Venezia

Siamo in italia

Yesterday we were in three countries, passing from Croatia to Slovenia
and into Italy, covering a little over 200km.

At one point Jesse's leaking tire was a cause for major concern, and
he was starting to think a bus would be in order; fortunately we met
an Italian with a pump dispensing "magic air" that kept the thing
inflated for the rest of the day. It also allowed us to reach the
Italian border, where Jesse amused the drivers with his displays of
love and affection for the Italia sign - when he peeled himself away
we were able to roll across into his promised land.

Today: victory laps in St Mark's square.

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Croatian charity

I am typing this from a cot in a Franciscan monastery on the island of
Cres, where we were able to take shelter from a vicious thunderstorm
that prevented us reaching our destination for the day.

Having disembarked from our ferry, we were making good time when the
sky turned black, the rain started bucketing, and the wind started
blowing over the road signs. Thinking discretion the better form of
valour, we sought shelter in town instead of pressing on into the
gathering dark of the evening. However, not only was there no room at
any of the inns, but several people looked at the two desperate
travellers and laughed, or suggested we head out into the tempest for
the next town. This would be less disconcerting were it not the latest
in a long line of generally rude and unhelpful Croatians in hotels,
tourist offices and restaurants, making it instead the final straw.
(Jesse wants me to add that although this morning we were in a four
star hotel, he found people in Zadar so awful that he's far happier on
a stone floor this evening).

Our last resort tonight was an old barn with the door ajar; the
penultimate resort was this monastery where, after some coaxing
(involving Jesse waving his crucifix around) and some displays of
appropriate desperation, we have received some "caritas" (food and pot
of pasta) for which we are extremely grateful. It is nevertheless
still worth noting that none of the people who took us in are
Croatians; in one of life's nice little ironies the most helpful
people we've found in Croatia are a bunch of Germans...

Must go, monk giving me dirty look for playing with phone after lights
out. Ciao.

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Hvar

After spending the morning on ferries hopping from Korcula to mainland
and back out to the islands, we rode the length of the island of Hvar,
a distance of some 80km. This ride offered, especially at the
relatively deserted eastern end, some of the best vistas we've yet
seen, but was let down in the overall rankings by the often dodgy road
quality.

Arriving at Hvar - a pretty little fishing port now glitzed up with
five star hotels - we set about the usual task of locating
accommodation. For most of Croatia so far this has been a matter of
spotting someone offering "sobe - zimmer - camere - apartamani" and
asking them for the room in their house. These places tend to lack
some of the creature comforts of the hotels (phones, TVs, breakfast)
but they are also not outrageously over-priced. At the end of the
day's riding all we really need is a shower and a bed, though over the
last couple of days we seem to have neglected the former in favor of
jumping into the sea with the locals. Needless to say, we are perhaps
not as clean as we should be...

The evening in Hvar passed without incident, occupied mainly by a big
dinner and some people-watching. We established that of all the
fabulous people promenading around the place, we were certainly the
only ones with beards, and most likely the scruffiest. Then again, we
were also the only ones who'd arrived in town by bicycle, so at least
we had that excuse...

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Korcula and Dubrovnik

We arrived in Dubrovnik on Monday evening, and are currently on a
ferry from the island of Korcula, heading for the island of Hvar,
kepping away from the busy coastal road by island-hopping instead.

Dubrovnik was great, a very Venetian old town surrounded by sea walls
that we ended up clambering around in search of what Jesse assured me
would be a better place to swim. After some rock climbing and the old
"swimming / keeping valuables dry with one arm in the air" trick, we
made an amphibious landing at a secret bar tucked into the rocks
between the walls and the sea. Several sundowners and some excellent
banter with the Aussies later, it was time to return to the convent
where we had secured rooms for the night (yes, you read that right,
the convent).

Yesterday we rode 130km out from Dubrovnik along the coastal road,
then a peninsula heading out to the islands. Beautiful riding through
vineyards, mountains, all with glorious views of the Adriatic in the
background. Eventually we rolled into a small ferry-port, taking a
boat across the strait to Korcula, which turned out to be a slightly
dubious backpacker haven and also where two old friends from Oxford
were on holiday. Small world...

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Dubrovnik at last

Andrew refuelling in Croatia

Albania to Montenegro: the darkest hour cometh before the dawn

I think it's fair to say that neither Jesse nor I was particularly
enamoured of Albania, and this burgeoning dislike was hardly helped by
this morning's riding. We started out on the main road from Tirana,
dodging market stalls, microbuses, ruts, goats and horse-drawn carts,
eventually reaching city limits. There we found ourselves riding
against a flow of wedding processions, with all the cars decked in
pink ribbons and honking their horns. We thought this mildly
entertaining until an Albanian leaned out of a car window right next
to us and started firing shots from his pistol into the air. I think
he was celebrating, but we hit the gas and got out of there at high
speed.

Later, after an hour spent on one of the worst roads I've ever ridden,
even on a mountain bike, Jesse had an illuminating conversation with
some young Albanians. The one who spoke decent English said "so,
Albania really sucks, right?", to which Jesse made some polite
response about how it wasn't all bad really. The Albanian's response
said it all: "that's because you're passing through - you don't have
to live here."

Leaving Albania changed everything about the day. Instead of terrible
roads littered with the remains of industrial machinery and soviet
sculpture, we were on country lanes lined by hedgerows, giving way
later to views of the Adriatic. Riding along the coast, looking out at
tenth-century monasteries, or on craggy islands lit by the setting
sun, it was hard to believe that only this morning we'd been as close
to despair as we've been on this trip.

Tomorrow: to Dubrovnik, and Croatia!

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Jesse's opinion of Albania (mine not dissimilar)

Tirana tidings

I hate to say it, but Albania is not the most inspiring country,
though I am pleased to be able to say that what it lacks in, well,
everything, it makes up in great mountain scenery.

I think our suspicions were first raised by the incredible abundance
of car wash (by hand) businesses here - literally whole towns of
"lavazho" and one tacked onto every roadside restaurant. Jesse
remarked on this phenomenon to a guy we met in a gas station, and his
response more or less said it all; "it's because our country is so
dirty". Elsewhere we saw city-sized factories, statues of communist
iron fists, and many, many disused machine gun bunkers.

However, on the climb up to the pass above Tirana we also encountered
some spectacular scenery, and the rare opportunity to ride for a long
time along a high ridge line. At some points there were vertical drops
on both sides of the ridge, and after 10km or so we plunged downwards
to the rather dreary capital.

Today brought our total distance since Istanbul to almost 1100km in
six days; tomorrow we will head for the border and cross into
Montenegro.

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Beards and crucifixes in Albania

Tan lines...

Macedonian missive

Jesse and I are now at the monastery of St Naum, situated on a lake in
south-western Macedonia. We're not sure exactly what St Naum did
beyond get martyred sometime in the tenth century, but he left behind
a rather beautiful little church, where we have been the latest
lighters of candles and sayers of prayers in a tradition going back a
thousand years. Apparently the icons here are known for their healing
of the mentally ill - I'm afraid to report that as yet neither of us
has been healed to the extent that we've decided to abandon this bike
trip.

The monastic community here has all but disappeared, sadly, and the
whole area has been converted into a holiday camp for weekending
Macedonians. These are a rather strange breed, we have decided, but
the upside is that our spandex looks relatively tame next to the
Macedonian male's swimwear of choice.

In order to get here we had two climbs, one just across the border to
get to the first of our lakes, and the second climb taking us up over
12km to 1600m in altitude. At the top the mountain fell away almost
vertically into the blue lake below; the only other people up there
with us were the local hang-gliders.

We've now done over 500 miles in 5 days since Istanbul, and tomorrow
we will head across yet another border to Tirana, the Albanian
capital.

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Macedonian lake district

Live from Florina, Greece

As I type we are in a bar on the main drag of Florina, a town right
near the Macedonian border (which we cross tomorrow). For some reason
all the inhabitants of this small town appear to be crowded onto this
one street, partying for no discernible reason other than it being a
Thursday or, as Jesse might have it, that we're in town. Either way,
we stand out as the bearded foreigners, doubly so given that we lack
faux-hawks or euro-mullets; evidently we are simply not cool enough to
hang here.

We did however have a very scenic day of riding, clocking in at a mere
135km after yesterday's epic. Early in the day we passed Pella,
ancient capital of the Macedonian kingdom and home to Alexander, then
moved on through lush farmland overloaded with peaches and nectarines.
Jesse was tremendously excited by what evidence he saw of the various
workings of the agricultural system; I was more inspired when we hit
the rivers and mountains later in the day. Unfortunately the mountain
scenery came with the added bonus of some climbing, during which we
both had cause to curse the greek road builders for omitting the
switchbacks.

We arrived in Florina before dark - a novelty so far since jesse
turned up - and found an amazing taverna for dinner and two bottles of
the house red (which, appropriately enough, was also home made). Now
back up the hill to the king alexander hotel, and on tomorrow to
Macedonia proper.

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Near Macedonia

To Thessalonika

260km was the day's tally, bringing our three-day total to 640km.

At one point today, after 100k or so and with a long way yet to ride,
we saw an old man floating quietly in the beautiful blue water of an
inlet beneath us. Looking at his serenity, then back at us, caked in
sweat and with more to come, Jesse's comment was "maybe he knows
something we don't." Amen to that.

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To Thessalonika

260km was the day's tally, bringing our three-day total to 640km.

At one point today, after 100k or so and with a long way yet to ride,
we saw an old man floating quietly in the beautiful blue water of an
inlet beneath us. Looking at his serenity, then back at us, caked in
sweat and with more to come, Jesse's comment was "maybe he knows
something we don't." Amen to that.

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Elzinga: unable to decide which former soviet location he wants to go to

Jesse enjoying a fruity cocktail, Xanthi

Day 2 of the Elzinga experience

We crossed the border this morning into Greece, then rode 186km.

Highlights of the day included taking a swim in the Aegean from a
secluded beach, finishing the day out with a 40km "time trial" in the
final hour (Jesse wishes all to know that he was "strong like bull",
doing all the work), and watching Jesse order a pina colada without
even a hint of irony.

We're now in Xanthi - no idea where we'll end up tomorrow, but I
suspect it will be a long way down the road.

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Istanbul, and Jesse's arrival

I spent two full days in Istanbul, soaking up the sights and sounds
both before and after the arrival of my reinforcements in the form of
JR Elzinga esq.

While there I found myself no longer the only tourist in town, and had
to deal with the tourist hoardes and their ever-snapping camera
fingers. Haghia Sophia was full of them, the Blue Mosque moreso; in
the latter I overheard one American ask his tour guide "so the Koran
is basically the same as the old testament, right?"

Looking beyond the tourists, it was a fun experience, and the Rustem
Pasha mosque as recommended by Trish was a nice antidote to the other
tourist-packed attractions. I caught up with Mehmet and Asli, old
friends from BCG in NY, who took me out for a fabulous dinner on the
Bosphorus.

And then Jesse arrived, causing further bafflement to the
already-bemused staff at the W Istanbul. Having seen me roll in on a
bicycle and not known whether to park the thing or have me ejected,
the arrival of a second bearded bicycling ruffian entertained them no
end. I am reasonably certain that the W has not played host to bike
tourists thus far, and I'd be willing to bet that it will be some time
before it does so again! This is a shame, however, since Cem the
concierge is a total legend who moonlights as a logistical planner for
foreign bike touring groups, so he really knows his stuff.

Today we had a slow start, but made up for it with 180k after lunch,
putting us right on the Greek border. Tomorrow morning we'll turn
right, go about 500m and then enter the border formalities.

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Istanbul...

Roadblock