Bernadette by Bike

Update

2012-01-02T09:42:00.003-05:00

Hello,
If you have been following, you will know that last March I left New Zealand. I am now happily living and working in New York. Being a wimp when it comes to the weather, this winter I have been pouring my energies into more sedentary pursuits. You can read about them here.

Check back in the summer!

Ending a bike

2011-04-10T20:44:00.000-04:00

As some of you are aware, I never intended to spend two years living in New Zealand. Yet a carefree ‘why not ?’ easily turned one month into six months. And by the time I realized why not I was in over my head and it only made sense to stay just a little longer, and then a little longer still.

I initially figured that I could temporarily make do with a clumsy, beater-bike that bore the optimistic label ‘Black Thunder’ on the crossbar. I named her Trisha and got used to her, but she was never any match for the bike I’d left at home. Since ‘I wasn’t going to be in Wellington that much longer’ it never made sense to upgrade. She did the job as I heffed her up and down Wellington for longer than I had planned.

As I was finally leaving New Zealand, I had to try and figure out what to do with her. It would be difficult to sell her. She had some problems. The back wheel was a bit warped from the time I got caught in a sewer grate. The impractical front suspension was rusted. But she was still rideable. Or she was until my the last weekend. I left her locked up on Willis St. one night that I was too tired to ride up home and she had a particularly violent encounter with what I can only imagine to be a entire rugby team with cricket bats. The details of the incident will remain unknown however the altercation left her immobile.

So what could I do with her now that I was actually leaving town? My plan was to unlock her and leave her at the bike rack next to the abandoned pair of ice skates (see photo). I happily imagined her adopted by someone who needed a bike or an ambitious type wanting to try their hand at bike repair. My daydreams ground to a halt when my flatmates said they wanted her. I let them have her but was secretly disappointed knowing how the story ends.

Talking to Strangers

2010-12-16T15:12:00.004-05:00

I talk to myself while I’m cycling. Judging by the way my aunts always laughed at grandma, talking to yourself is probably something that I should try and hide. But I don’t, and neither do a lot of other Wellingtonians. Cycle-soliloquists are especially visible in Wellington due to the landscape. The slow hike up the steep hills expose these monologues. The daunting topography, has another side effect too, I sometime just park the bike and walk. And why not? everyone is going to hear me muttering anyway. Walking also presents the opportunity to talk to others in ways that cycling around in traffic doesn’t. Recently, I had this conversation that I wouldn’t have had on a bike.

Me: Hey Emily! (I wave to my friend across the street)
Emily: Oh, Hi!
(as I cross the street to chat with Emily I realize it’s not her)
Emily look alike: I didn’t know you live around here? Good to see you!
Me: yeah, right up the road, how are you? (I make snap decision to continue the charade and not to tell her we’ve never met)
Woman I’ve never met before: I’m good. Yeah, just over there.
Me: great to see you but I’ve got to run (I want to go before she realizes we are strangers and things get awkward)
Complete stranger: sure, good to see you too!
Me: take care.

It was almost like talking to myself.

Head case

2010-11-07T15:49:00.001-05:00

Lately, the title of this blog has been a bit of a tease. I know you click in anticipation of witty comments about flat tires and roadkill, investigative reporting on the latest gears and scandalous sitings of men in white bike shorts. At last, I will quench your thirst for cyclecommentary with an insight into the hottest trend in Australian helmet decorating, zipties.

That's right! Zipties, those snappy strips of plastic, the ones that are seem like they are going to be really useful when you buy the pack of 100. Then you use one once and the rest haunt you by finding their way into the bottom of every bag and drawer you own. Australian cyclists on the other hand, have found a way to put them to good (?) use.
I couldn’t manage to get a photo so here is an artistic rendering.

A wide range of Australian cyclists sport these ornamental helmets; young, old, men, women, racing bikes, mountain bikes and commuters. They attach them with the spare trimable bit sticking up like a spike (see sketch above). Some helmets have as few as five while others have at least twenty-five. Zipties may be a variety of colors. I saw black, grey, blue, and white.

In my 10 days of keen observation, I have concluded that these plastic antennae are attached for decorative purposes only. This conclusion is scientifically supported by the failure of other hypotheses. Here is a list of my other hypotheses and reasons why they failed:

1) lightning rods   -   zipties are made of plastic
2) radio    -    again, plastic lacks receptive properties
3) signal of gang affiliation -   wide range of demographics sporting zipties - zipties are not very intimidating
4) halloween - not a popular holiday in Australia - would be crap costume
5) deter birds from building nests- there is an abundance of superior nest
building sites - birds generally like stationary nests.
6) helmet anti-theft device- how would a flexible strip of plastic deter greedy helmet burglars?

The only question that remains is, will this aussie fad catch on in other places? The answer is, probably. When it does, just remember that you heard about it here first, on the hippest blog that is almost about cycling.

The rest of the world

2010-10-16T17:23:00.000-04:00

I am doing some work with one of my professors. We are looking at incorporating intercultural understanding into foreign language learning. As a result, I have been thinking about the cultural assumptions that I had of the rest of the world when I was growing up. When I was very young my parents had Greek friends. I was jealous of their frilly toilet seat covers and it made me feet special to know them and the fancy names for the casseroles they made. For me, culture was delicious food. But, things got more complicated in grade school. There was one hispanic girl in our class. She was nice and also a Jehova’s witness. This distinction between ethnicity and religion was lost on the 9 year old me. I thought all hispanics had to leave the classroom whenever someone brought cupcakes for their birthday. I middle school I quickly realized this was not the case.

However, I think my first real insight into foreign culture was the winter olympics in Albertville, France. It was 1992 and my parents had just ended our family's tv abstinence program and I stayed up late and watched the opening ceremonies on a 12 inch screen in the corner of our living room. I was in awe of the bizarre costumes, bungy acrobats and dichordant melodies. Anyone who dared be that unconventional would be ridiculed out of my midsized American city. Shortly thereafter I started wearing birkenstocks, because European equalled cool, and it was all downhill from there. Four years later, to the dismay of my teachers who warned that I was throwing away my future, I went to Spain as an exchange student. Over the past 14 years I have only managed to live in the US for whopping 3.5 years. I have often talked of moving back, and am ever curious about how that might go.

Writing up a storm

2010-10-11T04:01:00.000-04:00

Academic writing is a calculated yet magical process. Yesterday one of my classmates asked me about my writing process and I couldn’t really articulate it. I do all the typical things; make notes, outline. Then I cut and paste the notes into the outline and try to shape paragraphs. And somewhere along the line a synthesis occurs. Ideas start to bloom and arguments wind through the string of references, ‘howevers’ and ‘moreovers’.

Lately, after the crafty cohesion of ideas occur, I like to deconstruct the whole thing into a word cloud. Its punishment really to see the carefully constructed style evaporate as the most frequent words are stacked against each other in the color scheme of my choice. I always wonder if someone could just guess what I was after just by looking at the word cloud? Can you? Here is the latest one.

Time to think

2010-05-06T16:52:00.000-04:00

Brain space is in demand these days as the trimester comes to a close this month. I've been thinking about posting something, but haven't been able to think of what. The only news here is that winter has come and my feet are cold. Oh the laundry is done. I've got to hang it up before I run off to the library.

Restin'

2010-04-18T06:06:00.001-04:00

Trimester 1 is half over and I have just finished another assignment. I'm often surprised at how much I actually get done considering the park nearby is a perfect procrastination destination. This sign (on a bench at the park) in particular inspires slack writing. I think the relaxed nature of the prose is perfectly appropriate for a park bench. I think McLuhan would approve too. I also think that if he read some of my assignments, he would recommend I take a walk in the park.

New Zealand is for the Birds

2010-03-19T01:30:00.000-04:00

New Zealand is for the birds. It's true. I'm not talking about the crap weather or how the man who renewed my visa wore an 'I heart beer' t-shirt. I'm not talking about how no one wears shoes or the way everyone gives each other their bank account numbers. I'm talking about actual birds.

I've never really paid too much attention to birds. Years ago, Val and I made a list of dealbreakers (things we wouldn't tolerate in potential partners). Birdwatching was somewhere in the top ten. I vaguely remember the reasoning was that someone who would sit around waiting for a bird to fly by was not the kind of proactive go-getter we were looking for.

Birdwatching in New Zealand is different. There is no waiting. They are everywhere. Once upon a time they ran the place. Our new apartment is near a big park and a wildlife sanctuary. As a result, there are lots of really cool birds around.

This is a tui call.

The Girl with the Bicycle

2010-03-06T23:40:00.000-05:00

It's a Sunday morning in Wellington, a girl wipes the morning dew off her bike seat. She rides through a tunnel and down a hill into town. The girl has a blue backpack and stops at the market to fill it with the last of the summer's peaches, a cucumber and a carrot. The girl knows that putting off the uphill ride home by stopping for a coffee won't make the trek any easier but she ducks into a cafe anyway. The man at the hissing coffee machine empties the old grinds with a thunk and clinks the cups as the girl sits down. The man with striped sweater at the next table gets up to leave. He leaves his newspaper on the round wooden seat. The girl with the bicycle and the backpack full of peaches picks it up and reads while she drinks her coffee. A page from the arts section is mixed in with the world news. The girl notices the bestseller lists. Three of the top five have very similar titles. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl who Kicked the Hornets Nest, and The Girl who something else that she girl with the coffee has never heard of. Couldn't they think of a better title? she wonders.

Eyeing Chocolate

2010-03-02T03:17:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you can't help it, and you just laugh out loud. Later, you wonder if you should've somehow restrained yourself. It happened today in line at the Four Square. A man with a seeing eye dog at was buying milk and orange juice. While he was counting out the change, his dog grabbed a chocolate bar off the display and started tearing into the wrapper. I couldn't help but laugh. Not at the man, at the dog. It was like watching a clever child sneak one past her mom.

Then I remembered how distraught my mother had been recently when her dog got into some chocolate! Suddenly, I felt the urge to cover up my insensitive laughing with a little civic responsibility. I told the oblivious blind man that his dog had nicked a chocolate bar. He was very embarrassed. It was slightly uncomfortable.

Unfortunately the seeing eye dog etiquette web pages don't give any advice for situations involving a sneaky dog with sweet tooth. A friend of mine suggested that it might have been an act to get a free chocolate bars. What do you think?

Hold on to your hats!

2010-01-29T03:39:00.000-05:00

That's right! I got a new computer. The switch to a mac continues to be a bit of a learning process. But hopefully good things are to come. The real question is, are you ready?

Happy Holidays!

2009-12-16T16:25:00.000-05:00

I've doing a lot of bread baking lately. A lot. I got this book from the library, The Bread Bible. My breads are a bit hit and miss. Mostly I blame our house. The dough has a hard time rising because it has yet to reach room temperature here this 'summer.' Undeterred by the vehement kiwi opposition to insulation, I've even cultivated my own sourdough starter. Its quite entertaining. Every couple of days it bubbles up and has that deliciously repugnant smell that is slightly unpleasant and addictively sniffable. Mmmm.

When you think about it, yeast is very relevant this time of year. What else is all around us, turns water into wine, and reproduces asexually in virgins' wombs?

Happy Holidays!

Crazy Girl

2009-12-09T21:17:00.000-05:00

There was this girl in the first yoga class I ever took. Jen and I admiringly called her 'Crazy Girl.' She wore sparkly jeans to class, had wild hair that she never pulled back and was bubbly in a way that made her perfect for a job in retail. That spring at a yoga retreat we were silently walking around the Ottawa valley enjoying the calming bliss of too much yoga when we were interrupted by Crazy Girl running down the hill screaming "I'm Alive! I'm Alive!

The thing is, once you hit puberty there are only select activities where individual joyous yelling is generally appropriate. Roller coasters, sporting events and protests come to mind. But these are noisy places anyway. It takes a little stepping outside yourself to break through the normal everyday noise level with a little whoohoo.

As you may have already heard, I am living in hilly windy Wellington and have rejoined the ranks as a cyclecommuter. (wow- that word was acceptable to spellcheck) Anyway, there are couple of thrilling descents on my commute into town. They often remind me of Crazy Girl, because I'm sure as I 'Whee' and 'Whoohoo' my way downtown, I'm earning a similar nickname.

Something in the Air

2009-12-06T04:44:00.000-05:00

The weather is very changeable in the mountains around Rabinal, Guatemala. Sunny afternoons could hide thunderstorms like a magician hides rabbits. Then pull them out of unusual places to surprise and stun the unsuspecting public. I spent four months in Rabinal and inevitably, from time to time, my gringo body protested against the foreign conditions. Whenever this happened, the locals had an explanation. I had caught too much air. Too much air could produce any mulititude of symptoms. Too tired? Too much air. Can't sleep? Too much air. Sick to your stomach? Too much air. Not hungry? Too much air. We used to roll our eyes and joke that hangovers were also the result of too much 'air.'

But they knew something I didn't, something I wouldn't understand until I started golfing in Wellington. Too much air can make you sick. Today I came in from the 18th hole feeling awful. My ears felt like they had been boxed by a monkey on crack, waves of pain were crashing against the left side of my skull and I was queasy. I had caught too much air.

But after a nap, a hot shower and a burger all I remember is my hat poetically blowing off, that satisfying drive off the 14th tee and those lucky putts.

(The picture is a dust storm in Mongolia. It was pretty windy there too!)

A Year Late(r)

2009-11-25T02:48:00.000-05:00

There is no excuse. This post is a year late. Sorry about that. Here we are again at the start of another holiday season. To get you in a festive mood, I have adapted a holiday favorite to bring you all up to date:

The Twelve Months I Didn't Blog (sing along! everyone!)

On the first month I didn't blog (December)
my computer got a virus.*
But its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the second month I didn't blog (January)
I moved to Illinois**
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the third month I didn't blog (February)
I O.D.ed on Lawerence Welk,
Moved to Illinois,
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the forth month I didn't blog (March)
I came to New Zealand,
O.D.ed on Lawerence Welk,
Moved to Illinois,
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the fifth month I didn't blog (April)
Ro-o-oad trip!***
Came to New Zealand,
O.D.ed on Lawerence Welk,
Moved to Illinois,
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the sixth month I didnt blog (May)
I moved to Wellington...
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the seventh month I didn't blog (June)
I got another bicycle...
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the eighth month I didn't blog (July)
I started my masters degree...****
and its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the ninth month I didn't blog (August)
Not much happened...
And its all good now, hooray yipee!

On the tenth month I didnt blog (September)
I learned to play golf...
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the eleventh month I didnt blog (October)
I survived Wellington winter...
And its all good now, hooray, yipee!

On the twelfth month I didn't blog (November)
I made plans to come home again...
And is all good now, Hooray, YipEE!

Happy Holidays!

* Ubuntu (and Elmo) you are awesome.
** I was lucky to have the time to spend with my fantastic Aunt Jan and Grammy.
***By car unfortunately, b ut NZ is still a beautiful place.
**** In Applied Linguistics (ESL) at Victoria University. It's going really well.

Homecoming

2008-11-18T18:25:00.000-05:00

Last Wednesday I lied. The box on the US immigration form was too small to 'list all countries visited on this trip'. I stopped to count. 17 countries. Instead, I simply wrote Spain and Turkey. When I handed the stiff form and my dog-eared trail-battered passport to the officer he said 'Wow, Spain AND Turkey!' Yep. Wow.

I am settling into my sisters apartment in New York. I've spent the past week wandering around Brooklyn and sampling all the foods that I couldn't wait to have once I got back to the states, root beer floats and bagels with lox and cream cheese...

Thankfully the park is nearby to counteract these caloric reunions. Today I went for my first bike ride since I hurt my shoulder. It went well until we hit some cobblestones. Then I had to walk home. But it felt good to be back in motion.

True to form I am still behind in blogging and am just now posting some photos from Turkey. Check back soon for more posts to keep you busy over the Thanksgiving holiday.

My Students

2008-09-30T10:41:00.000-04:00

Unable to cycle, I found myself with a lot of time on my hands. So I volunteered to teach English at the local high school in Ishkashim.
It was easy. They were the most eager to learn and well behaved teenagers Ive ever seen. Every hand in the class shot up in the air whenever I asked a question or needed a volunteer. They almost convinced me to stay. Instead I promised to send them a box with English books.

Afgan Market

2008-09-30T10:38:00.001-04:00

Ishkashim is right on the boarder with Afganistan. Every Saturday police line the bridge and let Tajiks and tourists cross the river to the Afgan market. They sell all sorts of things, fabric, clothes, blankets, spices, dyes, medicines, cookies, fruit, and toys.
I hesitated to post this photo but we were all laughing when I took it. This man was selling toy guns. I pointed to the guns and said ´Afganinstan´in a voice full of false fear. He laughed and pointed one at me. Its red lights lit up and made a whirring sound. We laughed even harder.

Gulmama

2008-09-30T10:37:00.001-04:00

Gulmama is the man who put my shoulder back together. He thinks I am a big baby. Everytime he sees me with my arm in a sling hequestiones his eyebrows together, tsks his tongue and waives his had dismissively. I dont understand what he says but I imagine it translates something along the lines of ´What the hell is this for?´or ´Get back on your bicycle already!´

September 9

2008-09-30T10:35:00.000-04:00

September 9, 1991 is the day Tajikistan formally declared independence from the Soviet Union. To celebrate school children lined the streets waiving flags and singing songs. Then processed to the local soccer stadium for more songs, traditional dances and arm wrestling. Like in other towns throughout the country, here in Ishkashim it is a big deal!

Therapy

2008-09-30T10:34:00.000-04:00

In this photo my shoulder is still dislocated although I have been diagnosed with arthritis. Im no medical expert but Im pretty sure you cant fall off your bike and get arthritis. Everyone I meet is sure that I will be fine after a thereputic visit to Garm Chashma, a local hotspring. Needless to say it didnt work.

A Change of Transport

2008-09-30T10:32:00.000-04:00

This was the day I fell. Despite the dislocated shoulder I had to get back on the bike and try to ride to find help. I hadn´t seen a vehicle all day long. It was no small miracle that after a painful 5km there was a house with a jeep!
The next day they would drive me two days til we found a doctor.

The man in the yellow hat has rubies in his pocket.

Yashıl Kul

2008-09-30T10:30:00.000-04:00

Almost everyone asks me the same questions. In almost the same order. Where are you from? Are you alone? Are you scared? Are you married? How old are you?
Despite the language barrier I have learned to recognize each question and answer in Russian.
If I bump into some one who knows a little bit of English the next question is always ´What if it rains?´
If it rains, I put on my rain coat, rain pants and gloves. For the most part, I´ve been lucky with the weather. Today in Yashil Kul it poured but cleared up just as quickly as it came.

Snack Time!

2008-09-30T10:29:00.000-04:00

I have a fantastic map of the Pamirs! It shows all the altitudes, distances and towns. It even has cute little symbols to tell you what each town has to offer, a clinic, a teahouse, a homestay, or a store. According to the map, there was going to be a limited selection of food outside of Murgab. So I stopped by the market and picked up some instant noodles and a few potatoes and carrots before I left town. Despite my menu planning, often they end up as dead weight.
What the map didnt say was that the few yurts scattered in the mountainside were inhabited by some of the most generous people I´ve ever met. More often than not I am offered bread, butter and tea. Sometimes they insist I take some to go.

Flags

2008-09-30T10:26:00.000-04:00

Its a popular idea. Represent your country with a flag waiving off the back of your bike. I see lots swaying and fluttering victoriously behing a cyclist. I dont have one. Lately I dont feel so victorious about my country. (but thats for another blog entry)
A few weeks ago I stopped to chat with some cyclists headed in the opposite direction. We swapped route suggestions and warned eachother about the bad roads ahead. As they advised me where I could fill uo on water I eyed their blue flag with white cross on it. Feeling well travelled and in the know I said 'so you guys are from Scotland'. He looked at me like I was stupid. 'No. Quebec' he said.
Don't make the same mistake. This proud cyclist is in Murgab, Tajikistan not Mexico or Hungary.

Getting High

2008-09-30T10:24:00.000-04:00

Whiteface Mountain1045m, Mt Rushmore 1745m, Mt Rainer 4352m, Mt Elbert 4401m. Bernadette in the Ak Baital Pass 4655m! All the tourist information for the Pamir region warn of altitude sickness and advise you to asend slowly. That was easily done. The only lightheadedness I felt came from the swelling of satisfaction. My daffy grin resulted not from the thin air but the pride of accomplishment.

Marmots

2008-09-30T10:23:00.000-04:00

I was so excıted to fınally get a pıcture of one of these lıttle suckers! They quıckly scamper across the ground, pause at the mouth of theır lıttle holes, flap theır long flat taıls and dıve ın. It all happens so fast that ıts almost ımpossıble to get a good look a them much less stop and take out your camera. Thıs one must have been stupıd. He stood there for at least three mınutes. Not that I thınk they are really ıntellıgent ın general. But then I dont actually know all that much about marmots. Do you?

Weavıng

2008-09-30T10:22:00.000-04:00

This woman is setting up her loom. Although she lıves ın Tajıkıstan she ıs ethnıcally Kyrgys and I can ımagıne thıs wıll be a colorful decoratıon for the ınsıde of her yurt. We laughed at her hands staıned purple from dyıng the threads.

Marco Polo Sheep

2008-09-30T10:20:00.000-04:00

'Marco!'

'Polo!'

How did an Italian explorer become both a swımmıng pool game and a breed of sheep? He got way more than hıs 15 mınutes of fame.

Marco Polo sheep skulls are a popular decoratıon ın the barren Pamır plateaus. They are also apparently quıte tasty although they are a protected specıes. But theır meat sells ın the market for lower prıces than regular sheep meat. Maybe thats why I dıdnt see any.

Lake Karakul

2008-09-30T10:19:00.000-04:00

Road

2008-09-30T10:18:00.000-04:00

Another Bernadette By Bike quiz: Which direction does the road head?

Autumn ın the Pamirs

2008-09-30T10:17:00.000-04:00

It ıs too hıgh here for much to grow but I was stıll ımpressed by the colors of the small weeds that dare to reach for the sky.

Welcome to Tajıkıstan!

2008-09-30T10:16:00.000-04:00

You never know whats goıng to happen when you roll up to a border. I had all my paperwork ın order but thats stıll no sure bet. When I got to Tajıkıstan, I met a group on horseback who had been there for two days watchıng the border guards test rıde theır horses and race eachother. I thınk thıs worked ın my favor- they were otherwıse entertaıned and stamped my papers through ın a record 45 mınutes!

Welcome to Tajıkıstan!

Kyzyl Art Pass

2008-09-30T10:13:00.001-04:00

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for reducıng, reusıng and recyclıng. And throughout my travels I have seen very creatıve ways to reuse sıgns. As car doors, roofıng materıal, brıdges, you name ıt. But reusıng a sıgn as a sıgn? Thıs was fırst.
Over the top ıs the Tajık border... What happened to all the snow you saw from Sary Tash? I don't know, I asked the same questıon.

Headed for the Hills

2008-09-30T10:10:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Sary Tash. The last town on the road out of Kyrgystan. See those snow covered hılls? That's where I'm headed. Tajıkıstan, here I come!

Full of Nuts

2008-09-30T10:09:00.000-04:00

What can I say about thıs photo that ıt doesnt already say?

Bar keep

2008-09-30T10:08:00.000-04:00

İt's 9;00 am and you're headed to the bazar to buy some bread and maybe to sell those tomatoes your wıfe pıcked yesterday. The sun ıs shınıng and ıt's gettıng warm. You're feelıng a lıttle thırsty and you thınk, 'crap ıts goıng to be a long day why not start ıt off rıght wıth a stıff drınk?' Well lucky for you the bar ıs open!

Photo Opportunıtıes

2008-09-30T10:06:00.000-04:00

What do you do when your cıty doesnt have enough monuments for you to pose ın front of? Why, you create staged photo opportunıtıes!
Osh ıs a very famous town but the source of ıts fame ıs the bazar and although ıt was of great photographıc ınterest to me, I dıdnt see any local shutterbugs. No sır, they save theır fılm for backdrops lıke the one you see here. Photo opportunıtes were statıoned all throughout town some ınvolvıng gıant pıctures of waterfalls or European castles. Some wıth gıant teddybears on plastıc chaırs. Some wıth gıant vases ofplastıc flowers. I thought thıs one takes the cake though.

Fuel

2008-09-30T10:04:00.000-04:00

Yes , I have become one of those tourısts who takes photos of theır food. These are samsas . Samsas are the Central Asıan ancestor of the hotpocket. I eat them all the tıme. The most common varıety ıs meat an onıons. But Ive also had some wıth potatoes. They are cooked ın the same way bread ıs, stuck to the sıde of a tandoor oven. When they are done they are scraped off the sıde and set to cool. Yum!

A Bump in the Road

2008-09-21T02:55:00.000-04:00

I suppose something was bound to happen. I hit a bump in the road and fell off my bike. It took 1 week, 3 'hospitals', (the first one had no doctor) 5 excrutiating jeep rides, 6 doctors and $4 worth of x-rays to discover that my shoulder was dislocated.

Relocating it was a scene Monty Python couldnt have done better. First they took me to a crumbling tile room in the surgery department. Looking at all the knives laid out on an old bedsheet, I tried using sign language to ask if they were going to operate. Everyone laughed. It wasn't reassuring.

After some frantic insisting they brought in a nurse who spoke some basic English. Her translation skills were lacking. I had to keep asking her what the doctor was saying and she would respond with "he is discussing your health" or "just trust the doctor". I hit the roof when I saw the syringe. I asked her what it was. She looked at me like I was stupid and said "its medicine." "But what is it going to do to me?!" I shreiked. Again she looked at me in disbelief. "Its going to make you feel better" she said. I had better luck trying to communicate with the non English speaking doctor. It was novacain. (later I would laugh with some tourists who were travelling on horseback. They only ever give their horses 10mg of novacain. I got 20mg.)

With a completely numb shoulder I laid face down on the rickety metal operating table. THey tied a piece of gauze around my wrist and hung rusty 45 kilo weights to it. 'STVAT MINOOT' (5 minutes) the doctor shouted! 5 minutes turned into a 45 minute circus. I was shouting that my hand was turning purple and was quite uncomfortable. The nurse was telling me I was not a patient person. Then I discovered that my arm was longer than the table legs and I could just rest the weights on the floor. Then I tried to explain the situation. (not easy) Then they tried to figure out how to make the table taller. (also not easy) Instead they put pillows under me. This was also difficult because I still had weights tied to one arm. No, I could not sit up! The doctors brought in other doctors they all would frown shout at me in Russian, laugh and slam the door when the left. People were coming and going, laughing and shouting, staring and whispering. At one point everyone left the room. I didnt think this was so funny. All I could do was angrily shout 'Svat minoot niet! (This isnt 5 minutes!) and Balin! (pain)

Finally I heard it. A faint snap! My shoulder was back in place. The doctor poked and prodded. 'Harasho' (ok) he said through his bushy moustache. I got another x-ray just to make sure. Now its just sore and tender. I cant ride my bike. I cant even carry my bags, which is a real pain when you're travelling. Literally.

So instead I spent three weeks in the internetless village of Ishkashim volunteering at the local school. It was a blast. But today my Tajik visa expires. So I have come to Dushanbe (the capital) to plead with the authorities to give me four more days so I can catch my flight to Istanbul on Thursday.

Photos to come...

Wedding Options

2008-08-16T02:01:00.000-04:00

There are two ways to get marrıed ın Kyrgystan. The easy way and the expensıve way. What's the easy way you ask? Brıde theft. It stıll happens. I had a long conversatıon wıth some gırls (Unıversıty students from Bıskek) about theır weddıng tradıtıons. They had two frıends get marrıed recently. One got marrıed the expensıve way. The other was duped ınto a car wıth some of her neıghbors male frıends and taken to the the home of one of the boys and presented to hıs parents as hıs brıde. Apparently once thıs happens ıt ıs too shameful for everyone ınvolved, her famıly and hıs, for herto return home unmarrıed. All her frıends felt sorry for her but there was nothıng she could do. Were she to run off she would be desertıng her famıly and any chances at a future match.

Galilea

2008-08-16T01:45:00.000-04:00

I have been hesitant to write about my lack of bike problems for fear that I would jınx myself. But so far so good. The only problem has been that sometimes the wheels just wont stay on. They slip out of the little cradles and rub against the frame. The only thing I can do is to stop and put them back on again. In my frustaratıon I

came up with an ingenious solution involving super glue but the moment I bought some the problem quickly subsided. Ill have to get that taken care of when I get to a country with a bike shop.

Meanwhile she is very popular. Everyone wants to ride her. One guy asked if he could give her a spin and he was gone for an hour! I think she is having as much fun as I am.

Let the Games Begin

2008-08-16T01:32:00.000-04:00

Here's something you won't see in Beijing!

One morning I woke up to the sound of horses outside my tent. They belonged to a group young Kyrgys guys who at some point that night had camped nearby. While I was making breakfast one came over to say hello. He was an English student.
'Have tea,' he said. 'Then we will play horse' and pointed to a goat eating grass by the tree.
'Play horse?' I asked.
'Yes, play horse.'
Well, this I had to see. After tea they quickly got on their horses. Stood in a circle around the goat and their one friend with a knife. Said a prayer, cut off the goat's head and feet and tossed the carcass into the air. Then they all darted after it on horseback trying to wrestle what was left of the goat away from eachother. It was messy. Once one got a hold of it they would wrap their leg around it and charge away from the group, everyone else running after. Then someone would catch up, wrestle it away and the whole thing would repeat. They played for over an hour.
Then we had some very tender shashlik. (kebabs)
There didn't seem to be a point system or any goals. I tried to ask who had won. There wasn't a clear answer. I guess everyone's a winner with shashlik!

Your Questions Answered

2008-08-16T01:27:00.000-04:00

Thank you all for your comments and feedback. Its great to know this blog isnt just being read by my mother.

Why aren't I buying more souvineers? They are heavy. But I did get this great hat!

Am I wearing sunblock? Yes, and reapplication is the name of the game! I also wear a baseball cap when the wind doesn't blow it off. But I'm still looking a bit weathered. I don't think its anything a North American winter can't bleach out.

What do I think about when I ride? Well I sing a lot. I think about the road. Where I am, where I'm going. How lucky I am to be right where I am. What to make for lunch. I talk to myself and my bike. Sometimes in Spanish just to jazz things up a bit. I laugh at things I see like donkeys getting it on, and 15 people hanging out the back of a car. Lately I've been thinking a lot about how I could be as kind to others as they have been to me on this trip.

Roads

2008-08-16T01:20:00.000-04:00

There is something relaxing about switchbacks. The grade is usually gentle and the back and forth rocking always puts me in a good mood. Especially if I'm going downhill!

On Top of the World

2008-08-16T01:15:00.000-04:00

The view of the Naryn river valley from the top of the Moldo Ashuu pass.

Where's the Lake?

2008-08-16T01:04:00.000-04:00

Backpackers I'd met echo the Lonely Planet's four star review of Lake Song Kol. It took me two days and a hailstorm to find the lake and when I did it was freezing cold and the lakefront was all marsh. Not great for a tent.
But okay for yurts and I stayed with this family of herders. THey called all the neighbors to come see me and then I had to visit all of their respective homes for tea and koumis. It was a long day! One man took me out on a horse to round up the goats. Im getting better at horse riding. I even managed to take this photo while he was munching edilevisse.

Oh My Osh!

2008-08-15T03:47:00.000-04:00

Hello!
It has been a while since I have found internet. In my cyberabsense I have been busy having unimaginable Kyrgys adventures. I am currently in Osh, internet cafe hopping to find one where I can upload photos. Wait till you see these!
I have a few days to relax here in town before I head for the hills. I have been told that in the Pamirs it can be hard to find food. So Im imagining that internet access will be sparse. Check back soon!

Someone Had a Better Idea

2008-08-01T06:16:00.000-04:00

nd t
Hi, all is well here in Kochkor. Tomorrow I head to the mountains and to Lake Song Kol. Going uphill I might wish I had one of these...

Be sure to click older posts because I've put up quite a few photos.

CBT

2008-08-01T05:22:00.000-04:00

Community Based Tourism is thriving here in Kyrgystan. There are Engish speaking information centers in almost every town with maps and information about tours and guides. They also recommend a network of homestays. Whom recieve the 85% of the price you pay. It is the best bet (besides free camping) and always welcoming and helpful. I am in their office right now since the one internet cafe had some super firewall that wouldn't let me email.

Kyrgystan or Nevada?

2008-08-01T05:21:00.003-04:00

Lake Issy Kul, day 3.

Greece or Kyrgystan?

2008-08-01T05:21:00.001-04:00

Lake Issy Kul, day 2.

Around the World On One Lake

2008-08-01T05:14:00.000-04:00

Lake Issy Kul is long and thin. It took me three days to ride along it's southern coast. The mountains to the north provided a nice backdrop the whole way. While the southern coast changed from day to day. The eastern end was green with wheat fields and tall trees. The second day looked like it had been plucked out of the mediterranean. Complete with donkeys, white rocks and short green shrubs. By the time I took the turnoff towards Kochkor I felt like I was in some desert oasis. Every night I found some tucked away spot on the beach to camp and swim in the clear water.

Shyrdaks

2008-08-01T05:10:00.000-04:00

Kyrgystan's tourist information centers often double as gift shops. The most popular souvineer is a shyrdak. A felt carpet about a half inch thick and embroidered with intriquite (this comupter is in Russian and doesn't have spell check -sorry) designs. In homes they are used as carpets, beds, chair mats, door mats, and wall hangings. If they weren't so darn heavy I'd get one.

Joliemania

2008-08-01T05:07:00.000-04:00

I don't get it. Angelina Jolie is everywhere. On notebooks, backpacks, plastic bags, shop signs. She even has her own bottles of wine. Remember when she was a certifiable crack job? Now somehow she's mother of the year. And she doesn't even have a kid from Kyrgystan. Yet.

Apricots!

2008-08-01T05:05:00.000-04:00

I love apricots! They are the perfect mixture of sweet and tart. They are the perfect size for my jersey pocket and make great snacks while I'm riding. I probably eat half a kilo everyday. The ones that get squashed on the ride make a great jam/compote/soup on bread for breakfast the next morning.

A Lotta Ladas

2008-08-01T05:03:00.000-04:00

I think this is my favorite photo of Kyrgystan. This woman is so patient. Nothing here happens fast. The cars are so colorful and their doors are always left open.

Mal Bazar

2008-08-01T01:11:00.002-04:00

The Karakol Animal Bazar was described as the most exciting in the region. It sounded fantastic. It was a quiet affair. Maybe because it was 7 in the morning or maybe because livestock isn't that 'exciting'. People milling around the cows, horses, sheep and goats. Patting rumps and slapping sides and calmly discussing prices. This man is having shoes put on his new horse.

A Valley of Flowers

2008-08-01T01:11:00.001-04:00

This is what I had hoped to see. Here is a scene along the main road to Barskoon.

The Valley of Flowers

2008-08-01T01:08:00.000-04:00

I don't often take detours. But I was excited about 'The Valley of Flowers' on the map. So I turned off the road and cycled about 20km through the Jeti Orguz Canyon. But something had gotten lost in translation because I arrived in the only place in Kyrgystan without flowers. It was pretty and pretty ironic.

Once Upon a Bicycle...

2008-07-26T01:16:00.000-04:00

Kyrgystan is an enchanting place! Immigration was a simple process. The one employee on duty curiously flipped through my passport. The short wave radio crackled and the clock knocked each second off. Several minutes later he asked me where I was from then neatly printed it in a large leger book.
Along the way, a mosaic of wildflowers edge the road that sways through the valley along the Tup river, interrupted only by stands of honey for sale. When the sun lowers to where the river surface turns a glassy silver the beekeepers pile into their brightly colored Ladas, aqua, lime, fuchia and pumpkin. They rattle back to their gingerbread villages where houses with blue cursive woodwork trim and lace curtains wait for them with hot tea.

Past the town potato and wheat striped fields hush in reverence to the men galloping by on horseback. Their koumiss jugs swinging as they ride, leaning into a confident stride. Sometimes they gallantly stop and offer me some. But lets not spoil the scene by mentioning what happened last time I had koumiss... oops I think I already did.

David from the Travel Agency told me that Kyrgystan was a fairy tale. It is! Complete with evil storms whose lightning claw at the mountains and thunder that menacingly roars across the valley. Only thing missing are the dwarfs.

Hospitality is the name of the game here and a unique network of homestays have developed into dainty bed and breakfasts. I'm staying at one tonight that has rose gardens, a small apple orchard and a washing machine!

Here a 'Stan, There a 'Stan, Bernadette's Route Plan

2008-07-26T01:04:00.002-04:00

This blog mentions relatively little about where I'm going. I also realize that the map posted to your left is not very helpful either. So break out your atlas and come along for the ride.

After leaving Almaty, Kazakhstan, I cycled east opting to cross the border into Kyrgystan on the eastern side of Lake Issy Kul (may be spelled many different ways) to avoid all the traffic going to Bishkek. Yesterday I crossed into Kyrgystan in the Karkara Valley and am now in Karakol.

From here I will head back west along the southern shores of Lake Issy Kul with detours to see the poetic 'Valley of Flowers' and the beach in Tamga. Then continue on to Kochgor, Kyrgystan. If I can find the salt caverns at Sharhta Tuz, I'll stop there too. After all, I'm on vacation.

From Kochgor, I'll head south climbing the mountains that divide nothern and southern Kyrgystan to Naryn. From Naryn a rough road heads east to Jalal Abad. Then Ill zig zag back south to Osh.

The road south of Osh will lead my straight through the village of Sary Tash and into the Pamir Mountains of Tajikistan. I'll follow the Pamir Highway through Murgab and Khorog then along to Dushanbe. Where I hope to find a beer and a well deserved rest.

It's Corny Big Time!

2008-07-26T01:00:00.001-04:00

Oh Yeah!

Ready to Rock and Roll!

2008-07-16T04:58:00.000-04:00

Bernadette now has both a Kyrgys and a Tajik visas in her hot little hand and is ready to hit the road! The Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Region(GBAO) permit that Akbar at the Embassy wouldn't give her can conveniently be done online (with a travel agency) and be waiting for her when she gets there. Wahoo!

(Bernadette suspects that Akbar was just a little offended that Bernadette couldn't pronounce Gorno-Badakhshan correctly. )

Apparently the Beatles also came to Kazakhstan.

Got Gas?

2008-07-16T04:43:00.000-04:00

I think I mentioned that carbonated beverages are very popular with Almatians ( is that how you refer to Almaty residents?) Here is a street side soda vendor. If you are on a budget you can order soda without flavor syrup. I splurged. The glasses you see are on a little rinser. The charming lace around the gas tank sets her apart from all the other stand twenty meters down the street.

They even carbonate yogurt. Which sounds awful but is actually quite refreshing. I am continually blown away by how creative you can be with dairy. I think the only thing not made with milk in this region is alfredo sauce. But I'm sure that's only a matter of time.

Postcard

2008-07-16T04:38:00.000-04:00

Some of you who are lucky enough to be on my postcard list may recieve this gem in your mail box. But it was just too great not to share with the rest of you! I think it wins the prize for worst postcard ever. It's better than the ones of Ho Chi Minh playing pingpong. Or the one of the taxadermy rabbit family in the dollhouse from Oberlin, Kansas. Have no idea what it says but I can bet it's not, "Having a great time in Kazakhstan." Ten points to whoever can translate it - or even better, offer suggestions on what it might/should say.

Street Scenes

2008-07-16T04:33:00.000-04:00

Mountains, monuments and more trees!

Amaty Street Scenes

2008-07-16T04:32:00.000-04:00

Flower shops! Fruit vendors! Trees!

Culture Shocked in Almaty

2008-07-14T08:17:00.000-04:00

Hello! Several days ago I arrived in Almaty, Kazkahstan. Since then I have been riding the city buses around the tree lined boulevards trying to sort out visas and permits for onward travel. The issuance of these depend heavily on the mood of whoever is working at the embassy on that particular day.

Almaty is set in a valley next to snowcapped mountains that make the border with Kyrgystan. It is a very developed place and has strategically (?) planted tall trees that make it hard to see the sometimes crumbling concrete buildings. There are parks with fountains where men drink beer and kids eat ice cream. There are planters with flowers along the sidewalks and women selling fresh raspberries in ouside newspaper kiosks. Every few blocks the smoke of a grill announces a kebab stand. Carbonated drinks are very popular and the first Kazakh phrase I learned was how to ask for water with out gas. Stores sell plasma tvs, fur coats and cosmetics. Threre are car dealerships and neon signs. It is quite a change from Mongolia.

See my hotel here? It's the one behind the trees!

Also, be sure to click 'older posts' at the bottom of this page because I finally finished posting comments for the rest of the Mongolia photos. Doing my best to keep up!

Happy Birthday Bernadette!

2008-07-01T04:11:00.000-04:00

I'm 30! Thank you Diane, Omar and Yoni for the cake!

They surprised me in the internet cafe singing Happy Birthday, with a cake and candles! We sat there and had a little party and shared the cake with everyone there. This is one birthday I won't forget. It's up there with the time I went to the Ute pow wow and the time I got the tacky square dancing lamp.

Bernadette to the Rescue!

2008-07-01T04:09:00.000-04:00

It is some small miracle that I made it 1077 km across Mongolia without a flat tire. So when these guys in a jeep asked to use some of my innertube patches I was happy to help them out. I didn't think it would work. But it did. Well for the next 20km it did. Then we had to stop and patch it again. It took forever. The pair of legs on the right belong to the son of a man who was running for congress in the election. He was the one driving around getting folks to vote and giving exhausted cyclists a lift into the city after the polling was done.

Election Day!

2008-07-01T04:07:00.000-04:00

Some of you have inquired about the post election state of emergency in Mongolia. Things were quiet outside of the capital. Those who I asked about it shrugged unconcerned. They seemed unsurprised at the allegations of election rigging. One man told me that the riots were probably the results of the loosing party giving alchohol to their enraged young supporters. Who knows.

This was the polling place along the shores of Achit Nuur. The 'macheen' (truck) on the right was driving around the valley stopping at gers and picking up potential voters and pathetic foreigners walking along the road trying to pushing their bikes through the sand while swatting at the mosquitos. ( You should have seen those little suckers laugh at my 30% deet repellant)

He Knows Something I Don't

2008-07-01T04:05:00.000-04:00

He knows that the sand in this valley is impossible to bike through! I had spent hours walking my bike when he rode up next to me with a big grin.

Kazakh Culture

2008-07-01T04:02:00.000-04:00

The Kazakhs are a lot different from the Mongols. For one thing their gers are a lot bigger and certainly more decorative. You can see both the woven and the embroidered wraps around the roof behind these women. The women wear head scarves and are some have a picture of Mecca tucked in the ger rafters.
Their mil tea is considerably saltier and there usually are small fried dough squares that accompany the cheese, cream, butter and yogurt.
It will be interesting to compare Mongolian Kazkahs to the ones in Kazakhstan.

Family Portrait

2008-07-01T04:00:00.000-04:00

In the Olgii Aimag (province) ethnic Kazakhs outnumber Mongols. The two on my right had bright green eyes. Here, I'm the only one smiling despite having just been lost in a swamp. I had spotted their ger in the distance and stopped to ask where the 'road' was. I had somehow lost track of it.
They asked if I had a camera. Then proceeded to pose their family members in every combination possible. They would all double over laughing at each shot then turn stoneface again for the camera. I think we took about 45 photos.

End of the Road.

2008-07-01T03:57:00.000-04:00

This is a common roadside scene. Maybe it was a bbq?

Home Sweet Home

2008-07-01T03:54:00.000-04:00

Have I mentioned that there isn't much here in Mongolia? Well, if I haven't, let me tell you, it's pretty empty. Which means you can camp anywhere you want.
I asked someone about landownership. I got a vague answer that went something like 'the land is for everyone'. I had heard that there are grazing licenses. But I'm not sure how this works. In UlaanBaatar I did see a real estate agency so there must be some sort of system in place.

valley

2008-07-01T03:52:00.000-04:00

The problem with travelling alone is that I'm not in many of my pictures. Tonight after dinner of rice , onion and reconstituted meat, I played with the timer on my camera. 'Hi Mom!'

Back in the Saddle

2008-07-01T03:50:00.000-04:00

There aren't many commemorative signs in Mongolia. This one was extra special because it was in Mongolian and English! It said that the mountains (that I'm facing) were sacred for the ancient Mongols and hope that the coming generations will honor them as well. The man who took this photo was honoring them with plenty of vodka. It took about five trys before he succesfully captured the moment.

The Disco Macheen

2008-07-01T03:47:00.000-04:00

For fourtyeight hours my molars rattled in the cab of this 'macheen' (Mongolian for truck). You can kind of see my bike strapped behind the ger roof here as we stopped for a stretch next to the only watersource on route. Unfortunately it was the salt water lake or Khyargas Nuur.

The driver only had one cassette tape, Russian dance music. Sometime during the second day he got tired of it and started singing Mongolian folk songs. Several hours later he switched on the tape player again. It was a long ride to Ulaangom.

Yahtzee!

2008-07-01T03:45:00.000-04:00

There was a stretch on the map, about 270km from Songino to Nurvanburlag where there was no town, no rivers, and one salt lake. At the rate I go on these roads that would have taken me at least 5 days. Unsure that I could carry that much water and keep myself from getting lost in the desert with no one to ask for help, I decided to hitch a ride. With the help of a friendly German aid worker and his Mongolian friends we cooked up a plan that I could wait at the police checkpoint until someone going west came along. So I spent a delighful afternoon playing yahtzee with Inspektor Gumbold.

Another quiz: Who has had more vodka, Bernadette or the Inspektor?

Ger Power!

2008-07-01T03:43:00.000-04:00

Unless your ger is in a town, your cassette player is most likely powered by the solar panels outside your ger. If you are really doing well you have a satellite dish for a tv! These folks ran a small canteen called a guanz. They served the normal fare of milk tea and tsuivan -fried noodles with meat. (and sometimes onion, if you're really lucky carrot too!)

A New Approach to Herding

2008-07-01T03:39:00.000-04:00

At the ger I described in the last post lived a sister and a brother. The little boy was really taken with my bicycle. I let him take it for a spin and he used it to round up all their yaks and herd them into the pen for milking. Let me tell you milking a yak is no easy task.

A Ger Visit

2008-07-01T03:37:00.000-04:00

Most Mongolians live in these round tents called 'gers'. They all have a stove in the center and beds on either side and an altar of sorts facing the door. The door is always facing south.(haven't had to used the compass yet) The family that owned this ger found me setting up my tent and emphatically refused to let me continue. I would come stay with them. When you arrive in a 'ger' you are sat down near the stove usually opposite the door, a respected position, and offered a bowl of milk tea accompanied by an assortment of milk products. Here is a typical 'conversation'.

Mongolian Hostess: gesturing sit down
Bernadette: Byharla (Thanks)
MH: goes to the stove, makes the tea
B: (stumbling throught the phrasebook for the appropriate phrase) I hope your animals are fattening well.
MH: nods, saying something, looking very very happy
B: Nods and waits, smiles at kids, asks if the drunk man passed out is their father.
MH: Presents the bowl of milk and sets a plate of cheese, another of butter and another of cream on a low table. gestures eat.
B: Sips the milk, "Mmm amtai" (delicious) reaches for some cheese and brings it towards her mouth.
MH: frantically waving no no
B: questioning look
MH: demonstrates spreading the butter on the cheese then eating
B: smiles, puts butter on her cheese too

Because nothing goes better with a bowl of milk than butter on cheese!

The Weather

2008-07-01T03:33:00.000-04:00

There must be at least a hundred towns in America that claim the quote "If you dont like the weather, wait five minutes" describes them. Mongolia is no different. Here I sat in the sun under a tree eating dried apricots and watched this storm rage about 100 meters off. Knock on wood, I have really lucked out with the weather. Apart from one hailstorm it has been warm enough to camp and cycle the whole time. Afternoon showers are common but shortlived with promising blue sky in the distance that keeps me going.

Notice the trees! They were the first I had seen since Ulaan Baatar!

Erdene Zuu Monestary

2008-07-01T03:31:00.000-04:00

This is one of the monestarys that has been rebuilt since the communists decided they werent such a good idea and tore them down. Ironically one of the communist party candidates in the recent election used a photoshoped a picture of himself shaking hands with the Dalai Lama infront of this very monestary on his campaign posters.

There's Something About Dairy

2008-07-01T03:29:00.000-04:00

Somethings I understand. You don't have to refrigerate bananas, for instance. You also don't need to be concerned about things like jam, mayonnaise, eggs, or even meat if its not out too long. Butter even I can see. But yogurt? Yogurt needs to be kept cool. So does sour cream. So what is the secret. Here is this woman sitting in the market on a hot hot day with two big vats of yogurt. It was delicious! She let me taste it. So I bought some. She poured it into an old plastic juice bottle and I, thinking it was some heat resistant miracle, put it in my purse. When I tasted it again a four or five hours later it had acquired a certain zing that it hadn't had before. What don't I get about yogurt? How is this possible? I'm stumped.

Bustling Marketplace

2008-07-01T03:26:00.000-04:00

Pool is very popular in Mongolia. I'm not sure how they play in the winter because I've never seen a table set up indoors. Maybe it's a summer sport - like beach volleyball. Here, the local pool hall in set up in the market. You can't tell from this picture but the stalls along the left are actually freight containers made into small stores. When the market closes, or when it starts to rain. They just shut the doors and watch the pool tables get wet.

Seeing Stars?

2008-07-01T03:25:00.000-04:00

I didn't realize how far north I was . I had brought star maps thinking that in the evenings I 'd be able to kick back and search for constellations. But the sun doesn't set until about 10pm. By that time I am packed in my tent and dozing off. This day outside Kharhorin was an exception. I had slept in and was able to keep my eyes open long enough to watch the sun set. But not long enough to see stars.

The Kindness of Strangers

2008-07-01T03:23:00.000-04:00

Everyone in Mongolia has been incredibly hospitable. I've heard it described as essential to their survival, it gets so tough here they all have to help each other out. Every time I pass a ger with people outside I am inevitably invited in for a bowl of salty milk. This man stocked me up with water and his granddaughter sang for us.

I Can't Imagine

2008-07-01T03:21:00.000-04:00

I can't imagine who put this sign up or what they were thinking. I hadn't seen a tree in days. And I wouldn't for another week! Secondly , it's in English. Sometimes I just don't understand.

Mongolian Navagation Made Easy

2008-07-01T03:19:00.000-04:00

Here is a typical Mongolian road. Do you see it? Its that small track in front of the sign with all the place names rubbed off and that vague line of clouded dust across the left side of the picture. Either way all the arrows on the sign are pointing in the same direction! How can you go wrong?
In the phrasebook the word for road and the word for path are the same. Why would you need to differentiate? All the roads here are essentially paths. When one path gets to rutted or dusty another path develops along side it. Sometimes they meet back up sometimes they don't. I usually follow the dust clouds made by trucks in the distance or the powerlines, when there are any.

Off we go!

2008-07-01T03:03:00.000-04:00

Let the Derby Begin. June 6th Galilea and I left Ulaan Baatar. In this photo I have no idea that the road is about to end and I would spend the next few days fighting dust storms. The good news is that there were signs of road construction. I passed several men napping in the cabs of steam rollers. (I dont know why this is all underlined) None the less I am happy to be on the road.

"Bike Trouble' Quiz

2008-06-12T00:10:00.000-04:00

I've been hearing this squeaking noise. Not at any regular intervals but fairly frequently and loudly! I oiled and greased but still it continued. I began to think it was beyond the realm of my mechanic capabilities when the noise persisted after the bike had stopped. I thought I was going nuts out in the middle of nowhere all by myself. How can I be hearing this squeaking when my bike is not moving? Please don't be concerned for my mental health. I've figured out the problem. Can you?

Today I am still in Kharhorin. The wind was so strong I had to walk sideways to the internet place, which was "setup by Government of India." Did you know that India gave aid? I didn't. Unfortunately they didn't give enough for me to be able to upload photos. So I decided I can leave tomorrow.

Just because there's a line on the map doesn't mean there's a road.

2008-06-11T01:24:00.000-04:00

There is a reason the Tour de France isn't in Mongolia. This place was built as a test ground for four wheel drives. If there ever in my life were a time that I wished I'd had a hummer it would be now. Needless to say I've been walking my bike a lot.
But it is still worth it. The views are incredible. The sky goes on uninturupted like no place I've ever seen before. The days that I'm up past ten o'clock I'm treated to unreal sunsets that belong on posters that say 'Jesus loves you'. And along the dirt tracks, glistening vodka bottles tossed out the window by truck drivers add a little sparkle to my day. I'm also having fun startling goats and sheep with my Taiwanese recycling truck horn. Despite the shortcomings of my phrasebook, everyone is very friendly and I'm often invited into gers for bowls of warm milk and the odd unidentifyable meat product.
I'm currently in Kharhorin. Now it is just a cluster of about 30 cement buildings tucked at the end of a large valley. But once it was the famed capital of Chinggis Khan's empire. Im aiming to be in Tsetserleg in a few days. There, I hope I can post photos. For now you can just go out and rent (or download) "The story of the weeping camel" for a visual.

Ulaan Baatar

2008-06-03T04:59:00.000-04:00

A friend told me that there's nothing in Ulaan Baatar. I disagree. It's big boulevards are lined with large concrete buildings painted optimistic pastels. The ground floors of these carribbean colored monstrosities offer up a variety of shops selling everything from rice cookers and waist wigglers to Korean fashions and North Face knock offs.

There are no McDonalds, Starbucks or 7/11s. Instead there are several "Berlin Burgers" and countless "National Fast Food" restaraunts offering gristly mutton and beef served with many different sidedishes. Including coleslaw, carrots and potatoes! Pretty tasty as long as you get there early enough in the evening, before they run out of the more popular menu items like omlettes or dumplings!

Wait, I haven't even gotten to the best part. Chinngis Khan. He's everywhere you look. He's on bill boards advertising energy drinks and bbq 's. (watch out George Foreman!) He's on packages of potato chips and bottles of vodka. There's even the Chinngis Khan Irish pub a few blocks from my guesthouse. He's so popular they carved him into a hillside nearby!

Other fun sights in UB include payphones and manholes. The payphones are people on the sidewalk with telephones (often doubling as lollipop and cigarrette vendors) At first I couldnt figure out how they were connected. Then I saw a cell phone taped to the side of one. Aha! This system is very convienient since Mongolian currency doesn't have coins and we all know how finiky those bill feeders on vending machines can be!

Manholes are also another urban obstacle. Just like in Guatemala, they dont have covers. So you really have to watch your step! Today I saw a car tire stuck in one. There was a crowd watching one man trying to pull the car out with a rope. I hope it worked out for him.

Thank you for all your comments! The weather has warmed up a bit. Everything looks good for me to start cycling on Friday. Then the real fun will begin. Stay tuned!

Things That Spin

2008-06-03T04:56:00.000-04:00

Tibetan Buddhism is really popular here and there are temples with squeeky prayer wheels all over town. It's got me thinking about things that spin. Why are they so entertaining? It's no surprise when it comes right back around again. Still, it always manages to put a smile on your face. Since Im a compulsive list maker, I started this one:
Fun Things that spin
-the earth
-bicycle wheels
-merry go rounds, ferris wheels and the tilt a whirl.
- tops
- office chairs!
Things that spin that aren't so much fun
-my head at the immigration office on the second day (the first day the electricity went out) filling out several forms that I didn't end up needing anyway!

Fun with the Phrasebook!

2008-06-03T04:53:00.000-04:00

I have to say Im pretty disappointed in the Mongolian phrasebook. There is no section on hobbies or what to say when you're drunk or touring with a band! I have managed to put together several fun sentences though. It only took these kids about three minutes to figure out I wasn't really a profesional wrestler.

Weather 2, Bernadette 0

2008-05-27T22:32:00.000-04:00

Many of you may remember last summer's mishap, when I arrived in 15 degree (celsius)Sapporo wearing a tank top. Well, mother nature has struck again. This time with snow.
Thinking I had learned my lesson, I had actually checked the weather report last week. It didn't mention anything like this. It cheerfully predicted weather in the 60s (fairenheit) with those smiley sun icons. Let me tell you who's not smiling now!
The good news is that I can't start cycling right away because I have to wait about a week for my Kazakh visa. That's all for now, I'm off to buy some long under ware and maybe some vodka.