Bohemian Rhapsody in Prague

We arrived in Prague with very few plans. The first day we woke up very late after our long drive and then got lost trying to find the train station to tale the train into Prague. We finally found it before Kitz killed anyone and got to Prague. Then we bought a map, bought some very nice lunch (Kitz had to have some borscht and boy was she nicer after that) at the Mona Lisa Cafe. We had asked some questions at an info booth in the train station but the lady there answered no questions and seemed very put out that we had asked her anything. We then wandered to the old part of the city past a demonstration against Syria, through alleys, and to Charles' Bridge. We had very little planned for Prague, so we just wandered taking pictures of things like the astronomical clock and Charles Bridge. Kitz saw an advertisement for a concert that night in the Mirror Chapel in the Klementimum and after looking at the list of pieces we decided to do it. So in this glorious old chapel painted throughout with frescoes, we listened to some Bach, Pachelbel, Motzart, and Vivaldi. It had been raining much of the afternoon and when we got out it started again. It was also getting cold with the onset of the night, so we decided to stop and get some hot chocolate. We went to this chocolate shop that had some advertised and bought so chocolates from the display and two cups of hot chocolate. The chocolate was hot chocolate, but not really a beverage. We received two little cups of melted chocolate. Rich? Yes. Good? For eating straight chocolate it was sweet but good. Did it fill us up? Yes and we didn't even eat all of it because it had solidified. So our dinner was melted chocolate.

The next day we got up late and left late, so I actually had some of the chocolates we bought for breakfast too. Kitz was not amused. Neither of us is a chocoholic. We like it when there is good quality but won't eat a ton. I think we ate more chocolate in Prague than during our entire vacation thus far. We did get some truffles and a box in Brussels and a small bag in Liege. I'm sure we had some in Switzerland though I can't really recall. I can't remember having chocolate in Switzerland though we did have caramels and I had chocolate ice cream. But we did have quite a bit of chocolate in Prague.

I would also like to mention the man who sold us the tickets to the concert. Kitz communicated with him in Russian mostly and he thought we were Russian though I looked English. In Italy, I looked Polish. A little later this man asked where we were from guessing Russia, Poland, and Lithuania. I just got asked today if I'm Russian. In Florence a waiter asked if we needed a Russian menu but Ricky said I look more Russian than Kitz. I'm not really sure I look like anything. I'm mostly English, Irish, and French with some Native American and Germanic thrown in, but somehow I can also sometimes look Eastern European. Well until I find people who look like me, I will just assume I look like no nationality. In the US, we don't really care about this since we are a big melting pot, but since I have come to Europe many people keep guessing the wrong nationality, so I am now more aware that some nationalities have a look.

Anyway, after the chocolate breakfast we went to the Strahov Monastery with an extremely old and orate library. We wandered through the rooms and were treated to more Eastern European hospitality as we were kicked out 10 minutes before closing time. There were 15 minutes left and we had two Roman rooms left to see but they were now closed so close to lunch time. Fine. We will spend more time at the castle. We didn't need to see those rooms we paid to see anyway. So, we walked out our frustration to the castle. It wasn't very far away, but we had to stop and have lunch since Kitz hadn't had chocolate breakfast like I had, she was in a bad mood.

The castle was more of a palace, which is not a castle. My main problem is that it was constantly being renovated, but the main cathedral, St. Vitus was left unfinished for 400 years. They began construction in 1344, but didn't finish in time for all work to cease with the Hussite War. They didn't work on it after the war then a fire severely damaged some things in 1541. So they forgot about it for a while (tall structure in the middle of Prague and very visible until some guys in 1844 wanted to finish it. But it wasn't until 1929 that it was finished. Almost 600 years. And you think you have problems leaving things uncompleted. Besides that the castle was nice and we bought some music from this group of Bohemian Funfest musicians outside the castle to listen to as we drove through Bohemian countryside o the morrow. Really fun stuff, similar to Klezmer but not the same at all. Anyway, we wandered the castle and learned about the exciting and crazy history of Prague and all the Bohemian kingdom. Then it was finally time for a Ikea to get some new luggage. I got a duffel and Kitz got a hard suitcase to put all the photos and watercolors of Prague in. My dad loves Prague since he loves most former parts of the Hapsburg Empire, so now he can decorate the Beijing apartment with European pictures. He hasn't been to Vienna, but I bet he'd love that too. He actually grew up in Germany and we passed the place he used to live in Germany on the Autobahn. Kitz was asleep.

In the castle complex, there is this little part called the Golden Lane. In essence it is a row of tiny houses (three rooms at most) that are backing against the wall that used to be defensive. They are these preserved houses that the government bought that all shared a toilet and spout once they had running water. Yeah, not superb conditions but romantic. Many artsist and painters lived there for inspiration before the government bought them all up, including Franz Kafka. It is now a shop, but I got to stand if Kafka's former house. There was a fortune teller who lived there, but the Germans killed her because she predicted the end of the Third Reich, and an avid film collector, an herbalist, and many more all recreated or preserved for tourists. Above the houses is a long wall with a narrow room to shelter the guards with holes to shoot crossbows out of. They filled it with hundreds of suits of armor and helmets, weapons, and much more. They also have a cross bow shooting game to win prizes at up there too. Loved it there. It was like a recreated made-up world. We bought my Dad a shirt with Kafka in Prague there.

After this high adventure, we finally made it back to the eastern European hostel where our clothes were still drying hanging in the room after we washed them last night. We packed and got ready to leave in the morning. Late (as usual) we woke and had breakfast then drove slowly, avoiding the highways, through Bohemia. We eventually crossed into Austria and stopped at Käsemacher Welt, which begins another adventure for another day.

Long European Drive into Night

On a Wednesday night we left Milan. It was really a Tuesday morning at about 2 am. We had to be in Paris by sometime the next morning to exchange our rental car with a new one. We had put about 8000 kilometers on that little car. I was going to miss our little 2-door VW Up! I hadn't even named it so I didn't get too attached. It didn't even have cruise control. But first we had to get to Paris. Kitz took the first few hours of the night while I slept. Since I was the navigator, I told her to wake me up at a town before we changed our course. I woke up before that when she stopped at a small Italian Alpenhorn town to find a 24 hour ATM that would take her card before we got to the Mont Blanc tunnel. We had taken the Frejus tunnel to get to Italy but we would take Mont Blanc to get back. We were in the mountains when I woke up though I could not clearly see them. When we drove through the Swiss Alps, we could clearly see the stark, green mountains resplendently bowing over us. But that was during the day. The French Alps during twilight slowly faded into dark shapes on all sides as we drove to Italy. I love driving in the night for this mysterious moonscape. There are fewer vehicles and we were able to see lit castles perched on the sides of the mountain, sometimes almost right above us. These valleys we sped through seemed enchanted when we were the only car in sight. Like an historic amusement park ride, we were shown small towns, crosses, chapels, and castles either lit or in vague outline from the streetlamps. Then came the Mont Blanc tunnel, followed by Mont Blanc lit by moonlight. Soon I took over driving so that Kitz could sleep. I had my iPod with the directions and things to listen to as I drove through the rest of the night and rising sun showing France.

I love the quietness of cross-country driving during dawn wether it is in Wyoming, Utah, California, Pennsylvania, Kansas, Wisconsin, or France. I love to watch how the color of the light slowly changes as it washes the land. The land keeps changing until the light is clear but the changes are all to swiftly moving to capture or define. The fields change from lavender to peach and finally to grass with all the colors in between. As an echo the sky also slowly transformed from secretive and warm night to clear day as all the pastels in the world were thrown out into the brightest of sun and shaken through the painted air.

Kitz slept and I used my iPod to keep me driving to Paris. As more cars joined the highway and the day was completely clear, there was no more magic, just driving to Paris. Kitz woke up and took the wheel to drive to the Europcar outside Gare de Lyon. We emptied many things from the car and back into our backpacks. Then we went and saw all the fine people at the Europcar desk. Ibrahim took care of our car rental again and upgraded us to a car with a nav system and cruise control. This really raised our spirits as we began the long drive to Prague. Kitz got us out of Paris and close to the edge of France then she slept while I drove us across Germany to the Czech Republic. While I really did like driving on the autobahn, it did involve lots of speeding up and slowing down. There were certain zones where there were speed limits and only two lanes with slow trucks and Cars going 200 km/hr. But it was still nice to not have tolls. I'm really hoping Germany will be added to Italy and France ad a country we do not get sent tickets from. I'm sure we will get some from Switzerland, the rest I can just pray not to get tickets from. Because we are hiring the car, the tickets may take many months to be mailed to my US address. I am not looking forward to that. In addition to vignettes, there are speed cameras and you are only allowed about 2 km/hr over the speed limit in Switzerland before you get a speeding ticket according to the Internet. So around Christmas or a little after, I may be getting presents from Europe.

So we left the countries where I understand the language: Germany and France and returned to a country where everything is a mystery. Italian and Czech have very little familiarity to me which is humbling. But we made our way to Praha with some diacritical marks, or at least the outlying town of Ricany with an upside-down tent over the c. My iPod doesn't have these marks which has only ever bothered me when trying to spell Zizek with two upside down tents over the z's. But we made it to Ricany and then struggled to find the hostel. We finally did find the hostel and it reminded Kitz of Russia and Eastern European buildings but it was cleaner on the inside. She somehow communicated in Russian with the lady to check in and we finally got to sleep after 17 hours of driving and this threadbare but homey hostel seemed like heaven.

The Mosquitos of Milan

After a nice and quick two days in Florence, we went to church Sunday morning (getting lost again) then drove to Bologna. I assumed that this was the place where bologna (pronounced boloney by the uneducated American public) was created. Not something I would want to be known for. We arrived quite early at the hostel on the edge of town and they told us how to drive into town. It was Sunday and this was cheaper than the bus since parking was free. So we drove in, parked, and wandered. Bologna is actually very well known for their culinary expertise, so we eventually sat down in one of the few open cafés and ate a two plate meal. We each had two courses. Stuffed is a word to describe it. During this trip I have started to feel sick with the amount of food. I usually graze through the day, so meals, especially large meals is something my body is not used to. We had just planned on wandering around town and skipping dinner. But that was before we met up with Ricky. Ricky lives in Bologna and is a friend of Leti, Kitz's best friend. So he walked us around and we did get some amazing gelato and ended up in the Modern Art Museum of Bologna. Ricky works in fashion and specializes in pattern making. He and Kitz hit it off like a rocket. We spent most of the day talking and walking.

A quick break to mention how awesome the modern art museum was. It was quite amazing and I may have that opinion since I love modern and classical art. One of my favorite exhibits was this room of large panels done by Mossimo Kaufmann. He uses an eyedropper to administer the paint to the panel and I loved it. Some of them looked like magically enchanted computer boards and some looked like twinkling stars. It was a beautiful museum. After that visit, Ricky tried to find us a restaurant he recommended, but we went to three and none were open. So eventually we found a supermarket that was about to close and ran in for some ingredients that we took back to Ricky's flat and he made us dinner. I was not ready for it. After lunch I would have been fine fasting for the rest of the day. But I ate more, enough to make me feel sick. It was good, but too much food is too much.

So we returned to the hostel and slept before the drive to Milan where I met the mosquitos. We drove and arrived in Milan early enough to still go out and do things like see the Doma. We drive to Leti's apartment and dropped off our stuff then hit the town. We had already done some shopping in Florence, but now we got even more. With Leti and her friend Aida, we hit the town. Aida was crazy, and even more so than usual because she just had an amazing job offer while we were standing with her. So we shopped then had aperitifs. In Milan the way aperitif goes is you pay for your drink then help yourself to an all you can eat buffet. It was good food but nothing spectacular and since I don't drink alcohol, I got this drink that was the most subtly flavored milkshake I have ever had. I can't even remember what it was, but it was amazing.

A break to talk about ice cream or gelato in Italy. When we first got to Florence, we both got gelatos. But we were used to the small servings we had been given in France. Small but tasty. Now we were given enormous amounts of gelato in hot weather. Kitz got a cone, but I got a cup. Nevertheless our arms were both covered in melted gelato by the end. While we got a small serving of gelato the next day and some excellent gelato in Bologne, we were still cautious after the first gelato adventure. We ended up pouring water from my water bottle over our arms to clean up. But after that milkshake and the gelato we had in Crema two days later, Italy satisfied my ice cream needs. We did have some gelato in Milan the next day, but it wasn't anything that blew me away. We met Leti's sister for aperitifs that night after doing laundry and wandering. We went to this small vegetarian restaurant and the buffet had amazing food. By this point I counted my mosquito bites. Sixteen on one leg and twelve on another. The total eventually reached 33 and I was wearing insect repellant this whole time. The first day we were there we all sat it some grass because we were in a park, but after this short sit-down, the mosquitos followed us and never left me. I've never had so many close friends.

Our final day in Milan, we actually left and went to Crema, where Leti grew up. We got up a bit late and then drove to Crema, had lunch and took naps. Kitz slep for most of the afternoon which was good since she was going to be driving most of that night. We finally got outside and had some amazing gelato and then saw an old church. We got back to Milan just in time to meet Leti's brother and sister for a Napolese pizza dinner. The pizza was amazing even for a 4 am breakfast and it was our final goodbye to Milan before we started to drive back to Paris that night.

Finding Florence

The first thing I should mention about Florence is that Google maps does not work there. Like much of the rest of Europe, street signage is nonexistent or extremely hard to locate. So whenever we were trying to locate a street, it would never be found. So when we arrived in Florence at 5 am after driving from La Toussuire, we spent an hour driving down unnamed streets looking for our hotel. There were one way streets that never ended or turned around, but seemed to continue forever into another time and place. This was at 5 am when no one else was awake, and the empty streets really helped this feeling. Of course we were both exhausted and upset at the time, but we finally found our hotel's street by chance, and then finally found our hotel. Three hours of sleep later I woke up to figure life out, including where the Internet was (broken at the hotel) and how I could print ticket reservations off to see museums later in the day. I finally figured it all out and went back to the hotel at about noon to wake Kitz up.

After a fairly frustrating morning, the rest of the day made up for it. We wandered around Florence and went to the Uffizi. Art just relaxes me and it did again. By the time I left, I wanted to think about life and wander the streets forever. But Kitz wanted to have good Italian food, so we found a nice restaurant with pizza. After seeing a Michelangelo, a Donatello, some Leonardos, and many Raphaels, I decided this was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles day. Splinter would be proud. But that was a nice day after all the confusion and getting lost and figuring out buses.

The next day we were up earlier to get to the Galleria Del'Acedemia to see David by our ticket time for 11 am with menthe and Coke granitas for breakfast to cool us down. With all this heat there come the inevitable mosquitos. I have never had more bites even when hiking and camping in the deep woods as I got in Milan two days later. Florence was not as bad and only had a few. After seeing and being amazed by David, we wandered. David is something that has been appropriated by pop culture for the most part, but the statue itself is amazing to behold. While at first I considered the head to be too large in proportion to the body, I eventually realized despite that fault, this was one of the most perfect statues I had seen. I have seen many statues, but my real love is painting/ two-dimensional art forms. I have not studied many statues with the time and intensity I thought David deserved. It was reminiscent of the ancient Roman and Greek statues' musculature but the balance and the preserved perfection of the statue is what makes it memorable. Just like the Mona Lisa, I think it has had a bit too much hype, but it still is beautiful.

Our wandering took us to Santa Croce, the oldest Franciscan Abbey in Florence. After marveling at that, we wandered over to the home of Michelangelo. The best part about that hot and stuffy house was the complete lack of people. There were three or four other tourists at most in the whole house. More people worked there. After that we did a bit of shopping then found another cafe just before the 20 minute rain shower. The same accordion player who was near our cafe last night was far too close tonight and talking was hard without raising our voices.

When we first decided to go to Florence, I couldn't help thinking about the movie & novel of A Room With A View by E. M. Forster. This may seem a bit strange but I love this movie. It may not be a very serious film but it is Merchant and Ivory at their best. But I didn't see anything from the movie in Florence, though my mind kept playing the soundtrack. The Florence from a movie is very different from a modern Florence, but still lovable in it's own way. It wasn't the winding narrow streets or getting honked at by Italian guys when I was looking scrubby in cut offs and an old t-shirt I had divested of collar (though these helped) that made me like Florence. It was the difference from France. I had been in France and northern Europe for so long, Italy seemed like another world and I liked the heat and the otherness as I adjusted to excellent waiters, hot weather, and a dream-like haze of antiquity.

Sitting in traffic on the side of a mountain

After a lovely mountaintop finish of the Tour de France, we have been sitting in bumper to bumper traffic in the Alps between La Toussuire and St. Jean-de-Maurienne. It is a very picturesque spot to be stuck in but we are stuck nonetheless and not as capable of appreciating the beauty. We are driving all the way to Florence tonight and thus can't stop and just wait a few hours until everyone clears the road. It has been a blisteringly beautiful day though. Yesterday, we checked out of our mountain ski lodge hotel and set up our tent on the side of the race route for tomorrow. We were next to some Dutch guys and some Norwegian girls. Kitz slept most of the day while I read. This peaceful laziness was disturbed when we tried to get dinner in town. I felt sorry for this poor lady who only spoke French and Italian and clearly had no training as a waitress. She was clearly filling in and had no knowledge of the menu or table numbers. But after waiting an hour and 10 minutes to get water am eventually food, mostly I just wanted to get out of there. Some Italian men camped down the road from us wanted us to join their feast but after sitting outside for two hours, we just wanted to get warm and sleep.

Many times I have slept in many awkward places, positions, and times. This had led to the belief that I could sleep anywhere. I think that supposition is entirely based on how sleep deprived I am because I could not sleep well in that car.

Despite sleep deprivation, Kitz and I got up. She got her hair cut and we were sitting near the finish line (80 meters away) before 11 am. We were sitting next to some South Africans and some Americans. On the other side of them was Marco, the drunk Belgian. Now one thing many people will tell you about me is that when I am sleep deprived I am more fun than when I'm not. Such was the case that morning. They were all going through wine bottles like Cookie Monster goes through cookies. It was great and it wasn't until later that I started to come down from the high and began to stare at things, like the ground or nothing. But it was still great. I got lost for about 45 minutes looking for a toilet and ended up in a cow field somehow, but it was still great. My sweater got wine spilled on it and it was still great. These finish line events turn into parties as soon as you find someone who speaks a language you know. Some more Americans joined us later. A couple from Washington D.C. added to the intense merriment and some people they had met earlier joined in. Even Scott, Dave, and Zack from the stage on Monday were about 50 meters away, so we visited. They had met Brian and Richard (the two American guys) and the South African chicks at a party Tuesday night waiting for the stage on the side of a mountain, though no one had a clear memory of the meeting because of some Danish guys and the large amount of beer they brought.

That was our last stage of the Tour de France. Most of the other people will be following for another stage or so, but this was our goodbye. And even Marco's songs and recounting his life story to me couldn't take away the enjoyment. Frankly, I even enjoyed Marco's drunk ballads. I may never meet any of these crazies again, but I will remember that stage fondly. Even now we have been sitting in traffic for an hour and a half trying to get off this mountain. Some Slovakian guys in the car behind us kept running up and down and we blasted some K-Pop and all danced while the cars all just sat there. Some crazy Norwegian guys came by too.

Despite cycling being a team sport, when most people cycle they do it on their own. But suddenly here we all are at the top of a mountain shouting, yelling, singing, and getting drunk together. I may not have gotten drunk, but there was such a sense of communitas for even just a moment as we all gathered to cheer Pierre Rolland to the top of the climb, and then every other of the 173 riders after that in the forty minutes it took them to get in. You want the day and the race to just continue forever. But it won't. Even as we said goodbye to the Dutch guys we camped next to and folded up the tent, even as we told the Italian men we couldn't have dinner with them because we had to get to Italy, and even as we said we would try to keep in touch, we all will drive our separate ways and never will we have a day like that again. Just like those days where a domestique cyclist will leap out of the pack and solo to the finish minutes ahead of the peloton, days like that do not come often and are very precious. As we drive now faster down the mountain, it all begins to fade away and we will now behind all these people and the Tour to continue our lives, our ride, our trip.

Sitting on a mountaintop

I haven't written much lately because I just didn't want to. Following theTour de France takes some logistics and time planning. There are thousands of people who want the same space ad you to shout encouragement to the same people you do. It is a bit crowded and uncomfortable with tons of planning. Without is probably a major inconvenience with little reward. So after the insanity of the time trial in Liege, we followed the tour for the first four stages and then we took off for foreign parts. We visited some friends of my sister outside of Brussels and I spent most of the day listening to people speak Russian. I brought a book but still got to watch an hour of Mikael's dance recital recorded on a Blackberry and explained to me by Mikael in Dutch. Mikael is a 6 year old boy and we cemented our friendship by playing football (soccer) with a balloon. At least his Dutch was easier to understand compared to Russian. That was a very interesting day.

We found a Laverie to wash our clothes the day after the stage ended in Boulogne-sur-Mer. On getting to the hotel: we went to the start and feed zone that day and tried to get into the city and avoid the finish. But one of the roads we needed was closed for the Tour. Without a small map (only a large one) I navigated us through many many country roads that seemed to have no names to the freeway our hotel was off of. Life success of the day.

To return to the relevant, we found a place to do laundry the next morning in Le Portel, next to Boulogne-sur-Mer. Our hotel was a block away from the sea, so we got to go explore the beach on the English Channel for a bit and hear the sea that night. We met some nice Brits following the Tour on bikes at breakfast and they were taking off for a few days too. I have really missed talking to people in English. My sister was sick (very sick) for a week around this time. She would still go do things but was definitely feeling horrible. She even had me drive that day. She never lets me drive. I drove in England, but that was it. She much prefers to drive than to watch me drive. To be fair, she is better at driving manual than I am. So I drove us out of Boulogne-sur-Mer with a car full of clean clothes.

I have been the navigator since we rented the car in Paris, and have slowly figured out all the signage failings of France, Switzerland, Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands. I have figured out how to compensate as best I could. Ekitzel is not used to doing this and it wasn't until I had been going the wrong way on a highway for about 45 minutes that I asked her about our direction since we had crossed back over a motorway we had earlier used. She was so sick and not used to double checking directions, we had to turn around and go back. We were heading to Omaha Beach in Normandy and didn't arrive until 6 pm. We had dinner and found a room at the D-Day Hotel on the beach so we could see the cemetery in the morning and she didn't have to sleep outside. We had reserved a camping place at Mont St. Michel for that night, but the rain and her illness made that seem very undesirable. We did get to Mont St. Michel the next afternoon and camped that night. I explained the delay and checked us in entirely in French. Another life success. Then we went to Versailles.

I probably would have skipped Versailles and stayed in Normandy an extra day, but Kitz wanted to see it and see it we did. We had purchased tickets earlier online, but still ha to wait an hour and a half in line to get in then 20 minutes more for a girl to figure out why she couldn't find our ticket confirmation number. After experiencing her incompetence and the incompetently run souvenir stands at the Tour de France, I have decided that Germanic people should be in charge of running anything involving large amounts of people all trying to do the same thing. But I'm prejudiced. I like things to be run efficiently.

So Versailles was a palace and not really my thing. I only like palaces that are really old. Show me a good ruin r a catacomb any day. But it was fun despite the typhoon-like rain storm that soaked both Ekitzel and I despite all protection. We also both got dirty since the rain seemed to have absorbed some of the sand from the paths around the gardens and rained it down on us. We did get to see some nice fountains and all the Trianons, in addition to Marie Antoinette's fake English farm. It was so ridiculous, it was enjoyable. She had a fake lighthouse on a pond. I will upload pictures eventually of this very picturesque and very useless place. I was entertained by Marie's little version of a rural Disneyland. We finally rejoined the Tour on Monday in time for the Time Trial. We got to 25 m in front of the finish line at about 9:30 am and the Time Trial didn't finish until 5:30 pm. All day we got to watch one by one as the riders got their times. We were standing by some Americans all day and so got to know them pretty well. On our left was an antiques dealer from around Mobile and on our right were three guys who did IT and Engineering. They had slept in their car the night before and only one of the guys was really into the Tour. Dave knew about as much as I did about what had been happening and what was happening now. Scott rides, so he was looking at all the bikes. Zak slept during the entire trip, so really had no idea what was going on and no desire to figure it out. I ended up explaining things a bit, which is something I like to do a bit too much. But it was nice to hang with some Americans. On Omaha Beach we also met some Americans. We did go there on the fourth of July, so it was expected. We met these two older men, one Brit and one American. Both had fathers who had participated in the landings. These two men were best friends and on vacation together with their wives. They were driving with a trailer to pick up twelve cases of champaign for a friend's daughter's wedding. They were interesting guys and I hope I have friends like that if I ever want twelves cases of French champaign. There have been many interesting people we have met, but Dave, Scott, and Zak were the most entertaining. Scott started driving their rental car (a manual) without ever having really learned how to drive manual but since the other two went right to sleep he kept driving and the car still worked. Definitely the most entertaining people we've met.

After Monday in the sun, we stayed the night in Dijon, did more laundry and stocked up to spend a few days in the mountains. We had a hotel last night. It was a very nice ski lodge, so no complaints. It wasn't as nice as the one we had in the Belgian Dutch countryside, but very nice. Tonight though we are camping. The Tour de France is finishing at the top of a mountain tomorrow and they are closing the roads tomorrow, so we got here early and relaxed. On the way here yesterday we listened to Lord of the Rings audiobooks as we have been doing for a few weeks. We are in the Two Towers when Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn come to Edoras. As we drive we usually joke about parts from the movies. But we drove from the plains to the Alps and finally up a mountain. We got stuck behind a herd of sheep for a bit as the baby lambs and their mothers were being herded up a road. We finally reached the summit with a car with two doors an a three cylinder engine. Today we just parked the car on the side of a mountain, next to the road and pitched the tent. Ekitzel is tired, so she is sleeping while I read and stare into the distant misted peaks. They were covered in mist when I started writing this on my iPod but now they are more clear in the afternoon sun. Tomorrow the bike riders will struggle to the top of this climb while thousands of people cheer them on. I will be only one of those people, but every person is important, even those who can't drive manual.

Tour de France

Tour de France. Do you know what this is? If you don’t, you obviously have never experienced the insanity of cycling fans. I have enjoyed my time in Amsterdam and look back on it fondly. Liege has confusing streets, is a bit smelly in places, has excellent food, bad restaurant service, and I have had to use my French. But none of this matters. I spent the day doing paperwork while many of the other fans staying here wandered around the exhibition and the stage platforms they constructed. I’ve seen all this before, but never with this many fans. I have been in crowds at many stages in the Tour of California and USA Procycling Challenge in Colorado. I have even been sworn at when I was a course marshal by a farmer in Utah when I wouldn’t let him pass. But this is THE RACE. All the other races were big, but none was so big. There are people here from all over the world to cheer on their favorite cyclists. We are bunking with a Brazilian and an Australian. There are many Australians here, probably to cheer on last year’s winner Cadel Evans. It is so exhilarating to be around all these people who love this sport as much or more than I do. We wandered out to get waffles in Liege and as we were walking back, I was thinking of how much people can be brought together through their idiosyncrasies. It is not the general character of the people but the little similarities that  can bring people together. Maybe it makes us feel less alone in the world if we see how similar we are to at least one other person. We can’t be alone if someone shares this quirky trait with us. I am definitely not alone in my love of cycling, though I generally watch races at home alone because I don’t know many other people who actually watch cycling, and if they do, I am usually more into it than them. But here, people are here on their bikes, in their kits (one lady never took hers off in the three days we saw her), ready to fly their crazy flags.

Except not enough. After having been at the prologue for the Tour de France, I have to say that people in California showed more spirit. Whenever a Belgian or French rider came around there were cheers, but there seemed to be much less excitement than when I was standing in a crowd in Colorado last year. Those people were crazy. They shouted for everyone and kept cheering. I figure if a rider is in the Tour de France, and I am there, they deserve a loud banging on the barriers with my hand. Now I realize that this time trial was two and a half hours long with a new rider every minute or so, but still I wanted to keep cheering them. The way in which they mold their bodies to the skinny time trial bikes and maneuver it with the fastest speed possible, is beautiful.  It is not the same as the delicate stone work I just saw in Le Grande Place, Brussels which hundreds of years ago was carved out of this stone and still seems to be living. But a rider on a bike and ancient stone lace are both beautiful in their own ways. Our bodies and the way they work is like the Hallelujah Chorus sung in a cathedral. So many elements work together to create a structure that is so useful and in that uses it can be dedicated to, is beautiful. These men are expending more energy than it takes to run a marathon every day for two weeks to takes themselves over thousands of miles of road as quick as they can. What goal is more simple? It is an extreme, but our bodies are these works of art and we can feel how precious every movement is as we walk down the street, yawn and stretch our arms, and type thousands of words trying to convey a feeling.