Malena loves candy. And travel. And both together. And thus, this site was born.
The road from Lobos to Saladillo started off well. The wide shoulders compensated for the heavy truck traffic, the sun was bright and cheery, and I even saw a few gauchos out herding cattle. And yes, it’s true, they do wear a black beret. It still makes me smile every time I see it because it seems so out of place - a cowboy dressed up as a French artist. (more…)
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Yesterday, I started the actual biking part of my trip: frm Buenos Aires to a small town about 65 kilometers away. Confession. I don’t think there’s a worse way to leave a major city than to bike out of it. The roads exiting most cities will be congested and polluted; the drivers a little too anxious to leave; the sights non-existent. Biking is awesome in many different places, but those major roads out of cities aren’t one of them.
Buenos Aires is a beautiful old city. Everyone will also tell you it’s very European - while this phrase is in danger of turning into a cliche, it’s also very true. I had some sweets yesterday and am most looking forward to ice cream today!
I leave in fifteen hours or so for South America. I’m not ready.
I don’t just mean that I haven’t packed yet, or that I’m nervous my bike won’t make it there in one piece, or that I suspect I don’t have the bank account to actually pay for 8 months of biking - although all that is true also!
I’m scared. Scared that I’ll miss my family and friends, scared that I can’t handle it in South America, scared that the biking will be too hard, the mountains too high, the weather too cold. My stomach is churning and I can’t sleep and I have a million things to do still.
You would think by this point I’d be old-hat, used to it. I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal. I think it’s the newness: the camping I’ll need to do; the long distances without towns or villages; the remote roads of South America - quite a different story than the bustling towns and friendly farmers of Vietnam or Cambodia!
Of course, I do have one thing to look forward to (besides, like, the going to Buenos Aires and traveling for eight months thing) - I’ll be flying first class! Hooray frequent flier miles!
Once I’m on the plane, blissed out in first class, relaxing… once I’ve landed, once I’ve biked a day, I’ll be in a routine and the nerves will go away. I’ll know I can do it, or at least try. But right now, all I can think about is all the reasons I shouldn’t go - all the things that could go wrong.
I suppose this is the hard part of traveling!
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My brother visited me for a few weeks of cycling in Thailand and Malaysia. Our time together was good, and I think he picked up a tiny bit of my enthusiasm for cycling. Still, after three weeks, it was time for him to go back the US, to family and friends and soccer and girlfriend and all the rest. He’s happy to be leaving. I’m happy to be alone again. I missed the adventure of solo travel, of taking each day as it comes, of stopping when I want and going where I please, of not answering to anyone but myself.
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In Ho Chi Minh City, I visited a number of sobering tourist sites related to the Vietnam War. Pictures from the War Museum showed a city utterly destructed; the caption often revealed it was near the peaceful, friendly Central Highland route I bicycled through. One special exhibition on war photographers killed during the Vietnam War, titled “Requiem”, was simply amazing. It showcased the pictures taken by photographers on both sides - often just before they were killed. Some of these pictures are incredible, and the exhibition really brings to life all the youth and dreams lost in this war - represented by talented photographer after photographer. Furthermore, the exhibition (supported by the University of Kentucky) was balanced; the pictures supported neither one side nor the other. Indeed, whether North Vietnamese, American, UK, or Russian, they showed how “War is Hell” time and time again.
I don’t mean to make my time in Vietnam sound depressing. This is not a nation that looks backward; the Vietnamese look forward with hope. To most, the war is an afterthought. They no longer define themselves by it - this is not a nation that holds a grudge. I met an old man obviously still troubled by the war. He was drinking, mumbling, yelling at me in Vietnamese. His teenage grandchildren were obviously mortified, pulling me away, taking me to show me their karaoke machine and laptop computer while apologizing. “I love you!” was a refrain little kids would yell, flashing peace signs and cheering, as I biked by. The resilience of the Vietnamese hopefully speaks to the resilience of the human race as a whole, especially (I hoped, often, I biked through the thriving cities and friendly towns) those countries the US is bombing today.
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So, the last year and a half have been one hell of an adventure. I wasn’t ready to stop just yet, so I decided to extend my trip and carry on biking, this time in South America. I’ve spent the last few months here in Louisiana with my family, relaxing, hanging out in New Orleans, traveling to visit relatives, and preparing for my next trip. One thing I’ve been thinking about a lot has been this blog, and what I want to do with it. I didn’t write in it nearly as much as I’d hoped - I want to write more in South America. To facilitate that, I’ll be treating things a little differently. First of all, entries will be shorter and more temporal - what I did that day or week, what I think of the candy, what my plans for the next week are. I’ll continue to write about sweets, of course!
I also have a second blog that focuses on my experiences as a biker. This is largely to tap into the biking community and make some of my route information available to other cyclists who are considering a similar trip. This blog is hosted on crazyguyonabike.com and you can visit it here. The setup isn’t as nice as mine, sadly! Still, if you’ve enjoyed this blog, I’d recommend adding that as well as the stories will likely be slightly different.
I leave for South America October 22nd. Before then, I have a lot more planning to do, some of which I’ll share with everyone here.
(For anyone wondering, the picture was taken on the beaches of Goa, India.)