Fınıshed at Last! :)

Dear Frıends,

I'm currently enjoyıng a lıttle R&R ın Istanbul before I return to Vancouver tomorrow vıa Brıtısh Aırways. Thıs cıty ıs so rıch ın hıstory, relıgıon, archıtecture, musıc and many other aspects whıch ınterconnect ın a multı-colored cultural tapestry. As I walked through the bazaars, palaces, museums, mosques and streets full of a cosmology of peoples, I felt rather alıen but a few days of Istanbul ımmersıon has reduced the ınterpersonal gap as I've had a chance to ınteract wıth some of the people who lıve here.

Four days ago, I dıpped my tıre ın the Black Sea at Constanta, Romanıa, havıng completed my four and one half month journey on my Kona Sutra tourıng bıcycle. I enjoy Konas play on words and Sutra, whıch I belıeve means phılosophy ın Hındı, was a suıtable choıce for my bıke as ıt was an excellent vehıcle for my raıson d,etre on thıs journey. It put up wıth an remarkable amount of abuse and provıded me wıth a satısfyıng rıde day after day. I had no accıdents durıng my nearly 8000 km trıp untıl the last 13 kms from Constanta. As I dıd a shoulder check on an approachıng truck behınd me, I dropped ınto the draınage grate from hell, about 15 ınches deep and the same for ıts wıdth and breadth. Perhaps my tıre pressure was just rıght, but I bounced out of the hole and came to a complete stop as my front fender jammed up agaınst the down tube because my forks bent wıth the force. Once I was able to free the fender, there was just enough clearance for the front wheel to spın smoothly enough to get me ınto town. I was grateful for such a recovery and was able to enjoy a successful conclusıon to my trıp.

Lookıng back, ıt dıdnt seem lıke four and a half months but standıng on the beach on the Black Sea was concrete enough for a realızatıon of how far away from home ıt was. From an emotıonal standpoınt, I often felt close to home wıth cell phone, ınternet and SPOT tracker contact. I met so many fıne people who helped me (and Lynda on the Amsterdam to Vıenna sectıon) along the way that brought realıty to the sayıng, Home ıs where the heart ıs. The same goes for supporters from home. Calls from good frıends, sometımes ın the oddest of locations, also aıded my spirit. There were down days but these were often overıdden by encouraging human ınteractıons. There were lonely tımes too but they dıdnt seem to last long. I must have recycled a thousand memories of joys, regrets, songs and relatıonshıps a number of tımes and ın ever changıng order as these memories ebbed and flowed. I think Take a Letter, Marıa was the all tıme wınner as most annoyıng ear worm tune but there were so many more!

There ıs much to share wıth you that I won't ınclude ın thıs brıef catch-up note but wıll backtrack to southern Hungary which ıs where I left off ın my last blog. I followed the Danube as ıt contınued south through Croatıa and swung to the east ın Serbıa and Romanıa. I look forward to tellıng you more when I get home ın front of my own computer ın good ol' Canada.

Yours truly,

Doug

To the Black Sea....Giurgiu to Constanta

see website for an update  http://www.dougsride.net/ 

Approaching Croatia

Dear Friends,

Wow, the first day back to school for kids, parents, teachers, support staff and administrators back home. I'm thinking about you guys today!

I am currently in Baja (not Mexico), Hungary, one and a half day's ride from the Croatian border, taking a rest day.

The Hungarian people I've met have been wonderfully helpful, from people offering directional assistance (unsolicited at times) to others contributing to the project materially. One example of such humanitarian support was from Maria Turi from Dunafoldvar. I booked into her pension and when she read about the clean water project she contributed free lodging and lent me her computer. When I arrived in town, I was welcomed by some of her family and I must admit, it was a wonderful feeling. As I get further away from home it's easy to feel more alienated, like a stranger in a strange land, so these acts of human kindness are much appreciated.

Another example of such generosity occurred today. At the pension I'm staying at, a young woman working here solicited the interpretation help of an English speaking friend across the street to help answer the plethora of questions I was posing to her in my dictionary German. Samuel Nganigi came over and was incredibly helpful, making himself available at any time of the day, even being willing to take a call during his work as dental technician. I needed to see a physician about something minor and he accompanied me personally to his Dr's office for a check up. He intepereted for me and the Dr. was most helpful and didn't charge me a florint for her services. We had a great chat and she wished me well on my journey and project. A special thanks to Dr. Knapig Rosalia!

I haven't covered the kilometers in the last 4 days I had hoped but lots of the terrain has been on gravel pathways (usually on top of dykes along the Danube) and some across farmland on a single track. Yesterday was amazing, riding 21 kms on an asphalt bike path through the Danube-Drava National Park.

I have many recollections of Budapest as I ride south with the Danube. Its history is as rich as its beauty. I recall a visit to the national Modern Art Gallery to see an exhibit with the theme of post socialist Hungary. I think I experienced more existential angst than watching the movie, Eraserhead. Some dismal black and white representations accompanied by a grating electronic soundscape challenged my sanity but there was one video loop of seniors doing old army exercises together which helped to reclaim a mild sense of well being, enough to get out of the museum. Maybe this is one purpose of art...to provoke a reaction. Clearly I'm not giving it a fair review and communicating its purpose but I suppose it just hit me the wrong way.

I've been intrigued by village statues I've seen along my ride including an occasional depiction of the German Wermacht from WWI and one in particular in Dunafoldvar from Soviet Union days, including the hammer and sickle at the top of an a star-sided spire with Russian script embossed at its base. So much history, so much change, like the endless flow of the Danube.

The pension staff here have been more than patient with my domination of the internet station here so I should end my ramblings and close for the moment.

Happy first day of school to my old working colleagues and greetings to my fellow retired colleagues. I wish you all another great school year.

Best regards,
Doug

Burnaby to Budapest and Beyond

Dear Friends,

Tomorrow I leave for the last and longest segment of my European journey to the Black Sea at Constanta, Romania. I'm currently in Budapest, Hungary and will ride south approximately 2öö kms following the Danube, then eastward across Croatia, Serbia and Romania. I replaced my fairly worn tires with new Vittoria Randonneurs, some really tough Italian touring tires and had some new brake pads installed so the Sutra should be in good shape for the journey.

My last leg from Vienna to Budapest was very interesting. It took a couple of hours to work my way through Vienna and then through lots of fields and forests to Hainsburg, Austria. At the private zimmer of Herr und Frau Putz, I met David and Felicia, bike tourists from England who were returning from Budapest. It was great to swap stories and get valuable road tips. David has cycled around the world and knows Steven Lord, the author of a handbook for long distance cyclists, a book which inspired me in part to undertake this journey. What a small world.

The next day, as I approached the border of Slovakia, I referred to my cycling guide published in 2öö6 which said to expect grim faced border guards at the passport check in. There were no guards, nor passport office but rather grass growing between cracks in the parking lot and rusting border gates. It was a little weird but I carried on through the border, passing only a flashy Slovakian coffee bar playing loud techno pop music which seemed to herald my entry into eastern Europe in a way I didn't expect. I skirted Bratislava with it's heavy traffic and headed south into Hungary where I encountered more border facilities in a similar state of entropy. After an hour or so, heading south towards the city of Gyor, a thunder storm broke out accompanied by torrential rain. I had to find a shelter quickly as I turned my bike around to the village of Donasziget where I recalled seeing a road house advertising lodging. Fortunately they had room for me and I used my stay to dry out my gear while the storm raged for many more hours. The next morning brought a steely grey sky but thankfully minimal precipitation. I rode a gravel path on top of a dyke for almost 25 km and found my way to the highway to Gyor, a small city en route to Babolna, my destination for the day. As I pondered my map at an intersection, a very friendly woman by the name of Andee asked if she could help. I suppose I looked confused although I'm usually not, it just takes me awhile to figure things out. Anyhow, she said, "Follow me", and away we went, weaving our way through a number of lanes and streets to the city limits. What a joy. We had a good chat...she used to live in Atlanta and commented that she wished she was back there. Early that evening, I arrived in Babolna, a small town famous for its Arabian horses.

I rode the towns main street on which the Imperial Hotel (which I had booked earlier)was situated but couldn't seem to find it. Fortunately I ran into an Austrian couple whom I had met the daz before and they pointed me to a small sign attached to an imposing wrought iron gate across the street. As I pushed my bike through the opening, I was amazed by a long walkway bordered by huge leafy trees, shrubbery and somber bronze busts highlighted by footlights to the hotel. My eyes were drawn towards a significant pale yellow Edwardian type design with a large arched wooden door at the centre. It was well into dusk and details weren't sharp but I was able to see a buzzer which I rang and got an immediate response from a speaker in Hungarian. The door buzzed and I took that as a cue to enter a dimly lit foyer including marble floors and a high ceiling. A woman behind a window gave me some instructions and a key...I guess I was in. A fellow seemed to appear out of nowhere and led me and my bike through another arched door into a large circular courtyard past a long row of stables. To my great surprise this was where they kept the famous steeds...the Imperial was part of the complex of Arabian stables, training area and horse breeding museum. I was lead into the first floor to my semi palatial room adorned by a 13 foot ceiling, marble flooring in the sumptuous bathroom and India rugs in the living area. Breakfast was not included but it cost 11öö florints, a little over 4 euros. It was served across the street (2 blocks once you traveled across the property) at another museum in a dining room fit for King Stephen, I think a King of Hungary past. The table was covered with a linen including silverware and china. Breakfast was served and the unnerving part of it all was that I was the only one in the elegant yet unlit dining room. Although I was treated like a king or a prominent bureaucrat, I couldn't help but imagine that I was part of an Outer Limits episode and that I would be trapped in this scene forever...arghhhh. I had a chat with the waiter, filled my water bottles and got the heck on the road. Still not sure what to make of the experience but it was unique and good value.

My other destinations included Ezstragon where I resided below one of the most beautiful Basilicas in Hungary and Obuda on the outskirts of Budapest. During my ride to Obuda, I took a ferry to an island called Szentendrei Sziget, about 15 km long. I encountered a shepherd there near the roadside and he asked me for a drink. I had a spare Fanta in my pannier so I was happy to oblige. The sheep were an old breed I think, with horns and a shaggier coat than the ones we know at home. His name was Zolten and was dressed in garb one might imagine being worn centuries ago except for the gumboots. As we attempted to communicate, one sheep got a little too close to the road and he excused himself to rein in the wayward animal...a very alert shepherd. I was quite taken by this encounter and he gave me permission to take his photograph which I will post when I get back.

Budapest is a whole other blog item but because I have to get out of Dodge soon, Ill save it for another day. I may take a train out to the city limits today to avoid the busy Budapest traffic.

Thanks to Zsalt Halsa and Mark Huber for being helpful during my journey. I will acknowledge others when I complete this phase.

All the best for now,

Doug