Cycling Europe Day 35: Gorgeous Slovenia

Slovenia! I did not know what to expect and you absolutely took my breath away! What

There was no border between Italy and Slovenia.

a beautiful country.

Let’s just start by saying that Slovenia is a safe haven for Frequently Peeing Female Cyclists (FPFCs) like myself. There are more than enough small side roads and big trees to hide behind. It was heaven today. I just stopped whenever I felt the urge even beginning to reveal itself. Heaven!

I started my morning in Gorizia, Italy. I already knew I was very close to the border with Slovenia. But, man! One minute I was in Gorizia cycling down one of its quiet streets lined with houses and a school, and suddenly I’m in Slovenia. There was no border. One was just the continuation of the other. Two cities, two countries, as one.

Almost immediately I found myself heading up into the mountains. It was so beautiful, so green, so quiet. I passed tiny, tiny villages the whole way. There might be four houses in one village, eight in another, twenty in yet another. They were just really nice small houses in the mountain. What a way to live.

The road gradually got steeper and steeper as I headed upwards. Yesterday I asked the hotel receptionist how steep the road was. He said, “You have cycled in the Alps before?” I said, “No. But I did the Pyrenees.” He said, “Phttt. Then it will be nothing.”

I have no idea why I said I “did” the Pyrenees. I crossed them. From what was probably the least Msteep point in the whole range. Today’s climb was not phttt just as I have not “done” the Pyrenees. I went from sea level to 815 meters. Fifty of today’s 90km were uphill. That’s not phtt. Yet it was doable. And if I compare today’s climb with others I’ve done on this trip, there is at least one other that was more difficult and maybe two others that were the same.

I was taken aback by Ljubljana. I really did not know what to expect. I could live in this town. It’s beautiful. It’s one of those few towns I’d love to come back to with my husband, along with Girona, Spain and Verona, Italy.

Ever since I started this trip, when I’ve cycled into a town on a Sunday afternoon, they have all been dead like ghost towns. Ljubljana was absolutely alive. There were rallies, singing, dancing, shops and restaurants open, people strolling. It’s wonderful!

Take a look at this video. I assume this is what Slovenians normally do on Sunday afternoons. Isn’t it wonderful?

Today I got soaking wet, freezing cold, and climbed for what seemed like forever. Today was a perfect day.

Cycling Europe Day 34: Lousy Personalities

I have a lousy personality. Absolutely lousy. I need constant change with a sprinkle of

Piazza D’Vittoria in Goriza, Italy

stability in between. I’ve been like this for years, if not my whole life.

You’d think the kind of trip I’m on would be perfect for said lousy personality. It is. Except that I woke up this morning thinking, “I’m so tired of the same routine EVERY SINGLE DAY!” I heard myself think that and immediately realized what an utterly ridiculous thing it was to think. Every single day I get to see new places and visit new towns. Yet there is a real element of routine in my trip. I wake up, get dressed, get all my stuff packed, eat breakfast, run off as early as humanly possible, cycle, cycle, cycle, arrive, look for a hotel or a camp, shower, find food, relax or walk around town, write my daily travelblog, eat more food, and settle down to sleep. That’s what every single day is like. Exactly. Without fault.

I suppose it’s a good thing I’m starting to feel this way. It might mean I’ll eventually be looking forward to going home. I caught myself briefly wishing one night that I was sitting in bed watching TV at home with my husband rather than being on my own in a hotel somewhere.

It also means I’m getting over my initial anxieties.

Cycling Europe Day 33: The Small Stuff

We haven’t yet discussed the bug situation.

I’m starting to think Italians have a thing about leaning towers. The Duomo in Portogruaro.

You know how when you’re driving, insects manage to smash themselves in your windshield sometimes? Or how flying geese smash into the windshields of planes? Same thing happens while cycling. Except that it’s all kinds of flying bugs smashing into your face. And if you’re wearing sunscreen, like I do, they stick. Or if you’re breathing with your mouth open, they fly inside. I had a paroxysm of coughing today while cycling because a bug went straight into my windpipe. Sometimes they fly right between the openings in your helmet into your hair. Because I’m camping sometimes on this trip, I’m getting a double dose of bugs. I have to admit I’ve come to like the little critters. They are my company since I’m all alone these days. We’ve figured out how to get along with each other.

In Spain, everywhere I cycled I saw so many little creatures crossing the roads. I would think that if drivers knew what was happening under their tires, they wouldn’t be driving at all. I was constantly swerving to avoid killing bugs and caterpillars. I haven’t seen many bugs on the roads in Italy, though. I wonder if Italian bugs just have more “street smarts” than Spanish bugs by avoiding roads altogether.

I had another road sign situation today. I was cycling out of Treviso and heading towards Portogruaro. The signs said while still inside Treviso that Oderzo, a town en route to Portogruaro, was 24km away and that Portogruaro was 54km away. I thought that was perfect. I’d have a short cycling day again. Couldn’t ask for better. But as I cycled towards Oderzo and got nearer to it, eventually seeing a sign that said it was 19km away, Portogruaro was moving away from me no matter how hard I tried to get closer. When Oderzo was 19km away, Portogruaro was STILL 54km away. It seems that I eventually was able to pick up enough speed to be faster than Portogruaro. It was actually 65km away from Treviso.

Cycling Europe Day 32: Pooping Planes and Transcendentalness

Not much happened today, to tell you the truth. I had flat roads, thankfully, but 120km

Sunset from my camp in Verona last night. I didn’t take any pictures (yet) today.

of them. In hot weather. Today I was wondering when cycling 100km starts to get easier. When I said that to my husband in a brief Facebook conversation, explaining that the problem wasn’t muscular but that it takes the energy out of me, he said I’m probably eating into my fat reserves more and more everyday. I think he’s right. I really feel like an old car that’s starting to sputter. I eat as much as I can when food is available, but I’m probably just not eating enough to replace all the energy I expend everyday.

One thing I sometimes struggle with while cycling such long distances is finding ways to occupy myself so I don’t get bored.

For instance, I discovered that I still remember the words to “Bah Bah, Black Sheep” but can’t remember the words to “Mary Had a Little Lamb”. I spent part of the ride today singing Bah Bah, Black Sheep to the rhythm of my pedaling. When I pedaled slowly, I sang it slowly. When I pedaled faster, I sang it faster.

I had a small issue with navigation today. It got me thinking how nice it would be if, whenever I found myself off course for any reason, I could teleport myself back to the spot where I made the mistake instead of having to cycle extra kilometers to fix it. That then reminded me of watching Star Trek as a kid with my father. That then got me thinking about the transponder machine they used in Star Trek for teleportation. When the transponder converts all one’s cells into energy, what happens to the soul? A soul isn’t made out of cells and atoms. Is a person considered alive in the moments while he’s being “beamed”? How does the soul know where to go to reunite with the rest of the body? Does this mean there is no such thing as a soul, seeing that people do become people again once they are beamed? Is the soul a concept people made up to explain something we do not understand about ourselves? I got distracted from this line of thought and then three hours later went back to it and suddenly realized teleportation machines did not yet exist. So maybe we really do have souls.

Remember when I wrote about warning signs: the triangular road signs with a red border?

Cycling Europe Day 31: Relaxing With Juliet’s Boob

I was going to do something stupid and then I got smart.

This blog post’s title is meant quite literally.

When friends ask me about my timeline for this trip, I tell them I’ll keep cycling until I get tired. Depending on how you understand that, it can sound very romantic: I’ll just keep cycling and cycling like this forever, maybe.

No I won’t.

In my head, I can be ridiculously flexible. In reality, I am an organizer that sticks to the plan as if not sticking to it will bring the death penalty.

There are a million limitations. I don’t have visas to every country in the world. In fact,

Today’s cycle to Verona involved the Alps as my foredrop. I’ve had quite a lot of that in the past few days.

I am completely limited to visiting European Union countries that allow the Schengen Visa. Ramadan is coming up at the end of June and I am NOT cycling 100km a day while fasting 18-hour days. I actually need to end this a few days before Ramadan because I still have four days of fasting from last Ramadan that I need to make up before this one rolls in. I spent a lot of money so my four kids could join me in the UK this summer. I have to be there before they arrive. And finally, I unfortunately do not have a limitless supply of cash and, even though I’m saving on transportation costs by using my own leg power to get places and I’m camping when I can, this trip is still very expensive for someone like me.

So no. I’m not going to cycle forever. And yes. I do have a plan. But I am not going to tell you what it is. I do not want to burden myself with people’s expectations or with my own, for that matter. If the day comes that I’m too tired to cycle any longer, I stop. If I can manage, I’ll keep cycling until I reach my final planned destination. It doesn’t matter. I’ve already done so much and I’m so thankful.

Cycling Europe Day 30: One’s Country vs One’s Basic Human Needs

Egypt is currently in the throes of a pre-presidential-elections circus. Although I’ve

Mantova

been made generally aware of what’s going on these days, mainly from my friends’ discussions and posts on Facebook, I’ve been able to blissfully protect myself from the details. I have suffered more than my fair share of post-revolution and post-counterrevolution trauma to want to go through more of the same.

Many of my revolutionary friends have already left the country. Some of my friends are so disenchanted that they have asked relevant questions such as, “When do we call a country our home?” “Why do we feel a need to be patriotic to a country that gave us so little and destroyed so much?” Muslims believe that we can roam in and feel attached to all of God’s Earth. Why this attachment, then, to a particular piece of land whose boundaries were drawn as such not by God but by the actions of conquerors and as the result of wars?

Presidential candidates have started their campaigns and have made television appearances. Most of us believe we know what the result will be: another military man will take charge of our country with the blessing of a large number of Egyptians. Sometimes I think we deserve what’s coming to us if that’s what Egyptians want after everything we’ve been through. The revolutionaries failed miserably in forming a post-revolution united front, the Muslim Brotherhood fucked up in the biggest way possible whilst they were in government, and now it’s time for us all to pay the price.

I’m waiting for the counter-counterrevolution. That’s when I’ll start taking interest in the state of affairs in Egypt again. In the meantime, I have much greater concerns of my own.

Like finding suitable spots to pee on Italian roadsides.

Cycling Europe Day 29: The Stuff of Nightmares

It’s not important to be the fastest or even to be fast. It’s not important to be the

This Italian hamburger gave me just enough energy to keep looking for a hotel.

strongest or even to be strong. What IS important is to be determined and persistent. Remember the story of the rabbit and the turtle? I’m a turtle. And it’s working for me just fine.

It’s the stuff of nightmares; my nightmares. I roll into a town I don’t know and can’t find anywhere to spend the night. Although unlikely, it COULD happen. I could have as one of my destinations a town so small it does not have hotels. What do I do then? I dread the day if it comes.

While I was organizing this trip, I researched hotels and campsites in and near my planned destinations. For every destination, with the exception of perhaps five, I have the address of somewhere I can stay. If it’s a campsite, I check its website the night before I arrive to make sure there is a restaurant in or near it. If not, I head to the nearest city. If it’s a hotel, rarely do I actually look for it when I arrive. My system has been to find the city center and book into any suitable hotel there.

But things are never that straight forward. Sometimes I can’t find the campsite or it turns out it doesn’t exist. Other times I get there and it doesn’t have grass plots so I can’t pitch my tent or it doesn’t have food nearby. Sometimes, like today, I can only find one extravagantly priced hotel in the whole town. There must be others but I can’t find them.

I don’t really have a backup plan. Wild camping is not an option I want to consider.

Cycling Europe Day 28: Big Dreams

Dream. Dream big dreams. Leave the small dreams for those who are content to have

It was a misty upwards cycle this morning.

them. Discover what you are good at and then have faith in what you know you can do. Never allow others to make you doubt yourself. Often, their doubts are simply reflections of their own self-doubts. Dream. Dream big. And believe in yourself. Believe in yourself. Believe in yourself.

I have no idea what happened today. Whatever it was, thank you, God.

This is what I posted on Facebook last night before I went to sleep:

1. This campsite is giving me the impression that Italians travel in very large numbers.
2. I have two large mountains to climb tomorrow, it seems.
3. It’s raining.
4. I’m in a tent.
5. The weather report predicts rain tomorrow.
6. I will be on a bike.
7. I predict lots of wetness.
8. I’ve had a headache all day and just took the last Panadol tablets I had.
9. I’m going to have to have a late start tomorrow to make sure I eat a proper breakfast. The restaurant here opens 7 or 8 depending on who you ask.
10. I’m pretty sure there’s an ant or two running around in my underpants. We’re just going to have to get along together.

I was worrying about having a tough day the next day especially because I wasn’t feeling very well yesterday.

I had looked at the route that my GPS suggested I take. It involved cycling up two 500 – 700 meter mountains. The weather reports weren’t good. And it rained all night.

I woke up to a drizzle but I was feeling better than the previous night.

Cycling Europe Days 26 & 27: Italia! My Beebol!

Fatwa #397 issued by Sheikha Nadia El-Awady: Married women are not to travel unaccompanied by their husbands in Italy. Italian men are too handsome and their smiles too charming. Single women, on the other hand, should get their butts over to Italy PRONTO. 

Yesterday was a very happy day for me.

The day before, shortly after I published my last blog post, I went out for another walk

Really, Monaco?

around Monte Carlo. My afternoon walk made me feel very overwhelmed with the beauty of it all. My evening walk made me feel very uncomfortable with the excessive opulence I was witnessing. There were escalators and elevators to take people from one level of the city to the next. You heard me. The most expensive cars roamed the streets. I walked to the casino. The cars standing in front of it! The people going into it! I watched people sitting on their extravagant yachts sipping champagne. It was the stuff of movies. And it wasn’t for me. I needed out.

I left early the next day and had another wonderful and peaceful cycle along the

Italy!

Mediterranean. It wasn’t long before I saw it: the sign that indicated I was crossing into Italy. “Oh white day!” I said out loud in Arabic. It sounds silly in English. آنهار أبيض is what I said and kept repeating with a very silly throaty laugh. I then started getting carried away with myself. One of my many personalities started saying, “Who woulda thought? Me, Nadia El-Awady, from the fallaheen in rural Egypt, cycled from Portugal to Italy!” And then one of my other personalities interrupted, “You’re not from rural Egypt! That was your father! YOU were born and raised in the US until the age of 15!” “Oh yeah,” the other one said. “Still. Nadia El-Awady, daughter of Abbas El-Awady who WAS from the fallaheen, cycled from Portugal to Italy!

It was Italy! I was home! The Italians! My beebol (people in Egyptian English)! My most favorite beebol among all beebols. This was something I already knew about Italians. I have been to Italy many times. I know the Italians. I understand them with their loud voices, their belly laughs, their expressive gestures, their hot tempers. They are people who leave nothing on the inside. It’s all out there. And I get that. I relate to that. I understand that.

And the Italians made sure to leave no room for doubt that they were mine and I was theirs.

Italy Diaries

Near the end of October 2012, my husband Colin and I went on a trip to Italy. We were invited to attend the wedding of one of his childhood friends and we decided to make a holiday out of the trip. I posted articles about the trip on CairoScene’s Scenario. Click the links below to read those articles. I’ve added a slideshow of pictures from the trip so you get to see a glimpse of some amazing places we got to go along the beautiful west coast of Italy.

• The Italy Diaries: Florence
• The Italy Diaries: Pisa
• The Italy Diaries: Cinque Terre
• The Italy Diaries: The Nudist Beach in Corniglia
• The Italy Diaries: Santa Margherita

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