Surprise, shock, dissapointment, amazement and awe in Istanbul

Yesterday we visited two of the most famous sites in Istanbul: the "Aya Sofya Muzesi" and the "Sultanahmet Camii". I had much anticipated seeing the first of these historic places because I had been told of its grandeur by many people in my family who had visited it, in fact, one of my dear cousins had told me that she was left speechless upon stepping foot in this former "grandest church in the world" built in 532 AD, which was converted into a mosque by the Ottomans in 1453 and then declared a museum in the 1930s by the beloved Turkish leader Ataturk. Well, I must say that I too was rendered speechless but for different reasons. Even before entering this grandest of buildings I was surprised by the state of disrepair of its exterior, chipped "barely there" red paint and discolored walls, but even that is nothing compared to what I saw inside! The interior of this relic is now in my opinion, in complete ruins compared to its former grandeur. The walls are covered with decades of grime making the dulled marble difficult to identify as such, and the Ottoman layer of plaster is equally decayed to say nothing of the bent and dulled chandeliers that are so abandoned only a handful of them are even in working order. The only things that are remotely maintained in this "museum" are the parts of mosaics that have been uncovered since the 1930s under the plaster. Perhaps because I had such high expectations I felt as empty as the Sofya as I walked inside it. It is noterworthy to say that the Aya Sophya is empty of life and soul, but not empty of bodies as it is the most visited tourist site in Istanbul, and at 10YTL per person, one really has to wonder where the money is going since the only sign of work or restorations being done is the ever-present scaffolding in the middle of the building.




The wondering about where the profits from Aya Sophya are going was short-lived as the mystery seemed to be solved when we visited the Blue Mosque. This Muslim holy site that is still a place of worship is as grand and impressive as it is clean and well maintained. The lush red carpet looks and feels brand new and the famous tiled walls look as bright as if the blue hued tile patterns had been baked in just the other day. In complete contrast to Aya Sophya where I could not even muster a tiny prayer, in this holy place not of my religion, I wanted to kneel down and pray all afternoon.




Today we walked over to Sultanahmet again, this time to spend the afternoon in Topkapi Palace, the grand former home of the Sultans. This huge complex includes many gardens, houses, a humongous kitchen where it was not unusual for the staff to prepare meals to feed 1200 hungry guests, stables, a church, and the 400 room harem where some of the sultan's family and his consorts and concubines and were housed. By a stroke of luck, as we were walking up to the ticket booth to pay our 10ytl each we were approached by three young men of apparent Turkish descent who handed Kevin two free entrance tickets. In addition to visiting most of the sites in the complex, we also walked through four treasury rooms housing the most impressive collection of jewels and jeweled items I have EVER laid eyes on, including an 86 carat diamond, a mother-of-pearl encrusted throne, and two 86lbs solid gold candlesticks encrusted with over 1000 diamonds each!!!! Unfortunately, no pictures are allowed, but really who has time to take pictures when one is busy wiping drool from the sides of one's mouth. There were enough golf-ball sized emeralds and rubies and diamonds throughout the collection to fill a whirlpool and take the most luscious and luxurious bath of all time. This place made me happy, oh so happy and I didn't even feel any guilt about it.

The Harem was a different story. As I walked through the many small rooms, narrow halls and enclosed courtyards of this vast edifice I could feel the sense of incarceration that the concubines may have felt at being destined to a life of confinement. The "queen mother's" and sultan's bathrooms are magnificent odes to white marble and gold leaf, many walls are covered in ornate tiles of many rich colors and intricate patterns and the prince's rooms and main hall are grand affairs with stained glass vitrines and fine upholstered furniture and plush pillows. However, even in the most beautiful of guilded cages, the lovely bird cannot feel free and when it sings it's song is sad, empty and soulless though it may sound lovely to its audience. As melodramatic as it may sound, I found it very appropriate that it was raining when we left harem, as if its former inhabitants were trying to tell me that the sadness I perceived within some of its walls had been a truth.

Back in the US, Back in the US, Back in the USSR....

Back in the USSR

We left Romania, a place where many people look as if they’ve never had a square meal or a square deal in their life, and ventured into the former USSR. Our first stop: Moldova.

We arrived midmorning at the pleasant looking, modern border station. The Romanians in casual uniforms were nice as they checked our documents and okayed us to leave. We asked them about the road ahead and they said Moldova was nice but that Transdniestr was “Putinville”.

We got in line at the other side, with just a few cars in front of us. A young border guard with crew cut and impeccable uniform with the oversized pressed cap came out, gave us the Russian scowl and asked for our documents. It was just like the movies! He looked at our papers and asked for the originals of our Registrations, which we had provided him. We insisted for a few minutes that they were the originals and he disappeared, unhappily, into the guard house. 5 or 10 minutes later he reappeared and again insisted on having the original registrations, which he did. Apparently, Massachusetts Registrations don’t look very authentic, and to be honest compared with many European documents which are laminated they look quite flimsy. After a few more back and forths, he again went into the guard house, before finally reappearing a third time to again insist on the proper documents. At this point, a Moldovan trucker took a glance at the papers and told him they looked correct for America and he went back inside.

I almost felt sorry for the youngster. Now that the Cold War is over, and Moldova is (God Forbid!) trying to encourage openness and tourism and maybe get into the EU they don’t have Visa requirements or fees for most nationals so all he can do is basically wave people through. What fun is that when you’ve trained all your life to put terror and fear into travelers with just a disconcerting glance or disdainful look? So eventually he had to let us pass. But just to the vehicle inspection person.

As we moved up the line we were in for one delightful surprise. A huge rose garden was just inside the border in Moldova. I must say it was easily the most beautiful area at any border crossing we have made yet, completely unexpected. What wasn’t unexpected was the run around they put us through to admit our motorcycles. Go to this office, no one there. Go across the street and pay the lady in the big building. Get to the big building and the lady insists that we pay back where we started. Go back there and be sent to a different window. Then pay for the bikes but only one bike is on the paperwork, etc., etc. Meanwhile, it turns out that the Moldovan truck driver speaks Italian/Spanish and we have a nice conversation with him and he helps us out when he can. He says it is the same way all the time; they are always just bumbling around just like border guards everywhere. After about an hour, without any vehicle check we and about 4 cars made it through into Moldova.

It was about 80 miles to Chisinau, the capital, on a newly paved highway. The day was dry and somewhat bright, quite a pleasant Sunday. The scenery was mostly farmland and vineyards and forest. There were many people, families and couples, out picking mushrooms on the side of the road or picnicking. Only a few people were selling them, as opposed to Romania where there were multitudes selling the same products of either mushrooms or potatoes. Only a couple were enterprising enough to sell both and offer one stop shopping. There were more than the usual number of police on the road, but we got tipped off by opposing drivers flashing their lights so we had no problems. Some things are universal, thank god!

The other noticeable thing was the preponderance of Mercedes and BMW’s on the road. Between a third to half of the cars on the road were late model German cars. Odd, considering Moldova is one of the poorest countries in Europe, and not something we saw in Slovakia, Hungary or Romania. We got to Chisinau enjoyed a pizza lunch and rode up the Soviet designed main boulevard 8 lanes wide, so as to accommodate BIG parades! We stopped at the “arc de triumph” (no caps to signify its size in relation to the Parisian one) to get our bearings and made our way to “Tourist Hotel” Straight our of the guidebooks, this 5 story concrete bunker had so much charm that when we stopped Clara insisted that “it doesn’t look open”. But sure enough it was, and for about $45 we got the full experience. Dilapidated building: check. Two single beds put next to each other with a queen-sized sheet to make a double: check. Tile, flooring, wallpaper and plumbing from the early 60’s: check. A shower that you had to run 5 to 10 minutes to get warm, while sticking the handheld into the sink to drain so that the floor didn’t overflow: check. Strange people calling us on the phone: check. A ‘maid’ on the floor watching our comings and goings: check. Someone knocking on our door by accident: check. But, it was actually nowhere near as bad as many places we have stayed and for us it was almost comical all the stereotypes we racked up.

We took a walk around the town and were impressed with the two caddy cornered parks in the center of town. One had a lightly treed area around a central plaza that had a bell tower and non-descript church in it. Both held surprises. The tower had the most beautiful chimes to mark the time that I think I have ever heard from such a tower. And inside the plain Orthodox Church was a beautifully gilded setting, with richly painted walls and wonderful voices echoing around the domed ceilings to accent a wedding taking place with a purple clothed bride.

In fact, the whole plaza was filled with brides. There was one with a long limo who looked like a perfect doll, with curled hair of a color and hue not familiar, which Clara thought had pink in it although I only saw shades of white and blond. She had a large pouffy dress and she would have been right at home at Cinderella’s Ball. Another girl was younger, poorer and not quite so happy in her traditional white dress as they moved about and her maid of honor took the wedding shots by the tree, the tower, the fountain.


We passed by the ‘arc de triomphe’ on the way to the other park which was filled with trees, crisscrossing paths with many benches filled with lovers of all ages, and an active fountain in the center with parents and children playing. To enter the park you walked through an iron gate which also had brides and grooms lined up to take the picture of “crossing the threshold into marriage”. Clearly, there was a wedding machine in Chisinau with the Church spitting out brides as fast as they can, before the requisite pictures at the anointed places are taken. However, there wasn’t any cheesiness to it just a typical way to get married in the main church and square in the countries capital.

Clara took a break in the evening as I rode around to check out the town. There were some modern buildings around, definitely building was going on, but the most noticeable thing to me was the large number of casinos all around town. Not Vegas Casino’s but more like 7-11 size casino’s occupying the first floor and maybe basement of 4 or 5 story buildings. By far, casinos seemed to be the most consistent business in town. They usually had John Gotti gangster look alikes manning the door, with some of those BMW and Mercedes parked close by. In fact, the city seemed to need a census category for “Male, close shaven head, expensive shoes, suit with colored shirt, no tie. Chain optional.” This was something that Moldova had in common with Romania, as we noticed most of the people driving the BMW’s in Romania had the same description and gave no indication of any familiarity with an MBA or other advanced degree except perhaps high school diploma. The gangster houses in Romania were high comedy.


But I digress from Moldova. We went to the only restaurant I found earlier that took Visa, as I didn’t want to exchange Moldovan money for just one day in the country. I already was carrying about 7 denominations and didn’t want any more. It was a neat, hip, modern open air Italian place with huge fishtank and flat screen TV’s. Unfortunately, by the time we got there they only were serving pizza, the same as we had for lunch. The other problem was the clientele. It was filled with the FGM: Future Gangsters of Moldova. They were chainsmoking away in their junior Gotti suits, some of them even using a hukkah as their dates cuddled up in the nicely provided blankets. The look for women is short skirt, stockings, high heels or cowboy boots and something tight up top. We have seen this look all through Eastern Europe. Not necessarily a bad thing. But thanks to the open air nature of the restaurant and the surprisingly delicious pizza we had a good time and walked back to the hotel before collapsing and resting for the next days trip into the unknown: Transdniestr. A place not even mentioned by the country that supposedly it belongs to.

Some pictures now that we are in Istanbul

Our Arrival in Istanbul, a Soviet era monument in the Ukraine, the Blue Mosque/blue bike and ships at the port, and Clara snapped a picture of the Customs House where we were interrogated and shaken down before fleeing the pseudo country of Transdniestr.

Interrogation rooms and Islam

What a day! We started in a soviet tourist hotel in Moldova, went through 3 interrogation shakedown rooms to get through the breakaway republic of Transdinestr (find that on the map!), before Clara decided she had had enough corruption and payola, stared down 2 guards with guns; meanwhile I grabbed our passports and we got on our motorcycles and blew by the security guard as he was insisting we give him our passports, hoping the Ukrainians wouldn't turn us back.

Very Scary! Clara was amazing, I was ready to pay the guys off but she would have none of it, and was able to out-bluff them. It seems Colombians are tougher than renegade Soviets!

We got to Ukraine, drove to Odessa and what luck there was the once weekly ferry to Istanbul leaving in 2 hours. We decided we have had enough of Eastern Europe and we are ready for Islam and the Middle East.

Bitten in transylvania

As we were riding out of Transylvania today, something quickly and viciously bit my neck. I almost crashed the immediate pain was so strong! I quickly pulled over and had Clara take a picture of it before rubbing garlic, I mean teatree oil, on the wound to make it better. I don't feel undead (yet) but it is also not yet midnight here in Vaslui near the Moldovan border.

There have been some pretty views and uncluttered roads here in Eastern Romania, definitely gave out some yoohhhoooo's today. Very poor here with people selling potatoes and mushrooms on the sides of the roads.

The funniest thing in Vienna was the only 20 minutes of video of Freud and his family known to exist. At one point one of his older well dressed relatives reaches over and points at his wifes frock. When she looks down, he does the 'flick up' with the "made you look gesture". It was truly classic, for the ages. As my friend Chuck would say "the old ones are the good ones, that is why they are the old ones!"

Don't tip in Romanian restaurans, they don't expect it and it isn't worth it!

Dinner at Vlad the Impalers

Yes, we are in the heart of Transylvania! We had dinner at Casa Dracula tonight in the citadel of Sighisoara, Romania birthplace of Vlad the Impaler, known to the west as Dracula.

Of course, we had red meat and red wine for dinner. Mine was on the rare side! Clara feels a kinship with them because the flag has the same colors as Columbia, red, yellow and blue.

Vlad really did impale thousands, maybe tens of thousands at the stake but there are no stories of him drinking anyones blood. In fact he is revered as a Romanian hero for standing up to the Turks and Saxons and for trying to get rid of dishonesty and stealing.

We have a great tent site for 8 bucks in town, two full tanks of gas, and there isn't quite as much pollution here in the Transylvanian Alps. We may head to Moldova tomorrow...

Good investment opportunities here. Although clearly organized crime has a hold and we haven't seen so many cops since Venezuela.

I will write about kevins direct corruption correlation postulate at a later point, but let's just say that Peru, V enezuela and Romania don't rate high.

Go Sox!

Live (so far) from Cluj-Napoca, Romania

After zooming along at 75 to 80 and being constantly passed on the last vestiges of the EU autobahn through Hungary we got our passports stamped at the Romanian border and ventured both back in time and back in worlds. Back to the 3rd world to be precise.


Within a short amount of time we were on roads unseen since South America, choking on diesel truck fumes, unbridled horses wandering through traffic, burning things, like a tire in the fields, crazy drivers passing on the right, huge abandoned soviet era factories and power plants, horse drawn wagons on the roads, hunch backed old women in shawls, even some sort of railway looking device being driven backwards, in an over the shoulder way with 3 guys on board, put-putting up the highway with semi's narrowly avoiding them.

I'm back in my element! I love it, Clara hates it.

By the way, we both saw something we've never seen on a country road in Hungary. It was about 12 inches long, furry but moved quickly across the road like a lizard. I thought it was a cross of a Daschund and an Iguana. Very odd.

There is of course plenty of pollution, again making our faces black. But, we can finally afford to live again. Pizza dinner was about $14, and a hut at the campground $25, complete with roaming donkey and rabid dog running around.

Last night in Budapest we paid $32 just for the privelege of pitching our tent on hard packed dirt.

Time for some oil changes. I need to put on my new front tire and fin a new rear tire for Clara.


Go Sox!

Sleeping in a tent in Budapest!

Although we had dinner with the Pests, we are sleeping with the Buda's. We crossed the Danube 4 times today which reminds me of my favorite joke:

Knock, knock.

Who is there?

Austria and Slovakia.

Austria and Slovakia who?

Exactly!

Slovakia had a low lying medium grade smog throughout the whole country. The day was grey and overcast, appropriate for our first foray into the former iron curtain.

I was happy though, feeling like the adventure was reborn. Clara spoke at a stoplight, "I know you are loving this!". Yes, it was bad roads, crazy drivers, foul belching vehicles (we don't like them but they are indicators of the second and third worlds) in short, the chance of something unknown around the corner, free from MCD'S, PIZZA HUT, BURGER KING, ETC.

We really like Budapest, a real fun vibe, and incredibly beautiful. But the weather is nice and we have miles to make: tomorrow we head towards Romania and Transylvania, just before Halloween!

More from Vienna

Today we woke up early and were the first people at the American Consulate wanting to do some "official" business. We were trying to be proactive in getting a letter we think we are going to need in order to get our visa for Pakistan. At first, we were flatly refused help by the Austrian consulate staff member, but I was persistent and in the end we got what we needed, hopefully. Then we went to see the famed Lipizzaner horses doing their morning workout and then headed to Freud's former home, now the Freud Museum. We took a short video just to try downloading it onto our blog. Here it is. (by the way, if this works, it will open up a whole new frontier of blogging for us, so let us know how it looks!)

If its October, it must be Austria!

Knock, Knock
Who is there?
Germany.
Germany Who?
Exactly!!!

We finally had a beautiful riding day today as we left our new best friend Jan Loesche in Munich. Jan took 4 years riding around the world, and feels indebted to all those who helped him along the way. We were the recipients of his largesse, not only did he let us stay with him he went away to a wedding for the weekend and left us the keys to his place!!!

We arrived in Vienna, Austria today and I am blown away by the amazing buildings, Greek Revival, Baroque. They are huge, impressive and in great shape. We also got the biggest Schnitzel I have ever had for about $8.

We have now been on the road for 7 months, 24 or 27 countries depending on whether you count Wales, Northern Ireland, Scotland, etc. Over 22,000 miles.

We headed up the road to Prague in the Czech Republic on Friday but were repelled about an hour into the trip by fierce wind, nasty rain, bullet like hail and bumper to bumper traffic. The death blow was finding out we hadn't packed the passports and vehicle registrations. I know everyone in Europe is supposed to be friends, but I'd rather not be without ID or Documents in a country the US may use to torture people in.

A sobering visit.

Today we visited the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site. There is virtually no way of knowing how one will react when one enters the infamous grounds of this camp. I had a very strong, yet not completely unpredictable, reaction as tears began to roll down my cheecks within two minutes of entering the imposing empty courtyard known as the "roll call area". I was truly overwhelmed by the thought of the thousands of prisoners that suffered unimaginable treatment at the hands of their fellow human beings. I felt as if my body was filled with the fear, pain, anger, and despair that surely permeated through this camp and soaked and stained each and every structure in this complex down to every stone on the ground. In fact, I could not keep myself from constantly gazing at the stones beneath my riding boots and imagining the raw bare feet of the prisoners whose lives meant so little to their cruel captors. One, two, three....30 thousand...sixty thousand devastated pairs of feet walking over these same stones, some for the first time, some for the last. It is almost too difficult to imagine, and certainly for me impossible to understand.
The memorial site is very well set up and it provides the visitor a pretty complete account of the history of Germany's first major concentration camp which became a model for all future Nazi concentration camps. We arrived at 2pm and were ushered out at closing time and I still could have spent another three hours there contemplating the enormity of the events that transpired in "that time" not so long ago...
It is difficult to talk about this visit without having the urge to go on and on about the whys and the hows but I will fight this urge and simply say that it is imperative that we learn from the lessons of our past and do everything possible to keep from making the same mistakes, because we are all part of the same human race.
Besitos.

Live from Oktoberfest

We have arrived at a beer hall at Oktoberfest. Of course it is raining and it rained for 60 miles coming into MUNICH. We set up our tent in the rain, we were cold and wet, as we could see our breath. We took the bus and train but didn't really pay. Our new motto is "when in Rome, don't pay for the train"

But back to the subject: beer. We are on our second beer. They are about $10 a piece but they are one liter. We are with about 5,000 of our closest German friends, 2 brits on a bachelor party, 4 Japanese girls and one Scott who is too drunk to say "hello, I am from Scotland". It is 9:10 on a Tuesday night, and I am ready to give the title of Worlds Greatest Beer Drinkers to the Germans.


The beer "tent" is enormous maybe 200 yards by 100 yards. There is a brass and guitar band on the platform in the center of the room playing German drinking songs, Beatles tunes and some John Denver thrown in for good measure. Most people are standing on the benches dancing and cheering. My favorite has been the Blues Brothers "I need you!". I, of course, had to stand up and utter one of the great lines from the movie " I hate Illinois Nazi's"

There are enough Leiderhosen here to give a herd of cows collective heart attack. The frauline cleavage in the traditional wench outfits is enough to make me occasionally divert my eyes from the mesmirizing Clara.


In other words, we are having No Fun at All.

Happy Anniversary...(to us!)

Since this is our "honeymoon" trip, I thought it would be appropriate to tell that today is our (second) wedding anniversary.

We will celebrate in style by taking a spin on the Nurbergring and maybe having a fancy dinner (as fancy as you can get in jeans and t-shirts) in Stuttgart where we are headed today.






Besitos to my Big!

UPDATE
The Nurbergring expreince was a blast!!! What a crazy concept to have a complete free-for-all on a race track; the smell of fuel and burning rubber all around and all types of cars and motorcycles zooming by each other in a mad dash.
The fancy dinner was a no go, instead, we had a kebab dinner at a fast-food joint in Stuttgart.

Random thoughts

The picture of me at this phone booth is at the same location where one of my favorite movies was shot. The first person to identify the movie on the blog gets dinner at the NO NAME when we get back.



Lazily whiling away the day at Clara's cousin's house in Bonn, Germany.

Working on the Iranian visa is like working with the army, hurry up and wait. But, there are only two ways to India overland, Iran/Pakistan or Russia/China.

About 80 percent of the cars in Peru are white. Been meaning to write that for about 5 months. The most amazing marketer in the world is a man at a plaza in south Mexico who sells corn husks rolled in grated cheese to children. They line up for them. Simply amazing. And scary, the power of marketing.

Europe is so far ahead of the USA in environmental issues. Tinier cars, windmills all over the place, toilets with 2 buttons, one for number "1", one for number "2". Saves water. Recycling stations all around. People have cabinets in their kitchens for dividing recyclables into different categories. People ride bikes, roads have bike lines. Amsterdam had about 80,000 bikes in a giant bike rack next to the main train central station.

The roads in Europe are in great condition. I'm surprised how forested this densely populated area of western Europe is. It is also quite surprising how many Muslims are here, completely different from when I was here 20 years ago. The first exit I took off the highway in the Netherlands was a suburb of all Muslims and blacks, many from Jamaica. If you didn't know where you were you would never guess you were in Holland.


Big thanks to our friends Tom and Christine and their family whom we just spent a 4 day retreat with, and enjoyed the birthday party for Christine's dad. 4 days in the house and the television never turned on, wonderful. That is one of the great purposes of this trip, to meet people from different countries and cultures and make friends. (we met Tom and Christine riding Africa Twins in Argentina) I believe that by breaking down these barriers we lessen the future chance of wars, terrorism, imperialism, and other ism's. They were excellent hosts and we will always remember the delicious wineberries.

Except of course Long live Kevinism.

Today was a beautiful day for the 25 mile ride from Koln to Bonn. We will try to ride the nurbergring tomorrow, the famous old GP circuit. In our month here in Europe, until yesterday we had only had 3 days of riding where we haven't worn our rainsuits. Needed to get a new clutch on my bike after the gearbox seals went bad.

I am sick of hearing about Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman. Most of the real bikers we meet think they are real twits. My take: when watching their video at one point Ewan says 'I wish it had been a more authentic trip' without all the camera's, support, attention, etc. SO DO IT!!! It isn't like Ewan McGregor doesn't have the money to buy a couple bikes and take a trip. You don't need all the gear, support, donated motorcycles and camera's. Or do you???

I miss New Orleans, especially Thursday nights at Vaughan's and Tuesday's at Bullets.
Has anyone been to a Wednesday night at Plough and Stars?

Is there a single politician in America telling the truth about anything these days?
I liked the Republican presidential candidate from Alaska who said he wasn't afraid to tell Americans that they are Fat and Stupid. It's true, but even I might be able to word that a bit better. However, after eating fish and chips in the UK and Ireland almost every day for 3 weeks I could afford to lose some weight.

It is great that so many people we have met on the road are continuing to do well. Josh, and Andy and Tim and ....

off to dinner!

Copy of published article in Colombian magazine "Caras"

Milestones from Germany

We have arrived at our friends Tom and Christine's house in Cologne, Germany. We are now well over 20,000 miles traveled. We set a record on the way here, doing 4 countries in a day. It was a mighty effort, we pushed ourselves to the limit, but we did it--Belgium, Luxembourg, Belgium again and then Germany. John Glenn would be proud!

Funny how stereotypes are so often based in reality. Once we got on the autobahn....the left lane started zooming by us at 100 mph, from Mercedes, to tiny Fords, even a Smart car. We also stopped by the Iranian embassy in Brussels to try and get a visa on the day that the French and Iranians were verbally blasting each other about war. Not necessarily the best day to work on our French while we spoke to a native Arabic speaker, but it went fine. The Pakistani embassy was typical of the "impossible" paperwork regimes famously known in Pakistan and India. The embassy smelled of something, I thought food, Clara thought worse! The civil servant's first response was that our request was impossible and that we would have to go to Washington, DC to get a visa but with some prodding an alternative was found, although also not an easy one.

Germans have some interesting habits. Some good, some bad, some strange. Good is that beer glasses are automatically refilled unless you put your coaster on top indicating you have reached your limit. Bad is that the wait staff won't come to your table if your menu is open, which can be a pain if you don't remember. Strange is that they only drink bubbly water. They even have machines in their homes which add "fizz" to tap water. Some restaurants don't even have bottled water without fizz. Quite odd!

The Cologne Gothic cathedral is pretty amazing, huge, detailed, and inspiring! Our hosts have been fantastic, as we prepare ourselves and our paperwork to try and make it to India.

Luxembourg was quite nice, and worth a day or two trip if visiting Europe. Gas was a bit cheaper than in the rest of Europe so far, maybe $7.50 a gallon instead of $8.
The cost of things is killing our budget, and a constant reminder of how far America has fallen. Thanks George!

Hope the Red Sox can limp across the line first...

3 days in Amsterdam

On one of the hundreds of bridges in Amsterdam.

We finally had a "honeymoon" on our honeymoon trip. We booked a nice hotel for three days, parked the bikes in car garage, bought a tourist ticket and saw the city. Boat tour, museums, restaurants, the redlight district where sex, drugs, and probably other things were offered to us in Dutch and English. Wonderful walking city with friendly people and the whiff of legal marijuana smoke emanating from many corners.

I feel like I have seen a real master, as I was blown away by the Rembrandt paintings. The Van Gogh museum was excellent as well, and Clara in particular really enjoyed it.

Off to Brussels tomorrow, to try and get some Visas, Belgian beer and maybe some chocolate.

Away from UK

Knock, knock
Who is there?
British Isles.
British Isles who?
Exactly!

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Leaving on a merry ferry

We are booked into the overnight ferry to Amsterdam tomorrow, we will head for the terminal right after my leaking gearbox seals are replaced at the Bolden BMW dealer.


We are camping near the beach again where the river Tyne flows into. The English channel. Took a nice walk this evening, a pond with swans, amusement arcade park getting ready to close for the season, a basketball, biking and skateboarding park, where teenagers were doing bike tricks, shooting hoops, and a couple were destroying the block wall between the park and the road. The type of wanton destruction that makes you want to just slap some sense into someone.

But we are just observers, leaving this land soon, so could only shake our heads and move on.


Had a second great tour of Edinburg this morning. A gorgeous and expensive city, that we place right at the top of the list of recommended places.

Finally, the magazine article about us came out in Columbia this week. A nice 5 page spread. I believe the magazine is called faces, and it is the weekly one with Tom Cruise in it!


Excuse to me, but is a good time having possible in the Amsterdam?


(Oktoberfest is nearby in Munich, anyone, anyone? Meister???)

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Change in plans

Turns out the ferry from the shetlands to norway is completely booked, so we head south...

To where we are not sure. At least newcastle, maybe Africa or India. Such are the vagaries of our mission.

We made it to Cullen, to enjoy the famous "skink" for dinner. This is as inhabited as a ghost town can allowed to be. We are camped on a bluff overlooking the ocean, where raucous winds aided in our tent preperation, the same ones which buffeted us all day. Another day of wind and rain. Not the plains of Spain here.

Delicious fish and chips just south of the castle for lunch, as we cruised down the east coast. Once a day for me on average, I can feel my body larding up, but it has been 10 years, so I must indulge.

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Thoughts from the cold, windy tent

We’ve been riding up the West Coast of Scotland and it is as stupendous as described by contemporary biking friends. We’ve seen rugged mountains, heather everywhere, highland cows –pronounced “haelen coooos”, herds of wild deer, tourist buses from Skye south, eerie landscapes and castles, tourist information boards which explain the different ghosts you might see, and which of those are friendly or not.

Water, Water everywhere. From light blue ocean lit by the glint of a sun ray sneaking through the clouds, just visible between rocky peaks coming down out of the misty hillsides. It is visible like an unobtainable oasis. It doesn’t even warrant thinking about finding that sunlight as experience in the highlands teaches that the sun is occasional and wonderful and to be enjoyed when touched upon you, but never worth searching for. (short of a trip to Spain, of course). The weather has not been bad, but not good either. We end up wearing our rain suits eventually everyday, then leaving them on until we come to our tenting place. Another source of the water, is the numerous Lochs that offer up stunning scenery of tranquil surface reflecting sheer walls of rock with heather and ferns clinging to their sides. The fresh water Lochs are fed by the numerous rushing streams, crisscrossing the countryside, winding back and forth in their bogs, they in turn being fed from springs emanating from the ground or cascading from edifices high up the hills.


The clouds are quite unlike the clouds over Ireland which are dull and flat and gray bottomed, seemingly bored with their usual everyday activity, like a factory worker on a shift. “hi, George”, “hi, Ralph” the clouds seem to say to each other, clocking in for another faceless day of hanging over the Emerald Isle, spraying down whatever insides they have picked up in the evening from the Atlantic and getting ready to do it again the next day. But nor Scottish Clouds! The clouds are magnificent and alive, whirling, twisting, closing, touching, forming and reforming. You look up and form a notion as to their type as you ride along, then are sidetracked by an ocean view, a ruined church,
or some natural beauty; when your eyes return to the sky they have reformed leaving one to doubt ones own memory as to how recently the heavens were checked. They cling to the mountains like tendrils, rush through passes with an icy sting that feels like a ghoul going right through you, they rise and fall, caught in the same currents that push your motorcycle around the one lane roads. At one point today the entire sky became light and wispy on a blue background and seemed to me to be reflecting the waves of the ocean below it over a canvas thousands of miles square.

We inquire about local hostels or wooden huts in the campsites, but everything has been booked. Although not overrun with tourists, the facilities are full with the ones that are here, many, many of whom are motorcyclists who know a good thing when they roll their throttle through it. Tonight we stay in Scourie, at a campsite overlooking the bay that is run by elderly but friendly Angus McKenzie. When I introduce myself as McCrea he immediately knows the history of my clan, that we are known as “the suit of mail” to the Mckenzie’s, long have we been their protectors. His mothers family are McCrea’s, and he recounts how many of them left the local area in the early 1800’s displaced by the English. He laughs as we finish up and says we are probably related in not too distant past.


The town of about 500 has a wedding on in the town center. There is an announcement in the once a week town paper which is a double sided 8.5 x 11 which apologizes that they couldn’t send out invitations but everyone is invited, just bring a bottle and enjoy. We walk by to observe, and a lovely waltz is being played by fiddle, guitar and flute. Kids run around outside in the dark as the informal but beautiful reception continues inside, and more and more locals walk up the gradual hill to join in. There is such a beauty and elegance in a small town simple get together. Real warmth and sharing, that we often miss in the formalities and banalities of the big city.

At lunch the day before at an ubiquitous white tavern/hotel on the side of beautiful bay I talked to the proprietress about the malt whiskeys. She said the locals only drink the blended whiskeys, the foreigners and tourists partake of the dozens of single malts hanging about the bar that Scotland is famous for. I tell her I’m glad I’m not a big drinker, and particularly not fond of whiskeys. She laughs in a knowing way.