Caveman cycling for Earth

I am in Rabat now & uploaded photos I took whilst in Spain. Read more for my collection of photos from Spain!

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Sure I had seen the signs, all afternoon: “Carretera cortada por obras.” But a little road consruction site has to be pretty drastic to stop a bicycle from getting past… I had decided, way back in Montejícar , to go for it.

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The trip started around the corner from my friend Lena’s squat, at the public library. It was one of the few times in Catalunya I sensed animosity for speaking in Castellano(regular Spanish)

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When I started this bike tour, my reasons were simple. It was no high endeavor; there were no power-lunches with sponsors; no reporters were knocking on my door. I just wanted to see the world.

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Something had changed in me; I had given myself a taste of hurry and caught a glimpse into the insidious spiral it promised. I began to see into a deeper layer everywhere I went; people looking at their wristwatches at the bus stop, crazy stress at the train stations, traffic jams and impatient tram bells. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure, that hurrying and traveling by bicycle were uncomplimentary, antiprogressive, anathema, opposites, enemies, not meant to be in the same journey. Disagree if you like, but me, I’m livin’ the slow life.
I was still going to Madrid, but this time I’d take it easy, take a jaunt into Germany and pass through Luxembourg, and accord my Spring in France the time it deserved. (more…)

The plan was to zip back up to Maastricht to see a couple of people, then turn right around and rush across France and the Pyrenees a thousand miles in three weeks for La Criticona, the world-wide critical mass in Madrid. Once back in Limburg, I would only check in with Paul, a Belgian sailor mate I met while sailing across the Atlantic, and meet up with Patrick Buckley, son of the Irishman who welded my bike frame, who I’d promised to visit if I were ever in the Netherlands, then quick head back South. (more…)

Lily borrowed a telephone at the @Milk internet cafe and we waited for our first host, Sven from Luxembourg, in front of the Panthéon, from where we caught a glimpse of the most horrifically touristified, and, if I may say so, most thrillingly famous sight-to-see in Paris, the Eiffel Tower. It may be overrated, but it’s quintessential — and it sure took my breath away that first time: we were in Paris, France. We made it! (more…)

FIRST DAY IN FRANCE

The first thing we did in France, just across the border, was Kiss. Bien sur! (more…)

When you travel slowly, as you do on a bike, you can notice the little changes.

Sailing for two months from the Caribbean to England, the temperature of the air and water decline ever so gradually, day by day, a natural change that is unnoticable except in hindsight.
Approaching the border of a different country, one can detect shifts of dialect in the simple words of neighbors, like a bleeding language buffer on either side of the invisible line – especially in Belgium, where both Dutch and French are official languages of the state.
Geography follows this gentle course as well. (more…)

We didn’t leave right away, of course.

A couple more days at the squat in Leiden…. working the security-barricade door at a huge techno party; “Whaddya mean everyone has to have invitations? Nobody has an invitation!”…. an impromptu scavenger hunt, conceived on a whim, with our legs dangling over the canal: one broken inner tube, some cat hair, and a poster with Dutch written on it; one white flower, a high-pitched noise, and one shoestring; all found within 45 minutes on the brisk Spring streets of Leiden…. a speech, requested by our host after a Wednesday night eetcafe, about my trip and my philosophies…. one final, quiet dinner with Sandor – an oldschool squatter with the use of only one arm(still rides his bike – coaster brake – still rolls spliffs no problem and still cooks vegan gourmet deliciousness)…. some city sights we didn’t discover till our last day…. aah Leiden – one of the gems of Holland.
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