It’s the journey, mafia and scotch

Dear friends and family,

The Shengen clock keeps on winding, and I only have ten more days allowed in this country, so I have to keep on riding south towards Montenegro. 

I’ve been pretty darned tired each night after riding so no blog for a few days. I’m now in Zadar, which is the oldest city in Croatia. This city was a major Roman settlement many years BC. There are Roman ruins all over and most of the old city is a Unesco site. Many of the old buildings were bombed and destroyed during WWII. In fact, the hotel I am staying at is on the site of a former theater that was bombed/destroyed.

The riding has turned into more of an adventure. What that means is that it is increasingly more challenging. There are no flat spots in this part of the country so it’s hill after hill to ride. Then throw in the wind and the rain and the mud and the sand and the challenge is to be had. 

Funny, that even though it is tiring, this part of the ride has been very enjoyable. I get to see how hard I can ride and in what conditions. Luckily for me I have the right gear and clothing to keep myself reasonably comfortable (just) and so when the rain started two days ago against a forecast that showed zero percent chance, I could just ride and see how well my body and mind would do in these circumstances. 

I saw a sign for a zip line experience and they mentioned “adrenaline” as a result of partaking. I get mine by semi trucks whizzing by my left shoulder as they pass me. There are NO shoulders here on this highway south, so the smaller cars pass me with opposing traffic, while the trucks have to wait for a clearance to get by me. 

Then when my Komoot (navigation app for bicyclists) routing takes me off the highway to sometimes a country road (yesterday I went eight miles of paved road with one car passing only), but more often it is a dirt and gravel path. Since I’m by the sea, the surface is a mixture of sand and dirt and rocks, which when wet let’s my tires sink in just enough to create extra effort to keep moving forward. It makes for very slow going and is a nice reminder to not focus on my destination but to enjoy my journey. Seems like I need a lot of reminders, and luckily they keep on showing up. 

I typically will wander off the road into the woods to pee often, as I am making sure I stay well hydrated. Now, in this section of the country, I am warned to only stay on or near the path due to land mines still all over the wild country. No more trips into the woods for me. Another reminder of the recent war here and the remaining challenges it has left. 

It feels special when walking up to the front desk at my hotel and being greeted with ” Hello Mr Kanieski”. I figured by now I was probably famous for my winter ride, except the reality is that I’m the only customer that night.

This hotel was run by people from Nepal, here for better wages and work conditions. They are employed by an agency who prepares their visas, arranges transportation and housing and then contracts with the hotel for labor. 

Two days ago, after a wet and hilly ride, I followed my host’s directions to his apartment rental. As Google said “You have arrived”, I once again saw no apartment and no one around. I rode a little further into the little town and saw an apartment with the door open and an older couple eating lunch. I waved to them and the man showed me that he was on the phone and pointed to his watch, meaning (I was guessing) to wait for a minute. 

I did wait and he soon came out to the street. 

I said “I am lost, can you help me?”

To which he replied in pretty good English “maybe'”

“I have a reservation at Niko’s apartment and I cannot find it” I told him.

“Oh, I will call him for you”, he answered as he dialed a memorized number. 

After a quick chat in Croatian, he told me “you are not that close, but I know  Niko and  he will be down to show you the way on his motorbike”

“Niko’s apartments are chip” “all the others here are very expensive”. “Do you know chip?” He asked me.

I figured chip meant cheap and agreed with him.

” While we wait, do you want to join me with a drink of scotch?” He offered. 

“No thanks” I kind of abruptly responded.

“You should join me. We now have something in common, as now the US and Croatia are both run by mafia. Yours are billionaire mafia, is the only difference from Croatia”

“Scotch doesn’t agree with my stomach” I replied as I pointed to mine.

He seemed perplexed with someone passing up a free drink.

“Ok, and nice meeting you” he finished with as Niko showed on his motorbike to guide me up the steep, rocky hill that I just descended with great effort back up to his apartment. 

Wondering why I didn’t have that shot with my new friend?

When I was about thirteen two grade school buddies and I decided to camp out the last night of school to celebrate summer vacation. What that meant was we would roam the neighborhoods all night looking for trouble. Or, that was the plan. 

I had the great idea of helping this celebration by borrowing a bottle of scotch from my father’s liquor cabinet. He didn’t drink hard liquor, but would be gifted bottles for holidays and stored them in the basement. 

I was sure that he wouldn’t miss one and helped myself.

So we set up our tent, made a fire and prepared to cook the burgers we had over the open fire. Not knowing better, we passed the bottle around between the three of us until we finished most of it.

I woke up, or could say came out of my stupor at daylight feeling like I was run over by a train. One friend was passed out in the wheelbarrow that we used to bring firewood, the other next to, but not in, the tent. We were all covered by the morning dew. 

On the grate over the fire stood three burgers, charred almost beyond recognition. We had passed out quickly, before dinner even.

I had contracted the flu and colds before, but never knew a feeling quite as nasty as the one I felt. I was glad that I wasn’t dead, but was wondering if maybe it would have felt better.

Of course it was stupid and like a lot of things that youth does, needed a lot of luck to keep us all alive. I’ve never since been much of a fan of scotch or hard liquor of any sort after that, so I guess there was an upside to my stupidity. 

Of course by now I’ve grown out of doing stupid things.

Sending love,

Charley