Riceburner
Well-known member
Have a warm Merry Christmas you guys! Would love to meet up with you guys in Europe in some decade.
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Quit our jobs, sold our home and everything in it, gone riding...
- Thread starter Lightcycle
- Start date
Thanks, Merry Xmas! Seeing how slow we travel, we will probably still be here.
Thanks! Merry Xmas to you too!
Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/189.html
We haven't been doing a lot of moving the last couple of weeks, mainly recovering from our Italian vacation. We both agree that our pace through Italy was good - not too fast, but enough time to see all the things we wanted to see. There is such a thing as moving too slow, even for us. We had eased up to such a crawl in South America that we felt a heavy sense of lethargy every day, like it was a struggle to break the inertia of our snail's pace. I think in our future travels we'll be more alert to this.
Neda's mom's affairs are almost wrapped up so we'll be saying goodbye to Pula soon. In the meantime, here's a quick update of what we've been doing (not too much):
As promised, we rode our motorcycles 400m down the street to pose in downtown Pula
Unfortunately, tourist season has long since passed and there was nobody to ogle our motorcycles...
I can't believe how empty Pula is in the off-season. A lot of residents here lament the fact that the entire region tries to make all of their annual revenue through tourism within the 2-3 month window of summer. Prices tend to stay high the rest of the year, making it expensive for the people that actually live here. There's always talk of how to bring tourists here all year round, but so far nothing has come about.
Having lived here for a few months now, I kinda feel a kinship with the Puljankans.
We did another presentation. And it was huge!
Iva's friend, Goran, heard about our trip and organized for us to do a presentation at a local bar. It didn't sound very big, but that evening, so many people came out to see us. We were very surprised! It was standing room only! Even some members of the Croatian motorcycle forum that Neda posts in came out to see us. Goran got the bar to hang up some of our favorite pictures from the trip on the wall, you can see them in the background above.
Watching our rock-star friend Tatiana perform one evening.
She lent me her guitar while we were staying in Pula! Hvala!
Pizza with Iva!
We've been eating so much since coming to Europe. I have a bit of an eating disorder now: First I have disorder of fries, then I have disorder of spaghetti, and then disorder of pizza...
I've discovered the secret to hiding double-chins in pictures. Take your selfie from above!
We haven't been doing a lot of moving the last couple of weeks, mainly recovering from our Italian vacation. We both agree that our pace through Italy was good - not too fast, but enough time to see all the things we wanted to see. There is such a thing as moving too slow, even for us. We had eased up to such a crawl in South America that we felt a heavy sense of lethargy every day, like it was a struggle to break the inertia of our snail's pace. I think in our future travels we'll be more alert to this.
Neda's mom's affairs are almost wrapped up so we'll be saying goodbye to Pula soon. In the meantime, here's a quick update of what we've been doing (not too much):
As promised, we rode our motorcycles 400m down the street to pose in downtown Pula
Unfortunately, tourist season has long since passed and there was nobody to ogle our motorcycles...
I can't believe how empty Pula is in the off-season. A lot of residents here lament the fact that the entire region tries to make all of their annual revenue through tourism within the 2-3 month window of summer. Prices tend to stay high the rest of the year, making it expensive for the people that actually live here. There's always talk of how to bring tourists here all year round, but so far nothing has come about.
Having lived here for a few months now, I kinda feel a kinship with the Puljankans.
We did another presentation. And it was huge!
Iva's friend, Goran, heard about our trip and organized for us to do a presentation at a local bar. It didn't sound very big, but that evening, so many people came out to see us. We were very surprised! It was standing room only! Even some members of the Croatian motorcycle forum that Neda posts in came out to see us. Goran got the bar to hang up some of our favorite pictures from the trip on the wall, you can see them in the background above.
Watching our rock-star friend Tatiana perform one evening.
She lent me her guitar while we were staying in Pula! Hvala!
Pizza with Iva!
We've been eating so much since coming to Europe. I have a bit of an eating disorder now: First I have disorder of fries, then I have disorder of spaghetti, and then disorder of pizza...
I've discovered the secret to hiding double-chins in pictures. Take your selfie from above!
Neda's sister came to Pula to help out
Neda spending some quality time with her niece on the shores of Verudela
Queen of the World!
Neda has spent the last couple of weeks trying to wrap things up here and I think the stress is affecting her. She's experiencing frequent gastrointestinal problems and I'm not convinced it's the food because we're basically eating the same meals together. In addition, the weather has turned very dark and rainy in Pula. Although snow doesn't accumulate too much in Pula, it's still a reminder that we need to be on the move soon.
Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/190.html
We're on the move! Neda is finally finished here in Pula and all week long we've been eying the forecasts, trying to pick a window of dry weather to depart.
Our last moments in Pula
I asked Neda if leaving Pula was very emotional for her. This might be the last time that we would be back for a while. She said that these past few weeks had been very stressful for her and that she was just happy that it was done and over with, and that we'd be leaving it behind now.
We're heading westwards on our search for warmer and drier climates. On the way, we had a quick stopover in Milan for the weekend, to spend more time with Neda's sister and her family. Then back on the highway and in the blink of an eye, we were in France! A brand new country on our trip!
Neda says, "Nice!" No, not nice as in pleasant, but "Nice" as in the city in France!
We thought we would have some clear skies to travel under, but the weather changed its mind after our weekend stay in Milan - our journey on the French highways was fraught with cold and heavy rains. We are in "Relocate" mode right now. The conditions are not very conducive to pleasure riding, so we opt to pay for the toll roads and we're hugging the very southern coast of France in an effort to stay as close to warm weather as possible.
The hotel where we're staying at told us we could park anywhere on the sidewalk. So we did!
Love being on two-wheels in Europe!
The staff at the hotel reassured us about the security of our bikes. They told us that Nice is the most heavily surveilled city in France with CCTV cameras trained on every inch of the city. I still locked up my bike out of habit. *shrug*
And yes, we're staying in a hotel. We thought we were getting an off-season deal, but with all the taxes and tariffs they levied at check-in, it turned out to be more than our budget allowed. And this was one of the cheapest accommodations as well - it was 70% *OFF* the already low off-season price! France is turning out to be more expensive than Italy!
The hotel listed the room rates for different periods. During the F1 Monaco Race (less than 30 minutes away), the rate skyrockets to €200 a night! We're not going to be staying in France for very long, I don't think.
On our short stopover in Nice, we braved the cold and rain to walk around the coastal city
We were surprised that there were still a lot of people spending time outside despite the weather
Their relationship looked to be on the rocks...
We're on the move! Neda is finally finished here in Pula and all week long we've been eying the forecasts, trying to pick a window of dry weather to depart.
Our last moments in Pula
I asked Neda if leaving Pula was very emotional for her. This might be the last time that we would be back for a while. She said that these past few weeks had been very stressful for her and that she was just happy that it was done and over with, and that we'd be leaving it behind now.
We're heading westwards on our search for warmer and drier climates. On the way, we had a quick stopover in Milan for the weekend, to spend more time with Neda's sister and her family. Then back on the highway and in the blink of an eye, we were in France! A brand new country on our trip!
Neda says, "Nice!" No, not nice as in pleasant, but "Nice" as in the city in France!
We thought we would have some clear skies to travel under, but the weather changed its mind after our weekend stay in Milan - our journey on the French highways was fraught with cold and heavy rains. We are in "Relocate" mode right now. The conditions are not very conducive to pleasure riding, so we opt to pay for the toll roads and we're hugging the very southern coast of France in an effort to stay as close to warm weather as possible.
The hotel where we're staying at told us we could park anywhere on the sidewalk. So we did!
Love being on two-wheels in Europe!
The staff at the hotel reassured us about the security of our bikes. They told us that Nice is the most heavily surveilled city in France with CCTV cameras trained on every inch of the city. I still locked up my bike out of habit. *shrug*
And yes, we're staying in a hotel. We thought we were getting an off-season deal, but with all the taxes and tariffs they levied at check-in, it turned out to be more than our budget allowed. And this was one of the cheapest accommodations as well - it was 70% *OFF* the already low off-season price! France is turning out to be more expensive than Italy!
The hotel listed the room rates for different periods. During the F1 Monaco Race (less than 30 minutes away), the rate skyrockets to €200 a night! We're not going to be staying in France for very long, I don't think.
On our short stopover in Nice, we braved the cold and rain to walk around the coastal city
We were surprised that there were still a lot of people spending time outside despite the weather
Their relationship looked to be on the rocks...
Opéra de Nice is an example of the Second Empire Architecture
Second Empire architecture was popular from the mid-to-late 19th century. Although it originated in France, and many more examples exist in Paris, you can also see this style in North America as well, like Boston's Old City Hall. But perhaps most people know the style of architecture from the houses from Psycho, The Addams Family, The Munsters and Beetlejuice. Yes, it's the horror house architecture... That's exactly what the French had in mind when creating this architectural style...
View of the coast of Nice
Near the shoreline was a tall outcropping of rock called the Colline du Château (Castle Hill). You can climb some stairs or take an elevator to get to the top, where you can walk around a large citadel that they built up there. It's the best place in the city to get some great views of the beaches and the rooftops below.[/size][/b]
Poor man's French Riviera
We've been to St. Tropez and Monaco before and Nice's marinas pale in comparison to the million dollar yachts parked in the swankier docks. In fact, only the downtown area of Nice is nice-looking. When coming into town, we noticed that the outskirts are kind of grungy-looking.
Reflection of Place Garibaldi, in one of the oldest squares in Nice
Heading into the old part of Nice (Vieille Ville)
We always gravitate to the older sections of cities and towns we visit. In Latin America, this would be called Centro Historico. The pastel paint on the buildings tell me that we're in a Gringo Trail Town!
Like any Gringo Trail Town, Vieille Nice is lined with shops and restaurants
As far as sculptures go, this was one of the less abstract (saner) examples. More about that later...
Scooter's eye view of Nice
Lots of families out for Christmas shopping
The French do food very well! But we are on a grocery store diet...
Neda is still suffering from stomach problems, which is making her quite miserable. It's been a week since leaving Pula, and our pace is pretty relaxed, so we're not too certain that stress is the cause. I did some Internet diagnosing, which is sometimes not that useful because just about every symptom could just as easily be a cold or be ebola at the same time...
It sounds like she may have some kind of food allergy, so I'm putting her on a diet and cutting out all of the usual suspects. There'll be no gluten and no dairy for her for the next week. Hopefully we can pinpoint the cause of her stomach problems.
Mosaic dome of a church peeks out between the narrow streets of Vieille Nice
It's such a shame it's so rainy and overcast, I can imagine this city being much more colourful and vibrant in the summertime!
Place Massena offers a cool checkerboard promenade
It also showcases some weird sculptures - a bunch of nude men kneeling on platforms on top of tall poles...
I don't get modern art. Not at all. I don't have a background in art, so I can't explain why I like certain paintings or drawings over others, but I can succinctly sum up why I don't like this kind of art: I just don't get it.
And then this one. A huge black arc sitting on the lawn. What does it mean?
I looked this one up. "Arc de 115.5 degrees" by Bernar Venet. Was erected in 1988 to commemorate the centennial of the naming of "Nice" or "Cote d'Azur". But... what does it mean?!!
More Avant-Garde Art?
The ferris wheel is still under construction for Christmas. Neda ventures out into the middle of a fountain that just shut off when we arrived. Not knowing how long between waterworks, I chickened out and just took pictures from the side. I was actually waiting for the fountain to start up again so I could laugh at her when she got soaked... Didn't happen. Oh well.
Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/191.html
We left Nice in the rain to continue our march across Southern France. This was going to be a wet ride and we knew it, so we headed back on the highway to try to make short work of today's journey. We're headed to Marseille, second-largest city in France.
It's only three hours away, but the rain did not let up for the entire ride. At a few points on the Autoroute, I could feel the bike hydroplaning on top of all the standing water collecting on the highway. We eschew road etiquette and ride in the middle lane, staying on the crown of the road where there was less water.
No pictures, obviously, as both hands were white-knuckling the grips the whole way!
Marseille was the French Empire's most important port city
We're staying a couple of days at an AirBnB, great place, but still not as cheap as we'd like it.
To help ourselves negotiate around here, I dust off my Français skills. In Ontario schools, it was a mandatory course up till Grade 9, at which time I promptly dropped it. It's times like these when I wish I had stuck with it longer because the French words feel rusty like nails crumbling out of my mouth - painful to watch and listen to.
Normally Neda is very outgoing when it comes to talking to strangers. However, because she doesn't speak any French at all, I found myself having to carry all the conversations at hotels, grocery stores and gas stations. It was so interesting watching her shirk away from having to talk to anyone. Whenever somebody approached her, she would immediately tap on the communicator or tap me on the shoulder, "Uhhh.... Gene!"
What a complete role reversal from Latin America! I got a little taste of what it was like having to take point for all communications and I respect Neda more for it.
Notre-Dame de la Garde church, built on a hill
can be seen from anywhere in the city
The first day in Marseille we got rained in, so we spent the day cooped up watching the water fall from the skies. The weather co-operated with us the second day and we took a stroll around the port area of Marseille to get a feel for the city.
Monument aux morts de l'armée d'Orient et aux héros des terres lointaines - what a mouthful!
Looks like our Arc-Friend from Nice, Bernar Venet, has been busy in Marseille as well. I still don't get it...
Right on the Bay of Marseille is a nice spot called Pharo Garden where you can see the harbour and most of the port. On the lawns of the garden sits another modern sculpture called Désordre (Disorder). I'm renaming it "The Graveyard of Giant Three-Ring Binders".
View of the harbour from Pharo Garden. Fort Saint Jean on the right, Bulbe à Clochers Church on the left
Walking through all the war monuments and forts, reminded me of just how influential the French Empire was. It had such a huge role in the colonization wars in which it raced against Spain and Britain to claim territory in the Americas and all around the world. It struck me that in all of our travels across Latin America, we marveled at the imprint of Spanish invaders on the land, when back at home, we could've seen that same imprint that France left on Acadia and French Canada.
Our journey across the ocean to Europe has been like coming back to the source of history in the Americas.
Monument aux héros et victimes de la mer (Monument to the heroes and victims of the sea)
We left Nice in the rain to continue our march across Southern France. This was going to be a wet ride and we knew it, so we headed back on the highway to try to make short work of today's journey. We're headed to Marseille, second-largest city in France.
It's only three hours away, but the rain did not let up for the entire ride. At a few points on the Autoroute, I could feel the bike hydroplaning on top of all the standing water collecting on the highway. We eschew road etiquette and ride in the middle lane, staying on the crown of the road where there was less water.
No pictures, obviously, as both hands were white-knuckling the grips the whole way!
Marseille was the French Empire's most important port city
We're staying a couple of days at an AirBnB, great place, but still not as cheap as we'd like it.
To help ourselves negotiate around here, I dust off my Français skills. In Ontario schools, it was a mandatory course up till Grade 9, at which time I promptly dropped it. It's times like these when I wish I had stuck with it longer because the French words feel rusty like nails crumbling out of my mouth - painful to watch and listen to.
Normally Neda is very outgoing when it comes to talking to strangers. However, because she doesn't speak any French at all, I found myself having to carry all the conversations at hotels, grocery stores and gas stations. It was so interesting watching her shirk away from having to talk to anyone. Whenever somebody approached her, she would immediately tap on the communicator or tap me on the shoulder, "Uhhh.... Gene!"
What a complete role reversal from Latin America! I got a little taste of what it was like having to take point for all communications and I respect Neda more for it.
Notre-Dame de la Garde church, built on a hill
can be seen from anywhere in the city
The first day in Marseille we got rained in, so we spent the day cooped up watching the water fall from the skies. The weather co-operated with us the second day and we took a stroll around the port area of Marseille to get a feel for the city.
Monument aux morts de l'armée d'Orient et aux héros des terres lointaines - what a mouthful!
Looks like our Arc-Friend from Nice, Bernar Venet, has been busy in Marseille as well. I still don't get it...
Right on the Bay of Marseille is a nice spot called Pharo Garden where you can see the harbour and most of the port. On the lawns of the garden sits another modern sculpture called Désordre (Disorder). I'm renaming it "The Graveyard of Giant Three-Ring Binders".
View of the harbour from Pharo Garden. Fort Saint Jean on the right, Bulbe à Clochers Church on the left
Walking through all the war monuments and forts, reminded me of just how influential the French Empire was. It had such a huge role in the colonization wars in which it raced against Spain and Britain to claim territory in the Americas and all around the world. It struck me that in all of our travels across Latin America, we marveled at the imprint of Spanish invaders on the land, when back at home, we could've seen that same imprint that France left on Acadia and French Canada.
Our journey across the ocean to Europe has been like coming back to the source of history in the Americas.
Monument aux héros et victimes de la mer (Monument to the heroes and victims of the sea)
Peugot's three-wheeler, the Metropolis, is France's answer to Piaggio's MP3
and is the most popular scooter in the French Riviera
Look! Up above! It's... us.
Seems like every city in the French Riviera has to put up a ferris wheel for Christmas!
Bear-Nice (Sauce?)
Les Oiseaux en Colère!
Walking around the old part of Marseille - called Le Panier
We were walking around a part of the town called "The Sidecase". hehe. We visited the Givi Hotel, Hepco Becker Boulangerie...
Laundry day
We've seen a lot of people wearing hijabs and thobes in the French Riviera. About one third of the population is Muslim, the city was liberated from German occupation at the end of WWII by soldiers from Northern Africa. The last time we we were here, it was the summertime, so we stayed mainly on the beaches and back then we thought only pasty white (and lobster red) British people lived here!
Brown farms on the French Riviera. This must be so colourful in the summertime!
We found out that Trevor has settled into a little French villa in a small town called La Cadière-d'Azur on the coast between Toulon and Marseille and to return the favour, he's invited us to stay for a few days. So that means we're going to kick back and relax and not worry about hotels, AirBnB or Français for the next little while! Très bien!
We doubled back on the coastal road - D559. I've been staring at this road on Google Maps and my GPS with dread for quite some time now. Just an hour east on this exact same road from where we're staying is where I had a bad motorcycle crash 7 years ago that left us stranded in Côte d'Azur for a week... on this exact same bike I was riding now.
I could feel my bike underneath me taking the turns with just a hint of hesitation, a touch of tentativeness on the throttle...
Parking in Trevor's little French villa
View from our patio. Beautiful!
We've been very fortunate that we've had access to a kitchen for the last few days. Neda has been on a strict non-gluten, non-dairy menu for almost a week now and her gastrointestinal problems have abated somewhat. We're going to give it a full week to see if goes away completely.
"Hey Neda, you know what they say? No grain, no pain!"
She rolls her eyes and shoots me a distasteful look: "That's terrible."
Grocery run! Essentials like French wine and lots of gluten-free legumes and lentils for Neda.
While browsing the grocery stores we've noticed a lot of Rosé wine on the shelves. Seems that Rosé is the specialty wine in the French Riviera because of the ambient temperature and soil conditions. We also scour the shelves for food that will fit Neda's new diet.
"Hey Neda, I guess you're wheating out all the bad foods!"
"... you are the worst person that has ever lived!"
The new diet
This is what she makes pretty much everyday and since I'm so lazy, I end up just eating what she cooks instead of preparing my own meals. I've never eaten this healthy before in my life.
I don't like it.
"Hey Neda, looks like I'm a gluten for punishment!"
"I hate you."
I find D minor is the saddest of all keys
To undertake this trip, we've stripped ourselves of all our belongings besides what we can carry on our bikes. It's been two and a half years and we've carried no more than a weeks change of clothes suited more for hiking than entertaining. No cars, snowboards, dirtbikes. No house, no fridge, no drawers full of the bottles and jars of liquids and goop that make men smell manly and women look pretty.
We've realized we don't miss most of it. But during all this time, it becomes glaringly obvious which things (besides the people) we've left behind that leave a hole in your life. For me, it's music. I look forward to the day when I can have a room and fill it with guitars, a piano and a drumkit in the corner.
Neda wants a room too. She wants to fill it with shoes...
Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/192.html
It was a very relaxing time in La Cadière-d'Azur. We went out for walks in the pretty countryside (when it wasn't raining), Trevor and Neda took turns making dinner each night, and over wine our talk would turn to all the places we'd "maybe" point our front wheels towards. Trevor travels much like we do: no schedule, no plan. A few months ago he guessed he'd be in Asia by now, just like we thought we'd be in Argentina right now... but things happen, stuff changes and you just end up going with the flow.
I sometimes get the sense that people think we're being evasive when we're non-committal about our plans for the future. "What do you mean you don't know where you're going? How can you not know?!" Here in this tiny town that nobody's ever heard of, in the middle of the French Riviera, it was refreshing to drink, eat and just chat about the future using nothing but shrugs, "maybes" and "perhaps".
Some travelers find comfort in schedule, but for us, the freedom to float and wander is a dreamy intoxication.
Bags all packed, ready to hit the road again
Bye Trevor! Thanks for putting us up, and for taking this pic!
We took advantage of the clearing weather to bid adieu (or however the French do it here) to Trevor. We're pretty confident that we'll run into each other again.
Calanques are steeped-wall inlets typically found in the Mediterranean
The best examples of calanques are the Massif des Calanques just south-east of Marseille. Since the weather was so nice, we took the twisty coastal road back west with zeal, parked the bikes and hiked for 45 minutes to peer over the cliff tops of the Calanque Sugiton into the Balearic Sea.
Strong winds whip through our wind-proof gear and threatens to blow us over the edge!
We spent quite a bit of time marveling at the beauty of the jagged coastline
This range of calanques runs about 20kms along the coast, and sometimes extends to about 4kms inland
It's a very popular area for hikers - we passed by so many on our hike to the coast. We felt very out-of-place with our motorcycle gear on while people power-walked passed us clad in spandex and carrying those funny hi-tech hiking poles. There are many well-marked trails so it's hard to get lost. We remarked to each other how unlike these trails were compared to the very primitive ones in Central and South America.
The only thing that could have made these easier to follow would be little blinky coloured lights on either side of the path and an information booth every 100m...
It was a very relaxing time in La Cadière-d'Azur. We went out for walks in the pretty countryside (when it wasn't raining), Trevor and Neda took turns making dinner each night, and over wine our talk would turn to all the places we'd "maybe" point our front wheels towards. Trevor travels much like we do: no schedule, no plan. A few months ago he guessed he'd be in Asia by now, just like we thought we'd be in Argentina right now... but things happen, stuff changes and you just end up going with the flow.
I sometimes get the sense that people think we're being evasive when we're non-committal about our plans for the future. "What do you mean you don't know where you're going? How can you not know?!" Here in this tiny town that nobody's ever heard of, in the middle of the French Riviera, it was refreshing to drink, eat and just chat about the future using nothing but shrugs, "maybes" and "perhaps".
Some travelers find comfort in schedule, but for us, the freedom to float and wander is a dreamy intoxication.
Bags all packed, ready to hit the road again
Bye Trevor! Thanks for putting us up, and for taking this pic!
We took advantage of the clearing weather to bid adieu (or however the French do it here) to Trevor. We're pretty confident that we'll run into each other again.
Calanques are steeped-wall inlets typically found in the Mediterranean
The best examples of calanques are the Massif des Calanques just south-east of Marseille. Since the weather was so nice, we took the twisty coastal road back west with zeal, parked the bikes and hiked for 45 minutes to peer over the cliff tops of the Calanque Sugiton into the Balearic Sea.
Strong winds whip through our wind-proof gear and threatens to blow us over the edge!
We spent quite a bit of time marveling at the beauty of the jagged coastline
This range of calanques runs about 20kms along the coast, and sometimes extends to about 4kms inland
It's a very popular area for hikers - we passed by so many on our hike to the coast. We felt very out-of-place with our motorcycle gear on while people power-walked passed us clad in spandex and carrying those funny hi-tech hiking poles. There are many well-marked trails so it's hard to get lost. We remarked to each other how unlike these trails were compared to the very primitive ones in Central and South America.
The only thing that could have made these easier to follow would be little blinky coloured lights on either side of the path and an information booth every 100m...
Simply stunning!
[video=youtube;slmfSHbN7xA]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slmfSHbN7xA[/video]
Here's a short video of us riding the coastal roads past the Massif des Calanques
Approaching Marseille once again
The weather was still on our side, so we stayed off the Autoroute and headed inland. Neda heard that there was an amphitheatre in nearby Arles, so she wanted to check it out (which means, she wanted to see if it was better-looking than her hometown amphitheatre in Pula). We couldn't find affordable accommodations in Arles, so we're staying in Nimes which is only 30 kms away.
We seemed to have picked up another rider somewhere in Nimes. We're a motorcycle gang now!
I may have overstated my French-language skills in the last blog entry. Everywhere I go, my attempts at Le Français is met with blank, uncomprehending stares. I repeat my words often, and slowly the people I'm talking to piece together what I am trying to say. Then they repeat what I just said. Word for word. Didn't I just say the EXACTLY SAME THING?!? Is it my terrible imitation of a Quebecois accent or something?
Very disheartening...
Laundry day in Nimes?
Since we were here in Nimes we spent the day checking out the town. We found out that there are many examples of Roman architecture right inside the city. And they aren't ruins! They are in remarkably good shape!
Hanging out at the Maison Carrée. It's the most well-preserved Roman temple found anywhere
French Bullfighter?
The non-gluten, non-dairy diet continues. Red wine is allowed!
The city is so empty at night. This isn't Italy anymore, people don't sleep during the day here.
Dammit! My camera was just a couple of milliseconds too slow for a great shot!
The Nimes Arena
It turns out Nimes also has a Roman Amphitheatre, we just happened to stumble upon it while walking around. We did a circle around the structure and then Neda peered inside it. She sniffed and proclaimed: "Yep. Ours is better."
I agreed instantly without any hesitation at all, whatsoever...
It is done up nicely with lights that change every few seconds though... oops, did I say that out loud?
Gothic Cathedral Saint-Baudile
Maison Carrée lit up at night
It's been over a week on the non-gluten, non-dairy diet and Neda is still experiencing GI issues. We were seriously thinking about going to a doctor to get it professionally diagnosed.
I normally don't get up before Neda does, but one morning, I happened to catch her at breakfast. She was spreading a thick layer of Nutella over a slice of toast.
"Um, Neda... Nutella has dairy in it."
"So what? I've been eating this my entire life!"
"Well, maybe you should stop eating Nutella for a little while, just so we can tell if that's actually causing the problem or not."
"Well, maybe you should shut your dirty piehole!!!!" (except she didn't say it as nicely as that)
At this point, she was fiercely protecting her jar of Nutella, much like a mother bear would protect her cubs. I sensed I was in imminent danger, so I dropped the issue and backed away slowly.
A couple of days later, I found a half-full jar of Nutella in the trash can. Neda's GI problems had completely disappeared overnight, replaced with a palpable sadness that hung in the air.
This is one "I Told Ya So" that I'm not going to say out loud. Because it would be met with... well, death.
In Hollywood circles, this happy couple was known simply as "NedTella".
This is my heartfelt tribute to a long-term love affair that still ended much too soon...
Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/193.html
It just won't stop raining in the south of France. We wanted to see a little bit more of this country before heading to warmer climates. Neda had researched a great medieval town called Carcassonne, not too far away but the forecast showed heavy rainfall for the next few days. Not good weather to explore castles or go riding around. It'll have to wait for another time.
Preparing to leave France. In the rain...
I feel like we're just single-cell organisms responding to stimuli. Too cold? Too wet? With no sentient thought or plan, we just swing our flagella and move somewhere drier and warmer.
Pit stop in Perpignan
On our last night in France, someone stole my motorcycle cover. Or so I thought. The next morning, we hopped on our bikes and headed to the border. We were immediately kicked around by strong cross-winds that threatened to blow our motorcycles off the side of the road. I was hit worse than Neda because of how much luggage I've piled on the back of my bike: my side-profile looks like a giant sail. It was so bad, we had to get off the highway and putter ahead on the backroads riding 20km/h under the speed limit with our 4-way flashers on.
I realized then that my motorcycle cover wasn't stolen. It was the wind that whipped it off last night. I felt really bad about blaming some random French person for something that didn't actually happen, meanwhile some tree is probably wearing a really expensive rip-stop nylon winter jacket right now...
I hate losing stuff, especially the things you can only get online. Where do we even get it shipped to when we're on the move all the time?
Skirting south of the foothills of the Pyrenees
Once we got west of the Pyrenees, it was like someone waved a magic wand and the skies cleared instantly. It was a colour that we hadn't seen for a very long time. Neda's mood was visibly improving. Perhaps it was the weather. Perhaps the Nutella mourning period was over. Maybe it was because her stomach is feeling a lot better and she doesn't have any more washroom emergencies, but the instant we crossed the Spanish border, it was like she came back to life. Like she was reset. Re-animated. Rebooted.
She radioed me: "I can speak Spanish again!" Ah, that's the real reason.
I think with all the Français she was feeling a bit removed from everything. Now she was finally able to break out of her cocoon and be herself. Time for me to relax and let her drive the bus once again.
A new tankbag hobby
Neda gave all the seashells she was collecting in her tankbag to her niece. She's moved on to collecting leaves now. This one is from Switzerland. Somehow, I don't think her collection is going to survive intact as long as the seashells did...
We've stopped in a sea-side town of Calella, about half-an-hour outside of Barcelona
And just like amoebas, the minute the conditions start becoming favorable we stop moving and enjoy the sunshine and lack of rain. Calella is a weekend beach destination for a lot of Barcelonans, and is absolutely packed with tourists in the summer, but now we're in the off-season and it's a ghost-town during the week. Nice and peaceful, just the way we like it.
Can you imagine this beach packed to gills in the summer?
It just won't stop raining in the south of France. We wanted to see a little bit more of this country before heading to warmer climates. Neda had researched a great medieval town called Carcassonne, not too far away but the forecast showed heavy rainfall for the next few days. Not good weather to explore castles or go riding around. It'll have to wait for another time.
Preparing to leave France. In the rain...
I feel like we're just single-cell organisms responding to stimuli. Too cold? Too wet? With no sentient thought or plan, we just swing our flagella and move somewhere drier and warmer.
Pit stop in Perpignan
On our last night in France, someone stole my motorcycle cover. Or so I thought. The next morning, we hopped on our bikes and headed to the border. We were immediately kicked around by strong cross-winds that threatened to blow our motorcycles off the side of the road. I was hit worse than Neda because of how much luggage I've piled on the back of my bike: my side-profile looks like a giant sail. It was so bad, we had to get off the highway and putter ahead on the backroads riding 20km/h under the speed limit with our 4-way flashers on.
I realized then that my motorcycle cover wasn't stolen. It was the wind that whipped it off last night. I felt really bad about blaming some random French person for something that didn't actually happen, meanwhile some tree is probably wearing a really expensive rip-stop nylon winter jacket right now...
I hate losing stuff, especially the things you can only get online. Where do we even get it shipped to when we're on the move all the time?
Skirting south of the foothills of the Pyrenees
Once we got west of the Pyrenees, it was like someone waved a magic wand and the skies cleared instantly. It was a colour that we hadn't seen for a very long time. Neda's mood was visibly improving. Perhaps it was the weather. Perhaps the Nutella mourning period was over. Maybe it was because her stomach is feeling a lot better and she doesn't have any more washroom emergencies, but the instant we crossed the Spanish border, it was like she came back to life. Like she was reset. Re-animated. Rebooted.
She radioed me: "I can speak Spanish again!" Ah, that's the real reason.
I think with all the Français she was feeling a bit removed from everything. Now she was finally able to break out of her cocoon and be herself. Time for me to relax and let her drive the bus once again.
A new tankbag hobby
Neda gave all the seashells she was collecting in her tankbag to her niece. She's moved on to collecting leaves now. This one is from Switzerland. Somehow, I don't think her collection is going to survive intact as long as the seashells did...
We've stopped in a sea-side town of Calella, about half-an-hour outside of Barcelona
And just like amoebas, the minute the conditions start becoming favorable we stop moving and enjoy the sunshine and lack of rain. Calella is a weekend beach destination for a lot of Barcelonans, and is absolutely packed with tourists in the summer, but now we're in the off-season and it's a ghost-town during the week. Nice and peaceful, just the way we like it.
Can you imagine this beach packed to gills in the summer?
Too cold to suntan
Although the sun is shining, the temperatures only climb to about 15C during the middle of the day. Still a lot of people wearing thick layers walking around town. It's not raining so we really don't care.
Namaste on the boardwalk
Some rock climbing on the outskirts of town
Better view of where the rock climbers were hanging around
Calella has about 3kms of beaches, some open, some secluded. There's even supposed to be a nude beach around here somewhere!
Either Neda is really enjoying the sunshine or she's spied the nude beach...
The cold and wet weather makes for a very draining ride. It's not just having to bear through the elements while on a motorcycle, but all the gear you have to put on: base layer, protective layer, waterproof layer. I really missed just throwing on a riding jacket to go out for a spin. Everything seems like such a production when you tour through these conditions!
This guy has the right idea
Birds eye view of the coast
Parallel to the beach is a nice tree-lined promenade where families go for a stroll during the day
We've rented a small apartment in Calella with a nice kitchen so we can make our own food once again. I think we're going to stay here for a while.
This is the market that Neda goes to every morning to get fresh groceries
This is our fish lady. Neda buys fish from her every few days so we're regulars now
She's cutting up something called "sepia". Neda knew what the Croatian word for it, but couldn't tell me what it was in English because she's never prepared it in Canada. A quick SpanishDict search: It's cuttlefish. Very tasty! Our fish lady asks what the English word is and we tell her. Apparently "cuttlefish" is really hard to pronounce for Catalans...
Calella and Barcelona are in a region of Spain called Catalunya. The people that live here don't really consider themselves a part of Spain. They've been trying to separate for a long time. Kinda like Quebec in Canada. Catalan is also different from the Spanish spoken by the rest of Spain. Same as Quebecois being a different kind of French that's spoken in the rest of the world...
We're having to get used to different phrases here. A "Buenos Dias" will automatically give you away as non-Catalan. Here it's "Bon Dia". "Hablas español?" Nope, it's "Que parla català?". "Please" is "Si us plau". It almost sounds kind of French! More Quebec parallels!
Checking up on our bikes one evening
The apartment complex we are staying in wanted €10 for underground parking. A night! Whatevs! We'll just park for free on the streets like the rest of the Europeans do. I get a bit nervous and peek outside every couple of days just to make sure the bikes are still there though...
On the weekends, all the Barcelonans come into town to wander around the stores here
We're staying in the old part of town where 14th-century buildings are mixed in with modern storefronts on a pedestrian-only street called Calle de l'Església (street of the church). The lights are all up for Christmas and we mingle with the weekend crowd one evening.
One night, we spied Roman Centurians marching down the street!
They were part of a Christmas parade. The Catalans must really not like being Spanish... No Conquistadors here!
Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/194.html
Just a quick update as to what we've been doing the last couple of weeks, which is not very much.
We're really enjoying staying in our apartment here in Calella. The weather is sunny most of the time. Neda has taken up jogging on the boardwalk every couple of days, shopping in the market in the mornings and coming up with new dishes to cook for us. I've taken up doing nothing. Life is good.
Wet ride to the Dali Theatre-Museum. Yes, those are eggs crowning the top of the building...
We found out that the Salvador Dali museum was nearby. It's in Figueres, about an hour north of here, near the French border. Dali was my favorite artist when I was in university, I had a print of his melting clocks, "The Persistence of Memory", pasted up on the wall of my dorm room just like most of the undergraduates I went to school did.
Of course, the day we planned to ride over, it rained. Of course. But we were stubborn and decided to go anyway. The thinking was that we were going to spend the entire time inside, so this was a perfect day as any to do it and not miss any sunshine.
Outside the Theatre-Museum. Yes, that is an egg dressed up in papal robes. Yes, that is a deep-sea diver on the balcony.
Yes, those are statues holding gold loaves of bread over their head...
I love the surreal and absurdist style of Dali. It's just so weird and appeals to the side of me that likes to poke fun at everything, making comments and jokes that most people don't get. In my mind, I always picture Dali creating his works of art while snickering away, amusing the only person that he ever intended to amuse: himself. I totally get that.
Part of the fun of Dali sculptures and paintings is verbally describing them to someone who hasn't seen them
"Yeah, so there's this old black, vintage car in the courtyard. There's a hood ornament welded to the car. It's a huge Venus-de-Milo type of statue - big boobs, big hips. It's huge. No, it's not a foot high, more like 10-feet tall. Yes, welded onto the hood like an ornament! But wait, there's more... Behind the car is a stack of tires, it's even taller than the hood ornament. Then on top of that stack of tires is a long pole with a boat on top of it. Dripping from the boat are these huge drops of water that look like testicles!
I swear I'm not making this up. I have a picture of it!"
I love Dali...
One thing I never knew about Dali is that he also made jewelry
A separate building houses a collection of jewelry, most of them made of gold inset with precious gems. The rooms are dark, the only thing lit up are the jewelry. Dali himself is entombed in this building in a crypt on the first floor.
The pieces are quite beautiful and show a different side of the artist I never knew about. The above is a hand mirror decorated with gold coins and a stylized Dali signature that he stamped on all of his works.
Just a quick update as to what we've been doing the last couple of weeks, which is not very much.
We're really enjoying staying in our apartment here in Calella. The weather is sunny most of the time. Neda has taken up jogging on the boardwalk every couple of days, shopping in the market in the mornings and coming up with new dishes to cook for us. I've taken up doing nothing. Life is good.
Wet ride to the Dali Theatre-Museum. Yes, those are eggs crowning the top of the building...
We found out that the Salvador Dali museum was nearby. It's in Figueres, about an hour north of here, near the French border. Dali was my favorite artist when I was in university, I had a print of his melting clocks, "The Persistence of Memory", pasted up on the wall of my dorm room just like most of the undergraduates I went to school did.
Of course, the day we planned to ride over, it rained. Of course. But we were stubborn and decided to go anyway. The thinking was that we were going to spend the entire time inside, so this was a perfect day as any to do it and not miss any sunshine.
Outside the Theatre-Museum. Yes, that is an egg dressed up in papal robes. Yes, that is a deep-sea diver on the balcony.
Yes, those are statues holding gold loaves of bread over their head...
I love the surreal and absurdist style of Dali. It's just so weird and appeals to the side of me that likes to poke fun at everything, making comments and jokes that most people don't get. In my mind, I always picture Dali creating his works of art while snickering away, amusing the only person that he ever intended to amuse: himself. I totally get that.
Part of the fun of Dali sculptures and paintings is verbally describing them to someone who hasn't seen them
"Yeah, so there's this old black, vintage car in the courtyard. There's a hood ornament welded to the car. It's a huge Venus-de-Milo type of statue - big boobs, big hips. It's huge. No, it's not a foot high, more like 10-feet tall. Yes, welded onto the hood like an ornament! But wait, there's more... Behind the car is a stack of tires, it's even taller than the hood ornament. Then on top of that stack of tires is a long pole with a boat on top of it. Dripping from the boat are these huge drops of water that look like testicles!
I swear I'm not making this up. I have a picture of it!"
I love Dali...
One thing I never knew about Dali is that he also made jewelry
A separate building houses a collection of jewelry, most of them made of gold inset with precious gems. The rooms are dark, the only thing lit up are the jewelry. Dali himself is entombed in this building in a crypt on the first floor.
The pieces are quite beautiful and show a different side of the artist I never knew about. The above is a hand mirror decorated with gold coins and a stylized Dali signature that he stamped on all of his works.
"Figure at a window"
Dali's primary muse was his wife, Gala. Almost all of his paintings and photos are of her. The only other female model that he used was his younger sister, Ana Maria, shown here in his famous painting, "Figure at a window".
My primary muse is Neda's yellow F650GS. Almost all of my pictures are of that bike...
This style of painting is what Dali is most known for.
I was a bit disappointed that his most famous surreal paintings are not on display in Figueres. The Persistence of Memory is currently housed in the Musueum of Modern Art in New York City.
That's a neat looking couch...
Sometimes a different perspective is needed...
I'm sure Andy Warhol was in part inspired by the works of Dali. He once said his paintings are "hand-painted dream photographs". So apt. He was one of a minority of artists that actually became famous during his lifetime, due in large part to the self-promotion he and his wife did.
You can see part of Dali's upturned moustache reaching up to his eye here
We didn't really do a lot of riding in the last couple of weeks, but we did get out to see Montserrat on another occasion. This time we looked for a nice, sunny day to go out.
Unfortunately, the weather is very different up in the mountains than by the coast
Montserrat is set amongst the peaks of Catalunya, about 50 kms north of Barcelona and only 45 minutes away from where we were in Calella. It's a great area to go hiking and to get some spectacular views of the hills and valleys below. Surprisingly, it was me who organized this hiking excursion. An early Christmas gift to Neda...
Santa Maria de Montserrat Abbey amongst the clouds
Our bikes climbed over 1200m (4000 feet) above the coast and the temperatures plummeted as we ascended. The sunny day in Calella was replaced by a cold, heavy fog and as we reached the town of Montserrat, the famous Benedictine monastery (Santa Maria) was shrouded in mist.
We had brought all of our hiking clothes, but because everything was obscured by the haze, we debated about whether to actually go or not. We didn't really feel like hiking around inside a cloud for the entire afternoon. After a quick sandwich break, the early afternoon sun started burning through the mists so it was Go Time!
Truthfully, part of me was hoping that it would have been too cloudy to hike: "Hey, at least I made the effort, right Neda?"
The Monastery is the most-important religious retreat in Catalunya, many residents do at least one overnight pilgrimage in their lives to watch the sun rise over the peak of Montserrat
View of the Monastery from the cable-car, mist is slowly being burned away by the sun
We take a cable-car up to one of the peaks of Montserrat so we can hike down the mountain. Hey, this may be a Christmas present to Neda, but I'm not that crazy as to offer to actually hike *UP* a mountain!
Neda is excited to be hiking above the clouds
We never got to use our hiking clothes. It was way too cold so we just hiked in all of our warm motorcycle gear and boots...
One Tree Hill
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