Its been a long time since my last trip report, but here is an attempt to catch
up on what has happened since I last wrote in mid-August.
Zen and I were re-united in the train station in Padova (northern Italy) as I
met a very jetlagged, luggage laden, and travel weary passenger on the inter
city train from Milan (after flying from San Francisco to Milan through Paris).
However, Zen was immediately immersed back in the old routine as the next
morning we re-assembled her bike and started our ride to meet up with Oscar and
Silvana in Lignano - a little resort town 70km north of Venice.
We made it to Lignano in good time, and after a day relaxing and checking out
beach, the four of us set off on a three day tour through quiet roads in the
corn and soya bean farmlands of the very flat Venetian plains. As we rode
through small traditional villages, we were treated to the jasmine like aroma of
the ever present frangipani trees.
We stopped by a small family run winery to pick up some wine as gifts to some of
Oscar's relatives and family friends that would be our hosts for the next two
days. In addition to the fun cycling, we were treated to amazing food, great
company, and an interesting look into life in rural northern Italy.
As we left the house of Oscar's cousins, Zen and I had a last picnic lunch with
Oscar and Silvana before they headed back to Lignano and Zen and I rode on
towards Venice.
We weren't quite sure how we were going to manage getting the bikes and all our
gear into Venice given the lack of roads, but decided to play it by ear. We
thought of staying on the nearby island "Lido" as it actually has
roads, but an international film festival foiled us. Instead, we booked a room
right in the center and lucked out as the ferry dropped us off just 100 meters
(and only one bridge crossing) from our hotel.
Nothing that I had heard about Venice prepared me for what I was about to see.
It was fascinating to be in a world where absolutely everything is done by boat:
boat public transport, police boats, ambulance boats, construction boats, and
even funeral processions all done in boat. We spent several days walking along
tiny canals and taking rides on the "water busses" of the vaporetti
system, all while imagining the glory of the Venetian empire when it was in its
prime. We were also entertained by a side trip to Murano where we saw some very
elaborate and artistic blown glass in the form of plates, vases, and decanters.
While we were tempted to stay longer, we began to feel the urge to get back on
the bike again. We packed everything up, and Zen sweet talked our way onto the
vaporetto and back onto the mainland. From there, our riding took us past some
of the villas built during the height of Venetian wealth, and then down south
through the medieval plain towns of Ferrara and Modena.
The hot and flat plains started to wear on us a little, so from Modena, we
headed south into the mountains that form the border of northern Tuscany. The
small hill towns were a welcome change, and the hospitality of our hosts was
very rewarding. On one especially good evening, our host proudly fed us all of
the specialties from his mother's kitchen including hand made fettuccine with
truffles and porcini mushrooms and many other regional treats that we never
found again.
Upon entering Tuscany, the scenery became more stunning, although more built up
as well. Our legs were tested as we visited the picturesque hill towns of
Volterra, San Gimignano (a kind of medieval Manhattan), and Sienna. More than
once we wondered if it was really necessary to build the towns way up on those
hills.
As we were riding to Sienna, we were shown another round of hospitality when Zen
suffered the first bike casualty of the trip. A spoke in her rear tire broke and
the tire warped so badly that the bike was not rideable. We were stuck up on a
big hill in the middle of nowhere wondering what to do next when an elderly
cyclist rode by. He tried to make the tire rideable by adjusting the spokes, but
soon agreed it was hopeless. We strapped Zen's tire to my rear rack, and he and
I rode off in search of a bike mechanic while Zen waited with her bike by the
side of the road. We rode about 20km looking for a mechanic before deciding it
was too late in the day. We then rode to his house where he put my bike on his
car rack, drove back to pick up Zen, and then drove us and our bikes into Sienna
where we could get the tire fixed the next day. All on the eve of his thirtieth
wedding anniversary.
In Sienna, we discovered one of the pitfalls of using non-tourist board approved
rental rooms. While our rental room seemed like a good deal, it became less of a
good deal when we got inside. The place was dark and dirty, and nothing seemed
to work. We were lectured about how careless guests cause so much damage,
especially those irresponsible men. All of that I could handle, but there was
one added bonus. The woman's 40ish son also lived in the hotel, and he reminded
me of Igor from some mad scientists workshop. He was very overweight with a
shaved head and dark inset eyes. He would wander around the hotel with the
incessant monotonal chant of "maaama, maaama". When he would find her,
he would start stroking her in the same way that one strokes a cat. It was all
really creepy, and Zen and I checked out the next morning and found another
hotel to start our visit to Sienna over again.
After a day of enjoying Sienna's renaissance architecture, we took Zen's bike to
the only bike shop in the medieval town. Seeing the bike shop was a reminder of
how long cycling has been a passion in Italy as the 70 year old owner showed us
pictures of him winning races in his late teens, and the bike shop was opened by
his father in 1932! He did a great job of replacing the spoke, truing the wheel,
and doing a small tune-up on the bike for which he charged the exorbitant fee of
six dollars.
After Sienna, we headed to it's age old arch rival, Florence, the birthplace of
the renaissance. The magic of Florence is captivating, and was made even
stronger by the unexpected sight of a total lunar eclipse on my first stroll
across the ancient bridge called the "ponte vecchio". The town is
filled with magnificent palaces and churches, as well as a culture that is in
many ways unchanged since the times of Leonardo Da Vinci. There is still a deep
appreciation within the town for its heritage, and on weekends you can see
couples out discussing the political significance of a statue or how a certain
painting changed the art world of its time.
The next day, I had the opportunity to see my parents who were in Florence for a
night as a part of their organized tour through Europe. After the tour didn't
show up at the expected hotel, some good detective work by Zen enabled us to
track them down. We had a good visit with them as we tried keeping up with them
over the next few days, taking the train down to Rome and on to Naples.
We spent one last day with them on the Island of Capri highlighted by a visit to
its famed Blue Grotto. They then headed on to Greece while Zen and I stuck
around to enjoy a little of southern Italy. Naples has a completely different
atmosphere to what I had experienced in the north, and almost had a third world
feel to it. I was really glad not to be on a bike as the traffic was unlike
anything I had ever seen before. A quote from a local was that the Napolitans
are a very free and spontaneous people and they don't feel their lives should be
restricted by things such as red lights. Zen and I really enjoyed the liveliness
and energy of the city, and the side trip to Pompei and its corresponding
archeological museum in Naples rank as one of the highlights of my entire trip.
After Naples, Zen and I headed back up to Florence where we spent some time
exploring its amazing Renaissance architecture and artwork and visiting with
some of the friends Zen had made during her time living there. Spending a week
in the same place started to give me a feel for what life in an Italian town
must be like. The shopkeepers started to recognize us and give us special
service, and soon we had a daily routine set up which included visiting our
market for fruit and vegetables, our bar for coffees, our pasticeria for
pastries, and our alimentari to pick up the picnic supplies for our dinners.
While in Florence we also picked up a little device that improved our mornings
significantly. We bought a little electric heating element and a mini Bodum
french press. We no longer needed to search out a cafe to get our morning
caffeine buzz. Instead, we could indulge in a fresh brewed pot of coffee in the
cozy convenience of our hotel room.
From Florence, we rode eastwards through Umbria with the goal of hitting the
east coast and catching a ferry ride to Greece. The countryside of Umbria was
stunning with its sharp mountains, deep gorges, and subtle autumn colourings. It
was also considerably less developed than Tuscany with correspondingly quieter
roads. Zen quipped that it looked more like Tuscany than Tuscany did.
As we planned our route, we were well aware of the earthquakes that had been
plaguing the area of Umbria around Assisi. We cleverly changed our itinery to
take a more northerly route and avoid the tremours. Or so we thought. One night
in a town directly north of Assisi, we were just beginning to settle into bed
when everything started shaking. It all quietened down soon after, but was
enough of a disturbance that half the town was out in the streets at midnight.
Two groups of Italians even checked out of their rooms and drove off to who
knows where. We had fun chatting with everyone outside, and as the party wound
down, we settled back into bed to rest up for the ride the next day.
We took a break from our trek to Ancona and its ferries to Greece, stopping for
several nights in the well preserved medieval town of Urbino. We continued to
dine on gourmet picnics in the evening, and I thought I was getting pretty good
at doing my shopping rounds. However, as I tried to tell the deli staff that he
had given me too many shrimp, I only ended up with an unwanted plate of
potatoes.
We made it into the port town of Ancona in good time, and managed to immediately
hop on an overnight ferry to Greece. After almost two months, it was a little
sad to leaving Italy behind. However, I was excited about the prospects of the
adventure that lay ahead in the land of Zeus and the ancient Greeks.
The Greek city of Patras was a typical port town, and after our obligatory night
stay there, we were ready to get on the bikes and ride into more rural settings.
The traffic along the west cost of Peloponesia was hectic, and the scenery was a
lot less pristine than we had hoped for. However, a night stay at Olympia and
the ancient site of the Olympic games was really special. I appreciated seeing
the track that Olympic athletes raced on 2500 years ago, and the visit adds a
whole new dimension to my impression and understanding of the games.
As we cut inland from the west coast, we were rewarded with quieter roads
through the mountains and the orchards of twisted and ancient olive groves that
are ever present in Greece. The ride was made even more pleasant by some of the
wildflowers that Greece is famous for including numerous pink to purple
cyclamen.
While the Greek hospitality was not what it was billed to be, we did enjoy the
little villages that we stayed in. The baklava, Greek salads, and gyros were a
great way to end a ride, and I grew a taste for the Greek wine called Retsina -
a young white wine with pine resin added to give it a distinct and powerful
flavour.
On one afternoon as we were checking into our hotel, the building began shaking
around and everyone ran out into the streets. It took me a second to realize
that I was experiencing another earthquake. After living in California for seven
years without feeling a significant quake, I had felt two reasonably big ones in
under two weeks. The hotel owner was visibly shaken, but thankfully we were
spared any aftershocks.
After a few more days riding, the weather took a turn for the worse. The wind
picked up, it started to rain, and it became markedly colder. Rather than ride
through the bad weather, we stored our bikes with a hotel owner and bussed
around to see a couple of medieval Byzantine towns.
Our first visit was Mystras - a town that was founded by the Franks with a
hilltop fortress in the 12th century. It then passed through many hands,
becoming the capital of Byzantine Peloponesia, surviving Turkish invasions, and
was the home to a thriving silk industry under the rule of the Venetians.
However, the war for independence against the Turks was hard on the town, and
all that is now left are the crumbling remains of a once glorious town on the
side of a cliff just outside Sparta. The most interesting ruins were the many
churches from the Byzantine times including numerous frescoes that were up to
700 years old.
The coastal settlement of Monemvassia also went through a phase as a ghost town,
although it has undergone a rebirth in its current reincarnation as a tourist
resort. It is situated on a large rock that was separated from the mainland
during a 375AD earthquake. All that can be seen from shore is a large Gibraltar
like rock with its imposing fortress. The magic of the town is not revealed
until after crossing a narrow bridge, riding around the island, and popping
through a dark L-shaped tunnel that provides access to the town through its
massive stone walls. Entering the town is like emerging into another world with
its steep cobblestone streets and the rows of stone houses. As with Mystras,
there were impressive little Byzantine churches strewn around the town as well
as on the plateau on top the cliffs.
While we were sitting in our hotel room looking out over the town and ocean
below, the cold weather and gale force winds made us re-think our plans of
riding on through Greece for the next three weeks. I was looking forward to
heading on to Asia, and Zen was a little anxious to start her new job (the sore
bike butts from over six months on the bike probably also had something to do
with our attitudes). We independently came to the conclusion that we would like
to head back early, and after a phone call to Zen's San Francisco travel agent,
we had our flights changed to leave in only six days time.
We loaded our bikes onto a bus (despite protests by the bus driver) and headed
towards Athens. We were almost stranded in Corinth as the bus started to leave
early from a pit stop while we were busy admiring the Corinthian Canal. However,
we and our bikes made it successfully into Athens, and after a hectic ride
through Athenian traffic from the bus terminal to the center of town, we were
safely checked in to our hotel.
That ride into Athens was to be the last riding of the trip. Over 3500 km of
riding, and the only problem I encountered with my bike during the entire time
was a single flat tire on the second to last day of riding. Zen fared slightly
worse with three flats and a broken spoke, but overall we were very pleased
given the distance we rode.
Athens is an amazing mass of smog, concrete buildings, traffic, and congestion,
and riding our bikes through it all was not a good introduction to the city.
However, we found the central district quite pleasant, and the inspiring view of
the Acropolis with its ancient Greek temples towering over the sprawl of the
modern city made it easy to envision the glory Athens once knew.
We had three busy days in Athens during which we visited the Archeological
museum, the Acropolis, boxed up our bikes, did some shopping, and checked out as
many cafes and gyro stands as we could.
On our last night, our hostess let us onto the roof of our hotel for a stunning
view of a floodlit Acropolis. I could feel the blood surging inside as I thought
back to what it must have been like during its prime, and also as I thought back
to my own adventures over the previous six and a half months that were now
rapidly coming to a close.
The next morning, we crammed our bikes into a taxi and headed to the airport. I
was a little nervous about the whole affair as I did not actually have tickets
for the flight I was getting on. My frequent flier tickets were for Nov 4th, and
I was told that they could not be moved. However, I was let in on a little known
travel agent trick. I had a booking made for the day I wanted to leave under my
name and on the same flights. When I checked in, the clerk matched my tickets to
my booking for the day, and I was let right on the plane. The only glitch was an
air traffic controller strike that delayed the flight four hours, causing me to
miss my connection in New York City. Delta graciously put me up for the night,
and I am now on a 7am flight and heading back to San Francisco.
I am a little curious to see what emotions my return will stir up, even if it is
only going to be a two week visit. After spending a little time to say hi to
everyone and put my bike into storage, my backpack and I will be heading to
Seoul, Korea for the start of the second half of my year off and my Asian
adventure.
