity. So when we found a hotel room with air conditioning, we quickly settled up and bought some beer. Ruse doesn’t offer much, so we rested that night and crossed the Danube the following morning as we headed toward Bucharest.
The House of the People
Bucharest's own Arc de Triumph
Bucharest is a city still emerging from many years under a dictator with a “Western” complex. In some respects he succeeded; it’s at times Paris-esque (or so I’ve heard). The buildings lay along streets lined with trees and fountains. In fact, Nicolae Ceauşescu (the dictator) built one of his boulevards exactly (and intentionally) 6 meters longer than the Champs-Elysees in Paris. Bucharest has an Arc de Triumph situated in an enormous traffic circle, and in what is widely considered his cruelest urban planning effort, a Parliament building which required the bulldozing of 1/6 of the city’s area, displacing nearly 70,000 of it’s inhabitants. And he had the balls to call it “The House of the People.” Not kidding.
Cercul Militar Naţional
But for all the “westernized” areas of Bucharest, it is distinctly a product of years of communism. It’s thick and gray and sprawling. Furthermore, Romania falls exponentially behind progress with distance from its capital. Stray dogs are a problem country wide, along with poverty and gypsies, who are also known as Roma. Some studies show they are Indian in origin, but they’ve been around long enough to speak their own language and solidify their place as national “outcasts.” Often they live in their own communities at the edges of towns, and fierce nationalism across the Balkans has made their lives difficult.
"House of the People" from Ceauşescu's knock-off Champs-Elysees
Again
Our trip dynamic changed dramatically in Bucharest as Greg had to leave for Ljubljana, where he would meet his choir for a tour of Slovenia. That left Joel and I to explore the city in the heat and humidity. We tried to stay outside in the evenings, and we soon found ourselves on the roof of the National Theatre at an outdoor bar. However, we were feeling cosmopolitan (despite our dress) and headed next to a bar called Twice. For more reasons than our style of dress, we didn’t exactly fit in. But we had a great time dancing that evening. And that was Bucharest. The following day was basically the same. Sightseeing by day, beer and dancing by night. We left on a rainy Sunday afternoon by train toward Brasov.
Brasov, Old Town
Brasov, Old Town, lucky picture.
Brasov is Romania’s domestic tourist destination. It’s known for its Old Town Square, its varied architecture, and simply being the gateway to Transylvania. In a beautiful area, Brasov manages to impress. We also visited Bran, the mythical home of Count Dracula, and Rasnov, where Joel honed his bow-and-arrow skills. After a couple of nights, we were ready for our final day on the bikes, and we left for Sighisoara, 122km away. It was our longest day ride of the trip, and the weather was wonderful. After a night there, we caught a train to Cluj-Napoca where Lynne, my second cousin once removed (or maybe my second aunt?) lives with her husband Jim. They’re (you guessed it) volunteers with the Peace Corps working with the local prisons, stray dogs, and a few other things.
Joel works on his sweet bow skills.
Lynne and Jim took us in, cooked us dinner, and gave us beer. When we weren’t eating, drinking, or watching South Park on www.tv-links.co.uk, we also managed to sell our bikes and buy Joel some Nasonex. We actually had so much fun hanging out with Lynne and Jim that we didn’t see much of Cluj. On Friday, we left on a minibus for Budapest, minus the bikes. After an infuriating night in Budapest (see sidebar), we caught a train to Prague, and the greatest adventure on two wheels came to an end.
Sighisoara
I haven’t had much time to decompress and reflect on the previous two months, and I imagine that will take some time. I do know that it’s been a life-altering experience. Together, we bicycled over a mountain pass in the Alps, through lavender fields on islands in the Adriatic Sea, and below tunnels that seemed to run on forever. We witnessed progress, westernization, and scars slowly healing. We met people who’d lived under communism and experienced the horrors of senseless wars that took the lives of their friends and families. And yet it was these people who opened their homes to us, shared their food and drink with us, and talked with us about what it means to live in such an area. It's clear that life changes after living through such things. It has been remarkable.
Rasnov
We left Veliko Tarnovo and rode north toward the Romanian border, losing elevation as we approached the Danube River Valley. We arrived in Ruse at the end of another long, hot day, but this time with the added joy of humidity. So when we found a hotel room with air conditioning, we quickly settled up and bought some beer. Ruse doesn’t offer much, so we rested that night and crossed the Danube the following morning as we headed toward Bucharest.
The House of the People
Bucharest's own Arc de Triumph
Bucharest is a city still emerging from many years under a dictator with a “Western” complex. In some respects he succeeded; it’s at times Paris-esque (or so I’ve heard). The buildings lay along streets lined with trees and fountains. In fact, Nicolae Ceauşescu (the dictator) built one of his boulevards exactly (and intentionally) 6 meters longer than the Champs-Elysees in Paris. Bucharest has an Arc de Triumph situated in an enormous traffic circle, and in what is widely considered his cruelest urban planning effort, a Parliament building which required the bulldozing of 1/6 of the city’s area, displacing nearly 70,000 of it’s inhabitants. And he had the balls to call it “The House of the People.” Not kidding.
Cercul Militar Naţional
But for all the “westernized” areas of Bucharest, it is distinctly a product of years of communism. It’s thick and gray and sprawling. Furthermore, Romania falls exponentially behind progress with distance from its capital. Stray dogs are a problem country wide, along with poverty and gypsies, who are also known as Roma. Some studies show they are Indian in origin, but they’ve been around long enough to speak their own language and solidify their place as national “outcasts.” Often they live in their own communities at the edges of towns, and fierce nationalism across the Balkans has made their lives difficult.
"House of the People" from Ceauşescu's knock-off Champs-Elysees
Again
Our trip dynamic changed dramatically in Bucharest as Greg had to leave for Ljubljana, where he would meet his choir for a tour of Slovenia. That left Joel and I to explore the city in the heat and humidity. We tried to stay outside in the evenings, and we soon found ourselves on the roof of the National Theatre at an outdoor bar. However, we were feeling cosmopolitan (despite our dress) and headed next to a bar called Twice. For more reasons than our style of dress, we didn’t exactly fit in. But we had a great time dancing that evening. And that was Bucharest. The following day was basically the same. Sightseeing by day, beer and dancing by night. We left on a rainy Sunday afternoon by train toward Brasov.
Brasov, Old Town
Brasov, Old Town, lucky picture.
Brasov is Romania’s domestic tourist destination. It’s known for its Old Town Square, its varied architecture, and simply being the gateway to Transylvania. In a beautiful area, Brasov manages to impress. We also visited Bran, the mythical home of Count Dracula, and Rasnov, where Joel honed his bow-and-arrow skills. After a couple of nights, we were ready for our final day on the bikes, and we left for Sighisoara, 122km away. It was our longest day ride of the trip, and the weather was wonderful. After a night there, we caught a train to Cluj-Napoca where Lynne, my second cousin once removed (or maybe my second aunt?) lives with her husband Jim. They’re (you guessed it) volunteers with the Peace Corps working with the local prisons, stray dogs, and a few other things.
Joel works on his sweet bow skills.
Lynne and Jim took us in, cooked us dinner, and gave us beer. When we weren’t eating, drinking, or watching South Park on www.tv-links.co.uk, we also managed to sell our bikes and buy Joel some Nasonex. We actually had so much fun hanging out with Lynne and Jim that we didn’t see much of Cluj. On Friday, we left on a minibus for Budapest, minus the bikes. After an infuriating night in Budapest (see sidebar), we caught a train to Prague, and the greatest adventure on two wheels came to an end.
Sighisoara
I haven’t had much time to decompress and reflect on the previous two months, and I imagine that will take some time. I do know that it’s been a life-altering experience. Together, we bicycled over a mountain pass in the Alps, through lavender fields on islands in the Adriatic Sea, and below tunnels that seemed to run on forever. We witnessed progress, westernization, and scars slowly healing. We met people who’d lived under communism and experienced the horrors of senseless wars that took the lives of their friends and families. And yet it was these people who opened their homes to us, shared their food and drink with us, and talked with us about what it means to live in such an area. It's clear that life changes after living through such things. It has been remarkable.
Rasnov
Sidebar
It happens to foreigners in big cities everywhere. You probably know someone who knows someone who’s got a story like the one I’m about to tell. It involves the unsuspecting Americans, the ones too stupid to see they’re being played. It’s typically a sob story of some nature, and ours is no different.
But the night began well. After all, we were in Budapest; the bikes sold long ago. Having spent the previous Christmas there, we were excited to see the city by summer with its warm nights and beautiful people along the Danube. We’d been approached by a couple of girls we suspected to be Scandinavian (or perhaps Dutch) asking directions. Unable to help, they told us about an outdoor concert and we said it sounded nice but were headed the other direction. “Good luck,” we said.
After finishing our beers on the Chain Bridge, we began walking back into town and decided we’d head toward the outdoor concert and look for the girls. It’d be good to hear some music, we were out of beer, and let’s be honest, the girls weren’t a tough sell, either. So when we were stopped by two more women along the way (and I say women because they were - ya know - attractive women in their 30s) also asking directions, we didn’t plan on chatting for long. But they were headed the same way and asked us if we wanted to have a quick drink.
It didn’t take us long to say yes. After all, you know what they say about a bird in hand. So when we began walking toward a restaurant, we assumed a beer was a beer. We’d have one, yuck it up with these “old ladies” for a few minutes, and be on our way to the more appropriately aged ones at the outdoor concert. I made the first mistake, which was going to the toilet before getting to the table.
When I arrived at the table, there were already four wine glasses, four shots of schnapps, and two energy drinks (the women ordered these for themselves). The waitress was uncorking the wine bottle, and I was confused. It seemed strange that they wouldn’t even wait for me to arrive from the toilet before ordering. So as the wine was poured from a half-liter bottle, I was already suspicious that something wasn’t right (half-liter bottles of wine are often really expensive).
The conversation wasn’t stellar, either. The woman talking with Joel seemed riveted to every word that came out of his mouth and laughed (excessively?) at all of his jokes. The one talking to me was pretty much the same. This made me very uncomfortable (I’m not really laugh-out-loud funny). When the conversation turned to our accommodation for the night, we explained we didn’t have much money and were staying in a hostel. “It’s like a hotel for poor kids,” we said. Joel’s “date” then extended an offer of returning to their place later that night, presumably after going to the discos. At this point, I knew we were going to get fucked.
When the waitress returned asking if we wanted another bottle of wine, I clearly said “no,” and Joel followed my lead. After all, we were leaving early the next morning and had to get to bed (we managed to work that into the conversation about as smoothly as they worked their ex-boyfriends in). My suspicions confirmed, the bill was 44,000 forints, which converts to about $240.00. Not surprisingly, the women had no cash. However, the waitress was “kind enough” to show us outside to an ATM. As Joel headed out, I asked to see a menu (having not been, uh, afforded the opportunity before ordering). The energy drinks were $20 each, the shots the same. The bottle of wine was about $120. Sweet.
I asked if the menu was for “stupid tourists,” and tried a bit to fight our way out of it. But Joel was already tapping the cash machine, and by the time he returned, the bill was paid in full. Still slightly in shock (and hoping my mental conversion was way wrong), we left the restaurant with the women. We walked to the corner together where we said our goodbyes, turning down an only slightly veiled offer of “more fun.”
I don’t get seriously angry often. It’s only when I’ve been taken advantage of, betrayed, or, in this case, robbed. The walk home that night was at a fast pace, and I mastered a vernacular in which the word “fuck” assumed nearly every known part of speech. I was furious with the women for clearly taking advantage of us, but in reality, I was probably more upset for allowing it to happen. We should have seen it from a mile away - the restaurant too good for us, and the women, well, we had no business with those women, for any reason. We were set up and knocked down. I would have rather taken my bike and thrown in into the Danube River than spend the money from it’s sale to halve the cost of our night with Joel.
A de-briefing not withstanding, the lessons learned from this night are clear, and I won’t bore you with a drawn-out explanation. I’ve been through it more times in my head during the last 48 hours than anyone could ever dream. I guess it just goes to show that you’ve got to stay sharp all the time. While I was upset for a little while, there’s no way I could let it dampen the previous two months. It’s disappointing that it happened at the end of the trip, but it could have been worse. I still recommend Budapest, but now that recommendation comes with a small caveat.
But the night began well. After all, we were in Budapest; the bikes sold long ago. Having spent the previous Christmas there, we were excited to see the city by summer with its warm nights and beautiful people along the Danube. We’d been approached by a couple of girls we suspected to be Scandinavian (or perhaps Dutch) asking directions. Unable to help, they told us about an outdoor concert and we said it sounded nice but were headed the other direction. “Good luck,” we said.
After finishing our beers on the Chain Bridge, we began walking back into town and decided we’d head toward the outdoor concert and look for the girls. It’d be good to hear some music, we were out of beer, and let’s be honest, the girls weren’t a tough sell, either. So when we were stopped by two more women along the way (and I say women because they were - ya know - attractive women in their 30s) also asking directions, we didn’t plan on chatting for long. But they were headed the same way and asked us if we wanted to have a quick drink.
It didn’t take us long to say yes. After all, you know what they say about a bird in hand. So when we began walking toward a restaurant, we assumed a beer was a beer. We’d have one, yuck it up with these “old ladies” for a few minutes, and be on our way to the more appropriately aged ones at the outdoor concert. I made the first mistake, which was going to the toilet before getting to the table.
When I arrived at the table, there were already four wine glasses, four shots of schnapps, and two energy drinks (the women ordered these for themselves). The waitress was uncorking the wine bottle, and I was confused. It seemed strange that they wouldn’t even wait for me to arrive from the toilet before ordering. So as the wine was poured from a half-liter bottle, I was already suspicious that something wasn’t right (half-liter bottles of wine are often really expensive).
The conversation wasn’t stellar, either. The woman talking with Joel seemed riveted to every word that came out of his mouth and laughed (excessively?) at all of his jokes. The one talking to me was pretty much the same. This made me very uncomfortable (I’m not really laugh-out-loud funny). When the conversation turned to our accommodation for the night, we explained we didn’t have much money and were staying in a hostel. “It’s like a hotel for poor kids,” we said. Joel’s “date” then extended an offer of returning to their place later that night, presumably after going to the discos. At this point, I knew we were going to get fucked.
When the waitress returned asking if we wanted another bottle of wine, I clearly said “no,” and Joel followed my lead. After all, we were leaving early the next morning and had to get to bed (we managed to work that into the conversation about as smoothly as they worked their ex-boyfriends in). My suspicions confirmed, the bill was 44,000 forints, which converts to about $240.00. Not surprisingly, the women had no cash. However, the waitress was “kind enough” to show us outside to an ATM. As Joel headed out, I asked to see a menu (having not been, uh, afforded the opportunity before ordering). The energy drinks were $20 each, the shots the same. The bottle of wine was about $120. Sweet.
I asked if the menu was for “stupid tourists,” and tried a bit to fight our way out of it. But Joel was already tapping the cash machine, and by the time he returned, the bill was paid in full. Still slightly in shock (and hoping my mental conversion was way wrong), we left the restaurant with the women. We walked to the corner together where we said our goodbyes, turning down an only slightly veiled offer of “more fun.”
I don’t get seriously angry often. It’s only when I’ve been taken advantage of, betrayed, or, in this case, robbed. The walk home that night was at a fast pace, and I mastered a vernacular in which the word “fuck” assumed nearly every known part of speech. I was furious with the women for clearly taking advantage of us, but in reality, I was probably more upset for allowing it to happen. We should have seen it from a mile away - the restaurant too good for us, and the women, well, we had no business with those women, for any reason. We were set up and knocked down. I would have rather taken my bike and thrown in into the Danube River than spend the money from it’s sale to halve the cost of our night with Joel.
A de-briefing not withstanding, the lessons learned from this night are clear, and I won’t bore you with a drawn-out explanation. I’ve been through it more times in my head during the last 48 hours than anyone could ever dream. I guess it just goes to show that you’ve got to stay sharp all the time. While I was upset for a little while, there’s no way I could let it dampen the previous two months. It’s disappointing that it happened at the end of the trip, but it could have been worse. I still recommend Budapest, but now that recommendation comes with a small caveat.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Crankin' Along
Sofia from 2000 meters.
So after gorging myself on John and Nancy's high-speed internet uploading videos to YouTube during our first day in Sofia, we finally got out of the house and saw the town. Well, let me back up a minute. Greg and Joel did visit the US Embassy on the first day, and returned from the "American Store" with peanut butter, Dinty More and Ruffles. That night John and Nancy grilled hamburgers and we enjoyed our first "American" meal of the trip.
St Nedelya Church
Russian Church in Sofia.
The following day we decided to get back to nature (sort of) and explore Mt Vitosha, which rises high above Sofia on the south side of the city. We rode two ski lifts to avoid hiking up, and this was a good thing, because we didn't get started 'till well after noon. It felt amazing to be in big mountains again, and looking down across the wide valley below, the smog-choked city of Sofia might as well have been Denver. After a few hours in the alpine, we began walking down the mountain (we missed the last chair) before Nancy met us in the car. That night we met John and had dinner at a local microbrewery.
Alexander Nevsky Cathedral
Alexander Nevsky Cathedral - note gold-brick roads below.
It wasn't before our final day "in Sofia" that we actually made it into Sofia. We followed the Lonely Planet's suggested walking route of the town and enjoyed being full-on tourists for an afternoon. Sofia is beautiful and yet undeniably the product of many years of communism. Near the stunning Alexander Nevsky Cathedral you'll find things like the National Palace of Culture, which is perfectly ugly (and not surprisingly opened under the Iron Curtain). However, after walking around the golden brick streets for an afternoon, we felt satiated with Sofia and returned to John and Nancy's for a traditional Bulgarian dinner of shopska salad and stuffed peppers. We followed it with some Rakia and cigars, courtesy of John. It was tough to leave the next day. We'd experienced unmatched hospitality and kindness and we all felt as "at home" as we had since, well, leaving home. So, John and Nancy, thank you again for everything.
John and Nancy with "the smelly boys."
We call him "Joel the Lionhearted."
We headed out of town by train to Karlovo, and with some fellow Peace Corps contacts from John, we met up with Matt Sumpter, a volunteer living in Kalofer. Matt works with the local municipality on a few different projects, but spends a lot of his time "advertising" the community and nearby national park in an attempt to bring more visitors to the region. Their website is actually modeled on the state of Colorado's tourism site, so check it out if your planning a trip to Bulgaria any time soon. Matt opened his flat to us and we all enjoyed dinner in town that night. As a note, we also saw our second burning car of the trip.
The Balkan Range
Biking through central Bulgaria.
The next morning we headed out on the bikes for one of our better rides. Heading east, we soon began our accent of Shipka Pass, passing through the town of Shipka and the most heavily plated, gold-domed church I've ever seen. It shown brightly on the hillside from miles away, and upon approach became more impressive. That was before the 14-km climb to the top of the pass, which was long and challenging. The view was alright, but the mass amounts of traffic (the pass to the east was closed for repair) made the climb longer, louder and smokier than it should have been. The decent was steep and fast as we passed through dense forests approaching Gabravo, where we'd meet up with Casey and Lindsey Foltz, also Peace Corps volunteers.
High country on Mt Vitosha
Casey and Lindsey welcomed us into their spacious flat and even let us do a load of laundry. So after stashing our bikes on their neighbor Amanda's porch, we showered and headed out for dinner. Casey and Lindsay also work for the municipality on a number of local projects. The next morning they took us to the local orphanage, which they explained is actually one of the nicer facilities of its kind in Bulgaria. We met many of the kids and spent about an hour with them before heading to lunch and back on the road. We rode on toward Veliko Tarnovo and met Melanie (yeah, also Peace Corps) in another town just up the hill.
John and Nancy would call this a "Bulgarian moment." Trash dumpster in the middle of town burning, and no one seems to mind.
VT, as it's called, has received a lot of attention of late, and the Lonely Planet has even gone as far as calling it the "new Prague." We all agreed that's blasphemy, but it's a town not without charms. It was once the capital of Bulgaria, and a fortress stands proudly above a large kink in the river. At night, a laser-light show captivates tourists. We missed it last night because we were still eating dinner, but we'll try and make it tonight. Tomorrow we're headed north toward the Danube River, which we'll see for the third time this trip. It's also the border with Romania, and with any luck we'll be in Bucharest in two days time. Thanks again to everyone with the Peace Corps who've welcomed us along our journey. It's been wonderful to speak with Americans again, and your hospitality won't be forgotten.
Fortress by night.
Fortress by day.
route update
View Larger Map
So after gorging myself on John and Nancy's high-speed internet uploading videos to YouTube during our first day in Sofia, we finally got out of the house and saw the town. Well, let me back up a minute. Greg and Joel did visit the US Embassy on the first day, and returned from the "American Store" with peanut butter, Dinty More and Ruffles. That night John and Nancy grilled hamburgers and we enjoyed our first "American" meal of the trip.
St Nedelya Church
Russian Church in Sofia.
The following day we decided to get back to nature (sort of) and explore Mt Vitosha, which rises high above Sofia on the south side of the city. We rode two ski lifts to avoid hiking up, and this was a good thing, because we didn't get started 'till well after noon. It felt amazing to be in big mountains again, and looking down across the wide valley below, the smog-choked city of Sofia might as well have been Denver. After a few hours in the alpine, we began walking down the mountain (we missed the last chair) before Nancy met us in the car. That night we met John and had dinner at a local microbrewery.
Alexander Nevsky Cathedral
Alexander Nevsky Cathedral - note gold-brick roads below.
It wasn't before our final day "in Sofia" that we actually made it into Sofia. We followed the Lonely Planet's suggested walking route of the town and enjoyed being full-on tourists for an afternoon. Sofia is beautiful and yet undeniably the product of many years of communism. Near the stunning Alexander Nevsky Cathedral you'll find things like the National Palace of Culture, which is perfectly ugly (and not surprisingly opened under the Iron Curtain). However, after walking around the golden brick streets for an afternoon, we felt satiated with Sofia and returned to John and Nancy's for a traditional Bulgarian dinner of shopska salad and stuffed peppers. We followed it with some Rakia and cigars, courtesy of John. It was tough to leave the next day. We'd experienced unmatched hospitality and kindness and we all felt as "at home" as we had since, well, leaving home. So, John and Nancy, thank you again for everything.
John and Nancy with "the smelly boys."
We call him "Joel the Lionhearted."
We headed out of town by train to Karlovo, and with some fellow Peace Corps contacts from John, we met up with Matt Sumpter, a volunteer living in Kalofer. Matt works with the local municipality on a few different projects, but spends a lot of his time "advertising" the community and nearby national park in an attempt to bring more visitors to the region. Their website is actually modeled on the state of Colorado's tourism site, so check it out if your planning a trip to Bulgaria any time soon. Matt opened his flat to us and we all enjoyed dinner in town that night. As a note, we also saw our second burning car of the trip.
The Balkan Range
Biking through central Bulgaria.
The next morning we headed out on the bikes for one of our better rides. Heading east, we soon began our accent of Shipka Pass, passing through the town of Shipka and the most heavily plated, gold-domed church I've ever seen. It shown brightly on the hillside from miles away, and upon approach became more impressive. That was before the 14-km climb to the top of the pass, which was long and challenging. The view was alright, but the mass amounts of traffic (the pass to the east was closed for repair) made the climb longer, louder and smokier than it should have been. The decent was steep and fast as we passed through dense forests approaching Gabravo, where we'd meet up with Casey and Lindsey Foltz, also Peace Corps volunteers.
High country on Mt Vitosha
Casey and Lindsey welcomed us into their spacious flat and even let us do a load of laundry. So after stashing our bikes on their neighbor Amanda's porch, we showered and headed out for dinner. Casey and Lindsay also work for the municipality on a number of local projects. The next morning they took us to the local orphanage, which they explained is actually one of the nicer facilities of its kind in Bulgaria. We met many of the kids and spent about an hour with them before heading to lunch and back on the road. We rode on toward Veliko Tarnovo and met Melanie (yeah, also Peace Corps) in another town just up the hill.
John and Nancy would call this a "Bulgarian moment." Trash dumpster in the middle of town burning, and no one seems to mind.
VT, as it's called, has received a lot of attention of late, and the Lonely Planet has even gone as far as calling it the "new Prague." We all agreed that's blasphemy, but it's a town not without charms. It was once the capital of Bulgaria, and a fortress stands proudly above a large kink in the river. At night, a laser-light show captivates tourists. We missed it last night because we were still eating dinner, but we'll try and make it tonight. Tomorrow we're headed north toward the Danube River, which we'll see for the third time this trip. It's also the border with Romania, and with any luck we'll be in Bucharest in two days time. Thanks again to everyone with the Peace Corps who've welcomed us along our journey. It's been wonderful to speak with Americans again, and your hospitality won't be forgotten.
Fortress by night.
Fortress by day.
route update
View Larger Map
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