Day 46 – “3 cups of tea”, Baja to Szeged, +100km

Another bird awakening, but to a much sweeter song than a rooster’s crow. My tiny forest is alive at 6:00 and so I do not wait long to wake with it. Today, I am out on the road before 9:00!

Sweet biking day. Navigation couldn’t be easier as I power full steam ahead on the no. 55, direction: Szeged. Road signs show me that it’s going to be a many-kilometer day; I simply continue sweating buckets and drinking liters of tea, water and juice and do my best to accept the intense heat.

Have also finished, with that twinge of regret that every great tale brings upon its completion, the only audiobook I’ve ever listened to: the story of Greg Mortenson’s work building schools for impoverished children in northern Pakistan. It’s entitled “3 cups of tea”, and like a quality cup of tea I’ve been savouring this book during the past few weeks, only listening to small sections at a time while cycling. This I did as much to salvage the biking experience, since I find that the audiobook distracted me from my surroundings (I enter into my own bubble in which nothing else exists aside from the white line painted on the right side of the road and the lector’s voice), as for the book itself.

Mortenson’s story is absolutely inspirational, and I highly recommend this book, audio or otherwise. I believe it’s especially important in this day and age where it feels like Islam and the Middle East are, generally speaking, misunderstood.

Otherwise, I arrive tonight at my CouchSurfing host’s place in Szeged. Ramona is a language and philosophy major, a Canadian born to Hungarian parents who was sent to Hungary at the age of 7 to learn her native tongue properly, and has remained here ever since

We are getting to know eachother, and she the whole CS experience in general since I am her first ever couchsurfer!

Kasia – your tea-drinking cyclist

Photos:

PHOTO 1: it took this poster to remind me that former French president Nicolas Sarkozy has Hungarian background.
What does his lastname mean, you ask? There are two possibilities:

a. Someone coming from the village of Sarkoz,
b. a path in the mud

… Make what you will of that tidbit of info…

PHOTO 2: one of the only bike repairs I’ve had to make the whole trip – the luggage rack came loose. Took me a total of 10 seconds to screw it tight again! Thank you Jose, from Recircula in Barcelona, most amazing bike mechanic ever, for building me such a solid bike!!

Day 40 – “nudist camping” – from Maribor to Banovci, 70km

Woke up to any empty and quiet house – Peter and Jelena having left very early to go the mountains for the day. Moments of trust like that – my hosts have left a complete stranger alone in their beautiful home, after all – always make me smile. As I set the kettle and search for a teacup in the kitchen cupboards I can’t help but marvel at the success of networks such as Couchsurfing and WarmShowers. It goes so far beyond simply hosting an individual, as it’s really a whole mentality and philosophy that support the basic assumption that we don’t have to be life-long friends with someone to allow them a certain, basic level of trust. But… just for fun, I imagine myself a vindictive bicycle-propelled robber with all my luggage and my host’s flatscreen TV perched atop my bicycle attempting to race away at full speed, with an evil grin,
but unable to move the heavy load more than an inch. How ludicrous!!

I’m tired after breakfast, so I lie down again for a little while. I’m tired again (come on body, pull through this!) around noon and pull into a quiet field to sleep again for an hour. I wake up feeling better, and make myself lunch and a coffee, which finally gives me some kind of acceptable level of energy. I continue cycling, slowly and steadily, heading east towards the border with Hungary.

After a grocery stop at a Lidl in Ljutomer, I pull out a Slovenian campground guide, gifted to me by another cyclist several days ago. My location, in Ljutomer, gives me really only one option of a campground about 30 minutes cycling distance away – I glance at the description, reading something about healing waters and swimming pools…and also a nudist section ?

Now nudist beaches I’ve heard of, and also envy those who are evenly tanned all over… but what’s the point of being naked while you camp?

Either way it’s getting late and I haven’t too many other options available to me. I would wild camp, except for being low on water, in need of a shower and desiring human company, or atleast the sound of voices, and not engines, around me.

The campground, hotel, swimming pool and spa are one big resort in the small village of Banovci – I haggle down the price for my stay, and leave reception to find a spot to place my tent. I haven’t yet seen any marked distinction between the nudist or “classic” sections…

It begins to dawn on me that it’s really just a free-for-all. It takes some getting used to seeing the two factions so mixed up: 4 people in shorts and t-shirts chatting on one lot while on the one next to it a buck-naked woman is having a bowl of cereal. Next to her a Mr. Shorts-clad is setting up his table while his nudist buddy is perched atop his bicycle talking to him loudly in German. Everyone is cheerful, German-speaking and over 50; the men proudly strutt around with their big beer bellies finally liberated from constricting clothing. Some are dressed, most are not, and the grey-mustached Austrian across from the lot where I’m setting up my tent is smiling hopefully at me. Sorry buddy, you’re out of luck this time. It’s enough that I’m a spectacle during the day – a breathless, sweaty woman riding a fully-loaded bicycle, occasionally singing at the top of her voice just for the hell of it – the last thing I feel like doing in the evening is hanging around in the buff. I’ll take it easy tonight, thank you!

It does, however, bring me a rare satisfaction and pleasure to see people happy, liberated and content in their own skins. And it makes me laugh, for the sheer unfamiliarity of it. I casually glance to my right on my way to the shower, momentarily startled to see a little, wrinkly, tanned bum belonging to a skinny, older gentleman leaning over digging for something in his suitcase!

It’s so funny, hehe

The unexpected comic relief of this nudist campground has brought some laughter to my tired day and I fall asleep with a smile,

Kasia – your sleepy-cyclist

Couchsurfing connections

A few shots from last night’s delicious dinner shared with couchsurfing host Alex and friends, in Nice. Thank you to Kasia K.’s fabulous cooking! Actually, it was so good that the guys almost locked up Kasia’s bike and wouldn’t let her leave Nice!
I guess any bachelor, even if he is French, can appreciate a woman who can cook!

Day 18 – From “Graine et Ficelle” to Nice (25km)

Another packed day of people, laughter and awesome encounters!

Started off the day by looking at the map, I had to get to the train station in Nice to meet my friend Kasia arriving from Dijon in the afternoon. I learned then that we were in fact very close to the coastal metropolis, maybe 20 or 25km away… and the ride to the Mediteranean would be all downhill! If my biking spirit had forgotten what easy and leisurely biking was like, it would remember it today.

We whiled away the morning chatting, working and munching on delicious snacks with Iza and her friend Pierre. The two of them, proudly in their 50s, were loving my biking project and eager to hear more about it, regardless of any nostalgia it might bring up for them. Pierre in particular, with shining eyes, told me of his biking, touring and travelling adventures from way back when, some of which also took place in Canada during a dog-sledding expedition he undertook in Quebec. He was amazed at all of the networks available to travellers and bicycle tourists these days, he loved hearing about the WWOOF, Couchsurfing and WarmShowers networks. By the end of it, I could tell he had been bitten by the bicycle bug like so many of those I meet – he wanted to get back out on the road too! “But, Katya (as he liked to call me by the Russian version of my name), what will my wife say when she hears that I am sleeping on stranger’s sofas?”.

Ah, well…

I had planned to leave at noon, knowing that in good company noon would morph into 14:00, and indeed I didn’t get going to Nice until past that time. The hour long trip from Iza’s was effortless, as I flew down the mountains I had biked so hard to get up, reaching the coast in no time and continuing east along the bicycle paths until I reached Nice.

I rolled into the train station and found Kasia there, rested from her train ride, with panniers, sleeping bag and all the necessities for surviving her 2 weeks with me on the road. Kasia and I are good friends, back from our days at the University of Calgary, with more things in common than just a first name. We are both Polish-Canadian (although she grew up in Saskatchewan and I in Alberta), we speak the same languages, and share many interests including healthy eating and biking. I am happy to spend time with her and discover a different biking dynamic than the solo-travelling I have been doing thus far!

So, having successfully found eachother in the touristy and overcrowded mess of downtown Nice we headed over to our Couchsurfing host for the next 2 nights – his name was Alex and he lived in a clean and quiet flat with his 5 year-old son Sandro. We immediately settled in and felt right at home, helped I’m sure by our host’s attending to our every need and desire – he even gave up his bed so that we could rest more comfortably!

In the evening, we spent a short while visiting vieux-Nice (the historical area), with a quick visit to the beach at night too.

A few more photos for you,

- Pierre helping me tweek some bits on the bike
- Iza and Pierre
- Nice beach at night
- one more photo of beautiful “Graine et Ficelle”

Day 16 – le Thoronet to Fayance (57km)

A pretty steep day today.

…but then again the real steepness, the Alps in all their glory, await, so I look at today as training opportunity!

The day was packed with new encounters. After a chance meeting with a French gentleman who immediately took interest in the Ride to Read (he himself having worked in the non-profit sector in Paris for many years), I took leave of my new friend and headed into Lorgues to get my days groceries.

Then, in Draguignan, I came upon an art shop, right across the street from a very noisy fairground (looked like the Calgary Stampede grounds in miniature), and found these 2 beautiful and old photographs (below). Buying them I wondered if I could collect similar Ride to Read images (reading, bicycles, women, children etc) and create a collage at the end of the trip! I’m a dedicated collage-maker, so I think that is what I’ll do: continue gathering images, from any and all sources, and see what I have to work with once I get to Istanbul!

The art shop owner, in his 50s with a relaxed and open manner, one of those people that is so down to earth that they make you feel like you’ve known them for years, told me that he didn’t know of any cafes in town that offered WIFI with their espresso. But he had a wireless internet connection in his shop, and I was welcome to stay and use it!

An hour later I was still there, in the state of complete concentration, as I focused on catching up with emails, blogging, twitter posts etc. You know, I love doing all these things, but wow are they ever time consuming!

We chatted a bit, the art shop owner an avid mountain biker himself, told me of a female friend of his who cycled from France to China.

Oh yea, and the other day someone I met at a campground told me of their friend’s brother who at the ripe age of 70 years biked alone from France to Turkey!

…It feels like they are all trying to out-do me! lol (just kidding)

In any case, the session of internet catch-up complete I turned to what I knew would be the most direct, and also the toughest, route to Grasse – the old highway from Draguignan, now less frequented by vehicles but as steep as ever, as it winds its way around the forests of the haut-Var. As one lady put it “ça s’appelle pas le haut-Var pour rien!” No, indeed, it’s called the high-Var because it’s higher up!

Between encountering, and deciding against, a deserted and messy campground and the ensuing evening thunderstorm, I stay tonight in a private and fully-furnished apartment, of which I haggled down the price to a reasonable 25€. Still, it’s much more than I usually pay for for accomodation, but since the next few nights are lined up with free hosts, either through personal connections or through Couchsurfing, I figure the cost will spread out reasonably. Besides, after several days of continuous camping I am overjoyed to sleep in a bed, cook on a real stove and sit on an actual couch!!! As always, it’s the little things that make it all special

Wishing you a blessed day,

Kasia – your returned-to-civilization cyclist