Lindau, Germany to Munich, Germany: Bike paths, the Engineering Museum, and Couchsurfing!

When we last left off I had found internet (and warm breakfast) at McDonald's after just having crossed into Germany from Austria... after just having crossed into Austria from Switzerland.

I forgot to mention in my rain-weathered state that, as if in testament to the lack of stealth camping in Switzerland, within an hour of crossing into Austria I found a secluded bike trail that was a goldmine of places to camp. But, I was happy with the heated bathroom from the night before.

Anyways.

It did, thank goodness, stop raining while I was blogging, and later that day the sun would come out. In short, I biked to Munich. Notable things that happened along the way:
- More bike lanes everywhere, continuing the trend started by Switzerland. Hooray!

- Louisa (my bike) made a friend while I was grocery shopping

- I successfully made it across these railroad tracks despite having no idea what this sign said.

(I pulled the lever and the gate opened. On the other side I pulled it again thinking they would close. Instead a voice said, “Ja?,” I said I was just trying to close the gate, and then biked away terrified I'd done something wrong)

- Stealth camping is in full force. There are hardly any fences anywhere and it's... freeing. Mentally. I'm just not worried about finding a place to sleep.

- I did an England and found myself on a path better suited for hiking after trying to take a shortcut... oh well.

- I successfully acquired breakfast at a bakery despite not speaking any German. It was good, but they had no chasson aux pommes, and I was sad.

So anyways, now I'm in Munich, in a hammock in the apartment of my Couchsurfing host, Liviu. Liviu is awesome, I'm pretty sure we'd be best friends if we lived in the same city. He volunteers at a community bicycle shop, and his stance on stuff is much the same as mine: “Eventually you have everything you need and buying more stuff doesn't make you happier... except bikes, of couse. Buying a new bike always makes me happier.”

Liviu also has a few electric bikes, which I was skeptical about at first, but having tried them, I totally get it. They are fun. You still have to pedal, but you force is greatly multiplied – you can go up steep hills, or just really fast. And being fun means you want to bike more. And more people on bikes can only be a good thing. So if you've always been like, “biking to work would be nice but it's too much work,” then go buy an electric bike. They're awesome. Weeee!!!

Part of the reason I wanted to visit Munich was for the Engineering Museum. This was recommended to me by a friend whose review was, “I cannot possibly oversell it.” He was right. Imagine a regular museum; say, a museum of naval history and technology. Now make it huge. Huge. We're talking comparable to football stadium huge. Actual boats. Model boats. Dioramas. Demonstrations. Paintings of boats. Good. That's one floor of the Deutches Museum. It has 6 floors. Some of the rooms/floors include: naval history and technology, flight history and technology, energy history and technology, electrical history and technology, astronomy, math (including a room of puzzles), physics (including a room of interactive demonstrations), music, computer technology...

I was blown away. I spent 8 hours there, and I want to go back. There was just so much cool stuff.

One of the rooms on electricity.

Diorama of a hydroelectric power plant.

Fully detailed model ship.

Fluid drive.

Model ship structures.

Inside of a compass.

Submarine cutaway (actual submarine).

Diorama of divers recovering a submarine.

One of the rooms on energy.

Old globes -- the nearest is before Chris Columbus sailed to the Americas. Note the size of Africa -- mainland on the left and Madagascar just right of center.

Inside of a tower clock.

For super awesome bonus points, when I was in the music room, there was a proctor giving a custom tour to a blind person. The proctor would guide the hand of the bind person over the automatically playing instruments so he understood how they worked, then play them (my favorite was similar to a music box but it used discs instead of a cylinder). Then the proctor let him play the other instruments like the harpsichord and piano. This guy was a virtuoso on piano. It was wonderful to listen to.

I could probably write ten pages on everything I saw at the museum, but I'll refrain. Suffice to say, for a geek like me, it's impossible to oversell.

Grocery store stop on the way home: Bicycle culture alive and well.

So that was Monday.

Monday night I was craving Indian food and turns out Liviu sometimes goes to a Sikh temple where they feed everyone who shows up until they are full, for free (but you can donate). We went, donated, observed some prayers, and then sat on the floor with the other guests and the priest and had an excellent meal. Sitting on the floor is important – everyone there is equal; even if a king were to come he would be expected to sit on the floor. At the Golden Temple in India they feed anywhere from 10-40,000 people each day. Did I mentioned Liviu motorcycled throughout the Himalayas? So we geeked out about that too (in 2013 I spent three months in India volunteering as a bike mechanic).

On Tuesday we did a fat morning (recall that French saying...) but eventually made it to the bike shop where Liviu volunteers. He wanted to hack one of his electric bikes (stock, the electric assistance cuts out at 25 kph; with a special chip wired in, it cuts out at 99 kph) and I wanted to swap out a shifter cable and put more water bottle mounts on in preparation for the Middle East. Turns out I replaced the cable, housing, and the shifter itself, and also discovered my rear wheel was in need of replacement. It was bittersweet... but it was also free, since the shop is sponsored. Given all the volunteering in bike shops I've done, I felt right at home. It was a great few hours, fixing bikes, joking around, searching for parts, etc. I arrived with a bike whose rear shifter had to be pried out of gear every morning, and left with a bike that shifts like a hot knife through warm butter.

Hackerspace the bike shop shares.

Storage area for the bike shop.

Looking for parts. Right at home on top of a cargo bike.

Sad shifter cable.

Sad cable housing. From rubbing on the pannier? Not sure.

Happy cable ends!

Sad wheel rim -- notice how it follows the curvature of my thumb. It should be flat!

After the bike shop we went to a pizza place for lunch on me (thanks Liviu for hosting me!), stopping to dink around on the electric bikes on a steep hill on the way. After lunch, we went through the main square to a Couchsurfing get-together at one of Munich's huge parks – comparable to, if not larger than, Central Park in New York. It was cool to talk to other travelers (though I was the only one actively traveling, everyone on Couchsurfing has the travel bug, I imagine) – one from Bavaria, two from Italy, one from Mongolia, me from the US, and Liviu born in Romania.

Architecture in the main square.

Surfers on a water outlet right by the city center.

Couchsurfing get-together! At the end, there were 6 of us.

It's been a good few days. Nothing really dramatic has happened, except perhaps that I've made an awesome new friend in Liviu... and my bike is semi-ready for the next stage of travel (shifts – check. Can carry extra water – check. Needs a new rear wheel – sad face). Biking through Munich has been awesome – really nice bike lanes everywhere, tons of other people on bikes. I look forward to the bike paths I'm sure will lead me to Austria. Ukraine, here I come!

Lindau, Germany: Musings from the Road

”Musings from the Road” is any post where the content is not constrained by chronology. This gives me more freedom to write about whatever comes to my mind, though the content will almost always be influenced by the tour in some way.

On Public Places to Stay

There is no hiding where this one is going: I believe that everybody has the right to a place to sleep. The kicker? Sleep should be free.

This does not mean a “fancy” free place to sleep – I am not saying, obviously, that hotels should be free or that anyone can walk into your house and use the spare bedroom. Just somewhere. The logical counterargument is that one needs property to sleep and property isn't free, so how can a place to sleep be free?

I don't know. Whether the way we distribute property makes sense is another argument entirely (I got here first! It's mine and I'm not native American!), but since I don't want to go there (I suspect the status quo is impossible to change; it is imperfect, but so widely subscribed to...), let me simply muse.

This trip is only possible because I stealth camp. I never leave trash behind and I never destroy property – I live by “leave no trace.” And if someone were to find me and ask me to leave, I would. I simply cannot afford to travel the world staying in hotels every night. Countless people, mostly hosts on Warmshowers but sometimes complete strangers, have taken me in and given me a shower and a bed, or just permission to camp in their yard or garage or shed from time to time. I am privileged to experience this; it's not something I ask for or expect every night nor would it be reasonable to ask for or expect every night.

But stealth camping is, 99% of the time, illegal. There are fortuitous places (some public property in the rural States; Scotland) where it is legal. We've made it really hard for people to sleep without paying. I have found the occasional shed or roof when the weather calls for it, though I often wonder if I was found, whether measures would be put in to prevent others from sleeping there again (most poignantly, I recall a shed behind an empty fire station I slept in when there was a thunderstorm coming in. After an hour, I heard people outside, opened the door, introduced myself, and asked permission to stay. The answer was yes, but I often wonder if the shed has since been locked).

Obviously I plan to host other cycle tourists when this tour is over. But would I let a homeless person sleep in my yard for a night? Aren't cycle tourists, on some level, just mobile homeless people? What if someone homeless asked me, “Hey, I've got a job interview tomorrow. I could really use a shower and a good night's sleep. Can you help me out?”

One of my hosts once unknowingly hosted someone abusing the system – an ex-con pretending he was on a bicycle tour in order to get free food and places to sleep. When the host figured this out, they were at first embarrassed. But when they told me this story, they laughed about it. “Who cares?” they said. “Guy got a shower, meal, and a good night's rest. Hope it helped him find a job.” I was grateful they were humble enough it didn't keep them from hosting again – too often one bad egg spoils the lot.

It's hard to get really far into this without getting political, so though it may seem unfinished, I'll leave it here as food for thought. It's a conversation better had with readily available statistics, too (eg, how many people “abuse the system?”). But I think about it often: how can we continue to provide affordable travel like bicycle touring? Or, is travel destined to be an activity only for the bourgeoisie? And at the most basic level – should we have to pay someone every time we close our eyes, a need as basic as water?


Comme tu veux

It was with great sadness that I left France and the French-speaking part of Switzerland. But there are many things about French (the language and the culture) that I liked very much. My favorite is the phrase “comme tu veux,” which translates to “as you like.” This was said to me by almost every host I had and then some. I like it because it sidesteps the dance of what's alright and what's not, putting the responsibility for the decision squarely in the hands of the guest. Here are the options for dinner – choose as you like. You can stay later: as you like. There is no pretext of “actually I really want you to pick A even though I offered B.” It's refreshing and simple and has forced me to be more decisive in the best way.

“Ca marche?” (pronounced “sah marsh”) also needs a shout-out. Translating to “That walks?” it's the English equivalent of “Ok?” or “does that work?” But like... with style. Ca marche? Ca marche.


McDonald's

A dilemma often faced when traveling is whether to choose what's reliable and familiar or whether to explore the unknown. I reference often in my blog looking for and finding McDonald's restaurants. How American! But actually, I don't like the food here very much, and I'm acutely aware how unhealthy it is for you. It's just... McDonald's almost always has free internet (I found one once that did not).

On tour, as in life, you have certain basic needs: food, water, a bathroom and a place to sleep. Sometimes, a roof (even not as a place to sleep – just to warm up, perhaps). I don't think internet is technically a “need” (I've been seriously considering living without it when I get back to the States) but it sure is nice to have: Hi mom, I'm alive! And it can lead to the other needs – for instance, you can use internet to find a Warmshowers host.

And when you're in a strange country it's nice to know where to get these things.

I've long been considering making a video about why shopping at non-local stores (and paying via credit card) is bad for the economy (I probably would have made it already except my travel laptop doesn't have the processing power, and I don't have the time). I guess when traveling though, especially in places where I don't speak the language, it's nice not to have to “seek out” the local grocery store, internet cafe, whatever. I want what's reliable. I want what's convenient – because so many other aspects of bicycle travel are, often, inconvenient. I get to sample the local cuisine at other times.

But I'm still acutely aware that I could be traveling differently.


Finances!

I actually wrote this musing when on the ferry from Wales to Ireland, but then my computer crashed and I lost it. So, let's try again.

I'm a numbers guy – I love to know how much things cost. I also think other people are curious: how affordable is bicycle travel? Maybe you donated and are wondering how far your donation went, maybe you want to know where I got “all that money” (a question often asked when I say I'm “traveling the world” and might be gone “at least a year” which should naturally cost tens of thousands of dollars, right!?), maybe you're planning your own tour and want a baseline. So, while I budgeted $20/day, here's where I actually stand for April, May, and June:
- Number of days on tour: Call it 90 (three months)
- Total amount spent: $2,823, $31/day
- Amount spent on “daily” expenses (mostly food, but anything under $50): $965, $10/day
- Amount spent on “big” expenses (health insurance, plane tickets, bike parts): $1858, $21/day

These numbers are probably plus or minus 10% because I had to combine information from two accounts (my debit card and credit card) and various statement periods (credit cards, bless them, don't always start or end on the first or last of the month). If I come back in a year and the numbers are different, don't be surprised.

So I'm doing really good – better then I expected, actually. I know, I know: $31/day! Over budget! Except... not really.

I (hopefully) won't have to buy a plane ticket again until I get to the Pacific Ocean. I'm not currently paying for health insurance (thanks EU!) and when I do buy it again, it will cost about half as much as I was paying in the States. So the “big” expenses are heavily front-loaded and will get more absorbed the longer I'm on tour. Consider what the next 90 days might look like:
- Continue to spend $10/day on “daily” expenses: $900
- Spend only $500 on “big” expenses
- Cost per day over those 90 days: $15
- New cost per day over the whole trip (($2823+$900+$400)/180 days): $22

Frankly, I expect to beat even that, since I aim to spend nearly nothing when WWOOFing in Ukraine for 30 days (I'll get room and board in exchange for work).

Again, I'm sure these numbers are not 100% accurate, but that's more or less where I stand. So no: I'm not super rich (by some standards... I fully acknowledge $3k goes very, very far in some countries) and I'm not living glamorously ($10/day + health insurance and a plane ticket?). I did live pretty bare bones to save up “all that money” (no car for three years, small apartment, lots of oatmeal and rice), but the point is, you don't have to spend thousands to see the world if you're willing to live in a tent. Also, if you want me to do a post on how easy it is to live without a car and the ridiculous amount of money you'd save, let me know... I'm pretty sure I could write that in my sleep.

You can also see how even one or two hotel rooms would wreak havoc – staying one night in a $100 hotel is 5 days of living expenses!

And if you donated – we know now that every postcard gets me another day of living expenses (food). Thank you!

Ruy, France to Lindau, Germany: Lakes, Rain, and Switzerland

In 100 meters: Well-dressed gentlemen crossing the road.

I left Ruy with joy in my heart. The goodbyes don't get easier, but staying with wonderful people does something to one's demeanor. They say we are who we surround ourselves with. Time will tell if this trend continues.

The day was fairly uneventful until I made the Rhone again. If a river shows happiness by being beautiful, the Rhone was happy to see me.

At Marie-Laure's, I'd sent a few Warmshowers requests to hosts in Geneva, about two days away, since it was supposed to rain then. Three "no's" so I'd sent out another three requests before leaving. I usually send only one at a time, but Warmshowers tells you how likely hosts are to respond to your message (a response is either "yes" or "no"), and not many hosts in Geneva had a great track record (nobody at 100%, one 90% who would end up not replying, the rest below 60%). That's fine, but it means one has to send out a few more requests to get even one response, and if multiple people reply "yes" (unlikely though it may be if they only reply 20% of the time), you're in a sticky situation.

In any case, I hoped that out of six attempts I'd get at least one "yes," so my schedule was dictated by trying to get to Geneva Tuesday night – an overshoot, to say the least. I took a lot of breaks, enjoyed the scenery (while it was still sunny), watched a few boats go through the locks of the Rhone... it was a relaxing day. I had a lot to ponder, too... what had made the past week so special? Could I recreate it somehow?

About 7 PM it started to look like rain, so I started looking for a roof. Then it did rain, not so heavily as to be obnoxious, but just enough to remind me how annoying rain could be – jacket on, wallet in a ziploc, etc. It didn't last for long, but I wanted to get my tent and fly up before it came back. I found a spot next to a collapsed house which was under enough tree cover to still be dry. I left my bike there to walk down the trail a bit, hoping to find a better spot. I didn't, but I did find an emergency rain spot underneath the staircase of a soccer center, and I got a good enough view of the sky to see there was no more rain on the horizon. To bed it was.

I awoke at about 10:30 to footsteps and the sound of children's voices getting closer. I could see lights on the bike path through the trees; then, there were three flashlights shining through my tent wall. This wasn't the first time I'd been discovered (though I realize now I neglected to document the first), and it probably won't be the last. I couldn't understand all of what was said between them, but eventually I said, "Bonjour," as nonchalantly as possible, and they said, "Bonjour," and then after some discussion they said, "Bonne nuit, monsieur," and went on their way. I imagine they were looking for a place to hang out, and not to rob or maim random travelers, so I deemed them harmless and went back to bed. Worse case their parents would happen to be the property owners and they'd come kick me out, but I didn't think that was worth packing up for.

I woke up again at 4:30 to flashes of light on the horizon. Lightning is not so harmless. I took a minute to make a judgement call – put on the fly and wait out the impending rain, or pack up and head for the staircase I'd spotted earlier? Staircase, I decided. With the impending rain, I set a record time from lying in my sleeping bag to rolling out on my bike. This usually takes me 30-45 minutes; this time, I did it in 20.

I got to the soccer center just as the rain began. It didn't look like it would let up anytime soon, so I set up my bivvy sac and went back to bed. The rain didn't cease until 9, and I went on my way... after it started and then stopped again. Ten minutes after I left, it started drizzling again. And then it started pouring again, just as I was passing an abandoned-looking shed. I went inside and waited half an hour – it didn't let up. I needed to catch up on sleep (recall the lightning woke me up at 4:30), so I set up my bivvy sac yet again and dozed until about 12, when the rain let up for more than 10 minutes.

Despite all this hassle I would actually make it to Geneva that night. With an 8 AM departure I thought I'd arrive about 12 and have plenty of time to update the blog before finding a place for the night. Instead I left at 1 and arrived at 5.

Switzerland: Bike paths everywhere!

I found a McDonald's (AKA free internet) and checked for Warmshowers responses – nothing. I used the last of the credit on my French SIM card to call them just in case – no answers – then to call my Swiss friends on the other side of the lake to tell them I'd be arriving tomorrow. My service cut just as I was saying goodbye – not perfect timing, but I wasn't going to buy more credit just to call and say goodbye.

Biking through Geneva!

By this time the rain had ceased so I wandered around Geneva enjoying, you know, being in Geneva, and wondering how I was going to find a place to sleep. At that point I wasn't so worried about the rain as just finding somewhere: all along the lake was populated and everywhere else was mountains. I decided to leave it to fate for the moment and had dinner on the lakefront. I toasted France, where I'd spent more than a month, learned the language (better, anyways), made some good friends, and actually really didn't want to leave. But I was in Switzerland now.

Optional touristy photo of the Geneva harbor fountain

After about 45 minutes, someone sat at the bench next to me and pulled some churros out of a touring pannier. I pointed at the pannier and asked if he'd done any tours. This was Felix from Zurich, who had been on two tours himself. After getting to know each other a bit, I popped the question, and we were on our way to the grocery store. I'd buy him groceries in exchange for him letting me sleep on his couch. A wonderful surprise: not just a safe place to sleep, but company for the night. Okay, and food and a shower. Also he lived back in France, and going back to France couldn't possibly be a bad thing.

View from Felix's apartment

The next morning he'd give me back the 10 Euros I paid for groceries. "People were so kind to me when I was on tour," he said, "it's the least I can do." I checked, and he was sure.

With sunny skies the next day I continued around the lake. Halfway around the lake I asked a tourist office to use their phone to check directions with Jean-Paul, who insisted on picking me up partway there. I wasn't sure why he was so insistent, but "ok," I said; if he was so insistent it didn't bother me that much. I continued to the French-Swiss border (the southern side of the lake is French) and waited... and waited... and used the border payphone to check in. I'd just missed him. I offered again to bike the rest of the way, but no, he insisted on picking me up. "Ok," I said.

French-Swiss "border..." slow down and acknowledge it?

Jean-Paul is one of those people who you can't help but smile around. He's just a happy guy; as he greeted me, he grinned a huge, genuine, toothy smile. You can tell he's got his priorities in order – he's upbeat, but relaxed and nonchalant. We stopped in town to pick up his partner, Chantel, before heading home. Oh, and the reason he wanted to pick me up is because he lived up a "hill" – a 700m tall hill, higher than my first col in the Pyrenees. I could have pedaled that, yes... but it would have taken two hours. I decided not to worry about it.

"The Swiss Method:" Pop it into neutral and push it in.

Jean-Paul and Chantel are more insistent than mosts hosts of the "let me take care of you" routine. For dinner, they offered to take me to fondue – the best in Switzerland, they said – but of course if I wanted kebabs, or pizza... no no, I said... I was in Switzerland, I was going to eat fondue! Before getting in the shower, I tried to sort my laundry clean from dirty (on a bike, it all goes in the same pannier – I turn the dirty clothes inside-out to keep track), but "just put it all in," they insisted. They gave me a map of Switzerland and helped me plot my route to Munich, they insisted I use their phone to call whoever I wanted (I picked my mom), and they made very certain I knew I could take my time in the shower. They were put-your-feet-up-hosts.

Chantel had recently had surgery and was wary of eating complex foods, so Jean-Paul and I had a man date. I was fascinated by how complex he became so quickly. From 15 to 21, he was a champion fighter; then, he took up cycling; now, it's motorcycles. He's been passionate and enthusiastic about all of them, and became skilled in all of them. He's never had a problem with money (after being a champion fighter he took up work as a mechanical engineer, learning on the job), but it's never been about the money. At some point you have enough – you either have to start doing something meaningful with it, or doing something more meaningful with your time. Working just to make money was never enough for him. When he fought, the part he enjoyed the most was the travel – he traveled all over Europe to fight. He also spoke a lot about respect – for his opponents in the ring, but also for other people. He respected me enough to have patience when I wasn't at the border when he expected. He had opened his home to a number of people, even when he wasn't home, and he said if I ever needed a place to stay he'd leave the keys with the neighbors... even the car keys if I needed a car.

After the first 30 minutes we'd answered all of life's questions and fell silent for a few minutes. The fondue was really, really good. It came with just potatoes and bread – vehicles for the cheese, it seemed, nothing to adulterate the flavor. It's not customary to tip in Europe (though Jean Paul is the kind of guy that would anyways) so I offered to pay for my plate instead. He refused.

Dessert was good, too.

The next morning I was left the keys on the counter and told to come to the garage when I was ready. I packed up and went down and Jean-Paul was cleaning my bike! He told me it was tip-top shape now, except for the rear derailleur which might need to be replaced soon (it was used at the start of my first tour so it probably needed to be replaced a long time ago...). He drove me to breakfast, which, even in a restuarant, was the light French fare of bread-and-jam-and-nothing-else. Bridget, a delighful German friend of his who spoke some English, joined us. We joked and laughed and talked about travel and Trump (if I haven't mentioned: yes, everybody asks me what I think of Trump) and at one point Jean-Paul asked Bridget to ask me what kind of sandwich I wanted to take for lunch (Bridget: "You haven't even finished breakfast and he's worrying himself with what you want for lunch. Such a gentleman...").

Guys try not to blow up the world while I'm gone.

I was offered another order of both coffee and bread, which I accepted, and then it was offered again... I'm pretty sure Jean-Paul would have sat there all day until I was full, but with fondue the night before, it only took two servings. I offered again to pay for breakfast or lunch, but Jean-Paul refused. We went on our way.

While I was at Marie-Laure's three days before, I'd had my first acceptance of a Couchsurfing request. I've sent maybe 30 requests on Couchsurfing since the start of this tour. Most have been declined; the rest, ignored. Frankly, sometimes I thought it was hopeless. I'd tried various amounts of notice, numbers of days (Couchsurfing, unlike Warmshowers, tends to take place over multiple nights instead of just one – at least that's what my research seemed to indicate), amounts of personalization, etc. Since I'm new to CS maybe it was that I didn't have any references; I suspect a large part was that many of my requests were during the week when "regular" people are working. Maybe I was picking the wrong hosts; maybe my profile was poorly written... in any case: finally, the stars aligned! And this seemed like someone I'd truly enjoy getting to know.

To make my newly-accepted Couchsurfing stay, I had to be in Munich by Sunday. I left Marie-Laure's on a Monday, and arrived in Blonay (where Jean-Paul and Chantel live) on Wednesday. From Blonay it was about 500 km including about 300 km through very hilly Switzerland to Munich – meaning I'd arrive in Munich on Monday at the earliest, a day late. I don't like taking rides, but as long as there's a good reason, I'm not necessarily opposed. Jean-Paul would drop me off in Lucerne, about 200 km along the way.

To be honest, I feel very little ambiguity about having asked for a ride. There are three reasons: the weather, the Couchsurfing, and my track record.

The weather: it poured during the car ride, and I remembered how much I hated riding in the rain. Switzerland may be beautiful, but when all your attention is on staying dry and warm, it can be hard to appreciate even the most beautiful landscapes.

The Couchsurfing: I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to meet my host, who sounded really awesome, nor to see the Engineering Museum in Munich, which was part of the reason I wanted a multi-day stay. When I said it was hard to plan exact days when touring, my host said he was flexible; all the same, I wanted to play it safe.

Track record: I remember every ride I've accepted: 15 miles in La Crosse, WI after getting lost in an industrial area; 40 or so from Dawlish, England to Dartmoor to make a Warmshowers stay; 115 from Aberystwythe to Holyhead to make the ferry to Ireland; now, about 115 again, for a Couchsurfing stay. I remember them all because one day I might want to ride them again... but I don't think so. The point of touring, for me, isn't to say, "I pedaled the whole way." That's a bonus objective. I'd rather not pedal through the pouring rain, or miss my ferry, or have to rush myself fom time to time. For me, accepting the occasional ride doesn't ruin the tour. Being rushed does (needing rides more than every so often would indicate something needs to change).

To each their own, of course.

Anyways, Jean-Paul dropped me off in Lucerne and let me go only after insisting we see each other again. We shook hands and he left. It was still raining.

Oh, and everything was suddenly in German. I don't speak German.

Switzerland is beautiful, but hilly and crowded. Maybe France has spoiled me, but it doesn't seem like there are any quiet roads that go anywhere (to do: research the population density of Switzerland). Outside of cities, the landscape is either field or hilly with trees – there's hardly any flat forest or foliage. After just a few hours of riding, I knew finding places to stealth camp would be a challenge.

Switzerland: more than one pretty lake.

It's beautiful, but WHERE DO YOU STEALTH CAMP?

It rained on and off, but the day ended sunny and cool. I didn't trust it, however: I needed a fly or a roof. Problem is, I couldn't find anything. As exhaustion set in, I decided to try a bus stop. I checked the schedule and there would be no more busses till 7 AM – perfect, I can be out by then. But I tried a 15 minute snooze and couldn't fall asleep, there was too much traffic; anyways, I was nervous about someone stealing my bike. I pulled out my map and looked for anything – a church, a forest, a park – the only thing nearby (though so nearby I could see it!) was a "place of worship" – a very, very small church at the top of a nearby hill. I decided to try it.

Random bike path that doesn't randomly end!

The door was locked, but there was just enough space on the porch to keep a bivvy sac dry. It was about 200m from the road, though with enough hills in between I'd only be seen if someone knew to look for me. Desparate and tired, I took it.

And it was the hobo-yist thing I've ever done!

Also, I lost my earplugs somewhere along the way – I left them at Felix's in France, I think – so it was a long, long night. Noise from the highway and rain dripping from the roof woke me frequently. A nap would be in order the next day.

The next day, Friday, would be a game of hide-and-seek with the rain. All day it would drizzle, then rain, then let up, then repeat. This isn't so bad when it's warm, but it was cold. The sun even came out once, just to taunt me. And Switzerland doesn't have many covered, public spaces – picnic areas, for instance. Around noon I finally found a church with a covered porch. I ate, and ate, and ate, hoping digesting the food would warm me up a bit. Remembering I was due for a nap, I decided to try the door – open! Saved by a church, again. I tried to hide myself, not wanting to make a bad impression on anyone who came in to pay their respects, and managed to get a good two hours in before a crew came to work on the speakers. Feeling I had overstayed my welcome, I decided to head out.

Around 6 I found myself descending into a plain of sorts. It occurred to me I had done a lot of climing that day, even some switchbacks, but it all felt natural after the Route des Cols, I guess. I wondered if the rain game had been an effect of the altitude, and descended hopefully into the only-mostly-cloudy-valley below.

I took dinner at, you guessed it, a church, and as it started to rain again I discovered a covered reception-type area in the graveyard. I pondered my map for places to sleep, and, finding a park about 2 hours out, decided to try it. I used the loo in the graveyard and...

It was a really nice loo. Clean, spacious (enough room for a bicycle and a bivvy)... it even had a little heater! Eveything a cycle tourist needs. So it only took about 3 minutes of riding in the freezing rain before I decided to turn around and spend the night in the loo.

As it was only 7 by the time I finished eating, I wrote this post while waiting to see if anybody would show up to kick me out. I prayed they wouldn't; skillful as I am at finding places to sleep, Switzerland really has me on the ropes. This was also the gold mine of stealth camping: once you get over the stigma of sleeping a bathroom (required: must be a clean bathoom), you can appreciate that it has everything you need... and this one had a heater to boot. I actually hoped someone would drop by so I could ask permission, but I wasn't sure how well it would go if they couldn't speak English. So I just waited, fingers crossed that it would somehow work out.

It did.

The next morning I was out by 7 (worst case scenario of leaving too late: open the door to a funeral procession) and summoned what will I had left to continue in the rain. A few breaks under trees and train stations later – and also I was in Austria for like an hour -- I found myself in a McDonald's in Germany. Say what you want, they do breakfast alright. And they have free internet.

Also if I stay here long enough maybe the rain will stop?

And then on to Munich.

Montelimar, France to Ruy, France: The Welcome Dog, French Fire, and Cheese that Walks

I left reliable-internet-McDonald's in Montelimar (my last post lied, it was Montelimar, not Valence) at about 3 PM, giving myself just enough time to make it to my host in Valence... or so I hoped. I underestimated the distance by a bit, thinking it was 20 miles when it was more like 30, and I had also yet to stop for lunch. But, there was a tailwind, and the route, being along the river, was mostly flat.

I arrived at Vincent's house around 6:45, only 45 minutes after I intended, and he and his dog Diego (named after the saber tooth tiger from Ice Age, a movie whose jokes we would reference often over the next few days) welcomed me. While there was a sign at the gate that said, “Mind the dog,” Vincent would later tell me that while most people had a guard dog, Diego was a “welcome dog.” I regret not getting a picture, because if you could see this dog, you would know that I felt welcome, indeed. Diego was the kind of dog that just likes to be in the room with you.

Vincent spoke English very well and was very proud of it, and part of the reason he liked to host Warmshowers guests was so he and his family could practice their English. While he spoke it for work, however, and thus it was necessary for him to be able to communicate effectively, the rest of his family seemed to prefer French. So, I spoke English with Vincent, and French with his wife and sons.

I was still in needing-to-kill-time mode, so after the first night went well, I was glad to be offered another night at their house. I called Vincent to confirm (his wife, Crystal, was at home that morning and made the offer), then unloaded my bike and went out for the day, up the Drone river valley, which is an offshoot of the Rhone river valley. It was hot and beautiful and admittedly not much happened, but it was nice to be out and about with nowhere, really, to get to. The Rhone is very bicycle touristy, so I met many other tourists, and spent my lunch at a seemingly-popular break point for these cycle tourists in La Voulte-Sur-Rhone, talking to some tourists in French and some in English (I met a Dutch couple cycling down the Rhone, one of two such couples that I would meet over the next few days).

That night I was (again) offered a home-cooked meal and a seat at their family table. Over the next few nights a theme would become what I'll call “being let into the inner circle;” that is, even though I was mostly a stranger, I was able to connect with my hosts and their families, and often their friends, very quickly. We talked about, but often moved quickly past, the artificial conversations like weather and what-do-you-do-for-a-living and instead spent a lot of time on why-do-you-do-it and what-are-you-passionate-about and relationships and personal struggles and stories and whether god exists. Since most of these conversations can become extremely personal extremely quickly, I won't be sharing many of them here. Maybe if I end up writing a book where that information can be presented more anonymously (yea, it was totally a host in France...); for now, though, if you want to know what happens in the inner circles of cycle touring hosts in France, you'll have to go on your own bicycle tour in France (challenge proposed!).

(if you are one of the wonderful hosts whose details I am choosing to omit, please don't be offended! I just like to play it better safe than sorry. Know that I had a wonderful time and the amount I share about my time with you is not reflective of the amount of enjoyment I got out of it).

I will say that Vincent had a trick for getting rid of mosquitoes which seemed to work: he started a fire in the grill and then periodically sprinkled coffee grounds over the embers. The coffee grounds create smoke that is irritating to mosquitoes, but not humans, and it's free (if you have coffee on a regular basis), and easy. He also taught me how to properly “try” wine before accepting a bottle, and that it's okay to refuse a bottle if it turns out to be no good! So I tried our wine that night, and refused it. Just kidding, it was fine.

After Valence I wasn't sure where I was going to go – I hadn't been able to find any hosts for Friday, but I did have about 130 km to go between Valence and where my friend lived outside Lyon (and I had two days to get there). Two 65 km days was enough to keep me motivated, I thought, I'd just sleep in a little and... and then I checked my e-mail, and a prospective host for that night had changed their response. Previously, it had been, “Friday, it's impossible.” But now: “Ok we wait for you.”

So. Onward to a host in Communay.

I stopped at a few wine tastings along the way hoping to fulfill a request from a donor. His girlfriend had once been to France, done some wine tastings, and returned with a glass from one of the tastings, which was a very special memory. Unfortunately, the glass broke. So this friend offered me a donation in exchange for trying to find a winery that would give me another tasting glass (and it was imperative that I also tasted the wine!), and he'd pay to have it sent back to the States.

The Rhone has a lot of wineries; unfortunately, many were closed as I passed by. Most of the wineries in France are family affairs, so it doesn't make sense to have someone there doing tastings all the time. It's not like in the States where the wine is mass produced and industrialized (I know all wine in the States isn't like this, and there are probably some wineries in France that are like this, but for the most part, this distinction stands) – meaning also that a lot of the wine has to be bought at the vineyard, it can't be bought at a grocery store halfway across the country or the world. So for better or worse, I probably tasted a lot of wine I'll never get to taste again.

Map of wineries in one of the regions of the Rhone.

By the way, when Francois and I were descending from the Pyrenees, we tried a lot of Muscats (pronounced without the “t”, thanks France), and they were amazing. The grapes that make wine are as varied as the different kinds of apples, and the wine they produce even more so, given the differences in soil, weather during the growing season, etc. I don't pretend to be an expert, but I will say that I have a much greater appreciation for wine culture than I did before I left the states.

Anyways...

Sadly, since a lot of the wineries were closed, and those I did visit were small affairs, I was unable to obtain a tasting glass. I'll keep looking, and maybe if I can't find one in France, I can find something as meaningful elsewhere. Time will tell. For the record, I did offer to return the donation if I'm unable to fulfill the request.

Eventually, I made it to my host in Communay, 90 km from where I'd started in Valence, and 40 km from my friend in Ruy, east of Lyon. My hosts that night were Dominique and Thomas (pronounced, roughly, “To-ma”) and their adopted son Vongy, who was deaf, but likes music and soccer, so we got along just fine (I even learned some French sign language!). Vongy and I communicated mostly with gestures, but he can also read lips (at least when I enunciate like a native francophone, which isn't often), and Dominique and Thomas helped, too. Dominique and Thomas were prepared to speak English, but as soon as I opened my mouth they were like, “Oh, you speak French?” So the stay would be mostly in French, with some English. They taught me some things in French, and I was happy to be able to teach them some things in English.

The reason they thought they couldn't host me was because they had been invited to dinner at a friends' house that night; the reason the invitation changed was because they asked their friend if I could come along too and the answer was “yes.” So, after a shower and some conversation, we left for dinner.

ON THIS:

This kind of bike is called a Pino (pronounced like the wine). The person in back steers, pedals, and shifts, and the person in front pedals... if they want to. You could also read, or wave at passer-bys, or sleep. GUYS IT WAS AWESOME.

Upon arriving to their friends' house I was greeted by Alan and Cecile, who were preparing dinner for us that night. As always in France, it would be multiple courses: the appetizer (in this case galettes – colloquially, a blanket word for cookie-shaped things. These were similar to mini crepes, and we had them with a homemade cucumber dip, as well as tapas on toothpicks), the salad (prepared by Dominique using exclusively vegetables from their garden), the entree (sausage; beef kebabs; a “crumb-brulee --” vegetables with a flour-butter crumble on top, baked), the cheese course (need I say more?), and dessert (homemade ice cream). We also went through about 4 bottles of wine and filled the ashtray.

Mini pans for mini crepes (kind of)!

Why learn French when you can learn Swahili?

The food was excellent, but the company made the night. As I said earlier, I won't disclose too much of what we talked about, but I will say I am extremely grateful for everyone there. We were joined by two more friends, so there were 7 of us in total (including me). A lot of our opinions varied, but we still spoke with respect and listened carefully (I did most of the listening, but I was able to participate now and then!). I felt like I was part of a really awesome family. Thomas concluded, at the end of the night: “This was perfect.” And of course, we all nagged him for saying so, but... it was, at the least, a really good night.

This is small potatoes compared to the depth of conversation that was had, but it is sometimes said that if you can joke in a language, you're good at it. So I was proud of myself for cracking a few jokes. I couldn't always participate in the deeper conversations, but I had my wit about me, and every now and again managed to get everyone in stitches with the few words that I knew. Alan kept moving the grill around as the wind changed, blowing the smoke in our faces, so I mused that I was learning a lot of French that night: both the language, and how to have a cookout... don't actually cook anything, just keep moving the fire around.

The night ended with me on the front of the Pino, looking up at the stars, listening to Thomas' comments on the landscape and the night come from the back seat in his sexy french accent (I'm straight but I'm just being honest here, the guy has a great timbre). We raced Dominique up a hill, and at the end with the Pino in the garage next to Louisa (my touring bike), full of good food and good wine and the satisfaction one only feels after a good night with friends, I collapsed into bed at about 1 AM.

I awoke at 9 and decided, “Eh... what's another hour?”

I woke up again at 12.

In France they call this “faire la grasse matinee” (do a fat morning), and it was humbly suggested the night before that I might be participating. So my hosts were neither surprised nor offended when I stumbled out of bed well after the sun came up.

I was offered the customary French breakfast of coffee, bread, and jam, and again enjoyed the dynamic conversation style between Dominique, Thomas, and Vongy. I was invited to stay for lunch, and since my friend lived only 40 km away (about a two hour ride), I accepted. Dominique's father joined us for lunch, which consisted solely of vegetables from the garden and prunes from her dad's prune trees.

This was one of those stays where I felt I really belonged. Despite the language barrier (let's be real... I'm not that good at French but we still communicated just fine) and whatever cultural barrier one might surmise, I felt like part of the family. I didn't want to go, but as is always the case for better or worse, there is more world to see, more people to meet, more adventures to be had.

As I was no longer in the Rhone valley I was worried it would be hilly (since I was so close to the Alps), but it wasn't bad. I stopped at a supermarket and as I was eating in the entrance, a strange approached me. He, too, liked bikes, as well as hiking in the Alps. After a brief conversation, he left, I finished eating, and went on my way. It rained on and off, but eventually (and after a double rainbow!) I made it to Ruy and was greeted by Marie-Laure and her husband, Andre.

The story behind my friendship with Maire-Laure is rather fortuitous. About three years ago I was on a bus from Minneapolis (where my mom lives) to Madison (where I worked at the time). The bus broke down and we were stranded in Podunk (actually it was more like Menominee, but Americans sometimes use “Podunk” to mean “the middle of nowhere”) for 8 hours. Many of the passengers got to know each other, and when it came out that there was a kind french-speaking lady on board, a few of us took it upon ourselves to practice our French with her. Before getting on the new bus, I half-jokingly suggested I might be biking around the world one day, and could I have her e-mail address and give her a visit?

You already know how that one ends.

At first I was a little nervous because we'd only met one time before (though we had Skyped a few times -- which was helpful, too, for practicing French), but after some time I managed to relax and feel here, too, like I had another home. Marie-Laure and Andre call themselves crazy and... well, that's part of why I think I fit right in! The conversations we've had would take too long to detail here, but we did delve into lingual idiosyncrasies, and my favorites are:
- For the cheese course at dinner I unwrapped the Camembert, which was fine, but as she was wrapping it up again, Marie-Laure noted that if you don't wrap Camembert, it will run away! In France it's apparently common to say that “le fromage marche,” meaning “the cheese walks” (“Just wait,” Andre said to Marie-Laure, “he's going to pack up his tent and leave before we even get to dessert!”). Camembert is a soft cheese which moves about the speed of molasses (it does move!), and indeed, by the next day at dinner, it had spilled out into the wrapper. Erm, walked, excuse me.
- La bave du crapaud n'átteint pas la blanche colombe: meaning “the drool of the toad doesn't reach the white dove,” this is something you can say to brush off an insult – the insult being the drool, the perpetrator being the toad, and you being the white dove. Also ridiculous enough to be a good ice breaker if you'd actually rather be friends with the person.
- Peigner la giraffe: meaning “to pet the giraffe,” this can be used to describe someone who is daydreaming or zoning out. We aren't sure where it comes from, but I like to think the giraffe is inside your head...

That night lasted until about 11:30, I put my tent up in the backyard with my headlamp, and then went to bed. Then I was immediately woken up again by the church bells at midnight. Welcome to France!

The next morning was a family barbecue – Marie-Laure's son, daughter, and mother arrived about noon, and a friend of her daughter's, as well. Again, I could detail everything that happened here, but suffice it to say, I had a good time. Perhaps they are all a bit crazy, but I'm crazy too, so I felt like I fit right in.

At some point during dinner we got back to lingual idiosyncrasies (I think it was when Marylene, Marie-Laure's daughter, said “Ooh la la!” – the first time I'd heard anyone say that here. Though does it count if she's crazy?), and I mentioned one of my favorite things about French is that there is sometimes seemingly random enthusiasm, re: Julia Childs. “What do you mean?” they asked. So, I whipped out my best Julia Childs impression, and had them all giggling.

The next morning for breakfast Marie-Laure woke me up Julia Childs' style: “BONJOURRR!” I was too tired to laugh, but I'm probably going to remember that for a long time.

So, it's now Monday morning, and I'm sad to say another departure is in order, but I have to go create more random coincidences! Next up: a couple I met on a ferry in Ireland lives in Montreaux, Switzerland, just east of Lake Geneva, and then I hope to visit the engineering museum in Munich.

In other news, I might actually be happy more than half the time? Or, at the least, engaged.

Next update from Switzerland! Maybe!

Perpignan, France to Valence, France: Goodbye, Sea; Hello, Rhone!

"Age is just a number... unless you're a bottle of wine."

I was sad to leave two of the most gracious hosts I had had for my entire tour, Genevieve and Bruno, the parents of Antoine, who was a friend of Francois's. They fed me every meal and when I left gave me enough food to make two very generous sandwiches (when they asked what kind of meat and cheese I liked I thought they were just making conversation). Despite my multiple offers to help them with whatever they might need, they insisted I relax and enjoy myself. It's kindness like that almost seems too much because I'm not sure how to repay it, but I think one way is to actually relax and enjoy myself. Remember, I did not come across them via Warmshowers – they are the parents of a friend of a friend (Francois), and said friend stayed only one night while I stayed two.

Hello, Eurovelo 8!

I gave them a dime (US currency) because it means they'll have to visit the US to spend it: maybe I can repay their kindness then. And you can bet they'll be getting a postcard in the mail sometime soon!

(as do all my hosts – side note, I should be caught up at this point. If you hosted me more than three weeks ago and haven't gotten a postcard or an e-mail saying I don't have your address, pester me! For donors, I am holding off on sending August postcards until I get to Switzerland since I already sent a round from France)

They were also my first host that didn't speak any English – or no more English than the average American speaks French, anyways (think “voila,” “bonjour,” “bon appetite,” etc). I mentioned in my last post there were times of confusion, but for the most part we were able to talk about almost everything. We did keep a dictionary nearby.

My favorite moment, oddly enough, was actually the night before I left: they'd suggested a great way to learn French might be to watch TV, so we watched a show called (roughly translated) “Some trains are not like others” about a guy who takes trains to random places and talks to people on the train and at the destination – kind of like what I do! They enjoyed it, I enjoyed it, and we had that in common, which, for an hour anyways, relieved me of any nervousness otherwise caused by the language barrier (just for posterity's sake, I do want to say that the nervousness and the language barrier were all my fault: they were gracious and kind and patient and did nothing wrong).

When I left Perpignan, I had about 9 days to do a five-day ride – I have a friend in Lyon I'd very much like to visit, but she's on vacation until August 5th. So, I've been indulging myself in every fancy, which basically means naps, picnic tables, views, etc. To be honest, it's been really tough. I thrive on a sense of progress, so forcing myself to only go 30 miles a day has been incredibly difficult (depending on the terrain and wind I usually do 60-70; 100 is not unheard of). The heat helps because it means naps are useful and possible, but there isn't a heck of a lot to do or see in this part of France – little that doesn't involve leaving my bike (AKA everything I own) in the middle of a busy city, anyways. And yes, I love going for walks and being outdoors, but to kill 4 days doing it amidst a bicycle tour? – a movie night, video game, or a book starts to sound really appealing (I have been unable to find many books in English, and I am already copiously strained during the day trying to learn French – I'm uncertain that I'd enjoy, just now, looking up every other word in a novel! But maybe I'll try it...). I've tried, once again, to find a host on Couchsurfing, as there are many in Lyon: either nobody wants to host a touring cyclist, I didn't give enough notice, or I'm doing something else wrong. Even manual labor for hours on end is starting to sound appealing: at least I'd be engaged!

Goodbye, Pyrenees!

Kick-ass aqueduct

Hello, foothills of the Alps!

I will say I've done a fine job not managing to sink back into depression, even when I find myself thinking about the big questions like purpose and meaning. Why am I doing this tour? What am I getting out of it? Is it worth being away from my friends? Asking those questions has, if anything, improved my mood. And I'm sure I'll get around to expounding my answers in this blog sooner or later.

For stealth camping, I can now add to the count the back of two vineyards, a(nother) forest, and a nice picnic place along the Rhone. Just outside the forest was a Monster Truck rally until 2 AM, so I didn't get much sleep that night; along the Rhone, there was a barge with extremely bright lights also kind enough to wake me up at 2 AM (I guess seeing where you're going is important when you're a giant boat on a river – lots of obstacles and it takes a while to stop with all that momentum).

Sunset over the Rhone: almost as bright as the lights of that boat.

After a few incidents on bumpy roads with my gear almost falling off the back, I also decided to reconfigure it a bit and haven't had any issues since. Granted, I hadn't had any issues in the 4 months since I'd left, but now I have a little more peace of mind as things don't move around nearly as much (I would periodically reach back to check on my uke, only to find it was hanging off the back. It never fell, but it made me nervous).

I also stayed with another Warmshowers host, Anne and Pierre. They are also fans of outdoor adventure, and would have had me another day except they had a hiking trip in the Alps to attend to! They offered to let me pitch my tent in their garden anyways. In the name of taking my time, I wish I'd said “yes,” but of course when they asked, my urge to progress came over me and I continued on my way.

Anne and Pierre are winning the "how many flavors of ice cream" competition started by my sister in DC. 12. All homemade.

Cheese: the course.

The evening before the night in the forest, I was taking lunch just outside said forest when a group of people walked by and inquired about my trip. One of them ended up inviting me over for a Coke, which became a beer, and when we got talking about his hobbies, it turned out he made jam! We lamented the amount of sugar in commercially available jam, and the result was him giving me one of his homemade jars – apricot, my favorite. We didn't communicate super well, but it was nice to have someone to talk to, and kind of him to offer me a beer and some jam. I asked if I could put my tent in his yard, but he declined, needing to be somewhere later that evening. He insisted, however, that I wouldn't be bothered in the forest, and I wasn't (except by the noises from the monster trucks).

I'm afraid, dear readers, that's it for this round! Not much has happened that is out of the ordinary (given I've been in France almost a month now!) – I have biked, it has been hot, I've eaten croissants, I've experienced kindness. The rest can be better told by photos. To be honest, I will be sad to leave France, which will happen in less than a week. I feel like I've got a routine here, and I'm scared to go places where I don't speak the language. But that I've made France a comfort zone also intimates I need to go – one of the reasons for this trip, after all, is to do one thing every day that scares me.

Towpath?

Canal village!

It's always interesting to see US History in other countries.

I will say that I am excited for what's to come. I am excited to WWOOF in Ukraine, where I'll have a home for a month, assuming everything goes well (eg, they like me and I like them). I am also ridiculously excited to bike through the middle east. I've started researching visas and I might not get to go everywhere I want to go, but I'm sure going to try. Everything I've read about traveling through countries like Iran says the people are zealously kind and hospitable. The outcome of this trip I'm most looking forward to is being able to say, during conversations about places stigmatized by the media, “Yea, I've actually been there, and here's what it's really like: ….” There are a number of blogs out there that do this already, but to experience it for myself will be something else.

This is not to downplay the things in between – Germany, Hungary, and Greece, for instance. I am looking forward to those places, too. But so far my tour has only taken place in first world countries. Soonish, things will change. Soonish, I'll be back out of my comfort zone. And that keeps me going.