Rolling hills along roads that never end

I've been horribly negligent of the blog the last 2 weeks, the truth is, as much as I haven't really had time to write and entry I've been equally stumped by figuring out what to write. I rode my bicycle from Garmisch to San Sebastian with my friend Gary, I'm at least sure of that much. I also know that it took us 10 days to cover the 1500km (900 miles). The problem is almost everything after these dry facts turns into a blur. The hours we spent on the bike seemed to blend together after a couple of days, sometimes I was in such pain that getting hit by a car or crashing seemed like an attractive alternative compared to countless hours of riding staring us in the face, I would imagine what it would be like to wake up in the hospital after the accident (Assuming that I lived), to feel a warm and to know that I didn't have to do anything for the foreseeable future. Luckily somewhere around day three or four I defeated this pussy ass part of myself. The bitch in me died crying and screaming, I drowned him out with and Ipod and a handful of gummy candies that have the ability to make me happy no mater what circumstances I find myself in. This is when the trip turned for me, we were already half way through Switzerland and the sun found us for the the first time since we left Garmisch. Without the rain our spirits were flying and my legs remembered how to ride a bicycle the way they used to, I could push as hard as I needed to without cramping or unbearable pain. The road continued to roll out in front of us as we passed into France and headed towards Lyon. In Lyon we stayed with Gary's friend Sidney who was an awesome host and let us drop the majority of our shit at her place. Up to this point we had one bike completely overloaded with excess stuff that we didn't really need, we were taking turns riding the overloaded bicycle but it was still slowing our progress. The day after Lyon felt like the beginning of a new trip, not weighed down by anything we managed to ride about 170km (100 miles) in the first day and the possibility of reaching San Sebastian (800 km from Lyon) in 4-5 days seemed to be within our grasp. All my memories from this part of the trip seem to run at a faster speed than the others. Everyday we would wake up around dawn, roll out of whatever bushes or grass we had slept in the night before and then ride for the next 12 hours or so until it started to get dark, then we would again have to find a place to sleep and wash knowing full well that the same routine was waiting for us in the morning. This was without a doubt the most physical taxing part of the trip, but with the Atlantic on the horizon and only a few days away it felt easier to push through the hard parts, knowing that every kilometer we rode put us that much closer to being able to relax on the beach. On the fourth day after leaving Lyon we started 250km away from San Sebastian and weren't sure where we would end up at the end of the day. We knew it should be relatively flat and had gotten and early start on the day so the beach was very much in sight. Thinking back on it I can hardly remember any of the ride that day until we saw our first sign telling us that our goal was only 60km away. We had a bit less than 3 hours of sun light and had already ridden 190km but there was no question of stopping and finding a place to sleep when we were so close, we pushed on and rode along the coast and passed into Spain. We rolled up to the beach as the sun was setting and sat on a bench watching the waves, we felt rather fucking victorious I might add. It took me until the next day to realize that it was over the reality sunk in as we were sitting on the beach, it was bitter sweet though, I was happy to have a rest but I already wanted to ride my bike again and feel that same sense of adventure and freedom that comes with covering new ground. We spent the next day and a half on the beach until we packaged our bikes and headed back to Lyon to recover our excess stuff. We had another two days in Lyon to mess around and we had a great time with Gary's friend and her dog, I also found a chess club and got to battle some french guys. Then there was another epic all day train ride complete with the usual bullshit. We were happy to be back in Garmisch when we arrived but we realized the past two weeks that had felt like years would be only memories from now on, and try as we might, it would be impossible to really share them with anyone. The struggle of riding a bicycle a long distance is a very internal one, you face for hours at a time of mostly pain and discomfort and when it gets really bad it's just you alone inside your head, it's amazing the weird shit that will come out of your brain when you put yourself in this state. It's also equally amazing how a horrible part of a ride can seem muted and almost enjoyable when you look back at it, as if the suffering you felt then is actually one of the best moments you can remember, when I think back to these times it always makes me laugh and I feel happy. I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to do this, I don't know what else to say, zak

p.s. I know the pics I'm going to post suck but we didn't really take many. We were sadly pretty much all business for most of the time and seldom stopped to take them.

Super funk, the kind you can smell from a mile away

I'm in Garmisch right now and it's absolutely beautiful, so I've got to sit here and try to write as much as I can about Egypt before my bicycle seduces me and I end up out side rolling around. I promise to do my best but I can only realistically hold out for maybe 30-45 minutes at most then the sun and the birds will have won me over.


Well... the bicycle won that battle a bit quicker than I had expected it to. About 5 minutes after writing the beginning of this post I looked out the window and then shut the computer. So I'm back now it's almost dark the night before I leave on my bike trip and I'm still completely unpacked, I've really got to get my shit together. However I still need to write about Egypt and at very least just get some pics up.


I'm not sure how to best describe my experiences in Egypt, the country had a bit of everything, there were times when I felt happy and free totally in awe of what I was looking at, and others where I was so pissed I would have killed children. Thankful though I kept a pretty level mind during the whole trip so no children actually were choked. I first arrived at the airport in Cairo with only a map drawn on a yellow sticky note to guide me. I had talked to a lady in Istanbul who had visited Cairo before and she armed me with a bit of knowledge about what to do when I arrived. Not much though, I knew there was a bus from the airport to downtown and from there I should be able to find a place to rest my head using my sticky note. So I headed out of the airport and listened to the cabbies tell me there was no bus and that the station been destroyed so the buses weren't running anymore, all lies of course. I found the bus station and only then realized that Arabic numbers are quite a bit different than the ones we do, so finding a bus using numbers was out of the question. I did meet a really cool kid though who helped me get on the right bus and to downtown. After I was were I needed to be finding a place was very cheap and not really a problem. The only other exciting event of the evening was eating the local food dish Koshari. Koshari is a weird mix of pasta, rice, spaghetti sauce and a whole lot of other shit that without whit's help I can't really explain. It was super spicy though, the guy who recommended it said that I would need 2 liters of water to eat a bowl. He obviously didn't know I keep that shit scharf (spicy). After one bowl I was in love and ate little else other than Koshari and Falafel off the street for the rest of the week. Not to mention a whole meal with a drink was about a dollar, very nice on the wallet.
That Amstel Zero is non-alcoholic and tasted like cotton candy, it was nasty. I didn't realize it wasn't a real beer until the first sip.







My second day in Cairo started very early, I was stirred awake by Egypt's favorite alarm, huge flies. Something about a fly trying to get into your nose while your half asleep just makes me feel ready for the day. After a bit of breakfast I headed out to Giza on the train to see the Pyramids. When you leave the train station you can see them looming in the distance, you start to realize then how big they actually are, but it isn't until you get right up next to them that you're totally blown away by their size and age. The whole morning I could barely believe I was actually there, I kept spinning around in circles smiling the whole time trying to make sure that I took it all in.

I know I suck but... I had to pack and eat and now it's 1 am and I've got to get some sleep before I wake up tomorrow and have to ride 160 + km with my heavy ass bike. I'm going to throw some pics up and I'll try to write a but more when we hit an Inet cafe on our ride.

Cut a hole in my backpack to get some pics of the bazzar this pic above is of the back pack.

Turkey Photos

Hey everyone this is just a super random selection of photos from Turkey, I have more but I want to get a post written about Egypt before I leave on my bike trip tomorrow. Hope all is well, zak

Turkey and the attack of a sweaty singing fat man

What's up,
Turkey was sick I had a good time in Istanbul and only wish that I would have had a chance to see other parts of Turkey, I think I may have to go back again sometime. I met all types of people in the city and had very unique and sometimes downright strange interactions with all of them. There was the 15 year old kid Heusain who worked the 12 hour night shift at the hostel I stayed at. He played a bit of chess and I would battle with him and show him moves after he had finished his work for the evening. He was still very much in the learning stage of his English but would greet me every morning with a "whats up man" and a proper kid like hand shake, the kind you see on MTV, it made me laugh every time. Then there was the girl from Portugal I shared breakfast with, who after knowing her for only 5 minutes started talking about how she loved Turkey because of the harry men and was glad that the guys on the beach didn't look like little boys (it was a strange convo I'm not going to lie). There was also the Danish kid who I found playing chess and talking tons of shit on the roof. I was of course immediately excited, seeing a chess board and hearing someone talking shit about chess just makes me all wet inside. Unfortunately he was pretty much all hot air, we played a few games and in the words of my dutch chess friend ron, "I crushed him". (see now I get to talk shit). There was also the Turkish barber who did a great job cutting my hair and even burned the hair off my ears when he was finished saying the whole time "this is Turkish, very special".

Now for the attack of the sweaty singing fat man, I had to start a new paragraph because this was just too weird and it deserved it's own space. Being in Turkey I figured I have to experience a Turkish bath. So I paid my money, got naked and put my towel on and then was led into a damp moldy room and told to lay down on a hot slab of marble located in the room's center. Up to this point not so weird, kind of like a sauna just not as hot. I was alone laying on the slab and it was about 10 minutes before I heard him, At first it was just a faint singing from the other side of the door, Then it opened and in stepped the beast of a harry Turkish man who I was destined to do battle with. I'm not sure if he really didn't speak English or if he was just fucking with me but it was a strictly Turkish affair. He was only wearing a towel and his chest/back hair was glorious, the kind that had been well kept for all his life and had never seen a razor, not even once. I was told to sit next to a wash basin and while my new friend went on singing Turkish songs at the top of his lungs I was drenched towel and all in luke warm water. Then the washing began, first just my head and back and then he moved to my chest and armpits, at this point I'm thinking, I don't give a fuck how they do it here this guy is not touching the world cup under any circumstances ( the world cup is the name I've given to my nut sack for those who don't know).He sensed this I think and minded his distance. I was then pushed to the marble slab and told to lay face down. He lathered me up in at least a 3 foot high mound of bubbles and gave me one of the most painful massages I've ever had in my entire life. The rest of the event went as I'm sure you can imagine, me sitting in pain and covered with bubbles on a warm stone slab like a piece of meat, my Turkish conqueror singing and working me to a pulp. When he finally walked away laughing it was over. I came out of the damp room and was given new towels and the lady even rapped on around my head, I felt like a sultan. I have the greatest half sensual Z ever from the dressing room after the event, unfortunately I can't upload shit because none of the computers in Egypt have USB connections, so you'll have to wait.

I'm going to save Egypt for when I get back to Garmisch on the 8th because the description will be much more meaningful with something to look at. I've got to run but remember if in Turkey say yes to the Turkish bath, worst case it will make you laugh.

I saw the pyramids today they were sick, I'm not going to talk about it without pics though. I'm headed on the night train to Luxor tomorrow night. Much love and I'll see you all soon, the summer is flying by.