Historic Mostar bridge separates the Catholic side of the city from Muslim
Hello all! I have successfully arrived in the Bosnian capital of Sarajevo and am blown away with a mix culture. Bosnia is broken into three ethnic groups, Catholics, Orthodox and Islam, and the country has three land regions and presidents! Today is my 5th day in the country and have cycled some pretty rough roads getting here. Tonight I depart Bosnia for Sharm El Sheikh, in the Egyptian Sinai, and a whole new adventure begins. I plan to spend the first few weeks exploring St. Catherine’s monastery (where Moses received the Ten Commandments), Petra and the Dead Sea. I will continue my posts from the arid roads of the middle east and look forward to some interesting experiences.
The wind battered, and swayed my tent all night, I awoke to a frozen landscape. The grass crunched like corn flakes under my bare feet, and my water supply was now too frozen to drink. I walked a few hundred meters to a local restroom, teeth chattering, skin pulled tight around my bones. I looked in the mirror and smiled. Like a frozen lake, the movement from my lips caused my face to twist and crack. I was looking at a reflection of myself ten years from now, skin wrinkled and damaged from the sun. It was not hard to imagine a slouching, grey figure that I will soon become. If this is the future… What am I waiting for?
Ariel view of Dubrovnik
Cathedral arches
It is mid June, I am halfway across New Mexico and the temperature on this average summer day is close to 120 F. I am in the middle of a 100 mile stretch, no utilities, gas stations or even a sign of life. Desert, black tar, and yellow sand. I pedal over a small hill and come upon a man pushing a shopping cart. His shoes are broken, his face burnt and an old cowboy, bill flapping in the wind, is pulled down over his eyes to shade his wrinkled face. He might be what the Chinese would call a modern-day Zhuangzi, although at first I was not sure the intelligence of a man walking across the desert at this time. “Do you have any gum” he asked. “Chewing gum”? I said. “Your walking in it” I replied pointing to the sun melted asphalt. We talked for a few minutes, like this, kind of half-joking, half Zen Koan speech. From what I could get out of him, his name was Jean, and he had started his trek a few months earlier, planning on walking all the way to North Carolina, with a shopping cart full of supplies. He offered me a melted power bar, I accepted and told him I was going, he then said “Don’t live your life like you have a 1,000 years”. I laughed an pedaled on.
Old, peeling paint, fortress door Dubrovnik
Empty historic neighborhood
Two days ago, while riding outside of Croatia’s southern most city Dubrovnik, a semi truck carrying a large stack of jagged rebar turned into me. Within a split second, I knew that I had to speed up to avoid the oncoming disaster, and pedaled with force to avoided a collision. After a few deep breaths, I realized how close I had been to danger, and that there was not much I could have done to control it. The cold northern winds (Bura) are so strong over here that the other day I was almost struck by a flying bumper! Like a toupee in a comedy film, the wind pulled a plastic bumper from a passing van, and threw it in my direction. The driver, unaware of his loss continued on down the road, and I turned into the road to avoid the odd-shaped plastic tossing and turning in the wind. This is by far the strongest wind I have encountered on this trip and is comparable to riding the Whittier Fjord in Alaska. The wind pulls branches from the trees, and pushes rocks down steep cliffs.
Room for 2, Gaby and I take an elevator to the 7th floor of friends in Ploce
Cliffs sunset
Yesterday I spent 6 hours exploring the small, Medieval city of Dubrovnik. The city has become quite popular in modern-culture as the set of the sci-fi T.V series “Game of Thrones”, and is one of Croatia’s most visited tourist destinations. The city was one of the largest and busiest ports in the Mediterranean sea, second only to Venice and was a sovereign state for hundreds of years connecting the east to the west through trade, culture and religion. Built during the Byzantium period 100-200 BC, Dubrovnik continued to thrive as a port until the late 1800’s. Built like a fortress, the old city is surrounded by stone walls 20-30 meters high, and still has many surviving outposts. Almost empty, I chose a rather inclement day to explore the historic site, but encountered another world traveler heading to Iran in a camper van. Walking around in I had the streets and long alley ways to myself, and found it hard to imagine a densely populated ancient port city. The city has a beautiful harbor, and I found myself looking more to the horizon than to the historic buildings.
Bridge to Dubrovnik
View from the city walls
Outside of the city I befriended a lady who took my hand and told me that it was cold to be riding a bike. She then offered me a room in her house and now I am the sun bathing on her porch overlooking the Adriatic Sea. This is the end of my Croatian adventures, tomorrow I will be in Bosnia and Saturday is my flight to Egypt. Will write again from Sarajevo, be alive! The first New Moon, Chinese New Year, is on Friday!
The shape of Croatia is a lot like a chili pepper, not the southern Chinese chili peppers which are practically bell peppers, but more like the northern Chinese, long and skinny, hot and spicy, a La Jiao pepper,(so hot that you will look to the sky for respite). The stem and the seeds run through the interior of the country starting at the capital, Zagreb, moving west to the busy port city of Rijeka, and ending at the interior hub of Knin. (Knin was a stronghold for the Serbs during the Serb-Croat war, and was held in captivity for close to 5 years). Further south, is the more tasteful, seedless part of the pepper, the cities of Zadar, Split and Dubrovnik, offer a window to the ancient world in terms of architecture and history.
One of the most beautiful sunsets I have seen in a while, the sun through liquid on the island of Hvar
The weather has been unforgivable; rain, torrential winds and hail, continued to follow my path from the Plitvica lakes all the way to Split. Small patches of snow, remind me that the weather could be worse, but on several occasions my feet and hands went completely numb, and all day I awaited my warm sleeping bag. My tent has become the equivalent of a “work truck”, small leaks have gotten so bad that I now have put out my cook set during the night to collect the dripping water. The zipper on the fly has also failed, so to keep the water out I had it sewed shut in a local village, now to get in I have to crawl. It all adds to the enjoyment though of living in the wild, and I am thankful for all I have.
Arches in Split
Sometimes the sun can make all the difference
Ancient Mosaic line the streets in the old City, Split
The sun came out during my visit to Split, and I took the opportunity to dry all my gear on the busy tourist strip. Mistaken for homeless I was quickly offered a warm meal and a few beers, more Croatian hospitality. Beautiful ancient structures, the old city was built in the 3rd century, and the majority of the citizens still drink water from original artesian well, the Jadro Spring. The Diocletian palace, built during the same period, is the hub of the old city, and offers a glimpse into Roman times.
I am now pedaling south on the Dalmatian coast on route to Dubrovnik. Each day I am offered handfuls of seasonal oranges and greeted with smiles from the local farmers. The rain continues though and I am now drinking coffee in a café while my tent sits vacant on an isolated road.
You must pay a fine! You have no respect for park rules! You think that just because there is a road that cars and buses travel on means that you can ride a bike here…. Look, there is a sign, look read the sign! Either you pay or we will call the police (First encounter with Croatian Forest Rangers, Plitvica National Park)
First Violation: Camping in a National Park Second Violation: Riding a bike on paved roads
Moss covered trees climbing out to the water
After a fantastic day of hiking around waterfalls and lakes, and thoroughly enjoying Croatia’s most popular national park, I returned to my campsite to find two angry Croatian Forest Rangers. These guys were big, buff, had shaved heads and were pissed off. I had broken 3 parks rules; camping (not allowed in Croatian National Parks), cycling (Not on forest paved roads) and forgetting to pay the day fee (I admit that I am guilty of this). I tried to reason with them, thinking that they were just trying to get a bit of cash off me, but I quickly learned that they were serious when they pulled out the carbon copy ticket book. All the red meat and rakija in their blood would not let me go without paying a fine, and I got off to a bad start by not giving them my passport, rather having them use my expired California drivers license as identification (Better safe than sorry, they could have been cons). First they wanted to charge me 800 kunas, then we reasoned to 600, finally I got them down to 400, but tried to get away with 200. Bad idea!! Authority is power, and when your job sucks (being a Ranger in the winter season), you enforce. OK!! 400 kunas, close to 80 US dollars for camping and cycling in a National Park!! WTF!! The worst part…… I had to pack up all my gear and head out of the park after dark and was warned that if I tried to camp again within park boundaries I would be fined again. With this sort of treatment you would think that I was starting campfires or trying to mug a bear, all this for peacefully camping in nature. Sometimes it is obvious that there is nothing you can do, the more you fight the more you sink and this was the case. Well…. what to do, I tried to make the best out of it. I pedaled out of the park in the dark, and felt a bit hopeless, but found a nice guest house about 10 km down the road. I am now staying with a Asian Chief who specializes in hand pulled noodles, I guess things could be worse.
I think most would break the rules to camp in nature like this
All seven lakes lead to a waterfall
Paths between lakes and waterfalls Plitvica National Park
(Earlier this week) Leaving Pula, I pedaled through the darkness to an open field, and slept under a clouded sky. Unaware at the time, I slept near a rooster coop, and awoke quickly to a premature cuckadoodledoing every hour between 2 to 6 am. I packed up at first light, and spent a long day cycling in the rain. Damn, in my time off I have become accustomed to leaving in doors and having a roof over my head during a storm. With nothing to turn too, I found sanctuary in the hood my rain jacket, that was until the wind picked up. I pedaled through Rijeka and had a very close call in a tunnel at the south end of the city. Riding on the sidewalk in the tunnel I slipped, skid and totally biffed it, grabbing onto whatever I could I ran into the wall to keep from falling into the busy street! Cars honked, and the sound of brakes echoed in the tube. I pushed my bike from there on and coughed-in the putrid air.
International Diplomacy: A Nigerian, Palestinian, and an American all under one roof having a great time
Village outside of Rijeka between storms
Cevapi, greasy sausage links and onions between two Croatian pancakes
Just outside of Rijeka I found an empty park near a Pizza parlor, and set up my tent in a non-stop downpour. Everything was soaked, and I slept naked in my damp sleeping bag. I could smell the crusty bread and garlic coming my way from the restaurant and for a few hours I could hear the waiter calling to the chief “Malo Pizza, (Small) and Veliki Pizza (large)”. Another night of cabbage and bread but I spiced things up with a little tomato sauce.
Spring is coming, flowers remind me that it won’t be cold forever
Big waterfall, Plitvice NP. I immediately felt small and futile against the roar of water pouring forth in front of me
The rain continued all the next day, and after cycling some 60 km I departed the coast at the city of Senj, and climbed into the interior. A deep canyon, sliced through the ocean cliffs, and I pedaled with undaunted strength through a terrible head wind. I used my international diplomacy techniques (mentioning the names of famous Croatian Athletes, offering Rakija, then open my arms wide and gesturing sleep) to befriend a farmer, and he let me camp in has backyard. All night my tent swayed back and forth in the strong, cold mountain winds.
Strange trees in the Croatian interior
Thick lycophilic mushrooms grow in the countryside
I climbed through fog, hale and fierce winds all the next day, and at one point the wind blew my spare tire from the rack of my bike. A nice Italian couple drove by picked it up and drove it back to me. “Your American right”? They asked. “Crazy”, they said. It is nice to know that other than being known as the “international peace keepers” were are also known as “Crazy”. I finally arrived within the Plitvica National Park boundaries, but slept outside so that I could load up on supplies for the next few days.
I spent two days walking around the lakes and waterfalls, it was a bit strange that I haven’t encountered anything of this sort in other parts of Croatia
Two loaves of bread, pickled cabbage, ajvar, noodles, crackers, and a local bottle of Rakija. Panniers stuffed, I was ready to enter the park. When I arrived at the entrance there was no one in sight, the guard kiosk was empty and the patrol booth that issued tickets was deserted. I did a bit of off-roading, and managed to sneak into the main park road. There I camped next to a waterfall and the rest is history. Although being hassled by the Rangers I thoroughly recommend visiting the park, it was absolutely beautiful!
The battle begins at dawn. The first rays of sunlight break through the clouds at the edge of the horizon, and the orange color washes over the evening grey. Almost as if taken by surprise, the clouds let the sunlight through, until they gather enough strength to hold it back. There is no hiding. At least for now, shadows begin to grow and narrow, and locals begin to inhabit the city streets. A few hours earlier, social interactions between strangers would be cautioned, now we are open, joyful and ready to start another day. I am walking. Home finally, my gait is laborious, as I have been on my feet all night. Ten hours earlier, I stopped to get a falafel at Jerusalem Kebab, and quickly befriended the Palestinian owner and Nigerian chief. My long evening of festivities began. Now I am alone again and so close to sleep.
Once you pedal down to the beach, you might as well stay the night
The road to Pula was difficult to say the least, I must admit I had to stop and rest while climbing the steep cliffs that hug most of the northern Croatian coast. I have entered Histria, the largest peninsula in the Adriatic Sea. The beaches once so accessible are now far below. At night, it is like riding into a void. The road traces the cliffs for 30 km and eventually leads into a large valley. It is foggy and extremely damp. I stop repeatedly to catch my breath, before noticing my rear brake pad rubbing the rim.
I have become more bold, or rather careless in my camping style. My first night, I slept in front of a summer hotel “Kimen”, and awoke before dawn to a team of drywallers unloading their tools ready to begin a day of hard work. After apologizing for waking they offered a bed in one of the completed rooms but I declined, and set off for a long day of riding. Tres, my island landing point between Krk and the mainland is more mountainous, and is barely inhabited. There is no silence, wind, waves and cow bells echo in the distance.
It is very nice when you get to the point where your bicycle will move on its own will, in the direction that you want to go in. A much awaited down hill after a rough 10km climb, Tres
Traveling by bicycle is a constant shift from the 1st to the 3rd world. One day, hours are spent hours finding clean water, food and a safe place to camp. The next is in a café and it is time to decide what type of coffee beans would be good in a mocha.
Early evening window shopping in the 1st world
Pula is a very sleepy, laid back city that employs most of its residents on the docks building ships. Summers are extremely popular here, and the small population of 60,000 grows to over a million during the cities music festivals, Outlook and Dimension. The old city is home to the Arena, a huge Roman amphitheater built 50 years after the completion of the Roma Coliseum.
Pula Arena, had to sneak past a security guard to get this evening shot
It is hard to get a taste of what summer life is like here. Friday and Saturday nights were rather quiet but I some how managed to stumbled across parties both evenings. This is cycle touring at a different level , and sometimes seems to mimic a celebrity life style. I will be in villages and nature again soon and have decided to leave Pula tomorrow in order to see Croatia’s most beautiful national park, Plitvice Lakes. I have picked up a tarp and an extra dry bag to hold back the rain and snow, and I hope to hold up camping in the high altitudes. But need to leave the city lights and late nights.
Underground shoe repairman fixes my leather saddle bag
Late night eats at the local bakery
Le Pina (Croatian tortilla), Pljeskavica (mixed meat patty), and Ajvar (Bell pepper spread).Served at the famous “Fast Boys Outlaw Café”
I am pedaling again. Panniers over filled, and packed like I have never been on a tour before. I am being honest with myself, that I am a bit anxious about what lies ahead. I have spent a wonderful 6 weeks making new friends and becoming close to others, and it feels a bit different to be on the road again. Strangers, what an unintelligent word, there is nothing strange about the human beings around me, whether I am in a bazaar in Bosnia or in American Apparel in Los Angeles. We all have something inside that leads us in a direction and the only thing that I can see that is strange is when we don’t admit to ourselves what we really want. I can not expect another to truly understand what the world means to me, and I should not feel like I need to. My path is different than others, none is better than the one, and what brings us together is the passion that we have to get there, somewhere.
Blood sausage farewell meal
Thank you all so much for your Christmas cards and gifts! I received several emails with scanned handmade cards, and I am with friends in this world. I missed my 1 pm ferry to my landing point between Krk and the mainland. I will now arrive after dark and will have to search through the new landscape with little light. I went on a long trek with some friends last night to the supposed most beautiful place on the island, Paradise cove. I felt it while I was near the rocks and the water something inside is waiting the seclusion. The moon continues to grow, and the last few nights I have seen Orion through the cloud breaks. I will follow Orion all the way to Bosnia, and then continue to follow this isolated warrior to Egypt and Jordan.
Well here’s to starting new again, and I may I never stop learning about life. Will write again when I get to Pula.
Boom boom boom… the electro music seemed to drown out the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. The water was beginning to come through the windows and into the room, the rug was saturated, and my shoes began to float, my feet didn’t feel wet and I started dancing….dancing on the water…. what is in that rakija? 1 am New Years day, Malinska, Krk.
Happy New year!! I am flooded with good energy and I don’t want the world to stop spinning. The sun rises, sets and clouds float unnoticed over our heads, let us be more aware of each day and let us enjoy our times of happiness and gratitude. Ahhh…. Everything just begins when it is time to move on, by Monday I will be on the road again and the fog of the past will roll in.
It was a typically cold evening on the 31st, and after a celebratory late evening meal and rakija, I contemplated going out for the evening. My mental state was that of a mime, perfectly still and observant in a world of chaos. Festivities were just beginning and the bands were setting up for the last night of the year. I befriended a few locals at the grocery store a few days earlier and my gmail account had an unanswered invite to a DJ house party that night in Malinska. I layered up, brushed my teeth and packed my tooth-brush for what I thought would be just another night.
15 km of hills, frost and the occasional reflective glare of wild dogs brought me to the church center. It wasn’t hard from there to distinguish the direction of the party, the bass from the speakers echoed through the empty alleys and streets, if I were a zombie there would be only one place to go. I was greeted by a house of about 12 people, and two DJ’s. The setting was extremely laid back, in that everyone was sitting in the 1970’s style living room drinking rakija out of classy crystal glasses. No dancing, but the records were spinning. I sat next to the Christmas tree which looked like a cross between a palm and a pine, and was given a glass, with a tall pour, (that was the end of Julian Wong for the night). With conversation rarely being in English I took off my shoes and started some yoga practice, then I joined up in an English conversation about Parkour.
I followed the crew to the beach to see the fireworks, and started feeling a bit odd. The boom of the music was still going round in my head and continued to play while the fireworks exploded over the ocean. The water was also so dark and clean that I was having trouble determining which direction was up and which was down. Boom boom boom wave crash wave crash boom boom boom….. Like a mantra I was feeling the sound and earth.
Next thing I knew I was back at the house, on the dance floor, barefoot, melding my body to the sound of the music. The sound of the waves had not stopped and I was beginning to feel like I was stuck on a beach during high tide, the water was just beginning to touch my feet, and I knew that if I were going to have a good time I would have to leave behind my clothes and start swimming. “What is in this Rakija”!!? I shouted. A long time of no response, similes and a bit of laughter, my dancing neighbor finally responded, “Oh, I forgot to tell you …. We all decided to mix a few grams of MDMA, with the Rakija for the party”. “We all”…”like all of you decided to do this and didn’t tell me” I responded. MDMA….MDMA, I searched the undergraduate Chemistry degree data base stored in my head, and actually pinpointed a lecture in Organic Chemistry 108b, MDMA….Ecstasy in its most pure, crystal form. “Ecstasy”? I shouted “Yeah” was the response….”.Sweeet” Laughs. Everyone at the party had started saying “Sweet” and it was starting to get annoying, but I was feeling way too good to be bothered in any way.
“Listen closely and watch what I am doing, do not do the pose like this” You can see how many people understood.
It all made sense now, the water coming from the windows, the dark reflection of the sea, this was all part of my subconscious, and the serotonin was pouring in. I was literally plugged into the DJ and everything was everything I had ever wanted. I started getting hungry and I noticed a girl dancing like a UFO dipping a spoon into a classic red keg cup, she offered me some and after a taste it turned out to be a kale smoothie with Brazilian hazelnuts. What was in that rakija!!
I think that at least half of the class will be too scared to come back
I returned to the consciousness of Julian Wong close to mid-day, I had scratches and cuts on my back, and after a while I remembered trying to take the party to ancient abandoned church. In the kitchen I was greeted with huge smiles and great vibes. After a little chit-chat the conversation shifted to spiritual practice and Sun Gazing. “We must be aware that suffering is an optional state of being”, “Our options are limitless”…The girl with the smoothie from the night before and her boy friend were on a spiritual path and were big proponents of Sun Gazing (the practice of gaining nourishment from the sun) and the “5 Tibetans”, an ancient yogic practice from the Himalayas.
World cycle tourist and Croatian yoga instructor
After a few hours of new practice, I promised my new friends I would return and pedaled back to Omisalj. What a night, and how interesting to meet others on the path. It was past midnight by the time I got back to my small cave abode. With less than a few hours of sleep in 48 hours I was surprisingly energized from my earlier practice of the “5 Tibetans”. I lay in my sleeping bag and closed my eyes, the sound of waves returned and I visualized a powerful sun guiding me across the sea, I then fell into a deep asleep.
RIP beard, new year, new face, take a few minutes ago
Last trip with Baba 