My two Italian Friends, Mirandola Spain, Emilia 45k

I am sitting in a overpriced Hotel in Pisa room getting some work done. The space is about a 5x20 room, bathroom down the hall, and my window overlooks the wall of the building next to where I will stay until early tomorrow morning when I try to catch the plane… this time. This time. I have not had very good luck with the inter-European flight system. The first flight to italy was cancelled and rebooked the next morning, and my flight out of Italy was unfortunately on time…and I was not. The joys of city traffic, interstate construction, and accidents are common in Pisa too. Thank goodness for good friends, perfect strangers really, but nevertheless, have treated me like I was an old pal from elementary school.

Actually Serena and Marco are childhood friends from elementary school. They grew up together in Montiroso, Italy. If you remember my BLOG from the Chicqueterre, Italy; Montiroso is the last village, a beautiful village on the sea-and Marco calls it his sea. This is where I met Marco, this past April, only the first week and a half into my 2-month journey. I must be honest. I actually scoped Marco out as he sat on the beach. Blond hair, light eyes, kacky shorts, nike shoes- I thought American. At this point during my travels, I found comfort in being around other travelers; not the hoards of early 20 something foreign exchange student action obnoxious, but “older” single travelers. So I sat down, on my beach towel within a good distance from him. After a while, I asked him if he knew where the restrooms were. As he spoke, I knew he was not American. After chatting a bit I found that Marco is actually a local, well- was a local until he moved to a small city named Mirandola north of Bologna. We spent the evening chatting about normal everyday life in our countries. A mechanical engineer who spends his week days perfecting dialysis machines, and his weekends are spent returning home to his family’s summer home on the sea. At this time at his job, he was responsible for translating English documents to Italian. He told me it was nice to actually speak English and work on his pronunciation. He invited me to dinner, so I had dinner that evening. He taught me about the local food, wine, and lemon liquor that originated the south and if you remember is in that movie “Under the Tuscon Sun.”. That evening we departed, exchanged emails, and of course I gave him my BLOG. Over the past few months after I left Montorosso, Marco continued to read my BLOG and we began to send email messages ever so often. So when I knew I was going to Italy, I knew that I should only ask if I cold take him out to dinner this time; if he was close to Florence.

He was not in Florence, but offered to meet me in Bologna, about 45 minutes from his home. He then invited me to come to is home for a couple days to ride my bicycle while he was at work; then we could visit in the evening, and he could take me to Pisa in the morning to catch my flight. I met Marco in Bologna and got the pleasure of meeting Serena. I natural beautiful Itallian, stong,smart, motivated, warm spirited, and so happens has the best smile on a woman that I have seen in a long time. SelenaShe made us dinner, a unique pasta (well to me, was not tomotoe based) , with a tomotoe, tuna, and montzerella salad. She and Marco were not so impressed, but I told then that this was absolutly wonderful. In america, when one makes pasta, it usually includes opening up a can or jar of "something". All fresh ingrediance, with time; all is good.


Mirandola located in the Italian planes, reminds me a lot of the planes of Wyoming and Colorado. It even smells like it; however this place smells of pig, not cow. If you can get past the smell, this is a perfect place to spin out your legs after 6 days straight of riding up Spanish mountains or tuscun hills. Flat and Straight. Marco warned me “that his home did not have the beauty Tuscany or the cost”. I told him it was perfect and I see beauty in all lands. The barns are made of stone..

The towers show the wealth of the ancient families ....
The green still continues here in the north...

On my way on the Emilia, the old ancient road to Rome.. Beautiful.

Amore Katelyn

My Tuscany.. 60k 3.5 hrs Florence

I finally made it to my Tuscany. Twenty four hours of traveling, one cancelled plain, a reseched flight the next day, 4-one hour bus rides, a two hour nights rest in a over priced hotel room, 5 taxi rides, 4 train rides, a awesome dinner at "4 cats" a resurant in Barcelona where Picasso frequented, Increments of sleep for maybe a total of 4 hours.. All of this seems bad, but I could not imagine where and how things would of turned out if I had not met a US Army Captain that is stationed in Pisa and happened to be on the same flight. Captain D., took care of it all with his fluent Italian and specialty in transportation. He says..no problem when I thank him for helping me. He says..he does things to bring good Karma... He needs it when he goes south, and this does not mean southern italy... But Iraq.

I am here, loaded on caffeine. All I want to do is get on my bike before the sun leaves tuscany. I find a hostel last minute in a area close to florence, about 30k....a perfect bike ride. Travonellie, a pituresk village, tuesday night festival in the town square, Thursday market, quaint cafe's and hustling bars...Yes, Perfect. I almost feel guilty because I have realized I am close to the Fasoritta Bassetto, I should be there, a place that I said at one time...a place I could in the future call home. However, I need to cycle new roads if I want to plan a cycling tour of wine country. I have covered all the tiny paved roads that wind up and down the tuscany county side in the vicinity of the Bassetto. I have seen the southern region, around Siena. I need to go north now, there is more beauty to see.

Yes, ride I did. I got a taste of my tuscany last night and today. The crisp cold air cools my warm skin perfectly. I can feel fall comming here, not like back in Tennessee. I am spoiled this time, in the Chanti wine region, I see grapes. The real grapes. Miles and miles of rows that sprawl as far as the eye can see. Castles, Farms, and villages are scattered among the green. My legs burn as I head to Firenze, or Florence we Americans call it, Last night's ride got to me. Florence is directly north on a small highway- with traffic. I plan my route with a local Italian man that works at the hostel. I tell him I want to go on little roads. I tell him I want to add about 25-30k to the direct route to florence, for a total of 60k. He keeps steering me away from this and only says, "there is nothing to see there, except for the country side". "Yes, good I say, this is what I want." "But it is very steep and you will be in the middle of no where", he continues. Yes, Perfect I say. For some reason I do not think people get me. I have made it a general rule, if someone tells me not to go somewhere, then this is exactly where I should go.... This took me to a village called IMPRULA.... I arrive at about 2 and find a village in fiesta. I am hungy and find a little returaunt called OSTERIA DEL pESCE lO zIRO with people sitting on the patio. I ask for a pastry and find they are closed. The owner looks at me and smiles, and waves for me to come in. She points at the case and I see two pies. As always I ask her what is her favorite. A giggle, this is what I always get. Generally people are happy that I would even ask, but my friend does not know what I am saying. She looks at me again, takes her bare hands, and takes one piece of each pie, puts them on a plate, and gives me a water. I smile and think, "she does not actually think I need all this". I reach in my bag a pay her, but she refuses and motions me to sit. She returns with a business card, smiles, and then says ciao as she leaves. I know when I do my tour of Tuscany, this will be a stop where we will have pie. I find Firenze, a beautiful city, a river, plenty to see and buy. I coast on my bicycle, one foot clipped in, the other dangles and pushes as if I am on a scooter. I wind around people as I window shop. My way is much faster, but can be kinda tricky balancing on the cobbles and dodging spastic walking people.. People...so many people. Yes a city and I am here only 3 hours before I have had enough and take the bus back to the village.

, Kateyn

A spanish Girl Friend, Montserratt to Terrassa Spain 50k 2.5 hrs

I squeeze in one more bike ride and found myself above the clouds a ride to the east of Montserratt to a town call TArrassa. I also get to see more of my favorite cute spanish cow signs.

I also got to spend last night with Caroll, rubens room mate. We had a girls night because ruben left to go work on the train. Caroll, a traditional spanish beauty, petite, brown lovely eyes, and long wavy hair speaks better english than she thinks. Raised in a resort town in the south of spain, she has become more familiar with english than most spanish people. We decide to make a light dinner and begin to get to know each other.I tell her that I am glad Ruben went to work so we may get to know each other. I tell her that I have not met many local girls. It seems that they travel in packs and are not as friendly as the men. Obviously the men have another agenda. They also get straight to the point... Are you married, do you have boyfriend,-even ask if I have kids.. So many times I have heard this- I can recognize these questions in spaish and itallian.. I stick out like a score thumb here, a blondie, different. I was even told I look exotic by 2 drop dead gorgious spanish women on the bus...exotic is different..so I guess here I am something I lever considered myself as even close to.. Caroll seems pleased that I shared with her that I enjoy her company. She begins to tell me how she came to be ruben's roomate..Two months ago she decided to leave her long term boyfriend. She is learning to become herself again, finding what she likes, and persuring her dream of finding a job that uses her eduction. We are siilar in many ways, even how we thinks. Culture does not define a strong woman. She reminds me Of people..how different we are, but how similar we can become when it comes to finding what makes one happy. It is simple really. Maybe slightly different depending on the time of ones life,culture, or environment. You take it away..all the layers and I think most people want acceptance of ones self, to love and to be loved. Yes I think it is that simple. The question is....how do you find it, or is it to be found....

The real life..or what I know it to be... Monseratt Spain 50k...to long to know the time

I cannot believe this is the first day that I have ridden my bicycle. I have been here 7 days and I finally took off this evening to explore the beautiful mountains and spanish country side. I have spend more time on the beach laying around then I have actually being on my bicycle.I find new small routs that pass stone farm houses that are covered in Ivy. I catch glimpses of the stone mountain of Montserrattt in the horizon. I pass local people on the street, I smile as they gaze at this white girl on her bicycle....a 39k warm up. All of this getting my legs and lungs ready before I tackle the 10K climb up the Montserrattt mountain. Yes more switch backs. This would not be europe if I did not FIND switch backs at least a few times a week.




On my ride I keep thinking to my self that it feels different this time. I cannot place it. It is not that the excitement has worn off, or that I do not appreciate this experience. I guess a feeling of reality and responsibility has found its way back into my life. I giggle, but do not laugh so hard that I snort..a recient usual occurance of mine....I wonder why...My days consist of waking up early, getting work done before everyone else starts to stir. I do some sort of exercise- a jog, hiking, a bike ride or climbing; then I live life.....a Kinda normal life.

Like going to the grocery store. Last time I went to the grocery store, Ruben escorted me around making sure I had everything figured out. I got it this time..... Weigh the fruit before you check out or you will piss off a spanish cashier(normally a she..and she will huff, roll her eyes and take off to weigh the produce mumbling something not pleasant); eggs, milk, and cheese are not necessary in the same location, agua con gas has carbonation and agua sin gas does not have carbonation; and canned meat has it own isle... if I liked canned meat- I would know where to find it....
Laundry..something I DID NOT DO ON A NORMAL BASIS my last trip (UNLESS YOU CONSIDER WASHING YOUR UNDERwear in the sink). I did laundry. Different..... You hang your clothes to dry outside the balcony. I learned that it is best to put two clothes pins on your underwear or you will find your undies 4 stories down on the street.


I make dinner for Ruben and 6 of his friends. It is my turn to cook and I decide on a vegetable lasagna with rocotta and a tomatoe sauce, something the spanish are not accustomed to. Nevertheless, I think they liked it, along with a katelyn style peach cobbler cake with a hard cream spread in between the biscuits made from french crepe mix..not bisquick.


So..I guess I feel like I am living not traveling this time, a weird feeling nonthe less. I find myself working on my laptop on trains, not staring at the foreign beauty. My goal for the day is to get 5 hours of work done, not getting a 5 hour ride in. I choose this... To bring work into my life as I travel to places where most people do not check their email every hour, or stop at a cafe to finish up meeting notes, or write a research proposal. Before the sun rises,I think about work nd work.... What I should be thinking about, because this is what pays the bills, not wondering around europe. Reality..I guess I love my new reality. It beats spending 10 hours a day in a cubicle, in a stuffy office, drinking stale coffee, counting the minutes till lunch. Now I Sit at a cafe with the background of spanish people talking, the music at the cafe is a mixture of "american top 40" and traditional spanish flamingo. I drink the best cafe con leche with real sugar, not splenda. Snack on home make tapas, not snack packs and granola bars.

Yes..this is my office and I love it...
Amor,
Katleyn

Another trecking adventure, Calmontgo Beach in Las Cala Spain

August29
I knew I was in trouble when Ruben asked if I had good shoes. The last time he asked me this, I found myself climbing on all 4s without any gear, up the mountain of Montseratt, dangling over thousands of feet of exposure…..With him saying “caution” over and over again…



This day he wants to take me to a beautiful beach that is about 2 hrs from his home. Calmontgo’ beach in Las Cala, Spain is the destination for the night and the next day until we leave for Barcelona to catch the train to Switzerland where I will be his guest as he works the night train. I ask if I should bring my bicycle and he said no….we take the hiking route to the beach. Ok..so I really knew I was about to embark on another adventure.

Like most places on the cost of the Mediterranean, it is developed for tourist. American food, trinkets, snorkeling, paddle boats, disco tecka’s, fru-fru drinks with little umbrella’s, and too many tourists… Ruben gets enough of tourists on the train; he prefers places with no people. So if you can imagine you must go where a car or train will take you, a place that most people would not find because it is not meant to be found.

Caution…Caution… the fimilar words with the Spanish accent is what I heard as we begin the hike (with my good shoes)- to only look at a possible camping spot. 30 minutes this way, we go to investigate if we can camp at the “house on the beach”, then we will return by hiking back 30 minutes, eat dinner, and get the gear, and then return by hiking another 30 minutes to the camping place that may be available…all in the dark…. Up and down a rocky path, that narrows along the cliff to expose a 600 ft drop. I am on 4’s again, balancing grasping for dear life on portions of the trail. Occasionally, Ruben looks back and says,”Are you ok?”. I just say, “bien”…what else could I say? I look up and Ruben is walking perfectly erect, arms crossed, not even out to balance. I just giggle because I termed him the Spanish Mountain Goat during our last hiking adventure and it remains true this night as we walk in the dark with light from our headlamps and the full moon..

We reach the house on the beach… Well not what I expected, but much cooler. It is actually an old war bunker from the Spanish War. A perfect and appropriate location for what Ruben termed the “War of the Mosquitoes”-and can I say Spanish mosquitoes apparently prefer Spanish blood compared to American. Nonetheless, a perfect place to remain dry, and awake early the next day, close to a favorite swimming place of Ruben’s.

I just thought I was going to lay around on the rock beach and occasionally take a dip in the sea to cool myself, but I was surprised with flippers and a snorkel. He actually told me the night before, but I guess I did not understand until he whipped them out of his bag. I just thought he wanted to swim. You see most of our conversations is in broken English with charades and sound effects mingled in place of the “missing” words…so sometimes we get things a little mixed up. Anyways… Looks like when I was on the computer in the village he went to the store so I could see the “little fish”.

So another day of getting my work done while sunning myself in the sun; seeing the Mediterranean; swimming with little fish; hiking along a gorgeous cliff edge; and learning more about life from my Spanish friend. I guess the only bad part is the mosquitoe bites that continue to itch. I guess..no… I know I am a lucky girl….

Different this time, Montseratt, Spain. Swim and a River Run

August 28th-

It is different this time.. When I arrive I will have familiar faces waiting for me at the airport, I have a plan, a goal. I will not wonder this time, bike bag and bicycle with me at all times. Spontaneous, go as I feel, eat when I am hungy, sleep when I am tired, move when I have had enough; was the way I lived for two months when I was here before. This time, I have work to do, 25 hours a week, projects to be completed, email’s to answer and teleconferences to dial into. I have friends with an itinerary, a mission to plan routes for next year’s cycling tours. So I find myself with a little more stress that all this will not go as smoothly as I planned. I have prepaired..of course. Finding the latest technology for communication and remote work has become a kind of hobby of mine. Gadgets.. I amaze people when I pull them out at café’s and on the train’s bar car. It is fun to try to explain to them what I am doing…interesting actually because they do not speak very good English and it has not changed that I do not speak anything but good English….well that really depends of who you ask. I think, “I am lucky that Europe is even more “connected” than the states”.

As I go to take a morning jog by the river, in the mountains, at the place I called Heaven. I wind up and down the familiar narrowed cobbled streets of monissori de montseratte, look towards the breathtaking mountains. I remember where the bank is, where I can get on the internet, where I can get my café con leche, and where to buy the fresh produce. I pass familiar faces that smile, I stop and they greet me with the typical Spanish greetings and besicos (little kisses) on each cheek. I am the American girl, with her bicycle, the sport woman of Ruben.

Today, I have awaken early with the sun to begin work; writing policy, populating spreadsheets, and analyzing data. After a few hours,Ruben’s roommate Caroll has joined me at the kitchen table for morning tea, tostada, and apple spread that she has made herself. She comments that she loves the apple mint leaves that my grandmother grew and dried for Ruben. We drink them in our morning tea as I speak of my country and show her pictures of the Smokey mountains.

It is hot here in Spain, but not as hot as the southern Tennessee hot humid climate. Actaully, it feels perfect. Cool breeze, sun that warms the skin, and the smell of fresh air that is brought by the mountains. I should get back my Spanish tan in no time, especially since I am told by Ruben that his favorite summer activity is swimming. Today, this afternoon, he takes me to a remote swimming hole that is fed by a brisk mountains stream.

We scale down a small rocky cliff. Difficult enough that he must go before me, place my feet, and spot me as I maneuver to stability. I find a beautiful place, he even mentions that it is not as beautiful as most..but I think this is more than beautiful of what I have seen in all my life. Purple flowers accent the tiered shelved rock layers of the stream; green algae creates padding if you fancy a slide down to the pool that is deep enough to jump into from the cliff ledge. We swim, sun, eat a picnic lunch, and I work a little. I catch him sleeping, on his towel, working on his Spanish tan….something he can care less about, he is just exhausted from working on the train during tourist season. He told me that last month he had to work 320 hours; sleeping for a few hours, for days at a time. He apologizes because he is tired and falls asleep, but then I remind him that it is ok, because I need time to work.

So I can tell this time, these memories of Europe will be different, a slower pace, my priorties are different, not my bicycle this time, but getting my work done so I can enjoy my friends and bicycle. The real life…. If I dare to even call it this with out you all rolling your eyes at me. I guess my life is what I have made it..and this is it. Perfect....

Amor

Life that takes your Breath Away, Off to Europe

August 26,2007

I never thought I would be ecstatic that my flight was delayed. Usually, once you hear the announcement you have an instantaneous overwhelming feeling of panic… Will I make my connection? Will I have to spend the night in the airport sleeping on the floor, eating a 15 dollar sandwich, and consuming 7 dollar beers at the bar with other stranded travelers. However, as I walked through the airport doors, back pack strapped full with the weight bearing heavy on my hips, mobile office strapped around one shoulder positioned in the front of me, and bicycle perfectly situated in Grandma and I’s home made bike bag… I saw him and so being delayed was the best thing that could happen.

Grin on his face… I did a triple take…… disbelief really. You see I am not really accustomed to surprises. I am the first one to surprise, but the last one to receive. Farmer, Jeff, or nick name Pita…(well one half of pita, our buddy Mark is the other half of pita and I am the hummus, they call me Chick Pea which originated on our trip to Ashville, North Carolina..a long story in its self ) had driven from his home in Knoxville, Tennessee, about 2 ½ hours away, to see me off on my trip.

A man, in some ways that has a spirit that is allot like mine. So when I found out that my flight was delayed even longer, I smiled because that meant more time to with him.

After a two-hour delay, I finally board the plane. I begin to reflect on why I am sad to leave but then happy to leave. I can tell you that I am happy, happy with my new life, happy with my new job, happy to be with my family, happy that I get to ride my bicycle almost every day, happy that the people that have been brought into my life are good, beautiful people. Beautiful people that take my breath away because of their sincere hearts. There was a time in my recent past when all this was shadowed. Shadowed by a feeling because of a bad time in my life that was brought on by actions of people or a person that was not beautiful. I felt that I could never trust, believe, live a happy life. Now this is fading.

Why leave this? But then I remember what Farmer told me, a quote that he felt I needed to hear. He said, “Life is not about the breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away”. In this next month I go to have my breath taken away. I go to feel, see, and live things that most people will never get the opportunity to experience. I get to continue a dream of making my bicycle and traveling part of my life…and I will share it with you as best as I can.