LaBlog de LaBerge

Playa Loma Bonita - Surfing and Yogic Awesomeness!

2011-04-12T12:34:00.000-07:00

Wow…all I can say is “wow.” 5 days at Play Loma Bonita was awesome. I threw up a buncha photos on Facebook that show how beautiful and awesome the location is. The property sits on a small bluff looking over a completely desolate and quietly beautiful stretch of the Mexican Pacific Coast, about 40km south of Zihuatanejo. The owners, this super cool guy named Ron and his wife Liz did this place up right. Ron is a former professional surfer, and his wife is just generally awesome. It’s their sorta family retreat that happens to also hold up to 15 people in little villas and the main house. Other than the small village nearby, there are no structures for like 20 miles along the coast. The coolest part, is that this place is a wave magnet. Ron’s been surfing here for 20 years. Seriously, there were double overhead sets (that’s 12 ft. for my non-surfing friends) of waves that built to nearly triple overhead on Friday. It. Was. Heavy. Lotsa juice too, behind all the waves. This wasn’t your grandma’s surf. This was “you can get into a very bad place very quickly” surf. Our total was three broken boards, two broken leashes and innumerable “oh, crap” moments when you were scraping to make it over a wave about to remind you just how insignificant we truly are when in Mother Ocean. I hopped in to body surf a few times as well, and had a ball. The water was like 80 degrees… pure ahhhhhh… You can see a video of the surfing madness that I took, below.

The yoga was awesome as well. Ron and Liz built two super cool yoga shalas on the property – one big curvy one on the bluff, and one down on the beach that is a big circle. The layout of the shalas makes you think that Ron and Liz had been doing yoga for decades, given the intelligence with which they were constructed, but actually they don’t actually do much yoga (well..that's about to change!).

Our instructors/ goddesses/ general-awesome ladies were a pair of friends – Elise Lorimer and Malachi Melville. They’ve been practicing and teaching yoga for like 15 years each. Way cool. They’re super bendy, ridiculously strong, and pound-for-pound a helluva lot stronger than I or many of my triathlete friends are. They’ve got an incredible intuitive teaching ability and just can feel what you’re going through in class/life etc, and can adapt instantaneously to it. Malachi teaches and leads the teacher training program at YogaWorks in Santa Monica, and Elise leads

the TT at YogaTreeSF. Their collective experience is fantastical. (love that word – thanks Bush!). It’s awesome to watch such grace paired with such humility and playfulness. It’s also wonderful to simply be a student, learning from much more experienced and evolved teachers. I can’t wait to share some of my newly acquired knowledge with my students.

Funny thing about having super huge surf, is that Mother Nature’s soundtrack is so present and overwhelming that you neither need nor want anything else. I didn’t hear anything electronic for almost 5 entire days..and it was most excellent. This did sort of prove to be problematic when simply chatting, or trying to lead a yoga class, given the depth and volume of sounds that massive waves produce, especially when you’re so close to them. (I did realize while diving impossibly deep and underneath one 12-14ft. monster on Saturday, that when one of them breaks directly over your head, it sounds like an avalanche bomb thrown by ski patrol – and oh..said wave snapped my leash and required a rather harrowing swim in). Falling asleep to the waves, a mere 50 meters away was a flash back to childhood.

Even weirder is what happens to your body when so far removed from everything – it begins a healing cycle. By late Thursday night, I felt this huge sense of melting lotsa crap and BS out of my life.. and by Friday morning I was essentially useless. Heavy, tired, like something was purging. All I wanted to do was sit, rest and sleep. Totally weird. My triathlon friends can identify with this as being similar to a taper before a race. If you taper too long, your body will go into rejuvenation and you’ll actually be sore and tired as your body rebuilds and strengthens itself. You just want to collapse and sit there. That’s what happened to me I think. By Saturday I was golden and felt …um… I dunno… different. I’m sure there’s a yogic or philosophical explanation to ponder, but I’ll just keep it simple: something left my body and I felt excellent. Perhaps it was the remaining sickness/ over-stimulation of attending the UltraMusicFestival in Miami the week before.. oh my… That’s the topic of an entirely different post though.

After all that, and probably the entire reason I was brought here to Playa Loma Bonita, was so I could figure something out. I realized that sometimes, something we really want to do, or think we really want to do, is just actually something we’re talking ourselves into doing (wait did that make sense?). I made a decision about something I thought was important to me or I needed to do, but in the end it turns out pursuit of that idea was creating a shit-ton of disharmony in my life, and generally a source of much hullaballoo and frustration/sadness/”are you kidding me?”. It also wasn’t worth sacrificing what I would have had to sacrifice in order just to say “hey, I did…..blah blah blah.” I bet “blah blah blah” was going to get in the way of something more important and more awesomely cool, that I haven’t discovered yet… As they say, “time will tell” I hope this finds you all well and good and full of life, love and particularly tasty wine. Shanti, T

Pura Vida, Om Nama Shivaya, Shaka Bro...

2010-12-30T16:31:00.001-08:00

Duuuuuuude....

This place is awesome. Nosara and Playa Guiones, Costa Rica, are fantastical (thanks Hillz for that word). Jesus' Birthday was awesomely spent here, surfing and making friends with the people here who hail from literally all over the world. After 4 days of hurricane force winds (aka "dry hurricane"), it has finally returned to a calm, hot and awesome Central American surf town, complete with dusty roads, $1.50 beers, and local Police looking for bribes (really? $440 for not wearing a helmet on a Quad? How about you take photos with all my hot yoga female friends?.. Ya..I thought so). Gotta love the "Gringo Tax."

The yoga studio here at Blue Spirit, Costa Rica, is quite possibly the most amazing place I've ever had the blessings to practice yoga in. Unbelievable. As per usual, it's about 75 women, and 25 dudes, so it's an intersting mix. Some of the women even shave their armpits... We had this "dudes group" thing, where we learned some Kalari Staff forms (think Indian Martial Arts... "Indian as in 'dot-not-feather' Indian"). Way cool. 25 dudes beating the crap out of each other with bamboo sticks. Put on some deep groove tunes with a solid bass line, and it's actually quite cathartic. As most yoga classes and gatherings begin and end in an "Ommmmmmmmmm" chant, we did one with all 25 of us. Our guide told us to "Om from your balls..." It was friggin hilarious....but ...25 dudes in a monosyllabic chant was also pretty awesome. For a few moments I thought I was in Tibet.

We've got a famous Kirtan guy here, who is playing tonight (Dave Stringer), and it's pretty awesome to be doing handstand, while some dude is singing live during your 3 hour yoga class. I'm not sure whether to laugh, cry or smile. Curious crap. I think I'm a bit loopy from having to eat vegetarian food and vegan food for a week. I've already lost 4 pounds in 8 days. Seriously, the minute I get back to ATL, I'm not even driving home..I'm headed to an airport restaurant and having a steak and a friggin beer. Maybe even some nachos and chicken wings.

I actually wore my Atlanta Falcons Jersey to a bar here on Monday night, where I watched the Falcons lose a heartbreaker to the New Orleans Saints. Some dude had his Saints gear on. No kidding.. A NO Saints World Champions polo and a hat. It was funny as hell. We wagered beers and shared collective stress. That's ok, they can have the season game...we'll take the NFC Champoinship.

As usual, I could babble on incessantly, but I've got to eat some more beans and rice and "Clense Appropriate" vittles.... after that...we're all sneaking out to the Banana Club for proper Cerveza, shitty food and Reggae Night with the locals. Should be good fun... A lot of us are itching to go shake our Costa Rican groove thing and have some Imperial Cerveza... I might have to miss my plane...until April or May...

(and oh..the waves are PUMPING right now... I could barely drive the quad back to the resort, my arms are so sore....or maybe it was the 108 mandala chaturanga we did...

Pura Vida!

Large.

Places and People of our youth...

2010-12-23T07:45:00.000-08:00

(Sunset over Huntington Beach. December 9)

Hola !

I'm off galavanting around the planet again, this time to a 10 day yoga and surfing retreat in Costa Rica. I know. Tough to be me. The benefit, is as a yoga teacher, I'll be taking ample notes for ideas to use during my classes; and therefore, this trip is a legal tax deduction. Even better. Better teaching = more students = more revenue for the yoga studio owner = larger taxes. So the US Government is actually investing in its taxable future by subsidizing my trip to Costa Rica to learn more about yoga and the fluid nature of life. I'll be "roughing it" at Blue Spirit Retreat. Everybody wins!

Speaking of yoga, I play a song during my yoga classes that has the line: "work hard to bridge the gaps in geography between those who knew you while you were young. They are the best link to your past." I've tried to make that a mantra lately.

I recently heard from my childhood best friend, Tim Baldwin, who is shacking up with a seriously beautiful wife and awesome kids in Illinois. Lucky dude. It's always cool to see your dear friends succeed in life. I flew out to the land of farms, football and friends, to reconnect with him after 30 ish years of separation, and catch up as only those who shared those formative years can. I can't wait to head back. He found me in the yearbook of life, aka "Facebook." Thanks Zuckerberg! Yes, that's a photo of us at our Kindergarted graduation. That's Tim rocking the plaid. Notice me when I had hair. Ahhh the good old days.

Having the good fortune to pre-holiday with my mom and family a few weeks before Jesus' Birthday, I got to paddle out into the surf of my childhood break in Huntington Beach, CA. There's nothing quite like your home sand between your toes, and the colourful brilliance that is a Southern California sunset. The smog makes for awesome colours in the twilight, and the lights of the oil rigs dance across the water.... ahhh...

I also recently hit up San Diego for a visit with my best friend from University, Todd Nelson (the same Todd Nelson of previous adventures in Switzerland). He lives directly in the flight path of the Blue Angels as they demonstrate some seriously insane acrobatics in $40 million jet aircraft. Great day with old college friends. It's amazing how the bonds of friendship never wane. They get put on Pause while you're apart, and come roaring back when you're together. You always find yourself wishing you had more time for more beers and catching up...

In these Holiday times that so orbit family connections, let us not forget our friends of old, and those future best friends we've only just met. I've had the blessing to meet new and cool friends in Atlanta, and yet another super cool dude named Todd... Todd Lappi... He and Todd Nelson and I must go out to a bar soon. That would be awesome.

And now..as I'm about to meet 90 new yoga and surfing friends for 10 days.. I wonder who will be added to the list...

Happy Holidays to all!

Thievery Corporation, and Thieves!

2010-11-05T19:55:00.000-07:00

So, as I go out and about here in Atlanta, I've decied to go play and check out the various awesome theaters and concert venues. I went with some new Atlanta friends to go see Thievery Corporation and Massive Attack at the Fox theater. Talk about an awesome piece of history! It's done up in all Middle Eastern coolness and vibe, from the 1920s... way awesome. And hey...who knew that Thievery Corporation and Massive Attack could fire up such a diverse crowd? To the best of my knowledge previously, they're all downtempo and mellow... Whoa my...no way..they thumped it! Way fun.... We danced all night. Massive Attack was pretty dark and heavily thumping... I wasn't sure whether I should be scared or aroused...

So...onto the genesis and intent of this post... Thieves. I was appreciating Thievery Corp, last week...and well..the thieves came back for a visit. Only unfortunately, the Thieves were of the illegal kind. So check this out:

I come out to my truck and find the back door sorta open..sorta not. Curious. I look inside and realize that someone decided they wanted some of my stuff. Here's the weird part: what they took vs. what they left.

I mean..crooks are all pretty stupid, and meth addicts I think must be on the bottom of the stupidity scale... I mean c'mon..they took my quarters, but left the $20 bill sitting next to them. They took an empty sunglasses case, but left the brand new Oakleys. They took my Starbucks free drink coupon, but left the 50% off Mexican food coupon (mmmm Moes..) Really? WTF? The took my iPod, and the charger cable, but left the $25 charger block thing. I seriously hope they like Trance music and Above and Beyond, because that's all that was on my Shuffle. Ntz Ntz Ntz...

I would like, however, to thank the meth addicts for not breaking a window or scratching my door when they were rifling through my center console and glove compartment. And hey...who needed all that extra stuff in my center console? Now it's all nice and clean.. and I even found 11 pens.. (duuuude... 11 pens??).

And oh..nice... it snowed today in North Atlanta... SNOW!??!

Both sides of employment...

2010-10-05T05:47:00.000-07:00

Howdy y'all, (insert proper Southern accent here),

Alas, it's indeed been a while, but after much hullabaloo, I have decided to share more adventures of the South, that cannot be captured upon Facebook (I'm not that into twitter, so I use Facebook..)...

We're always told to respect and amire our parents, and sometimes we even believe that (even when we don't need money!). My mom...the lovely lass who decided to put me here on the planet, decided to forgo gainful employment last week, and join the ranks of the unemployed. Yes...she "retired." This brings mixed emotions as her child. First off is "wait! hell I'm getting old if my mom is retiring!" Fortuitously, she had me at 40, so I'm ok still here at 29. Secondly, is "awww man I wanna retire!"

For said momentous occasion, I decided to fly back to California, for some proper beach time and surprise mom on her retirement day. Needless to say, Operation: "Surprise mom in California on her Retirement Day" was an unbridled success. :) Excellent. As I walked into her office at her work, she looked up and said to me "yes, can I help you..." Wait for it..... Waiting.... optical character recognition software processing... "ohhh!!! my baby is here!!!!" Folks we have a winner.

A few hours later, the family gathered by the Huntington Beach Pier for dinner... the pier whereat in my youth I played volleyball, fell in love with the ocean, and scraped my entire body upon its barnacle encrusted pilings one time too many after a surfing wipeout. A check in the mirror reminds me daily of those interactions with the pier, forever imprinted in my back... It's funny when you have dinner with the family now, as an adult. We all have our adult lives, adult problems, but you somehow always are reminded of when you were a kid....

If we could all, only remember those childhood days, and the innocence/fun/sense of adventure, and pay it forward into today.... Speaking of childhood fun...my best friend Todd from University (starring role in the previous blog posts from Switzerland in 2008), had his yearly Blue Angels watching party at his house in San Diego... Awesome..! They fly right over his house, which makes it an awesome place to view some of America's awesome airborne fighter power.. USA! USA! USA! This road-trip certainly made for an interesting weekend.. Atlanta --> San Diego flight, San Diego --> Huntington Beach for surprise and mom, HB --> SD for blue angels, SD --> Atlanta to make it home in time for the Falcons game (I bought season tickets.. and they were playing the 49ers...FUN!).

With that..... I shall promise to be more forthcoming with sharing my musings of the South, yoga and various travels around the planet...

I hope y'all are well!!

LaBerge

Alas, back to the Real World?!?!

2008-10-15T21:22:00.000-07:00

NEWS FLASH: I uploaded some hilarious videos of Oktoberfest that can be found here. (seriously, they're greatly entertaining). Also, I found some additional photos on my hard drive from my Piemonte (click here) and Dolomite (click here) trips. They're other peoples' pix from our groups... way cool to see what everyone finds photo worthy. Check them all out!!

Home Home!!
Alas, I have returned. I’ve been home for a week now, and seriously believe I could get into this whole collect-paychecks-while-hanging-out lifestyle. It’s amazing how quickly you can fill a day with stuff to do, friends to visit and things to clean. I hereby offer myself up to be a man of leisure, to any company that has a few extra bucks to dole out.

Everyone wants to know if this was some sort of life-changing experience. To that, I can honestly say both “yes and no.” Yes, as always, you get to reflect back and appreciate that which you hold dear, and realize also that the stupid crap we occupy ourselves with on a daily basis…is just that… stupid crap. Seriously, think about the crap and drama you deal with right now. What creates it? If you cut out or don’t tolerate drama, eventually those causing it in your life will find another person to get similarly flustered at all their life trials. It’s quite freeing I shall admit.

The most liberating experience I had, was turning off my cell phone. Other than writing this blog, I stayed as disconnected as possible. I had thought about dropping off the grid entirely, but I’m thankful I kept a blog. Seriously, turning off your phone for a day. Or two.. I know…it’s like crack. I mean seriously, how will the world exist if we aren’t immediately available? We’re not that important. Really, we’re not (well, ok..I’m not.. I admit it. I doubt anyone at work even noticed I was gone). I used to find myself sending text messages or checking email/voicemail when I had a free 30 seconds. C’mon, you know you do too. I now laugh at the people who walk around with their Bluetooth headsets in their ears. I mean seriously people…do you REALLY need to have that thing in your ear, like some sort of electronic tumor, ever-ready to take an important call from global leaders, while you’re eating at a restaurant? You don’t look cool, you look like a dumbass (I bet they wear Crocs too!). I have now begun to snicker and point at these people, causing them much dismay and anxiety.

I haven’t driven a car in almost 2 months, yet I find myself immediately back into the auto-centric California Lifestyle. Realizing that trains aren’t that bad, I’ve managed to find a way to do public transportation (well..light rail..cuz only losers ride the bus). Rather than buy a car that gets better gas mileage, why not simply drive less? We’ll see how long it lasts…

As I read back through my blog entries, I find myself immediately immersed back into my sabbatical journeys. I must say that it’s an honor and pleasure to have people who actually subscribed to my blog. I know you all have real lives that are vastly more important and satisfying than mine, so I’m flattered that you wanted to read along as I spent an average of $711 a day, and traveled Europa. Yes, in case you were wondering, I managed to stay on budget (miraculous I know). With a $40k budget for 8 weeks (hey, I saved for 5 years..), I spent $39,864.11. Yes, even 11 cents. I’m an engineer. It’s interesting watching the currency fluctuations as well. For the same 200EU I took out at the atm’s, I was charged between $284 and $296. Thankfully the dollar grew in strength while I was away.

My top 10 favourite moments in chronological order: 1) Day Three of my Piemonte Cycling trip, where we had an amazing lunch, and I hung out in the hammock after 4 glasses of wine and 50 miles. 2) Having poolside wine with everyone at the Monastery Hotel thing, on our last two days in Piemonte. 3) Riding up the massive Passo Giau with Steve and our guide Enrico during the Dolomites. 4) The endless and too-big-to-seem-real views of the Eiger as Todd#2 and I hiked all over the Jungfrau region – Everywhere you looked, there it was! 5) Say it with me: “TIESTO!!” 6) Lake Como – Wow….you must go! 7) Anything to do with a Beer Tent in Oktoberfest…holie molie!! 8) The German Train System. 9) The Munich Olympic Stadium. 10) Reflecting back on it all…

My 10 Most curious, sub-optimal and/or WTF!?!? Moments…. 1) Missing my stop because the Italian Train system sucks. 2) American Soldiers in Foreign Lands. 3) English Tourists on Ibiza (my #1 worst!) 4) The Dollar to Euro exchange rate – OUCH! 4) My hangover after 11 litres at Oktoberfest (but well-earned I might add!) 5) Missing teaching yoga 6) Everyone in Europe smokes 7) Craving Mexican food…. 8) The S.H.E. I encountered on the plane to Ibiza. 9) $12 for a 25 cent bottle of water at Tiesto, and 10) I go back to work tomorrow…

And so, as I return to my “real” life, I cannot believe it’s been 8 weeks already. Wow. I also cannot believe I uploaded 26 blog entries, and put 794 photos on Flickr. Holie 8 gigabyte SD card Batman!!

Not wanting to fill up your email Inboxes with random drivel for the rest of our lives, I’m going to deactivate Feedburner’s automatic updates, unless you’d like me to keep you on it. If so, let me know. I’m sure I can find things to ramble/rant/poke fun at/ generally enliven your days with.

I want to sincerely thank everyone who sent notes, made comments and lived vicariously through me during the past two months. I have another sabbatical in 6 more years, but somehow I doubt it’ll be this fun, interesting and laden with surprises. Then again..who knows. I’m blessed to have had the opportunity and resources to make this grand journey, and am forever thankful for my friends who came along to keep me company. I’m touched, humbled and just a bit crazier than before. I love you all. You made my trip what it was.

Naturally, I’ll always gladly share more in-depth versions of all these stories…. Just let me know where, and make sure they have weissbier...

Cheers and peace to all, as I am truly blessed by having you in my life.
Todd

Final Dayz in Germany

2008-10-08T06:22:00.001-07:00

thoughts on a plane, finishing up Germany and the Vaterland....

(and after some positively tasty Italian Chardonnay).

Allow me to expand on something that more than several dozen people have found peculiar about me (you only get one per blog entry, lest this be novel-esque): I studied all that is Germany and its culture for the better part of 14 years, starting before Junior High School, and ending a few years after I graduated University. Well, that's not appreciably weird, but the scratch-your-head mystery that I shall reveal herewith.... is that for a country and people I studied so fervently, I had never actually set foot on German soil. No, really. Not even a stopover on a further journey to somewhere else. Thousands of hours studying, reading German newspapers, magazines and watching German TV, and not once had I ever been to the land of the big D. (no... not Dallas and certainly not Divorce). I even have a Minor in German, from University.

The only in-country German I had even spoken up to this point, was in Switzerland. No, I hadn't fallen in love with a deliciously Teutonic lass of fair skin and hair, nor was I even fairly certain where Germany was when I started my linguistic quest (c'mon I was 11). Indeed an exercise in futility if there ever was one..... right up to about last Thursday when I got here. Whereas my initially conceived plan - exuding vast quantities of 11 year old logic - was to learn German so I could translate World War II movies, and discuss important global topics with my mom's business partners from Germany, it inevitably had to be altered (again, I was only 11 when said plan was hatched). My plan evolved, as they all do, and shifted its culmination into working in International Business, after I got my MBA, and then happily jaunt back and forth across the Atlantic and do splendidly miraculous things for BMW, SAP, Mercedes or another similarly cool company. (yet again, said plan has deviated substantially)...

Alas, this is perhaps what makes me such a fan of engineering, neatly ordered society, and extravagantly tall women. The Germans, you see, are a big people. They're not the enchantingly well-attired, yet effeminately built Italians, or the fire-plug stout of the Irish, but rather a sizable and hearty breed, where the women can pull your tractor out of a ditch, and the men can form wrought iron with their teeth.. Well, that may be a stretching a bit, but again, like in Zurich, I found myself tilting my head skyward toward a veritable plethora of statuesque women and astonishingly chiseled men. Too bad some psychopath about 70 years ago went and put all their might, brilliance and national pride to work for evil causes. When put to good use, their collective ingenuity produces such wondrous creations as the Munich Olympic Stadium, BMW's and Weiss Bier.

After spending some time around Germany, I've certainly become a fan of the aforementioned engineering feats, and especially all that is Weissbier and Wurst - and not necessarily in that order. I encountered something both perplexing and oddly comforting while on a train headed into the Vaterland that I feel compelled to query the world with. The Germans, you see, are all about convenience, ensuring efficiency and comfort, and understanding that a little extra effort goes a long way to improve everyone's lives. I was on an Italian-based train from Lake Como to Munich (If you need me to explain where those locales are, please stop reading my blog immediately, and go vote for Sarah Palin for VP...she needs more people like you), and did not once change trains along the way. When we hit the Austrian Border, the train stopped, a new German locomotive coupled itself to our merry wagon, and off we went to locations further northwest-ish. Imagine my surprise when, from this point on, it was revealed (first time ever mind you), that the Italian train cars actually have speaker systems, through which you can announce train stops. Marvelous technology I must say. This comes mightily in handy when say....you miss your stop at Arquata Scrivia when you first set foot onto the land of the Boot, some 6 weeks ago (see previous blog post).

**side note...every time I type "blog," spellchecker wants to make it "glob'" how funny.. **

A pleasantly voiced and wonderfully gracious German conductor first introduced himself, and then proceeded to announce all of our subsequent stops, even 5-10 minutes early so you could prepare yourself. Now, all we did was change conductors and the big red thing that converts electricity into motion at the front end of the train. It's not like a train guy has so much going on that he can't announce a train stop a few kilometers away (well, except when texting moronically in Los Angeles). So what gives with the Italians not really bothering with pressing a button on a microphone, and informing us of our immediate future?? Oh ya...the Italians think air conditioning gives you cancer, so now I understand.. How though, someone please explain to me, can a culture spend so much time developing unparalleled cuisine and magnificently fermented grape juice - not to mention amazing haut couture - and not have it in them to announce train stops? Oh ya, perhaps that's why their GNP falls somewhere between Uzbekistan and Nebraska.
There's order and understood social responsibility too in Germany. People actually pay to use the Underground train system, though there's no one to check your tickets, or even ensure that you bought one or validated it. (except for the long distance over-land trains). I actually felt a sense of guilt when I (shhhhhh don't tell anyone) didn't buy a ticket one day when I was supposed to cuz I was outta caysh-money and the credit card swipey thing wasn't working... Signs inside the trains graphically warn of what happens to the "SchwarzenFahrer" (black travelers) when identified, but politely says after intimate details of prosecution and fines, to "please save us and yourself the bother, and pay for your ticket."

This said, nothing broods and festers mal-adjusted youth quite so copiously, as a somewhat repressed and ordered society. This makes for excellent people watching indeed. Sorta like how the English spawned punk-rockers, and the Japanese go crazy whenever they're not on the Island of the Rising sun... I saw some immense and gravity-defying mohawks and hair designs, while additionally marveling at how someone chews with 12 lip rings (yes, I counted). But the ironic thing, is that these freak-shows-seeking-attention, are quite polite actually. I was on an underground S-Train (cuz again, the trains rock), and this old lady of about 184 years, came in and needed a seat. One of Germany's more colourfuly decorated hair models got up, asked the centenarian if she would like his seat, and proceeded to politely excuse his way through the crowd to where he could grab onto a handhold. Go figure.

People on the street are more than happy to practice their English with you, and allow you to practice your German on them (or, in the rare exception that your waitress doesn't speak English, then alas, your gastronomic stability is dependent thereupon). It seems, when not trying to take over the world, the Germans are the most fantastically polite and welcoming people you could hope to encounter.

Watching the countryside fly by at 250kph this morning, I realized that its natural beauty and adorable villages are beyond compare, its people gloriously fun to talk to, and it possesses a culture that has bonded together to arise like the Phoenix from the ashes of two World Wars. Having your country leveled not once, but twice, certainly changes a people. They're jovial survivors, partiers, occasionally poor dressers (dude...Birkenstocks and black socks!?!?!), and have a love of life that is hidden juuuuust under the surface. All you need to do is scratch it just a bit..

I'm now both validated in my decision at 11 years of age, and intrigued even further.
I must return to this country again, very soon.

2008-10-07T06:34:00.000-07:00

My last days in Europa... alas....
**sigh** it's time to sorta come back to the real world. I'm heading to the Frankfurt on a super speedy train, watching den Vaterland whiz by, and am mixed about it... But, before I return to the financial meltdown and sure-to-be-interesting Presidential Debate #2, I had two days in Munich to play.
Photographic marvels are beholden here on Flickr

Our day Sunday was awesome, and *mostly* alcohol free, as we strolled around the main part of Munich's downtown on a glorious Fall day. After several days of rain and 40 degree temperatures (let this be known, the weather did nothing to dampen the spirits of the bier-infused German folk), the big yellow ball in the sky decided to shine. And shine it did.
We got to check out Marienplatz, which is THE shopping area of Munich. It's the German equivalent of the HauptBahnStrasse in Switzerland (see previous post). There were hoards and hoards of people out, but not in a good way. The can't-walk-a-straight-line type of crowds that is more about collision avoidance than actual strolling. That said, humanity was awesome.

We got to see some old civic buildings, and a splendidly reddish coloured Max Plank Planetary Institute. The churches here are beautiful, and even though I'm in no way a religious guy, you just have to inhale and absorb all that is cool about a structure constructed to gather people seeking goodness... The beauty is remarkable (more on that later). The lakes and river-side running/cycling trail system that surrounds Munich are a model of what should be done for a large city. That said, I guess when you get bombed into oblivion for 2 years straight (i.e. WWII), you can rebuild your city the way you want. Sorta like how the 1989 Earthquake and subsequent collapse of the Bay Bridge exit for the Embarcadero, cleared the way for the revitalization of the entire Embarcadero area in downtown San Francisco. Bombs and Earthquakes do seem to make demolition costs much less.... It's the whole "cleanup" thing that gets you...

Dave, Amy, Jim and I got to take in all the sights of a beautiful day, and somewhat purge our livers of booze. Jim was an unexpected guest, as he had thought he was supposed to fly out Sunday morning at 6 am... imagine his annoyance/surprise/laughter/depression to discover, only AFTER he made it to the airport at 4:30 am, that his plane was not until Monday. Excellent attention to detail I must say. It was good to have him along though, as his ridiculously large intellect and vast knowledge of all things minuscule proves a constant source of information and history. Sometimes just strolling around is a good thing...

Monday was interesting. It was my last full day in Europe, and I was supposed to venture off to Salzburg, Austria with Dave and Amy.. I decided, given my loooong travel day Tuesday, to cruise Munich and hang by myself.. you know..."reflect"and all that stuff. I thought it fitting that with a 6 week European Adventure which began with athletics, I should end on a similar note and check out the 1972 Munich Olympic Park. Dude, this was awesome. I cruised around the main stadium, and sat there in a Skittles Candy coloured greenish yellow chair, for what had to be 30 minutes and just imagined what it had to be like - both as an athlete and as a spectator. Around that oval, hundreds and hundreds of the world's top athletes of their day, gave their everything and hoped for resultant glory or other answers known only to them... The hopes and dreams and sacrifices that all swirled around the same stadium for 2 weeks in August 1972.... Sorta cool no?

I also checked out the Swim Center, where Mark Spitz did his thing and won a then-record 7 Gold Medals, bushy moustache and all. Ahhh the smell of chlorine, humid air and sounds of water (I managed to avoid capturing - via photograph - any of the recreational swimmers in less-than-flattering Speedos). The construction on the Munich Olympic Stadium is unbelievably cool, and yes for my fellow engineer friends, I took lots of cool photos of the supports, design and construction. Check out Flickr to ooooh and aaaahh... A super cool marvel it is!! They do this roof tour thing that I really wanted to do; however, I spied another building housing engineering marvels: The BMW World Headquarters, and BMW Museum. Duuuuuude... so cool.

For those who don't know, "BMW" means "BayernisheMotorWerk," or Bavarian Motor Company. Munich is the capitol of Bayern, so alas... Anyway, inside they have all these hands-on demonstration kiosks that have you generate electricity like braking in a hybrid, balancing and control demonstrations, turbo simulators and lots and lots of really cool cars and motorbikes. I have a new appreciation for their technology, and especially their work with diesel engines. I even saw a recreation of the F1 car that BMW built and my humble employer Intel has plastered sponsor logos all over (why won't they sponsor a Professional Cycling Team and let me be the Liaison?!?!?).... As an engineer, getting to see the feats of construction that are the Munich Olympic Stadium, and BMW cars, I felt as if I had gone to heaven. (yes, I bought something even)...

Figuring that Oktoberfest was over, I thought I'd be able to score a sweet room deal in downtown for my last night. In a Jim Parker moment of missing-your-plane-revelation, I was informed that an even BIGGER world conference was now beginning, and that there were no rooms available. Actually, there was one for 395EU (about $600) in a 2-Star hotel. Not the way I wanted to end my sojourn. No worries, in the engineering marvel and transportation wunder-system that is the Deutshe Bahn, (German Train System) I was whisked away to Nurnberg where I was able to score a sweet room at Le Grande Meridien... A HUGE thanks to my dear friend and German coach Nina for scoring me said deal on Expedia whilst I was whizzing along on the train at 250kph!! (that's 150mph for the non-forward thinking countries). Nina is my new heroine..

Also fitting, that my last night in Germany should reflect my first one: my first night I was embarrassed to meet 5 American soldiers stationed here in Deutschland, who have been here for 4 years and haven't bothered to learn the language - (What a piss-poor representation of our country); on my last night, in Nurnberg, I ran into 6 more soldiers who were similarly unculturally aware, and were doing exactly what you'd expect testosterone-laden 20 year-olds in a foreign land to do: drink, be loud, shout above everyone else and generally be lame. Not to forget of course, are the backwards-turned ballcaps, some hoodie sweatshirts, and a proclamation that USA USA USA is the greatest. Now, I don't disagree with our nation's general awesomeness (cuz hey, it does rock), but I also mentioned to our shaved-head, gun-toting inbred youth from Arkansas that it's we Americans who started this entire worldwide financial meltdown, because we treated our homes like ATM's, and got into mortgages that we had no business having. I also theorized that we may be a bit more reserved if 80% of our country had also been bombed to shit not once, but twice. They were somewhat confused when I returned to my conversation in German with a local couple out for a drink, and later heard me translating the menu (mostly badly) from German to Spanish for some Spanish visitors.

Our 6 cultural ambassadors later asked why I bothered to learn two other languages if I'm American, to which I replied, "so people in other countries don't look at me the way everyone here is looking at you right now..." (cuz hey, everyone was...). I know, I'm an ass sometimes... :) For those of you keeping score, we're now up to four cultural diddies I wish we could un-export: 1) cigarettes; 2) chain restaurants; 3) screaming children; and 4) beligerent and annoying occupying forces. (do not confuse this with a lack of support of our troops stuck in Iraq and Afghanistan however). Wow...that rant felt particularly good... I feel better now.

All that spewed forth, I DO actually commend our Allied forces of WWII for strategically NOT bombing the churches of this area. In the days before smart bombs, the bazillions of bombs that leveled anything industrial or governmental related in Germany, did a pretty good job of not hitting churches... That's not to say that the resulting surrounding fires didn't burn most of the roofs off, but the structures remained mostly intact. This is also, unfortunately a ploy that the Taliban use with Mosques in hiding their weapons and other assorted goodies.

I'm going to save my remaining thoughts for the flight home... As for now, it's time for one last Wurst and Beer from the restaurant on the train.. Yumm!!!
Tschuss!

Mayhem in Munich!! (aka - "Oktoberfest")

2008-10-06T06:47:00.000-07:00

Oktoberfest uber Alles!!...

(All mayhem and laughter can be seen here on Flickr)

Oh dear gawd, where to begin?!?!? Here it is, the morning after... As this was my first time ever at Oktoberfest, I was prepared to be bowled over by roudiness and general drunken German revelry... But holie molie.. nothing can prepare you for an Oktoberfest beer tent. Nothing, other than experience... Even then...

The first thing I noticed upon getting to the festival grounds, was all the people in traditional costumes/clothes (some people in Bavaria actually cruise around in this stuff on a daily basis). Even as recently as a few years ago, the Germans were very cautious on anything resembling National Pride, given what happened in WWII. Many wear that as a veil of shame, though they were born, 10, 30 or even 50 years later. The rest of Europe does get a bit worried when the Germans get crazy... But that said, this is good-crazy.. Fun crazy..happy crazy. Love-your-neighbor crazy. With the 150,000 drunk people there, I saw zero fights.. Hell, you can't even go to CB Hannigan's in Los Gatos on a Friday and not see a fight...(actually, as I learned later, Dave saw a fight that involved an American in an Oakland Raiders hat... nice to know the Raider Nation is representing itself well even here)... The Germans are great partiers, especially during Oktoberfest. So anyway, lots and lots of men in Lederhosen, and women in Dirndls (the frilly milk-maid looking dress). Especially cool, is that the most frequent wearers of said clothing from yesteryear, are the German youth. It's quite cool actually to see people proud of their culture and heritage. After their performance in the Eurocup this year, it's OK to be German and proud again. Hooray for the Teutonic people!!

People from all over the world come here to partake in this madness. Normally, I'd never be one to sit in a hazy, second-hand-cancer filled room with a bunch of drunk people swilling booze and eating deep fried cholesterol, but in this case it's awesome. This place is like the U.N. of drinking. We partied with Italians, French, Maltese (Maltesian?), Germans, Irish, English, Venezuelans and on and on.. There was even a huge Aussie/Kiwi contingent.. now THAT's a long way to come to drink booze. Basically, you sit, drink heavily, and talk to everyone in your surrounding area, while occasionally stuffing some food down your throat and running to the bathroom. There's lots and lots of singing. Mostly bad, but passionately belted out. The bands are awesome inside the tents.. Funny thing, is how many American songs are both known and loved here. We sang - with 10,000+ other people in the HofBrau Tent and later the Augusteiner Tent - songs like "We Are the Champions", "Hey Baby Will You be My Girl", "Sweet Home Alabama" and "Country Road." Good times. There's a song that goes: "Ein Prosit, ein Prosit der Gemutlichkeit." Basically it's a tonguetwister loosely saying "a toast, a toast to Sociability." Upon singing this every 2.5 minutes, you have to toast everyone within reach. Instant friends! I've looked at my camera and discovered photos that I have absolutely zero memory having taken, and most with people I cannot recall. How I made it home with all my stuff is a stroke of pure luck... (I have several short videos I took during the tent episodes, and will upload them to both Facebook and Flickr when I get home. ) Pure comedy and spectacle...

Mind you, we started our fun at 11:30 am, as we only had from then until 4 pm to engage in debauchery. (these things go in shifts, you see). After that, the night shift comes in at 5 pm to whenever.. So, all the tents disgorge their drunken masses at 4 pm unto the world. The parade of humanity is fantastic at this point. Lots of staggering, lots of reversing the stomach gears, and lots of singing. There's even a "pass-out lawn" where people go recover with a few hours of shut-eye. Fan-Tas-Tic. Some poeple, however, like our friend Helmut who played tour-guide/local knowledge source/ translator extraordinaire... didn't make it much past 4pm.. but alas, he rallied after a quick nap on the table.. AWESOME!

The thing about Oktoberest, is that you can't actually even just show up. You have to reserve tables, and you have to buy your tickets In-Person! (read: problematic if you live in the US). This is where the excellence of Helmut came through (when not passed out). He was here for work, and managed to cruise over to the Munich ticket office and score us our tix last month. Thanks Helmut!!

Naturally, you can't always score tickets, so that leads to pushing into tents, or otherwise trying to convince the security guards to let you in.. but more on that in a bit.. Let's discuss more hilarity... Whence upon being disgorged from the structure-of-debauchery (aka "Beer Tent"), you have a littany of gastro-intestinal challenging carnival rides to partake in. Or, for those who swear they're not trashed, there are numerous balance perplexing opportunities to prove your mettle on... We chose the latter, figuring puking up $50 in beer and chicken didn't make good economic sense.

There is this thing called the Tobbaggon ride, which has much less to do with the actual carpet-ride-down-a-chute, than it does actually getting to the top of the ride from Mother Earth. Imagine a moving walkway of doom, that goes up at about 30 degrees, at about Mach-2. So here you stand, plastered outta your mind, and whala, you have to basically hop onto this up-angled conveyorbelt/freeway, and ride it to the top. Needless to say, most people wound up on their butts within about 2.4 nanoseconds. (I have FANTASTIC VIDEO of this as well, that shall be uploaded upon my return). If you'd like to play along on the home game: 1) go to the treadmill at your local gym. 2) Set the incline to 20%. 3) Crank it all the way up to 10 mph... 4) Now, once that's done, drink 27 beers, and try to hop on...and stay on... for about 50 ft.. Naturally, like any good trainwreck, hoardes of other similarly inhiebriated folks are gathered to witness your elevated and impending doom...

Fastforward after binging on more sausage, sugar-roasted almonds (oh my gawd), and other festival type grub, we managed to sneak our way into the Augusteiner beer tent about 7 pm (thanks again Helmut!!). This is where things went very, very wrong indeed. Kris and Helmut scored us a shared table with some adorably cute 21 year old couples, and we began to think we could keep up with booze. We were at about liter 9 at this point...(yes.. that's about 2.5 gallons). This is where I should have stopped. But alas, how often have you faced the threshhold of "you'll be sorry tomorrow," and willingly lept across it with much fervor? I'm on sabbatical, I'm at Oktoberfest, I'm now 40, what the hell... A leaping I went. Parker decided that he could chat up this mightily hot 21 year old in between times she was shoving her tongue down her boyfriend's throat, which was fantastic comedy. Helmut again passed out, and I took more photos that I cannot remember. I did happen to get great video though... (Again to be uploaded probably Wednesday when I'm finally home).

In my drunken singing and mystery photo taking state, I decided to try snuff. (read: bad decision). I'm not really what you'd call a tobacco proponent, so this was a huge step for me. Somehow mixing alcohol and niccotine seemeed like a good idea at the time... and yes it indeed was!!... but whoa... yes I am now thoroughly convinced that tobacco is the devil-plant-from-hell. Drunk while hopped up on niccotine is an experience to behold. Now I know why people smoke when they drink. As an added bonus, yes, I'm still sneezing black goo out of my sinus cavity three days later. It all gets hazy in my memory at this point, so I shall stop the recounting of my Friday here.. As I came later to find out, Dave wound up with food poisoning/wheat beer poisoning (not quite sure) and left at 5 pm, Amy left about 6 pm to tend to Dave and Jesse bailed out at like 8 pm. Jim Parker and I lasted the longest, about 10 pm, and I must say I'm was sure I'd be the first piper down. I'm not a heavy drinker, having earned the nickname "Two-Beer-Todd" in my Fraternity days. How I put down somewhere between 10 and 11 liters of booze in 11 hours is beyond me, and I shall never try that again, but wow.. it had to be done once...

For today (Monday), my last day in Germany, and of my European sabbatical sojourn, I'm off to continue my stroll around the city and have a day of reflection before I journey home. Given the timing that Feedburner sends out the automatic updates, I shall be on the plane home when you read this. Wish me luck today....

(note to all 2 of my blog readers, I do apologize for the heinous grammar and spelling mistakes in my Lake Como posting. I sent it the morning after our first night's Oktoberfest debauchery, and alas, my eyes were crossed when I hit "send" rather than "spellcheck.")..

Day Two mayem at Oktoberfest

2008-10-04T08:10:00.000-07:00

I may need a liver transplant

Lake Como and Movie Star sighting....

2008-10-04T00:12:00.000-07:00

lake como notes....

(Check out the photos on Flickr )

So I departed the land of Ibiza, emotionally jostled: sad, happy, revived and generally sorta mentally discombobulated. Whereas the mountains are cool, I'm a water guy deep down. Mom fortuitously raised me on the water on Huntington Beach, and whenever I return to saltine aqua, I feel at home, no matter how foreign the land or locale..... Oceans are my thing. I was blessed to have a parent who loved the ocean too, so now, having finally gotten into the Med and swam and surfed, my mental reset button was supposed to have been pressed.... instead eveyrthing got topsy turvy. Kinda fun, but kinda disconcerting....

I feel work and the real world hacking their way into my sabbatical. I have about a week left, and reality is rearing its ugly head. Fortunately, I was headed to Lake Como to hang out with my friends Amy& Dave Ashton and Jim Parker. Amy and Dave travel all over the planet, and know how to do it right. Amy is all enamored with Tripadvisor.com, and I now am too. Rather than staying in the overran town of Como on Lake Como, she found this adorable town called Varenna (and if you've already seen the flickr photos, you can tell by all the photos I've uploaded). I mean, seriously, who can't use some so-beautiful-it-should-be-illegal views of Lake Como from a bluffside hotel, sipping wine, looking down on a town that can trace its ancestry back some 2600 years??

The local castle in town has been in the same family's hands for almost 1000 years..That's right.. since 1018 AD. (and here you thought living in your grandma's house was cool). All hail Amy for scoring us a great hotel and town!! We had to ride two separate outside elevators (if you know what a Funicular is, this is one of them). it's basically a tram at a fixed angle, that takes you up a track. We had TWO... You entre the reception area about 200 ft above the lake, then take your two elevators to like 600 ft above the lake.. needless to say, our wine terrace was awesome!!

In our feverish hunt for George Clooney and the Ocean's Eleven gang, we grabbed a ferry and headed over to check out Bellagio, Maggiano and Candeberria.. all equally quaint lake-front villages painted vibrant colours, that trace their roots back to early first millenia....or further. All these retaining walls abounding on the towns, you aren't sure if they were built 1000 years ago, or yesterday. For those of you who have been to Lake Como, you know the beauty I'm talkin' bout. For those who haven't, you must must go.

The interesting thing I found about the Lake Como area, is that it was full of Americans. I've seen nary an American for 6 weeks, and they're ALL here in Como. Mostly adorably cute midwestern newlyweds, where the wife wears her cutest outfit possible, and her groom sports some annoying hoodie sweatshirt and ballcap. Only Americans wear ballcaps and hoodies... It's like you wanna shake them awake and say "hey! dumbass! you're in Bellagio/Varenna etc., DO try to look nice for your wife will ya? your hoodie sporting 'No-Fear' doesn't fit in here." Well, maybe they have Lotsa-Fear about being out of their monster-truck and Budweiser comfy space where they can listen to the latest from Fiddy Cent....

Funny how all the Americans come here even in the shoulder season. We did meet Margaret "call-me-Marge" from Ohio who just HAD to tell us all about their trip to Rome and Venice and how it's just SSooooo different in various parts of this country.. The Eye-Talians are such wonderful Catholic people. "really now, that's just facinating Marge...." Then, alas, as I'm online trying to transfer money between accounts (cuz hey, Europe ain't cheap), and all my private financial data is on the screen, Marge decided to lean over my shoulder and want to talk about how adorable and small and cute my little computer thing was... She then says "oh wow, what bank is that you're looking at?" Immediately I engaged The-Laser-Beam-Eyes-Of-Death, saying "Marge, I'm a Swiss Banker, this is a private client's financial data, and by looking at it you're in violation of (I inserted German here to freak her out) the Schweitzer BundesBankPrivitaziertesheGeheimhaltungGesetzen. You could go to jail right now if I called the Police." (Basically, I made up a mythical law called the Swiss Government Private Banking Secrecy Law). Marge turned whiter than her GAP sweater, and scampered off to tell Reginald that she just broke an international secret law. Sorry Marge, if you stumble across my blog, it was all a lie.. but keep your nose to yourself next time eh? And oh, by the way, Reginald took a photo of the receptionist's ass when you weren't looking. (I do admit it was quite picture-worthy).

We actually didn't do much in the Lake Como area, other than chill and drink fabulous wine, while watching amazing sunsets, so I'll leave it at that...

ok...on to more fun pursuits... my train trip to Munich..
So, in the "hey, you're in my seat" rumble that is train travel in Italia, it was about to get ugly (I bought First Class tix cuz they have power outlets, and there are fewer people... and as I write this, I have a 6 preson compartment to myself, after 4 others got off an hour ago). So these three soooopoer cool Americans and one German guy are in our little compartment (thiers was actually nextdoor), but this old Italian guy makes them get up and leave to sit in their own compartment (they were being polite, when people were in their compartment). So, one of the guys is another blonde named Todd (Team Todd unite), and is there with is partner Stefan. Ron and Kimberly are also with them. Todd-Ron-Kimberly all used to live in Florida, in Key West, and are realtors. Team-Todd now lives in Hamburg, having followed love and dreams (and Stefan) back to Germany. Yay to love and dreams for everone! Immediately picking up on the Todd/Stefan dynamic, I mention that I lived in San Francisco for a while, so they'd understand that I was cool with their lifestyle (Where's Nick Goddard when I need him?). Besides, gay men are way more fun to talk to than stuffy Americans. We immediately all bond, and they provided excellent wine and conversation. We bonded further over the complete incompetence of Sarah Palin and her inability to run our country... She should do McCain and the US a favor by stepping outta the race :)

After all that, and 8 hours later, we arrived in Munich, and Amy/Dave/Jim and immediately engaged upon Weissbier and sausage with Dave's friend Jesse (this guy is friggin hilarious...I kid you not). Ahhh yes... the further blog entries that shall cover Oktoberfest shall indeed be something interesting to behold....Stay tuned... We're off to the Oktoberfest beer tents today (it's Friday), and apparently we have a reservation for 8 people, from 11:30 to 5 pm, whereupon we have 10 half-chickens, and 32 liters of beer (that's over 8 gallons of beer!!)... ugliness shall ensue...

Pray for me.
(side note...as I send this, it is now Saturday morning, and I managed to survive 11 liters of beer in 10 hours.... notes to follow as soon as I can stare at the screen long enough to keep it from spinning... anyone got any Advil?)

HofBrauHaus tent at Oktoberfest

2008-10-03T03:49:00.000-07:00

Drunken revelry at 12:30!!

first liter at Oktoberfest

2008-10-03T03:47:00.000-07:00

Pray for me!!

Balearic Beats and Blues....

2008-09-28T01:09:00.000-07:00

(forenote: I have had some limited success uploading photos from Days 1-4... see them here on Flickr Days 5-9 shall follow shortly!)

Balearic Sunsets and babbles...

You'll have to pardon the somewhat disjointed meanderings of my blog this week. I have three different entries that I'm writing into, depending upon my mood and time schedule.... Following here, I attempt to capture the end of my week on Ibiza. The rain poured Tuesday and Wednesday, took a 6 hour breather on Thursday, and then returned with a vengeance on Friday morning until about 5 pm. Welcome to the "Off-Season." As I write this, it's Saturday evening, and I leave Monday....

So Thursday brought us some sunshine, and Abby's kick-ass suggestion of renting scooters and checking out the island a bit. Abby rocks... She even danced with Alpine Bear...He hasn't stopped talking about it since.. So. back to our scooter ride. Natalie entrusted me with her life to ride passenger (and hey....who'd complain about a 5'10" Harvard Educated triathlete wrapping herself around you on a scooter eh? it would be rude to say no, right?).. I know, I'm a giver. We set out to tour this island, which I had thought to be pretty overrated and nasty up to that point. Most fortuitously, we managed to find amazing and breathtaking beauty here. Just Wow... This island is awesome. As I suspect the Yucatan Peninsula is just outside of Cancun/Playa del Carmen, Ibiza is a rolling, wooded island of sheer beauty. No wonder it's been attacked and overrun so many times in its history. Hell I want a piece of it too!! It's large enough to be self-sustaining with agriculture, yet small enough that you can get from one end to the other on a scooter in about an hour or so. Just beyond the rolling and pine tree lined hills, are the semi-arid small plains with this beautifully deep red coloured soil. The contrasts with the deep blue of the sky is something to behold I do declare.

After managing to get lost 4 times in the south of the island, and finding a rather impressively hairy man at one beautiful cove, we headed north... Thereupon, we stumbled onto Benniras Cove, and after lifting our jaws off the ground at how beautiful it was, later learned that it's a UNESCO World Heritage site. It even has an island configuration just off the coast called "God's Finger." (Personally, it looks to me like a middle finger). Natalie and I came back here on Saturday before she and Abby left, and we went for a short swim in picture-perfect Mediterranean blue waters, with schools of needle fish, grand major fish and some really cool fish I've never seen before that had like eyes on their sides. Harkening back to the times when this island was heavily defended, all these various coves and bays all have these 500++ Year old observation towers in the area, and they make great lookout points/photo ops. This was what we came for. Super cool. Cliffs and red-rocked beauty that only volcanic Mediterranean islands can be.

Back on the home front, we were determined to visit the perennial favourite and scene of all things musically related: THE Cafe del Mar. I was excited to say the least, having downloaded like 5 of their albums over the past several years (and since I play them in yoga, they're tax deductible....woohooo!!). Imagine our surprise to see that it actually was dead quiet, but Cafe Savannah and Cafe Mambo on either side of CdM, were packed.. they even played better music. There is something magical about an Ibizan sunset.... those who have experienced it, know. There's also something about cool down tempo music that crosses cultures, languages and political affiliations (though I don't see the Religious Right grooving to electronica any time soon). Savannah it was, and then the downpours came. The SUPER cool surprise, came as we were strolling to the west end of the Sant Antoni area, and found the SunSeaBar (www.sunseabar-ibiza.com). There were these two AWESOME studly fire dancer guys from Wales named Neil and Adam (I had to mop up the drool from Abby and Natalie). You must must must take a visit to the SunSeaBar when you're here, and if he's still working, say hi to Adam the waiter from Dublin (if he hasn't move to Grenada and opened his coffee shops), and the fire dancer guys. That's the great thing here... excellent down-tempo music to Chill Out to, and have Sangria, watch the sunset and the sea, some twirling fire, and just inhale life while talking to people with fantastic life stories (both Adams' are awesome). Now I know why all the chill out albums I buy are always titled like "Chilled Ibiza," and "Chill Out Ibiza." House and down tempo trance music abound... it's awesome...

Funny how when you travel with people for extended vacations, you enjoy those few moments you get to yourself. Running to the store, the shower, going for a swim.. However as soon as you become sans companions, you immediately miss them. Relationships change when you travel with people. You see their true character...how they deal with stress, getting lost, bad weather etc. You either grow closer or wedges can be driven. My trip here in Ibiza would never have been so wonderful or filled with as much laughter and fun, had Natalie and Abby not come along. They made the trip for me. And so, for the first time since August, I find myself alone for a few days. What the??!?! No one to run ideas across, no one to have to negotiate with (especially when you're with like 5-10 people). I dropped Natalie and Abby off at the airport for their trip to Barcelona, and I find our apartment empty (though markedly neater!! ;) ). With the promise of the first real sunset sitting-and-sangria-sipping occasion presenting itself since we got here, it's a bummer that I'll have to enjoy it with strangers. It's funny though, as only when you are truly by yourself in a foreign land, do you reflect on the people in your life, who you are as a person, and who you wanna be. After 5 weeks of go go go go, this week has been chill chill chill. A time when, at last, I can actually reflect and ponder and feel appreciative. So to you, all two of my blog readers, I suggest that should you ever find yourself on a lengthy vacation, be sure to have dear friends along, and you may rediscover your closest friend: you. (and never underestimate the power of chillout music, amazing sangria and a sunset to get the emotional pot stirred)

Folding the space-time continuum one day, it's now Sunday, and I'm preparing to leave. I spent all day scootering around the island and having a grand ol' time (though not having anyone to share it with was a bit of a bummer)... Things are always better when shared no? We finally had the sunny and warm beach day that I had been waiting for, for a week. I basically hit all these super fun coves and beaches, and even managed to surf!! (I borrowed a board for like 15 minutes).. This little pocket beach called Playa de Aqua Blanca (white-water beach...), had great surf, amazing views, and of course...a restaurant. Where the Italians and Swiss love building mountain-top restaurants and refugios, the Spanish/Balearic people love their beach-side cafes. Something about a simple tuna salad, bread and a beer makes life even more awesome on a beach in Ibiza...

Later in the day, I even got out and swam 2000 meters across the Sant Antoni Harbour (I shall take my B-complex vitamins later).. The soooooper cool thing, was getting to actually watch a sunset (FINALLY!!) on an island known for its sunsets,in a proper relaxing manner. Such a bummer that my companions weren't here to enjoy it with me.. and bummer I didn't have Natalie to swim with me in the beautiful Med! Dude you and Abby missed the BEST DAY EVER! I feel now like I've joined some fraternity of folk who have been touched by the Balaeric energy, warmed by its sands, held afloat by its blue-green waters, and cleansed by its cascading rains.

This island is really quite beautiful for those who have never seen it. In reality, it's only like 10% developed, and you see all these fig farms, olive farms and various veggie farms throughout the interiour. I took probably 15 photos of the deep red soil. It's awesome.. Such a cool colour, when positioned against the green backdrop of the hills, and the blue blue sky... Trust me kids, if you could see it, you'd appreciate it too ! ( and that ain't just the litre of sangria talking either...).... Taking the back country farm roads reveals a true Spanish heritage and history. Simple yet refined... and beautiful. Green and tree-covered hills, deep red soils, white clouds, blue skies, and curvy roads...

All in all, the rain actually made it better so I could take down time and get over my disease, play a lot of Scrabble with Natalie and Abby, and then eventually get out to see the island. Bummer yes that it wasn't the beach and techno filled extravaganza I had thought it would be, but the answers I found about myself and others, and exhilaration of cruising a scooter around on a whim, truly became unintended special moments..... When I get internet connectivity that isn't sporadic and allows me to upload all of my photos, they shall be on flicker... just keep looking.... I've had a lot of memorable moments and occasions in the past 5 weeks, but those I got here are deeply woven.... (wow... I think I just choked back a tear..)... I'm not sure if if a part of me will manage to remain here on Ibiza, but I can guarantee you that a part of Ibiza will remain here inside of me forever......
hasta pronto!

(yes mom, I had my hands on both handlebars when taking the photo on the right.... ummm sorta) ;)

Big Yellow Ball in the Spanish Sky...

2008-09-28T00:48:00.001-07:00

YAY FOR SUN!!
Alas, the big yellow ball in the sky has decided to come out and play....for the most part. For a sabbatical segment that began on Sunday the 21st with blazing sunshine and poofy clouds (ya..I just said "poofy"...deal with it), our hopes were quickly dashed by Mother Nature. Tuesday-Friday rained relentlessly, with a short exception for Thursday until about 5 pm.... Monday was a beautiful day where we visited the Old City of Ibiza and learned that this super beautiful island has been attacked and conquered innumerable times. The most insanely possessive folks had to be the Turks, who attacked this place (quite unsuccessively) 15 times between 1514 and 1589. Dude, 0-for-15 in 75 years... grab a clue. This island isn't your new island home. The old city is way cool and of course, no ancient city-on-a-hill that overlooks a harbour, is worth its view unless it also has a fort and a castle. Old Ibiza City has them both.. We got to learn all about guns and bombs and how to deter sea-faring attackers. Very interesting stuff indeed (Spoiler alert!! Think wooden ships, cloth sails, and flaming balls of tar launched from the aforementioned hill-top fort).. Currently, Ibiza and its Balearic counterparts, Formentara, Majyorca and 50 or so uninhabitted islands, are now autonomously determining their own path. Yay for self-destiny, even if you are socialist. (It does make the medicine cheaper, and since I had a pretty nasty cold and inner-ear infection, I welcomed cheap drugs with open arms).

What was also cool about Monday and the Old City, were these street performer people (a guy and a girl dressed up like cats). The guy did some yoga-ish moves and danced with balls and juggling etc., while his more feline companion climbed a big sheet that was tied to a tree branch high off the ground.. Whence upon said tree branch, she did all these cool acrobatic moves requiring insane strength and flexibility. As somewhat practiced yogis, Natalie and I were like "yep... we can do that... that too...and yup.. that too..wait! WTF?!?! I sure as hell can't to THAT! Whoa! ouch! Wha?!? Bravo sister!! WOW!" It was cool. Remember...rule of thumb: always over-tip your street performers..they can use the money.

Monday night was, again I say, crazy and awesome. I already expounded upon the life-experience that is Tiesto on Ibiza, but if you've never been here, it is THE place for all electronica/trance/techno/Balearic Beat music of the planet. Every major DJ comes here, and they play all summer while still on world tours. If you're a famous DJ, you have to be here, and usually this is your experimental lab where you try out new sounds..... And they're here EVERY DAY. The week we've been here, had: TIesto, Armin van Buuren, Paul van Dyk, Above and Beyond, Peter Tan, Groove Armada and a host of others. I'm surprised Oakenfold isn't here. For my non-electronica savvy friends, imagine if you could be on an island, and see during your week stay: U2, Sting, the Rolling Stones, Beyonce, Madonna, etc.. For my Country fans: Kenny Chesney, Dixie Chicks, Toby Keith, George Strait, Garth Brooks, Carrie Underwood and on and on and on.. you get the idea by now. They play on successive nights in the massive clubs here. Amnesia is known for its Foam parties, Eden for its Water parties, Pacha for being ridiculously expensive, Privilege for its platform dancers.. According to our waiter last night, there were about 12,000 people probably at the Tiesto gig....Now...Privilege may indeed be the World's Biggest Club (certified by the Guiness Book!!), but duuude... 12,000 people is a LOT of people...Just awesome, plain and simple...You wind up dancing until 5 am and you don't even realize it.....Even though Tiesto played until 6 am, we figured a 12,000 person rush for cabs would be a bit intense, so we left at 5:15 am instead. The Balearic Government, wanting to promote a more family friendly feel to Ibiza, has now mandated that all clubs close by 6 am, and all new hotels be 5 Star... Wow... Tell me though, how exactly does it make you more family friendly, if your tourists are dancing until sunrise (about 7:30 am), or only 6 am? "oh, gee Marge, they only dance now until 6 am on Ibiza, clearly it's calmed down, let's gather up the kids and go there..." I guess that 5-Star hotel people don't dance that long. Face it: Ibiza is known for its tolerance of craziness and oultandish behaviour. Gamorah of the Med and all that.... stupid rules!!!

Some other intersting things done by the government, that I actually find cool, is that they are feindish about keeping this place clean. Lots and lots of maintenance people sweeping the boardwalk, picking up trash, raking the sand clean of who-knows-what, maintaining lifeguards etc. Even the most visited beaches are cleaned by huge machines every night, that leave the sand nice and smoothe, and confidence inducing that you won't wind up stepping on glass. Duely impressive I must say. Maybe it's the Swiss in me, but I like things clean and neat.. I think I keep expecting the trashiness of Cancun, Mexico or something... What I also like, is that there is a ban on construction from June 1st through October 1st, in all tourist areas. This way, you don't wake up every day at 7 am to a jackhammer and nails being pounded. WAY to go Gov't. Smart move. All around the Island, you have these bell boys, bartenders, cab drivers who are super buff and surly construction types, who have to find other employment during the tourist season.

Speaking of the season of tourists, I must share my newly-acquired knowledge as to why all the fat, annoying, painted and pierced English are here this week (see previous post about ponderance thereof)... Apparently this is a SUPER cheap week for all the working-class English to be here, so alas, here they are. All the cheesy bars are filled, while the swank (read: pricey) are empty. Natalie, Abby and I had a front-row and kick-ass sunset watching spot on Friday night, simply because the bar/lounge didn't offer beer for 2EU in a plastic takeaway cup. I suppose if the Carribbean was like 60% off for everyone who lives in Ohio, Nebraska, Kansas, Illinios and Arkansas, a similar reality would develop. (oh wait..it already has..) So.. speaking even further of English tonnage, allow me to share an example of "dude, you really should get some exercise by taking the stairs." European elevators are small.... plain and simple. If you've been in one you know. They've never hauled an American family from Michigan up a few floors after the all-you-can-eat-buffet at a Vegas casino. They fit a maximum of either 2 friends, 3 close friends, 4 lovers, or 5 people who will need to take a shower immediately thereafter. During one occasion of hefting some English tourists in our hotel, 4 people were already in the elevator. It's apparently rated for 6, count 'em SIX people, rated by kilograms (about 165 lbs a person.. or 990 lbs-ish total). So, four of Her Majesty's Finest representitives were already in our elevator, when a fifth decided that she needed a ride. Upon entering said elevator rated for 6 people, her Moby-Dick proportions caused the elevator to go into alarm and announce that the elevator was over-weight. Duuuude.... 5 people were OVER 990 POUNDS. That's 200lbs EACH. That had to really suck for her, and I feel some empathy... well..not really.. Lay off the English Breakfast and take the stairs more eh?

I love how the Europeans swap the commas and periods in numbers. Instead of paying 12,591.32 Euro for a car, it's 12.591,31. (thought you'd like to know).

Another interesting tidbit, don't try to eat breakfast before 11 am. Nothing is open. Seriously. Unless you know the bartender/waitress etc., trying to secure some sustinence before noon is difficult. Since the government now mandates you be outta the clubs by 6 am, perhaps they'll mandate all those families flocking here now must have a place to eat before 11.... I was walking along the boardwalk at 9:45 am and it was a ghost town. I did manage to see lots of people working out and running/walking/doing martial arts on the sand.. It was blissfully peaceful and calm... it would have rocked had I been able to find a decent coffee and a croissant..There's something quite enjoyable about sunrise and smoothe water surfaces...

Random thoughts on Ibiza and the world's travelers....

2008-09-26T00:16:00.000-07:00

So, after the grandeur, majesty blah blah blah that embody the Alps, I realized that I got way too serious and all gooey over how much I truly dig the land of the +. Those deep insights aside, I thought I'd return to more productive pursuits: observations of culture and random happenings... Below, I dispense with more verbal diarrhea...

I do believe I have met the stupidest person in to have ever walked Planet Earth. Now, I certainly have encountered some intellectually challenged individuals in my life, but this one has to top them all. After my mysteriously cancelled flight caused an unexpected 3 hour layover in Barcelona, I was seated in the verrry back of a plane en route to Ibiza. Seriously, I'm looking out at the engine and the back of the wing right now. Seee? So, back to the stupidest person in the world... She's from New York and used to live in San Francisco. Our conversation went something like this (I couldn't resist).....

Stupid Human Ever: (SHE) "... so I have some advil if you want some. I have a ton because I hurt my knee"
Smart-Ass Todd (SAT): "..oh, really, how'd you do that?"
SHE: well, you know that tsunami thing that came through the States last week? I slipped on wet ground"
SAT: "WHAT? there was a tsunami?"
SHE: (rolling eyes) "...Don't you watch the news? it came through I think Texas and then up to New York..."
SAT: "Oh, you mean the Hurricane?!? Ike??"
SHE: "no, it was a tsunami, it made rain all the way up the coast, don't you know anything?"
SAT: "how'd a large wave cause rain 1500 miles away? On the other side of the Mountains? It had to be HUGE..."
SHE: (shaking head) "hellooo...splashes?"
SAT: "oh, ya, sorry. You mean kinda like when a fat guy does a belly flop and everyone on the side of the pool gets wet!?!?"
SHE: "Ya! Totally!"

I was stunned into speechlessness at this point. Unable to speak, or more importantly, formulate a response to continue my fun at her expense, the untipped-waitress-in-the-sky, (oops, I mean "flight attendant") came by. She asked the SHE in Spanish to put her seatback upright etc. The girl, (SHE) who looks totally latina, gave the flight attendant a look of dismay, so I translated. Then:
SHE: "I don't know what language she was speaking"
SAT: "Um...that was Spanish, we're in Spain."
SHE: "really, well I'm Mexican, and I know that wasn't Spanish. Yo hablas Espanol" (yes, my Spanish speaking friends, she said - yo hablaS")
SAT: (bewildered) "really, then what was she speaking ?!?!?" (I was eager to hear the response)
SHE: "I dunno, maybe Catalan, or whatever that is they speak around here"
SAT: "Well, this is Barcelona, so they speak Spanish. Catalan is a dialect of Spanish spoken further east, similar to how Ebonics is a dialact of American English spoken in Compton"
SHE: "whatever, it wasn't Spanish"
SAT: "Tal vez estuvo' una forma nueva de Espanol que esta' hablado aqui?" (maybe it's a new form spoken here)
SHE: (totally bewildered) "What??!!"
SAT: "I was speaking to you in Latin American Sanish..."
And on it went....

OK, onto another culturally and intellectually challenged breed of folk: The English Tourist on Ibiza, aka "the most heinous display of a country's citizens, in the history of ever."
I now understand what evolution does to a people who spend a few millenia on a crap-hole of a rain-sodden rock, inbreeding and eating Death-on-a-Plate (aka "The English Breakfast"). To my English friends I pose the query: "How did you manage to produce such heavenly beauties as Kiera Knightly and Victoria Beckham?" It must be the case of a negative multiplied by a negative makes a positive. Well, all the negatives are here, and should they hook up, a new Master Race of Vogue models shall be conceived. No wonder most of James Cook's crew wanted to stay on the Cook Islands, and you had the best fleet of colonizing ships ever. Even the criminals and thieves you sent to Australia turned out some seriously hot talent, a mere two centuries later. What is up with your island??

The English tourist male is a fine specimine: Allow me to paint a mental picture for you: Imagine a shirtless reincarnation of mid-20's swine, and present said reincarnation via full display of substantial mid-body gerth, pink-tainted pasty white skin, sporting some sort of tatoo created by a schizophrenic crack addict on halleucinogenic mushrooms. Not to be outdone, is the English male coif. I do believe that a visit to an English hair salon must entail being locked in a dark room with 5 mongoose on heroine, equipped with cutting shears. Out here on Ibiza, in full resplendent glory, they wear minimal clothes, sport beers at 8:15 am, and chain-smoke their already-gray teeth into a new shade of mocha. No wonder all three of the English women I know, have married American men.

As for the English female, I doth protest. I've seen fewer muffin tops in a bakery. You cannot make up for FUPA or a gunt, by bleaching the haystack resting upon your head, into some form of blonde, and cutting your clothes shorter. Additionally, a day-glo shirt pronoucing that you're a "Gold-Digger" certainly won't improve your chances...(unless she meant that she likes to pick her nose). Furthermore, having perfected bovinal eating habits, they really should learn to chew with their mouths closed. I watched one wildebeast of English heritage, manage to eat her saucer-of-cholesterol (again, the English Breakfast), while navigating through a full beer, all the while never allowing her cigarette to drop from her food intake port. I truly believe I shall never want to have sex again. I have been scarred for life. I believe the English government should conduct interviews that determine whether or not its citizens should be allowed to breed or travel. Of course, perhaps the government wants the to leave as well??

So, onto Tiesto. I honestly don't think I can capture all that was the Closing Party of Tiesto's DJ residency at Privilege. I guess you could say he's the Alps of DJ's. He spun seamlessly for 4 hours, until 6 am. New stuff, old stuff, and some amazing trancy-dancy mixes that defy description. For his followers, all I can say, is hearing Traffic and Flight 643 live, are beyond description. Bass lines so deep and crisp that your heartbeat changes to sync with it (no, seriously, it does). Light shows and video images that border on sending you either into a trance-like euphoria, or an epileptic seizure. Mind you, I was entirely and completely sober for this. Even though I did manage to pay 8 Euro (about $12) for water that we found the next day for 50 cents a bottle. Ya, two cokes and 4 bottles of water cost me 48 Euro ($72!!!). It's so damn hot and crowded that you sweat like a hooker at communion. Sweat doesn't drip, it cascades.

There were 3,000+++ bodies grooving, pulsing and gyrating to the beats. He had these platform dancers that defied nature in the way they could move. The video wall/Jumbotron had to be 40 ft. high and 80 ft. wide. Having gotten there "early" at 1 am, while Sander Van Doorn was playing, afforded us the opportunity to get like 25 ft. from where Tiesto was spinning. What surprized me the most was that it was an overwhelming majority of men there... and they ALL danced. As much as I malign the English male, I must admit they can dance. The mix had to be 65% men to 35% women. Crazy I know. Tiesto at Privilege is amazing in every sense of the word. Amazingly inspiring, amazingly expensive, amazingly fulfilling, and another life experience I am fortunate to have accomplished on this sabbatical. I feel like a Muslim having migrated to Medina. Who cares that I now have a full-blown flu from dancing until 5 am and screaming my throat sore. I'll get better (eventually), but these memories shall last forever.

With that, the rain has stopped, and it's off to tour the island on scooters!

Goodbye to the Alps, hello to the Beach!!

2008-09-21T04:36:00.000-07:00

The end of the Swiss, and the beginning of the crazy Spaniards..
So, it seems as a parting gift, my friend Todd2 has given me the cold that his son Bridger gave him (for bonus points, name the Ski Resort that Bridger was named after...and no googling!). No worries, as I'm sure dancing in the Ibiza clubs from midnight to 8 am everyday will do me juuuuust fine ;) That, and I've got a combination of various alleged remedies to control my disease....

Switzerland and the Swiss people are an interesting study. First off, the land of + is a very, very expensive place. We routinely paid $50 for soup, salad and a beer or two, for 2 people. Ouch is right. But they way they say "Thank You" and speak in Swiss-German is just so damn melodic and smiley, that you feel it's ok. (Note to self: practice melodic speach just prior to Christmas). Interestingly enough, Bahnhofstrasse (Train Station Street) in Zurich is THE shopping area for all of Europe. Paris? Milan? Dude, second-rate.

All the world's top designers and retailers are here. It is world-renowned. If you can name it, and they charge $5000 for a purse, they have a store on BHS. Needless to say, the shopping on BHS is amazing. For my NorCal readers, imagine a Satan Row (ooops... I mean Santana Row) that is a mile long, with several side streets, absolutely chock full of Burburry, Hermes, Gucci, Cartier, Tod (woohoo!!), Jimmy Choo, Breitling and the like. There is a LOT of money in Zurich - the World's Banking capital. In a country renowned for expense and wealth tax, Zurich is the upper echelon of wealth. I'm not talking some sales schmuck making $500k a year. I'm talking professional athlete and hedgefund director money. $10 million to $100 million a year. In fact, Switzerland ranked recently as second in the world in per capita millionaires, at 1 per every 14 households. For double bonus points, name the #1 country, and no it's not in the Middle East. That's all fine with me, because the trains are amazing, the hiking routes are well marked, and everything is clean. Clean mountain air, clean trains and good ol' clean living. Who cares about the 70% tax rate anyway? ;)

And what, you may be asking yourself, are the people like in Zurich? Well, the answer is simple: What is most attracted by wads o' cash and high fashion? You got it: Beauty. Plain and simple. I saw more women who could have stepped off the cover of Vogue, and more manly-square-jawed men from Calvin Klein underwear ads, than I could count. Well, I sorta did count... I saw over 2 dozen women who I had to look skyward to meet eyes with. What the hell do they feed these people, so the women are all 6'2" withOUT heels? It's gotta be the Rosti... in fact I feel taller already. I think to be a resident of Zurich as a woman, you must be at least 5'10".... The trophy wife/girlfriend factor here makes Los Gatos/Newport Beach (SoCal!!) look like white-trash. And yes..the cougars were out too. Immaculately dressed 40-something women with their 20-something boytoys... hey you go sister!

Everyone was dressed to the 9's (does anyone really know where that came from?) just to stroll and shop... I mean, don't you always shop for food and wardrobe additions in a designer blouse, skirt, 4" heels and silk stockings? Not a pair of bare legs around (stocking lovers unite!!). Of course...there WERE some complete fashion disasters.. (note the walking Swiss Christmas Tree I spied). It was quite a scene, on such a lovely Fall day. The pouty-lipped 20-something models looking for sugar daddies were also present en masse... (no, I'm not being sexist...just an observation). It was absolutely a great people watching day, and one of those strolls that makes you feel allive with the hustle and bustle of City energy. There was even a SmartCar with a Mercedes Benz ad (ok I'm kidding)!

However, let's rewind the clocks a few centuries... Before all those numbered accounts of drug lords and oil billionaires came to Zurich, it was a hugely important for another reason: Religious Reformation. For my Lutheren friends, THE ACTUAL CHURCH where Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door, is here. Whouldathunk that the land known for massive wealth and mountains, also started a religious revolution some 5 or 6 centuries ago (help me out with the timeline?). I even met some blatantly American bible-thumpers here on a quest to develop a Reformation tour, where they will bring people here from the US to follow in Luther's footsteps. Industrious I must say. Whereas they were really nice people and I had a nice time learning about religious history, I feel sorry for their seat companions on their flights (read: the combined heft of the husband and wife must have exceeded 500 lbs).

The Swiss mountain folk are quite a bit different than their urban counterparts. They dress more moderately (except for the Japanese tourists), and are unabashedly friendly. The JungFrauJoch and Grindelwald were to a large extent touristy, and I was there after the high-season. I can only imagine it in July and August. Still, lest you be deterred, you must see the Bernese Oberland at least once in your life. My words and photos only capture like 10% of what is their awesomeness (hey, it's a blog, I can invent words). For those who want to visit the Alps, I suggest a day or two in Lauterbrunnen in addition to Grindelwald... Lauterbrunnen has a way more Swiss Village feel to it, and Wengen is even cuter (and only reachable by train). They're on the other side of the Kleine Scheidegg saddle from Grindelwald, but Todd2 and I enjoyed it way more. You can purchase a Pass that gives you 6 days' of free travel, so you can train, bus, gondola and tram your way to all your hikes and high-altitude Rosti eating. Our internet cafe' we found in Lauterbrunnen was run by this super cool Swiss-Kiwi girl, so all the Commonwealth travelers wound up there. Love the accents..

Given that the mountains here are so renowned, people from everywhere are here. Remember how I mentioned Bollywood fame and its fanbase traveling here, as well as the Japanese National Bank branch in Grindelwald? Seriously...it's crazy. I listened to an Indian girl and two asian girls, talking in German to one another on the train (the Indian and Asian accented German was tricky to decipher as I eaves-dropped)... Sorta like how all the hair and nail places are run by Vietnamese people in the US, all the watch stores in Switzerland are run by Japanese, which I find amusing. All those mountain-top restaurants (including the 11,712 foot Jungfraujoch!) have a watch store in it. And they allll sell the same thing... Same goes too, for Victorinox and Wegner knives and watches. Every where you go, you can buy a knife or a watch, in like 6 Asian languages. I almost bought the 8gig USB flash drive with a Victorinox logo on it, until I saw it was $120... WTF?? You can buy a 4-pack of Flashdrives at Fry's for $30. Oh ya... forgot...Switzerland is expensive...see previous paragraph...

And now, since the flaps on my SpanAir flight worked and we managed a safe take-off, I'm looking forward to the sun, sand and beaches of Ibiza, Spain with my dear friend Natalie and her best friend Abby.... Mas cervezas por favor!!
and oh ya, one last thing about Switzerland, don't forget your no-limit Platinum Card!! Random photos from my day wandering around Zurich are here

More Mountains, more hiking, and more Rosti!!

2008-09-20T09:55:00.000-07:00

(yes... two blog updates in one day... all hail wireless connectivity!!)

Alpine Hiking, jaw-dropping and etc-ing, Days 4-7

Let me say this again, THE ALPS ROCK. No, really they do. Let me explain.... Not to be redundant, but my hiking trips Wednesday and Thursday were amazing to say the least. Then we went to these waterfalls inside a mountain, called the Trummelbach Falls. I tried to capture it all in photos, but dude... it's quite impossible.

After hiking at 12000 ft on Tuesday, Todd and I decided we were ready to circumnavigate the entire Kleine Scheidegg saddle, over about 14 miles of joy. We started by hiking deep towards the Eiger Glacier Canyon, and then straight up for like 3000 feet, and then across and directly under the Eiger. The thing about the Eiger is, you really don't look up at it. You lift your head, lean waaaaay back, stabilize yourself by stepping back a bit, then you look up almost so far it seems you're being overhung. It's huuuuge. We had numerous different landscapes to traverse on the hike... barren and exposed glacial rock, straight up into forests of deep green and foliage, then across avalanche chutes where massive boulders were strewn around like pebbles. Everything here personifies how powerful mom Nature truly is. It took 3 hours of hiking to get to an intermediate point, where we pulled the sissy chord and took the train to lunch at Kleine Scheidegg (guess what we had to eat? yup...beer and rosti). The part that followed, for the next 4 hours, was a hike across amazingly green fields, polka-dotted everywhere with semi-solid presents from all the grazing cattle (read: don't drink ANY of that pure-looking glacial water....else ghiardia is sure to become your newest bacterial friend). The sheer size of the Jungfrau and Monch peaks fill your entire field of view, causing you to pause and gaze upward, silenced by a 6000 ft. wall immediately in front of you. We even heard an avalanche happen like a mile away... Plain and simply: awe-inspiring...

Thursday's hike had the problem of living up to the bar set high by Wednesday's tour. Sheer terror began the day... We took this bus up a road so damn narrow and filled with switch-backs, that when honking warning signals around the corners, the bus horn played "Taps." WTF?!?! This is a bad sign!! We arrived at our destination, and immediately realized an error in our math.. our 500 meters (1500 ft.) of vertical gain was actually 1500 meters (oh, about a mile), all over like 3k of hiking (2 miles).. We had this great lunch (no, no rosti this time!), and then set about racing a storm down the hill, before we got swallowed up. After four weeks of cycling through Italy and hiking the Alps, I needed a day off. That's exactly what we did...

On our day off, we checked out Lauterbrunnen, and decided to do a hugely touristy thing...visit some waterfalls. Oh was I wrong... these are not merely waterfalls... The Trummelbach Falls, like so many other things here in the magical land called Switzerland (it's even fun to type...really..how often do you get to use the "Z?"), are beyond description....Fortuitously for those chained to a desk and hanging on my every word, I shall try to describe with my usual verbosity: The water has, over ohhh about a million years or so (or, 9000 years for the Mit Romney fans), cut deep into the limestone and made these twisty, turvy, pooly and thunderingly loud chabers through which like 6000 gallons of water a second come rocketing through. Conversely, your shower flows about 15 gallons per MINUTE. So, basically, you couldn't stand up under the water velocity. Whereas most water falls are whispy and majestic, inspiring poetry, marriage proposals and people in barrels, the Trummelbach Falls are crash-bang violent. They inspire awe, raincoats and shouting. Water basically has eaten away at the rock and won. The German word "Lauterbrunnen" even means "Loud Springs." The Swiss and their affinity for carving into rock (see previous post about JungfrauBahn) created an elevator of sorts that takes you to the top of these 10 different sections, and there, deep inside a mountain, alit by floodlights and in all its gushing glory, is the most amazing 3000 ft. waterslide you'd ever want to see (though if you rode it, you'd most certainly die). Some poor guys had to core these mountains and build concrete platforms back in like 1906, so those of us 100 years later can still be awed. The rocks have been eroded smoothe, and evidence of massive pools in times past leave you to wonder what it was like during big glacial melts...

The thing that makes this rock so easy to core into, build train routes and elevators in, is the layering of the rock itself. Way back sometime after our Earth was little more than a firey ball hurtling through space, everything started to cool. Blah blah blah, something as-of-yet-explained happens, and then you have the oceans. Basically, as sediment and other assorted goodies from the beasties in the sea descended to the ocean floor, they began to compact. Over time, these sediment-fishscale-beastpoo layers began to compress into rock. Fast forward a few million years, and the Northern European Plate and the North African Plate began to get into a turf war and push each other up and down and bent all around. The result was the Alps (and Dolomites etc). You can very easily see the rock layers jutting up all around you. The limestone that was created, is hard enough to be rock, but porous and brittle enough to be cut into (unlike the granite of the Sierras... hence no train to the top of Half Dome). The layering and folds of the rock you are really cool to see. These same layers and pours also allow the rock to fliter out all the icky stuff in the water, and give us things like Evian for $3 a bottle. As some of the minerals begin to filter through the rock, they join forces and actually make a version of quick-lime.. i.e. concrete.. that's what binds the layers together. The frangibility of the rock makes it a nightmare for climbers....(read: how the hell did they climb the North Face of the Eiger in 1936???) For those of you who wear North Face clothing products when you're outside playing...guess where the name came from? Yup...here..

With that...it's time to go have my last dinner in Der Schweiz, and prepare for the craziness that is Ibiza Spain... Let's hope the recurrance of my sore throat will be short lived... (awww damn!!)

Guttony in Grindelwald.... Eating under the Eiger, or Hiking in Heaven

2008-09-20T03:02:00.000-07:00

(yes, I know this was written 5 days ago, but I've finally found wireless internet!! woohoo!! Days 1 to 3 summary below)

Ahhh the Alps. Limestone towers reaching for the Heavens, emerald green valleys below. People who speak a highly melodic and thoroughly confusing dialect of German called (phoenetically) "Shvootzer Dootch." The English equivalent of a Swiss-German conversation would be something like:
English to Swiss-English
Hello, good day! = 'El-Gooday!
How Are you? = Hwr Ew?
I really like the Rosti = Irlyk drosti
See what I mean?

Flickr photos can be seen here . They don't even come close to capturing what are the Alps, but I sure tried

So, all the Garmin Trips of us hiking are in one spot below. I'll share some bits and pieces as this follows...
Hiking down and realizing how hard it is, on Monday

Cruising around the Jungfraujoch and hiking at 12000ft to lunch on Tuesday

On Wednesday we did a massive loop under the Eiger all day, and were left speechless
We left our straight-up climb in a snowstorm for Thursday

The space-time continuum has been folded and I've launched myself forward a few days. It's now Wednesday (I think) and I'm in Grindelwald with my best friend from University, Todd Nelson. Todd climbs mountains for fun. Like big huge and life-threatening mountains (his wedding ring has the profile of the Denali range on it... - no you moron..not the gas guzzling SUV Denali used to haul spoiled brats and trophy wives around Los Gatos, but the 20,320 ft. peak in Alaska...he climbed it for his bachelor party) ...Since I'm spending a week hiking under some of the world's most famous peaks, he had to be here.

Our first duty upon arriving to Grindelwald was to go have some Rosti. I've you've ever had true Swiss Rosti, you'd know why this was Mission #1. It's basically hash browns (thick slices, not the chinsy thin ones you get in the States), covered with some sorta of sauces, then maybe some mushrooms, onions and who-knows-what-else, then absolutely smothered with cheese. I'm talking like pizza-smothereing.. Not a layer of cheese, but more like a winter blanket of cheese. All the tasty goodness is protected by this armor coating for certain. The entire artery-clogging and cholesterol spiking combination is then thrown into an oven to bake the cheese to a delectable crusty thing, and then a fried egg is thrown on top of it. We had our first encouter with the Swiss Cuisine up at about 6600 ft. in this super cool locale known as Kleine Scheidegg, which is about 3000ft above Grindelwald. (Think Sound of Music, or The Eiger Covenant for reference). Kleine Scheidegg looks directly at the Eiger, Monch and the Jungfrau peaks. Words and photos cannot capture the awe and majesty (and a littany of other adjectives) of the place.

Adjacent to where the Rosti master was doing his business, was a huge vat of sauerkraut that was boiling some Wurstl (sausage) and potatoes. Pure high-alpine heaven. In order to make room for the 5000 calories of blissful gluttony, we didn't eat all day beforehand... yuuuuum.
The thing about Grindelwald and the Jungfrau Region that is so cool, is that this entire area is heavily marked with hiking trails and mountain biking routes. The Swiss are unparalleled in their love of the outdoors. You can walk, road bike or mountain bike from one end of the country to the other, and never get lost due to the directions they have all over the place. The even tell you where to turn, and how long it'll take to get to your destination. All the signs are graffitti free, accurate and always right where you need them.

Our first Day, Monday, bascally was spent hauling arse on the train from Zurich, and then taking another train up to Kleine Scheidegg for the aforementioned cheesy-goodness and cholesterol injection. Map in hand, we hiked down while enjoying amazing views of the valley. Crazy thing is that down-hiking is really hard on the body... I was seriously sore after only 7 miles of going down. 60 miles and 4 passes cycling the Dolomites did nothing to prepare me for descending...duuude... Apparently descending requires your abs to stabilize your entire body.... good fun with a pack on your back. I felt I then deserved another round of Rosti, followed up by a banana split and apple strudel (they love their ice cream and apples here in Switzerland... truly a culture after my own heart).

The second day was super amazing, as we went all the way up to the Top of Europe, aka the "Jungfraujoch." Now, the Jungfraujoch and JungfrauBahn (Mountain Train) defy description. Basically, back in 1896, this Swiss engineer gets this idea to basically dig and core a train route frrom Kleine Scheidegg, directly into the Eiger. I mean, what's a massive, world-renowned mountain need other than a giant train tunenel bored into its very heart? Turns out the whole project took 16 years and 8 million Swiss Francs (about $500 million in today's money). The JungfrauBahn rises about 5000 vertical feet from Kleine Scheidegg and pops out at 11,000 ft. high, on the top of a saddle between the Eiger and the Monch. They then build a 5 story complex in the mountain that has some really cool things:

The Ice Palace: basically, with the Swiss love of drilling holes for kicks and giggles, they cored a tourist attraction directly into the Glacier, and made all these exhibits inside. You can see layers of rock and debris in the ice that got into the mix centuries ago. Imagine a huge igloo carved out of a glacier, that's about 200 feet long with super cool tunnels, and you get the idea. It's pretty fun trying to walk on the ice... and no, you can't stick your tongue to it (of course I tried....)

The Sphinx: This is the observation station that they built another 300 feet above the Ice Palace and main Jungfraujoch station. You can see forever on a clear day, and obviously photos are requisite. Remember, you go from basically 3000 ft. in Kleine Scheidegg, up to over 11,700 ft. in about an hour. Talk about lack of oxygen!! Imagine the worst drunken stupor you've ever had, where you can barely walk and think straight, not even giving an attempt at speaking, and that's what it feels like. There is 27% less oxygen up there, and your body tells you about it with ferocity. Things take on a shade of gray, your heart is thumping wildly, and you're juuuust a bit woogy...

We hiked to lunch to the MonchHochHutte, which is at juuust over 12000 ft, and you can actually stay overnight.. I can imagine the sunrise is awesome! The cool thing about altitude too, is that you sleep sooo well..

Another freaky thing? The JungfrauJoch complex even has a restaurant called Bollywood... Apparently the Indians just love love love a mountain backdrop during their sing-and-dance movies, and the Alps have become a new filming mecca... Sorta like how all the wine lovers descended upon Solvang after the movie Sideways came out, now lots and lots and I mean LOTS of Indians (dot-not-feather Indians) flock to the Alps to follow in the footsteps of their moviestars... weird!! The japanese, not to be outdone, have decided to open up a Jaanese Information center, and a Bank of Tokyo - Grindelwald branch... Nice!!

With that, I'm about out of time here at the cafe'... I'll pen more later, and cover the amazing hikes and photos shortly (really...I promise... I head to Ibiza tomorrow and may not have a lotta time while sitting on the beach) :)

Dolomite Trip 2 Cast of Characters

2008-09-19T00:23:00.000-07:00

(note to all 2 of my blog readers..it's been several days since I could get real internet - i.e. not my Treo and all the ridiculous data charges - so I have two uploads to do at once...whodathunk that the Swiss don't like wireless internet cafes?? with that, here is the Cast of Characters I wanted to upload like 6 days ago. Flickr Photos and Garmin hiking routes from the Alps will be on another entry. Needless to say, the Alps have been fantastic!!!)

Dolomites Cycling Trip Cast of Characters
Alas, having survived my second multi-day Cycling Trip in 3 weeks, hauling myself up and down mountain peaks, I can now divulge all the dirty secrets and sordid details of my trip companions. We had 15 people of widely varying backgrounds and stories. I shall dispense with the aforementioned diatribe, below:

First is of course, the burly shaved-head guy named Steve, who is my cycling companion and best friend from home. Steve used to be a professional track racer, kayak racer and all-around stud back in the wondrous land known as Australia. Now, with a Vogue model as a wife, and owning a yoga empire in Los Gatos, California, he retired from his day job to be a dad. Steve would routinely be our comedic relief and pedal pusher on the flats. The physics involved with cycling up steep mountain passes don't really favor a 6'4", 100kg Antipodean, but he still crushed most of us like walnuts.

Moving on, and also representing the Commonwealth, was Jeff from Canada. Jeff is one of those wickedly and deceptively intelligent postal carriers who spend their time delivering mail and reading Tolstoy for kicks. There is nothing this guy doesn't know, and loves to share in a non know-it-all sorta way. First he was pleading for us Americans to vote for Obama (I told you he was intelligent), and then later he was recounting a thought on why trip-hop is great to dance to. He has this wild hair that is beyond description, and at first impression, I wasn't sure whether to shake his hand or hide my wallet. I certainly hope to run into him again. You know me, I like people who are just a bit "off."

Carrying further into single travelers, we have Verne from Pine Colorado, who I mentioned in an ealier blog as having met up with a waist-high concrete wall while taking a corner on a descent. After a rather spectactular crash (given an 8.9 by the judges), he was relegated to riding shotgun in the van during our daily battles with insanely hard mountain passes. I met Verne a few years ago, while riding across the Southern Route of Italy on a 13 day trip with Don and Alison....

Speaking of Don and Alison, they are just plain crazy. Don used to race bikes at the elite level for amateurs. He and Alison decided to ride across the US last year with Trek Travel... Imagine riding 3000 miles, in just over 30 days... Yes, your quick math is right...that's about 100 miles a day, with only 3 rest days... They've done lots of cycling and other wildly adventurous trips in their lives, and are way fun to hang out with. Don has one speed: Fast. Allie has one speed: consistent. They don't ride together often, but that's ok... While Don is busy getting lost, Allie hangs with us more sane mortals and we all wind up at the finish at the same time. They're my new best friends (and not cuz they live in Aspen either...no really...)

The Colorado connection was huge on our trip. Dave and Kris were a couple from Steamboat.. Ya.I know..rough life. These two celebrated their 15 year anniversary while out with us, and are super strong riders. Of course, when you live at like 7000 feet, you become a good rider eh? Kris works at the Steamboat hospital, and I'm not quite sure what Dave does, other than do his best to pick out clothes that clash with epic proportions.

Doctor Ed from Denver is (obviously) also from Colorado, who used to live in Steamboat but traded it in for the wild adventures of the LoDo area in Denver. I salute Ed for never letting a bike ride (or the hours before noon) interfere with his exploration of all things barley, yeast, hops and water related. Not only did he embrace beer in a country known for its wine, he tried just about every type of local dish possible, ensuring he strayed as far as one could from typical tourism. Ed's the man. I respect his sense of adventure and ability to cruise up and down
mountains with a belly full of meat and beer. In Points system that guys use to rank their friends on manliness (you know..stuff like sports trivia, beer consumption, relative hotness of girlfriend/wife etc), Ed scores huge. I've got three words for Ed: "Dessert Sampler Platter"

Rounding out the Colored state, were Paul and Molly from Boulder. Gee, another terrible Colorado town eh? They live at like 9000 ft, where I believe them to be the founders of a local militia. Dave simply calls himself a "consultant," without exactly sharing what he consults on. I've got news for you two, the government is on to your spycraft and cloak-and-dagger routines. I saw you checking out those military installations in the Dolomites with a curious furvor. Don't be surprized if you can't get back into the country. I bet their house is right next to NORAD...

My favorite couple of the trip had to be Niel and Sandy from Seattle. Sandy is super funny and way high energy (coming from me, that's saying something). She and Neil just got married recently, and cycle a lot together. This was their first cycling trip to Italy, and the Dolomites really spoke to Sandy. Her descending skills skyrocketed over just a few days.. Neil is a true champion in my mind. He brought up the rear of our group every day, up the climbs, down the descents, and to warm food and wine...all on a hybrid bike while we were on roadbikes.. He didn't care, he was riding in Italy, conquering the massive Dolomites. A lot of people could use a good dose of Neil's attitude when dealing with challenges. He does what's right for him, and has a great time doing it. He wins the Biggest Smile award most certainly. When it was absolutely dumping rain one day, he and Sandy said "eh, what's a little water, we live in Seattle...this is like a sunny day for us." They rock.

Our lone single lass was Amy, who I unfortunately don't have a photo of (Sorry Amy!!!). Amy has been on 7 trips with Ciclismo Classico, and works for Satan - I mean "HR." :) Seriously though, anyone who can work HR for a German company like SAP, has got to have some serious cajones and not take any crap. Hats off to her! Amy and I had a great time punning along, with whatever word came to mind, and then abusing it ad naseum. Cycling Bear was a frequent source of bear-y bad puns... (don't get me started, I can bear-ly type on this computer..). Wow I crack myself up sometimes.

The final entry in this Cast of Characters is Stuart. Stuart is funny...I thought him to be from New York. Uptight, high-strung, and hilarious. This guy was fun to talk to. Imagine my surprise when I learned he is from Minnesota. He's been on numerous Ciclismo Classic trips too, and has some seriously cool Italian cycling team kits. Most impressively, he's one scrappy climber. Every time you turn around, Stuart was there, hammering along, flying up mountains. I can only hope to be that fit and scrappy when I'm 60 too!! That's what is so cool about these trips...you think everyone is like 10 years younger than they seem... I still want to check Ed's and Sandy's Driver's Licenses..... I think they lied...there's no way they're as old as they say they are....

Our Guides were Enrico and Massimo, who are certainly all Italian. Enrico is the more talkative of the two, but Massimo is a proclaimed poet, a combination which enabled the two of them to work really well together. This was their first trip working together, and they've both led like 80 trips each over 8 years. I met Enrico when I did the Sea-To-Sea trip in 2006 with Don, Allison and Verne.. cool little reunion it was! I'm hoping to score an invitation to Enrico's super special 100th Trip sometime in 2010. (PLEEEASE!!?!?!?). Massimo loves to ride up and down hills as only a tall, lanky Italian cyclist can. He's the one with the quote of the trip that I menioned on Day 1 "On this trip, you go up; you go down; there is no flat." He was suredly right in every sense of the word!! I will hopefully see Massimo again next August on a specially designed cycling trip through France and the Mount Blanc region. I HIGHLY recommend you find a CC trip with one of these two guys on it!!

Lastly, but of course not least, were my two "other" companions, Cycling Bear and Alpine Bear. They may be brothers, partners or who-knows-what. I have no idea what goes on between them when I put them into the suitcase. Yes, I brought two stuffed Starbucks bears to send photos home of. Go ahead and mock all you want, these two will have way more fun in the next 8 weeks than most of us do ;) They even have a Facebook page called Bare Bear. (long story). They've been to Bali, Fiji, Aitutaki, Hawaii, Italy, Costa Rica, Mexico and a host of other places.... More to follow... At first glance it seems a tad bizarre (well, ok, even thrid glance), but eventually everyone embraces traveling bears...
And now... as I head towards the land of Chocolate, Cheese and amazing Alpine Peaks, my trip goes from two wheels to two feet. Let's hope my super-cool and over-priced new hiking shoes I bought in Cortina, will keep my feet blister-free!

Dolomite Culture and some Cycling Days 7-9

2008-09-13T04:21:00.000-07:00

(The photo above is THE town of Asiago....stinky cheese lovers rejoice!!)

More cool photos can be seen here on Flickr

Day 6 Route was here (I couldn't get it in the Day 6 summary). 4 climbs of death and true Dolomite wonder
Day 7 Route was here, which started in a beyond description cute mountain town, thankfully with a great downhill for 8 miles, then a beautiful climb up 2 passes
Day 8 Route was here, which started with a ridiculous climb on Army supply roads, and a great tour through the town of Asiago, ending pre-emptively with a massive rainstorm of hurricane proportions.

Days 7-9...
So other than the short comments on the routes above, I decided that rather than whine about climbing heinous peaks and descending wild twisty roads, I would love to mention the culture and fun that is this region of Italia.

First off, this area and these mountains were the scenes of massive and drawn-out battles in WW1 between the Italians and the Austrians. The photos and bits I mention in my last post, give a little background. These two sides basically waged a mountainous war through the worst winter ever recorded in Italy, in 1916. They burrowed tunnels and complete outposts into the mountains at 8000 ft. Lobbing bombs and sniper fire down onto each others' supply routes. Can you imagine sitting in a wet, cold limestone tunnel, firing a machine gun at people you can barely see? 1500 lb. bomb shells getting shot up at you, in the middle of winter...duuude!!

Most of the mountain passes and roads we've been riding, were wartime troop and ammunition supply routes. They would haul massive artillery guns up and down these 15% roads, for 12 or 15 miles... wow! The town of fabled stinky cheese, Asiago, was completely destroyed like 5x over during the war. Really now...is stinky cheese that worth it?? We saw a lot of the wartime tunnelling evidenced during the hike on Day 5, and just about every mountain pass we've seen. The history is cool. Each town in the area has a monument to all the local residents lost in each of the two Great Wars. Every time one of the glaciers recedes a little bit more, they find old soldiers and ammunition laying on the mountainside. Recently, a fully dressed warrior from the Napoleanic wars was discovered in the wall of a receding glacier.

The cool thing about the Italians, is that they really enjoy their outdoors. All along these back roads we've been cycling on, are little picnic areas that are in pristine condition, no graffiti, and all the trash is in the trash cans. At about every other one, you see a family or group of young kids having lunch or just hanging out enjoying the view. I came across one particular spot, in the middle of a hairpin turn on the climb to Passo Rolle. We as Americans could certainly learn from their sense of family time.

The alpine and German influences are also evident in all the dairy cattle roaming the lush green hills. On the Passo Valle climb of death, along the entire way all I could hear was hundreds and hundreds of cowbells (when not hearning my heart wanting to leap out of my chest). People here also speak German and Italian dually. It's way cool. The photo over on the right shows where I stopped and just listened to the surrounding clings and clangs, thankfully at an altitude high enough to prevent the horse flies from biting me relentlessly.

One of the other really unique things, are these places called AgriTourismo. They're sorta farms that have become hotels/bed-and-breakfasts/ historical locales. The government gives the owners money to remodel their farmhouses and barns etc., to give travelers places to eat, maybe sleep, and participate even in the milking of cows etc. What this all equates to, is super fresh food, all natural ingredients, and a level of freshness that is unparalleled anywhere else you may be. At the agritourismo at the top of Passo Brancon, we had a very tasty lunch that was insanely satisfying. Local meat in the meatballos, tomatoes and mozzerella from the garden out back and cows in the yard, and then.....the best part ever - ice cream (gellato) with the most amazingly fresh whipped cream (panna) that I've ever had. The cream in the ice cream was inside ol' bessie the cow, the day before, if not that morning... pure yum of the utmost fat-and-sugar exctasy.

Even though the climbs we've been toiling over have proven to be unrelenting, and at times inspiring in a sadistic sorta way, they all have bars and restaurants at the top. Some of the passes also have these places called "refugios" which are just like they sound...a refuge from the weather and whatever crazy outdoor thing you're doing. For the mountainous and adventurous of folks, you can get this Dolomite Passport, wherein you can put stamps and stickers from each of the Passes.

Ok...those are enough babbles for one day. The remains of Hurricane Henry (or whatever it was) have made their way to Europe, and it's dumping rain here and windy.. Steve and I didn't ride today due to the rain,(it's our last day) and have begun preparation for our trips in different directions. I'm heading to the Alps, and Steve to Bulgaria..... More entries coming in a few days.... Be well, and I bid goodbye to the Dolomites

Climbs of Death...or "Days 4-6 in the Dolomites"

2008-09-11T09:30:00.000-07:00

(note, due to connectivity issues, the Day 6 Ride ride profile from the Garmin will be up shortly) Flickr photos can be found here - the most beautiful so far!!!

Day 4 ... The Ride after the rainstorm from hell:
Today was a very challenging day. What we thought would be a fantastic day of pure high mountain sunshine and beautiful views, wound up with a spectacular bike wreck that sent one guy to the hospital, an Audi A5 almost prematurely ending my life at 200kph and some lost luggage.

We climbed (duh) up this beautiful mountain to the Passo Fedaia (6957 ft), and then had this pristine descent of about 12 k, that took us across high mountain plains, wooded forests, and sweeping turns. At one point I saw 90kph (57 mph) on my computer. At the lower part into the shady corners of the lower mountains, there was still some water on the roads from the rain the day before. Alas, danger found us. Coming into the very last turn of the descent, I was behind Verne (who I know from a previous trip). We were having a great time through the corners being cautious when called for, and hauling ass when the roads presented themselves. So, at the last turn, Verne locked up his back wheel, and then skidded directly into a waist-high concrete wall. The wall won. Handidly.(the photo on the right shows the scratch from Verne's bike) The sudden decelleration left Verne in the middle of the road in a position that had me question whether he had departed this dear planet. Begin hyperventilation and freakout. Fortunately, before I started to scream like a little schoolgirl, Verne got up after a few verrrrry long seconds, and fortunately only had a bunch of cuts and some road rash on his face, (and apparently later, a smoking hot ER nurse). Only Verne could bash himself into a concrete wall, and then find a hot nurse.

(Note to mom... don't read the next paragraph...scroll down and skip!!)
Fast forwarding to a few hours later, I was rolling down another descent (Passo Valle) a tad faster than what would be sane, enjoying the Italian wind sreaming in my helmet, careening around corners, and whooping it all up (you get the idea), when I spied an Audi A5 in my lane, doing well over 60 mph passing some Fiat looking thing. I was ohhhh about 200 yards away, when this all went down, and immediately started to say my goodbyes to the world... He flashed his brights at me (dude, what the hell am I supposed to do at this point? you're in my lane, I'm on a bike with skinny little tires, going about 50 mph...friggin moron)... I swerved, he swerved, and somehow, as I was straddling the white line on the edge of the road - planning my bail out point into the grass - I got pulled back into the lane by the trailing eddy of the car. I actually felt his rear view mirror nick my jacket sleeve... Needless to say, I was rattled... Alas, no blood, no foul... Fortunately the next day we had off....

Our ride and near death experiences, took place here

Day 5 was our rest day... I'm sorry, rest? how about a 7 mile hike at 7000ft ? Ya, let's do that... The place we hiked around, has a substantial amount of importance in WW1. The Italians and Austrians battled it out over 2 winters in these craggy peaks. Both sides burrowed all these tunnels and lookout points into the mountains in 1916-1918, as a way to shoot at the enemies down in the valleys. Most of the passes and roads in this area were all built as supply routes and troop movement routes for the War. These guys stayed in these limestone tunnels and shot guns in the freezing cold, sometimes going months without resupply, and were still required to have clean underwear... WTF?!? You can look up into these massive walls, and see holes in the middle, where the Italians would sit in and shoot guns at the Austrians.. Seriously scary stuff, but beautiful views! (of course, we have goretex, and can go sleep in a bed... imagine 2 years in a rock hole, that's always wet, shooting guns in an echo chamber, and not really knowing why... War just seems stoooopid yes? The views here were dramatic, the trail beautiful, and Alpine Bear even got out and scaled a huge boulder. (Cycling Bear needed a day off... and Alpine Bear needed some practice for his hiking in the Swiss Alps next week with my other great friend Todd Nelson)

Apparently we needed a day off on Day 5, because Day 6 was supposed to really, truly and seriously suck. It did not disappoint.
Day 6 Summary..
Stick a fork in me bob, I'm done. The numbers say it all: 55 miles, 8873 feet of climbing, taking 5 hours. Ya...that's right, an average speed of 11 miles an hour. excellent
We had three major passes to vault over...
Pass of Death One: Passo Giao was 10 miles at 8%, that had us climb 3300ft to an altitude of 7335 ft.
Pass of Death Two: Passo Valles was a leg destroying 12.5 miles between 10% and 14%, with a crushing 4130ft. of climbing, and a maximum altitude of 6670ft.
Pass of Death Three: Passo Rolle was a forgiving 4 miles at 8%, taking us up 1443ft.

The day was, to say the least, heinous. All of the climbs we did today, you see in the Giro d' Italia with lots of frequency. The Passo Giao was in this year's Giro. These are HC climbs of the most ridiculous sort. ("HC" means Hors' Catagorie in the rating system of 1-4, which means Beyond Catagory...I think it means "Heinous Climb" personally). The profiles of our two major climbs, plus the Garmin Summary, are at the end of this novelle... We started out climbing straight the heck up, to the Giao, which took about an Hour 15. We then had a great and beauuuutiful descent that caused me to break a spoke... darn!! After a wheel change we went to lunch in the most beautiful and cute little mountain town named Alleghe. Then it came.... 12.5 miles, 20 kilometers of pure climbing hell..I mean joy... The best part? It actually increased several percent about the halfway point. Carnage was profuse. Profanity was requisite. Arriving at the top was subdued from the hypoxia and plain disbelief that we actually made it. Perhaps it's the cumulative 27000 feet of climbing we've done in 5 days, 5 hours in the saddle every day, or the damn good food...but wow, we're all darn tired. I love love love this trip.

The funny thing about this trip, is usually the direction sheets we get are highly detailed and encompass every turn, nook and cranny or the ride. This helps you navigate the unfamiliar roads and turns, broken down sometimes into every 100 meters. A typical route list from my Piemonte trip would be four pages and would go something like this:
Distance Route Notes
0.0 km With back to Hotel, leave and turn left
0.2 km at roundabout take second exit
3.3 km easy to miss: follow road to the left towards Alba
3.5 km At Intersection, bear left direction Barolo
(etc etc etc)

So, on this Dolomite trip, where we pretty much climb up and down mountain passes, the Route Notes are barely one page, and look something like this:
Distance Route Notes
0.0 km With Back to Hotel, leave and turn left
0.2 km Turn right, and begin 20 km climb
20.2 km Passo Selle (7400 ft)
20.3 km descend steep switcbacks, use caution
28.9 km Town of Caviola, turn left and climb 15.5 km
45 km Passo Falzarego (7089 ft). Regroup for lunch.
The entire sheet would have only 15 lines of directions for 50 miles. The Piemonte directions were so intricate that it took a lot more description and notes to ensure you don't get lost, sometimes down to every 100 meters...not 20k between the note lines. good fun!!

profile on the left is 20 km (12.5 miles), profile on the right is 9k (8 miles)

Blue means 6% - 8%

Yellow means 8% - 10%

Red is 10%++ (or.."you've GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!")

Recover on the 6 Percent Climb....aka "cycling the Dolomites"

2008-09-08T13:46:00.000-07:00

Days 1-3 Summary in the Dolomites....

As our guide Mossimo said on our first day: "on this trip: You go up. You go down...there is no flat." Well, not counting Day 1, he was unbelievably right.

On Day 2, we were all chomping at the bit after our leisurely 16 mile flat stroll the day before (see Day 1 route here) Nothing too exciting on Day 1, but it was a really pretty ride along the Isarco River... We've certainly got us a fantastically diverse group that should lead to some excellent conversations. The whole area of Bolzano has this amazing bike trail system that goes all the way to Verona - a whopping 250km away! wow!

Steve finally managed to make it to Bolzano in the evening, after having one of those trips that proves a challenge to your sanity (and to which I said "better you than me brother") ;) Naturally, Steve had to completely rip his bike apart and rebuild it until 12:15 am, while I was trying to sleep with all the %^&$!! room lights on. Realizing that I don't particularly enjoy sleeping, he decided to redo his handlebar tape at 6 am... I'll have to re-think the whole "shared room" thing next year ;) Thank gawd for strong Italian coffee. Wouldn't trade it though, to have my best friend here with me.

On Day 2 our ride really began. Our ride briefing said we had a "gentle roll" for the first 9k, then a nice and "interesting" climb for 10k or so, with some fun sections. We would briefly regroup, and then roll upwards to a gourmet lunch. Unfortunately, something kinda got lost in the translation. Perhaps it was the fact that our guide is a 6'4", 155lbs wiry streak of Italian climbing machine, who is best friends with the manager of the professional Aqua Sapone Cycling team. Ya...there's also this little mountain in Nepal named Everest that people like to climb as well. What really happened, you can see here on the web. Our "interesting" first climb was an unrelenting 10% climb for 20-friggin-kilometers, which was mercilously broken down into 10k at 10%, 3k at a leg-searing 15%-20% (yes you read that correctly ..see the photo over to the right), and then another 7k of "recovery" at 6%-8%. I mean, c'mon, what kind of psycho mountain goat recovers on a 6% climb? Duuude... After a lunch of spaghetti with ragu, a bratwurst and weissbier, we tackled the last little bump and then decended. Haiiiiry when you can out-descend the motorcycles ;)

Yes, I took the elevator to my room on the SECOND STORY after that... And oh gee, this was Day 2. I've got 8 more... what, dear gawd have I gotten myself into?? Beer and schnitzel please!!?!? Excuse me as I go put a motor on my bike...

Day3 ...
4 Climbs, 6500 ft. of climbing...oh ya.. and absolutely pouring rain...
So, today was our grand day of climing, with 4 passes of death, Passo Sella (12k at 8%), Passo Gardena (6k at 6%), Passo Campolongo (9k at 10%) and Passo Pordoi (9.5k at 8-12%)... check out the ridiculously heinous profile here. It was cold, it was windy, it was pure mountain heaven. These are the classic climbs through craggy passes where cycling legends are made.

We made the first three climbs with under some gray skies that were forboding. We all hoped the rain would stay up in the sky, and not on the roads. The climbs were beautiful and green, with the tops of the climbs loaded with jagged peaks. Again, these mountains are huge. At the top of Passo Pordoi is a monument to Fausto Coppi, who is the greatest Italian cycling legend of all time. The museum I went to on Day 1 of Piemonte, was mostly dedicated to Fausto. In the middle of the last climb, I noticed I was breathing harder than usual, and then realized...oh ya....we were at 7100ft!!

All of the folks made it to the top of our last climb, and then the rain started. Some of the faster people went over before the skies opened up, and an unfathomable quantity of water was unleashed upon the Earth below. Imagine a massive tropical rainstorm, and then put that on top of a mountain and make it 40 degrees outside. And oh ya...after 55k of riding, with 37k of it going up. There was no way to sensibly ride down. The final climb was 33 hairpin turns up, and 25 hair-pin turns down. Talk about kissing your sister...all that work, but no climax... No harrowing descent at 80kph, no forearms throbbing from squeezing the brakes, no smell of crystalizing rubber as the breaks overheat. Just a simple van ride down the mountain to make the sensible move. Ed our Denver doctor decided to start the descent in the middle of the downpour. (?!?!?!?) Water wasn't merely coming out of the gutters on the roofs at this point, it was projecting out with water-cannon-like fury. Crazy man!!!

Check out the photos on Flickr here (or so I think)

Day 4 is soo crazy, I'm going to devote an entire entry to it... (spoiler hint: one guy crashed hard and needed an ambulance, we lost a bag of luggage, and I almost got hit head-on by an Audi R8 at about 200kph...at least it would have been painless eh?)

A Presto!!

Bolzano...or is it Bolzen??

2008-09-06T12:40:00.000-07:00

All Hail the Germans!!
Thank gawd, I can read the signs again. This town of Bolzano used to be part of the Austran Empire before WWI, and has retained it's teutonic influences. Some good, some bad. The food is heavier, but I can get a Heffeweissen. I can read the language, but the other tourists are rude. People are more anglo looking, but they smoke like chimneys. Everything is just a tad neater, but there is something lost in an ordered society.

There are two official languages of the area: Italian and German. There's something weird about speaking in German, in Italy. It's strangely comforting, but kind of a bummer that I'm not so confused any more. I do enjoy being out of my element...this is where we learn and grow eh? After 8 days of impossibly good wine and cuisine of the utmost caliber, I rejoiced in the simple pleasure of a pizza and beer, followed up by a massive ice cream sundae. No wine, no gelato, no petite braised pork loin. Pure fat and carbs. Deeeeelicious.

The Dolomites, for those never having the previous pleasure of laying eyes on them, are big mountains. And they go straight up. None of this gentle slope like the Sierras, where you drive for 60 miles from Auburn to Truckee. Imagine chopping off the west approach of the Sierra Nevada at about Sugar bowl, and dropping straight down to sea level. From where I'm sitting, amidst a second-hand smoke Corridor of Cancer, I have to tilt my head back a bit to see the local peak like a mile away, at about 3500 feet. Of course, being an adorably cute mountain town in Europe, everyone rides bikes. And I mean everyone. Women in their spikey shoes, men in business suits, nuns and kids. Everyone else walks. No one is fat except for the tourists (usually Germans...no fat mid-western Americans here... too far from all the other usual traps and big cities). This is exactly what you'd imagine in a typical SudTirolean town. Cobbles, leisurely pace, lots of restaurants. Surprizingly, the wines offered here suck. We ARE stll in Italy yes?? Beer good, wine bad.

I went on a run... , promptly got lost, and wound up running for 70 minutes. The day before we go climb mountains... excellent decision on my part. Sore legs, 30k of climbing... great combination. I did get to see a castle though, and that was cool. :)
Our first real day of riding was brutal, so I'll start that whole spiel with the next entry....(hint: think 30k climb at 10%-20%)...

yipes!!!

Mi Scuzzi, peri "Haul Ass"

2008-09-04T06:46:00.000-07:00

Day 7 or so (what day is it? I think Wednesday) 03-September-08

Alas, trip one has passed. One of 8 weeks down. I depart the gently rolling hills and countryside of Piemonte, for the spiky, craggy peaks of the Dolomites (Il Dolomiti), and more cycling with my buddy Steve. As I sit speeding along the aforementioned countryside in a pleasantly resplendent train, I am quite pleased to discover this train has a plug to power my laptop duing the journey (read: I get to babble longer). Of course, how do you say in Italian: "hey Guido, you're sitting in my seat that I paid 50Euro for, haul ass." My 7 minute connection to my second train was even more interesting. My train was on Track 2 allegedly. I saw Tracks 1,3,4,5,6,7,8, 9 and 10. Every possible integer, except the one holding my ability to continue my journey. Oh, ya.. Track 2 is on the other side of the train station, around the corner, on an elevated platform....because it goes a specific direction. WTF? why a track number in the middle of the sequence? why not 1 or 10? Friggin Italians... I bet some guys wearing orange capris designed the numbering scheme.

That rant aside, this trip was certainly an exceptionally interesting and educational experience in wine, and to anyone wanting to cycle Italia, I wholeheartedly recommend this tour. I really enjoyed Tuscany, but Piemonte is way better (and Backroads in Tuscany wasnt't particularly impressive for the $4500). Ciclismo Classico is absolutely THE company to take when cycling Italy. Their guides are Italian nationals, and truly love sharing their glorious country with you. The also love to laugh at you when you speak in fake Italian accents: "Alo, were ees thee O-tel? Eyee Ave a Room-a." Our experiences in karaoke are beyond description... I shan't recount them here... :)

As this was the "Land of Barolo & Truffles" trip, I must share details on the liquid goodness... Wines we had, entail a wide array of vintages... we totalled 16 different grapes. Remember though, that many grapes create different vintages (i.e. a Barolo and Barbaresco are both made from the Nebbiolo grape), and then they get all crazy with blending.. All told, we tried probably 20+ types of wine and blends thereof. If you're keeping track:
Red Grapes: Fresa, Ruche, Dolcetto, Nebbiolo, Grignolino, Bonarda, Barbera
White Grapes: Cortese, Arneis (my new favorite!!), Timorasso, Favorita, Herbaluce, Muscato, Chardonnay
Sweet dessert wine grapes: Brachetto, Malbasia
I've become accustomed to 5-9 glasses of wine a day, and 50 miles on the bike that take 7 hours to complete. My familiarity with Italia and their wines has forever altered my love of Napa, In-N-Out Burger, Oaked Chardonnay (gasp!!!) and Dreyer's ice cream. I'm now all about Nutella, Prosciuto and Melon, Gelato, Nebbiolo and Arneis.....

The cool thing that Ciclismo Classico does, that Backroads does not, is they do a Wine Kitty. "Il gato del vino" if you will. The goal? of course...Kill The Kitty!!
Meow to that... This is key in importance on numerous levels. (allow me this tangent: CiClassico guides do this professionally, as in it's their career, and Italy is their passion. They are specifically trained in history, wine and olive oil, and among innumerable other things - are excellent cyclists. In a word: they rock. They are, in every sense of the word- Italian. Backroads uses 20-Something Americans who haven't figured out what to do with their lives yet, and can't particularly ride a bike - no affront towards my buddy Matty G, who used to guide for Backroads in the US and is an outstanding cyclist). Whereas Backroads guides are excellent hosts, they are Americans who love Italy. CiClassico uses Italians.. The wine kitty's importance is that we all throw down about $200 US and the guides go and buy wines that we would never discover otherwise. They then teach you all about the wines, the wine makers, the regions and what each personality is like. It's as important and fun as the cycling. The winery tours and enoteca visits also are awesome. Basically, each day we would pedal past the very same vines, that in previous years had yielded their precious fruit that danced on our tastebuds later in the day.

Our final three-hour dinner of pure joy, went something like this: A Cortese Spumanti (think champagne) with these thinly sliced breads with salmon, tuna and veggies as a Pre-Appetizer. Then the appetizer of a Pheasant/vegetable/bread kinda tort thing with a bottle of Arneis . Yuuummmy.. Then the First course of a Barolo with some lamb ravioli and salad. Usually enough...but oh yes, there's more. For Second course we then moved to a Barbera decanted for an hour, (three words: Oh. My. Gawd) with a fantastically seasoned pork loin with these pearl onions that were marinated in a balsamic/garlic/olive oil sauce. Loosening up the belt we then had a Riccotta sorta mousse thing that escapes describability, with some Muscato and of course... for Patty...GRAPA. Oh. Dear. Gawd

After all that, I waddle back to my room in the 15th Century monastery, that was complete with a 50 inch plasma. Nice.

And this is only week 1.

(oh ya...the ride route...almost forgot...more vinyards, hot weather, hills, fantastic roads and booze/food/gelato along the way check it out here)