Tales of A Journey

We are out of the mountains, off our bikes and are now integrating into the city life of Bologna.  Arriving by train, with bikes and luggage in tow, we were met by a populated city of 600,000, which was a little overwhelming.  However, that feeling quickly dissipated as we stepped into our new home for the next two weeks.  It is a beautiful flat, simple and elegant, including a most gracious host who stocked the fridge and provided us with fresh bakeries (Not to mention the king size bed that is larger than our tent).

Our first venture led us to the Universita, which is one of the oldest universities and one of the first universities in Europe dating from the 11th century.

Porticoes, which are noted as a hallmark of Bologna, take us through the entire city as we explore.  The leaning towers (Torri Pendenti) that escaped demolition, allowed us to take in one of our first views of the cityscape.  The Asinelli tower took us up 498 narrow steps, where if you were daring enough to look down, one could see each disappearing floor all the way to the bottom.  Another cityscape view was enjoyed by climbing 1000ft through the longest porticoed sidewalk in the world, consisting of 666 arches.  The construction began in 1674 and continued without interruption for 65 years.  This amazing construction leads to the Santuario di San Luca, the protector and guardian of Bologna.

Through the help of a few wonderful books, we learned that Bologna is nicknamed la Dotta, “the learned”; la Rossa, “the Red”; and la Grassa, “the fat.”
La Dotta refers to the ancient university city, with 100,000 students from various locations.  We find many hints of Madison and the free thinking, more liberal atmosphere.
La Rossa refers to the political left, or the Democratici di Sinistra (Democratic Party of the Left).
La Grassa links to Bologna’s reputation for the temple of Italian cuisine.  We have indulged, many times, in the wonderful varieties of gelato and will soon be tasting the famous Tortelloni.  A pastry shop close by has also pulled us in twice, where each time a kind worker helps to refine our Italian.  Hopefully the next stop in will allow us to order, error free.

As we ended our 5-day stay in La Peschiera, which is on the shores of Italyàs largest lake, La Garda, we remark on many of the great experiences enjoyed here.  La Peschiera, although a very tourist-oriented  destination in Italy was our first introduction to the style, distinction and flavor of Italy.  With perfect weather, we tented for 5 nights at a campground that was clearly infrequented by tenters.  The average camper was German with a VW camping van or a small RV, amany arrived by bus and stayed in one of the many mobile homes, or cottages that were available for rent at the campground.  Our site was nicely tucked between two cottages, our privacy gained by two hedges, one of which was of bamboo, with the most prominent characteristic being the location which was directly across from the campgrounds restaurant.  Differently than in the US, all European campgrounds have full course restaurants, where many of the campers dine daily.  We had the pleasure of seeing the intense work’ethic of the two waitresses that served the 20+ tables, along with an extremely intense janitor who swept, moppped and cleaned with overwhelming passion, the occasional Italian cursing heard when he encountered new dirty footprints into the restroom.  La Garda is a gorgeous, crystal clear leak, its climate is tropical with citrus trees of lime, lemon and kiwi along its shores, the climate established through the protection of the Dolomites from the north.  Water-skiing and motor boating is not permitted on portions of the lake, and the north and eastern shores are world-renowned for wind-surfing.

Sterling and I enjoyed a first hand view of the lake’s treasures as we tooka  1-day bike trip around the lake.  We estimated the distance at about 105 miles, which was completed with ease upon legs that now have been built while biking in the Alps.  The route was exasperatingly carved into the dolomite cliffs, creating miles of tunnels that required our sharp whit while traveling along with the breakneck Italian drivers.

Dinner out was enjoyed one night at the campground restaurant (Restaurant Basilica) where we each enjoyed our own pizza selection and ‘un litre de vino rossa’, which us both being very green with metric conversions, seemed like a good amount for a couple glasses of wine at the 6 euro price.  The waitress confirmed the request with a hint of surprise and we confirmed it back. We were then served an enormous carafe of red wine that offered us each at least 4 glasse of wine.  Upon paying, we were gifted (on the house) with two shots of Limonesca and Sterling was also given a teddy bear.  The following day we were also generously gifted with coffee, sugar amongst other things from a departing Italian couple that were staying in a nearby cottage.  It truly seems that people have a certain respect for how Sterling and I are travelling, bicycling and tenting is a tiring course, or posibly we wonder if many just think we are homeless and wandering!

(Note, Sterling thinks this post is excessively long for the topic of feeding a few animals, although Nick enjoyed writing the post so we decided to post it)

As we entered the second and third day in La Peschiera, IT, we began to take notice of four or five sparrows that would meticulously clear our campsite of the baugette and croissant crumbs that had fallen during our plateless meals.  Our tent site was clearly the primary source of handouts, their habits developed by preceding campers.  After thesesparrows discovered that Sterling and I too produced such wonderfult and tasty flakes of goodness, the sparrows became more demanding.  Positioning themselves directly opposite from us, wing-to-wing, shoulder-to-shoulder at about 4 ft., they would look directly at us, twitch a bit, then a sudden bleat.  Clearly, the bleat was their attmept to scare crumbs to the ground, a simple cause and effect which must have worked to success with previous more intimidated tenters.  Their terms became more severe as we began to find poop bomps on our personal belongings.  It seems that La Costa Nostra was alive and well in Northern Italy, as we were being muscled for a share of our bread!  We did not resist furter as they quickly became our meal partners, sleeping and eating together on the same campsite.

To appease these well organized syndicates-of-a-feather, we decied one evening to feed a few of the many flocks of ducks on the shore of Lake Garda with the loaf ends of some leftover bread.  Duck feeding seemed to be very popular in La Peschiera and these local ducks seemed to have evolved many generations, as domesticated yet uncaged animals.  Our interests were in isolating a couple ‘lucky’ ducks and showering them with enough bread that would melt their hearts while also filling their stomachs.  At the first toss of bread, instead we found the immediate response of ond hundred ducks, kicking aggressively in the water towards the direction of our bench.  Layers of ducks climbed the large grantite break-water boulders , making for the higher paved path where we sat.  This ‘fowl’ attention was immediately embarrassing as many elegant Italian and German couples were walking the shore, catching the last moments of a beautiful sunset, as we sat working methodically to pick off the ducks with wads of bread as they climbed the burm, hoping we could send them in a retreat.  I think it was a fearless child who eventually came running at the ducks and sent them away.  Our savior!

As we regainded our composure and the chuckling had subsided from such an embarrassing experience, one last peanut-size wad of bread remained.  With motives now that were clearly for humoràs purpose (we had certainly violated all of La Peschieraàs lakefront etiquetteand were now feeling rebellious), we established a wager to see if Sterling would be able to roll this last piece of bread underneath the nose of one of the many dogs that were being walked along the lakefront, the wager also requiring the dog to eat the bread without the handler noticing the whole event.  It did not take long before a short, stout, very-perfumed retirement age Italian woman came casually and slowly walking from left-to-right  in front of us, as I sat on Sterlingàs right.  As she was about a bodyàs length past on our right, Sterling rolled the bread toward the stout, lumbering pooch.  The bread rolled in a perfect direction but seemed to gather some unexpected speed and proceed then to roll past the dog and itàs owner, coming to a stop about 3 ft. directly in front of them both.  The Italian woman slowed as she inspected the now-resting  object, looked ahead, stopped.  In that time the dog had found the bread and gave it a quick sniff.  The woman turned, looked back in our direction (As Sterling shrunk into my shadow) and said a bunch of Italian, with the ending of ‘mi cane no like pane’, which basically means that her dog does not like bread.  With our fill of humor and embarrassment for the day, we left the lake shore now knowing that bread was only going to get us so far into the Italian social circle.

(New Posts and Photos!)

As our time in Swizterland is winding down, we decide to make our stays longer, enjoying the idea of not having to pack and unpack every morning and night. Our path lead us to the beautiful Ticino, mediteranean region, by Lake Lugano. A campground right on the lake became our home base for three days. We are surrounded by a lake, palm trees and mountain ranges.

The first night we enjoyed due birre and pizza at a local pizzeria. Being in the Italian speaking region brought comfort as we were able to speak italiano un picolo. We also enjoyed our first dark beer in an Internet Chat Cafe where we were able to get caught up on our bills and send a few e-mails to our parents to let them know we were okay. On the way back to our campground, Nick blew a tire and with a few beers under his belt, he was still able to maintain control until the bike came to a stop. Meanwhile, as Nick points out, I was yelling at him to be careful and to stop riding up on the curb, and telling him to “get control of himself.” Versions of stories tend to get blurred over time.

Without bikes, the next day welcomed a morning run and a long walk to a small town named Morcote. The town/village was along the lake, with cobblestone streets, gelato stands and cafes in abundance. There is no comparison to the environment we find ourselves in. With no spare tire, the next morning we leave on foot, bikes packed, to the next town that has a bicycle shop (Mendrisio). We discover quickly that riding the bikes versus walking them several miles is much easier! We found a bicycle shop easily, where we were sized up by the staff, after informing them that we biked from Lusanne and are now heading into Italy. With a new wheel, we proceeded to our last Switzerland town, Chiasso. Without a plan for the rest of the day, we stop for a cappucino and discuss our next steps. It was easily decided that we would find a hotel for the night and make some progress on our plans for the next two weeks, before our stay in Bologna. We luckily stumbled across a wonderful hotel, 50M from the Italian border. It is here that we will plan the next leg of our journey.

Today we set a lofty goal of biking from Thusis to Bellizona, requiring a ride through two mountain passes.  The first pass was deep in the mountains with a river flowing through on one side.  Rolling hills were welcome as compared to the steep vertical climbs.  It was noted by both of us as a beautiful hiking area.

Once through the pass, we pondered a visit to a Mineral Bath, which was a complex that held many physiotherapy regimes, one being an outdoor hot tub, which was more like a pool.  Pondering is all that happened as we moved to the next mountin pass but not before an attempt to get into a military base.  Military police gave us the clearance to pass through but after reanalyzing the map and realizing we could be targets for sniper practice, we decided to bike the St. Bernadino Pass, which is what we were originally looking for.  The Pass was the longest and most difficult pass yet but enjoyable as we had the road mostly to ourselves.  The longest pass was of course follwed by the longest decent, approximately 44Km.  Down is actually harder than up given the pressure of your hands on the brakes.

We finally hit our destination of Bellizona where we hoped a Velotel with Internet would welcome us.  However, we were suprised to find a bustling, modern town that did not welcome bikers and the hotel was long closed and vacant.  WIthout too many other options, we forged ahead as dusk was approaching.  We ended in St. Antonio, after searching for the one and only campground here.  Dinner consisted of peanuts and bottle of Merlot.  After such a long day and with disappointing endings in towns that were not what was expected, we came to realize that we were not following much suggested advise.  If you run across a beautiful place, stay.  We have passed many of these up as we get caught up in biking along the beautiful landscape, wanting to take it all in.  With two weeks left of cycling, we know now that we will be stopping in opportune places, even if only 5 miles into our ride, emersing ourselves deeper into the villages and towns versus passing on through.

THis is our first day of staying a second night in one place.  The day allowed for laundry, relaxation, a hike up to a mountin crest overlooking the villages and a stroll into Thusis through a market street.  The market was similar to what we would find in the US.  Stands of ice cream, candy and pizzas lined the street.  Vendors sold their homemade goods. 

While enjoying a quiet evening, we also realized the yearning for home.  We miss our little Mario, our friends and family.  We miss our home with the many comforts.  We miss familiar voices, places and languages.  This journey has so many wonderful learning opportunities, one of which is the appreciation for the simpler things in life that we hopefully will always be grateful for.

Today’s morning was a picturesque setting of riding along the bowl of a valley, through ripening vineyards and crisp, dewy air. Sore legs were beginning to warm up through small rises and descents, as we crested the last planned ascent for the morning (as interpreted from the contour map), it was immediately apparent how awesome the descent would be. The smooth, paved vineyard path slowly arched along the bowl of the valley, as far as a squinting eye could see. Vineyards tightly lined both sides of the path, creating a very cozy trail. Discovering this, I quickly realized that some romanticism was in order so I began to slow and pulled to the left side of the path, allowing Sterling to catch up so that we could enjoy a few moments and the wonderful scene together. I soon could hear her pedaling grow near and expecting a coast in order, I sat upright and looked over to see her face. At that moment, all I saw was a rush of air and Sterling pedaling methodically, a competitive grimace on her face as she raced on, away and down through the vineyard in a flash. I did not catch her on the descent and learned today that vineyards can also be racetracks.

Today ended while enjoying some homemade, burnt pasta mix-up while watching a men’s semi-pro (sub-pro) soccer match in Thusis. A match Sterling claims is the best she has ever saw. We were the only spectators.

The past few days have involved travel through the northern, flatter biking areas of Switzerland.  In comparison to the Alp ranges of southern Switzerland, northern is much more rolling and biking through Luzern, Chur, Zurich and Rapperswil bear much more resemblance to the hillier portions of back home, such as Devil’s Lake, Paoli or New Glarus.  With the scale of biking difficulty now developing, we now realize that we are missing the mountains of the South and the climbs that seem to never end, each switchback curve revealing that a mountain can actually go higher.  We have impressed many Swiss with our biking strength when telling them of where we have biked (impressed or they just think we are crazy).  They do not believe we made it over Grimsel Pass and are remarkably impressed.  We know there are harder climbs yet ahead and with anticipation, decide to turn South, heading towards Bellizona and the eventual pass into Italy.  The Alps as majestic as they are, are very quickly missed.

Sunday was a day of differences or stereotypes, if you will.  In Switzerland, almost all stores are closed and large towns turn into ghost towns….until you find yourself down on the lakshore.  The lakeshores are packed with people and kiosks are open, selling ice cream and soda.  Kids run around, families talk, sun bathers take in the rays.  Switzerland seems to be filled with bikers, walkers and runners.  Individuals bike to work, to tennis, take walks to the market and enjoy slow bike rides with the family.  No fast food places are present, only small local cafes.  Dogs are prevalent everywhere and are obedient beyond imagination.  Leashes are often not needed as one command is the leash.  People bike with you one mile to show you the way, versus giving out directions and hoping you make it there.  These are some of the differences we enjoyed today.

This Saturday was a relaxing day filled with rolling hills.  The day started by quickly packing to leave the farm camp.  Along the way, we stopped at a quiet park and rested on a bench, watching the swans.  Being a short day, we ended in a campground by a lake, reminding us of setting you would find in northern Wisconsin.  A nice evening was enjoyed, with home made pasta and a bottle of Chianti.