Little Switzerland North Carolina

Copenhagen, City of Bicycles: the Book

When the Bicycle Quarterly Press asked me to review Copenhagen, City of Bicycles, I could not help but wonder what this book could offer that the world of bicycle blogs has not already familiarised us with. In 2007 a certain Mr. Colville Andersen flung open a virtual window into the pedaling soul of the small Scandinavian city with Copenhagenize and Copenhagen Cycle Chic, establishing its worldwide reputation as a cycling mecca. Since then, Copenhagen has become synonymous with cycling - with fashion-oriented bicycle bloggers paying homage to its style and progressive city planners eager to emulate its infrastructure. Given the wealth of imagery and information on the topic readily available online, what can a book aboutCopenhagen and bicycles tell us that we don't already know?



Of course, it's not always in the "what," but in the "how." In Copenhagen, City of Bicycles Cecilia Vanman presents a comprehensive, colourfully illustrated introduction to the city's cycling culture and history, painting a portrait of a magical, happy place that the reader will long to visit. The photography (by Robyn Maddock) makes liberal use of fading sunlight, infusing the images with a warm, dynamic and nostalgic feel. The layout is clean, contemporary and easy to follow - despite the side-by-side placement of Danish and English text. Divided into 9 chapters, it maintains a clear sense of structure and direction from beginning to end. The narrative flows easily, steering clear of dry technical talk and empty "fluff" in equal measure. The tone is friendly and never condescending.



While those uninformed about Copenhagen's cycling culture will undoubtedly benefit from this bookthe most, it is not without novel information even for readers who've been browsing bicycle blogs for years. I found the chapter about manufacturers and framebuilders informative, and many other random interesting tidbits throughout. I also enjoyed the pictures of some unique vintage and modified bicycles and wished there were more of those.



The one part of the book that did come across to me as redundant, was the chapter consisting of photos and brief bios of Copenhagen cyclists. This is a tactic that I feel is best left to the realm of blogs and flickr - it is more effective there than in print. But overall, I would say that City of Bicycles summarises and supplements, rather than competes with, the Copenhagen-oriented bicycle blogs.

Copenhagen, City of Bicycles is published by Nyt Nordisk/ Arnold Busck, and distributed in North America by the Bicycle Quarterly Press. If you would like to receive my reviewer's copy for free, please leave a comment by Sunday 11:59pm US Pacific time (with a functional email address where I can readily reach you - this proved to be a problem again for the last give-away) - and I will choose the recipient at random. Enjoy the long weekend!

First light on the Foggy Forest

This morning we got up early to head inland and check out the fall colors and (hopefully) see some fog rising out of the valleys. Well, when it came to the fog... we hit the jackpot! This morning gave us the best foggy views that I have ever seen in all my years of photographing early autumn sunrises in Grand Portage. The light and the fog was constantly changing presenting us with an incredible amount of variety in the view of the landscape laid out before us. This definitely ranks as one of the top mornings I've ever spent in the woods!

Cross-Cultural Relationships

Cross-cultural relationships are complicated to navigate. Once the novelty wears off, the differences can create a rift between partners. But the differences can also bring the couple closer by compelling them to communicate about things that are taken for granted by same-culture couples. In the process, the couple may discover that despite their different backgrounds, they actually have more in common with each other than with their own kind. Three months into their life together, I think that myGazelleand the Co-Habitant'sPashleyare accepting each other's differences and discovering their similarities in the nicest way possible.



ThePashley Roadsterhas the lower-set North Road handlebars characteristic of English bicycles, but in other ways it seems to have more in common with the Gazelle.They sharenot only the 28" wheel size, but also frame proportions, angles, relative weight, and handling. The Pashley Princess seemed to be a much smaller bicycle when it stood next to the Pashley Roadster than the Gazelle does. And I have already written about the mysterious differences in ride quality between the men's and lady's Pashleys. The Gazelleseems like a better-matched companion in terms of acceleration and hill-climbing. I would also say that the Pashley Roadster is more similar to the Dutch Gazelle than to the English Raleigh DL-1 Roadster. There is a certain heavy stateliness the Pashley and Gazelle share that the Raleigh DL-1 does not. Despite the rod brakes and the vintage vibe, the DL-1 is actually a lighter and sportier bike than either of these two.



What exactly in the design of the Pashley Roadstermakes it more similar to my Dutch bike than to my previous English one, I do not know. But these similarities have certainly been a positive factor in the Gazelle and Pahsley's relations.



The English gentleman and the Dutch lady... a case in point that cross-cultural relationships can work.

Brookgreen Gardens~Animal Show

I've already shared so many of the neat parts of Brookgreen Gardens, but I didn't want to forget this part before I move on because we enjoyed it so much. While we were sitting and eating our lunch, we heard this neat woman doing a Meet the Animals show.



We headed over there after we were done eating so we could catch the rest of the show. I'm glad we did because we got there in time for Nathan to make friends with a snake.



Not to be outdone by a grown man, this cutie pie followed suit:



His sister was thinking thanks but no thanks. Same as me! We also got to meet an eastern screech owl.





She/He was a real beauty. Completely calm during the whole show like she'd been a stage star her whole life.





We had a great time learning lots of neat facts and being a bit more up close and personal with the animals!

Ostria Restaurant Dinner in Votsalakia

Eating out in Samos Island, Greece is very cheap, you spend approximately 30+- euros for 2 pax (1 starter + 2 mains + 2 drinks). We normally have coffee somewhere else at a lounge or bar. Thus, we ate out every night (we still have a week to go to enjoy this island!) and I will be posting all our dinners (and lunches) at different restaurants.



Hopefully, those who stumble upon this blog whilst planning for their prospective Samos holiday will have an idea where to eat and what to expect. My way of giving back to travellers and holidaymakers out there.



First night dinner at Ostria Restaurant



We were quite intrigued with this restaurant because you cannot see the dining area except for a pathway leading to the beach. The pathway is partly covered with vines crawling on a trellis with grapes hanging from it. The restaurant is indeed located on the sea side which makes it very attractive and quite romantic as well.













The restaurant has no website but it is listed on Trip Advisor, go here: Ostria



Kambos area (Votsalakia beach) in Marathokampos municipality is small so it is easy to find this restaurant as it is located on the main town’s street.



Special menu of the day



We ordered their special menu of the day that includes a Greek salad. Dutchman, the Burger special with Tzatziki, and moi, the Grilled Dorade Fish (gilt-head bream or bream fish) special with lemon sauce. Of course, a quarter Samian white wine for me as well. Samos has its own wine culture and is quite famous locally.











Food here is quite good. Not a fan really of French fries but I loved my Grilled Dorade fish. 4.25 stars out of 5. The ambiance here at the restaurant is fresh and lovely. They also gave us free coffee to close the dinner. In Samos, all restaurants give you a surprise free thing after dinner. The surprise vary per restaurant!



Beach view



But what we really enjoyed most were the beautiful views, and oh, the sunset! So relaxing...









If in Votsalakia - Kambos area, don’t miss this restaurant, for lunch or dinner.



More food posts coming!

Golden Cane Palm

Two clusters of golden cane palms, Dypsis lutescens, in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Flower in Old Town

These flowers were scattered all over Old Town and were in full bloom. The blossoms were huge being as much as 10 to 12 inches across and with big leaves. I was told they were a perennial hibiscus.

100 Miles on the Danube

After more than two years of meaning to but never quite working up to it, I have finally completed my first "century" - a 100 mile ride. It didn't exactly happen as I had envisioned it, but it happened nonetheless. And it was certainly memorable.




The bike you see here is what I rode: It is a Bella Ciao Neorealista with a7-speed hub, front and rear caliper brakes, BrooksB17S saddle, 700Cx35mm Delta Cruiser tires, Berthoud fenders and MKS touring pedals - lent to me by Citybiker in Vienna (thank you!). I decided to try the ride on this bicycle, because it seemed the safest bet of the available options - the others being borrowing a cool roadbike from Wolfgang, or riding Jacqueline. With the roadbike, it generally takes me a while to "dial in" the positioning, and I had no time to experiment. With Jacqueline, I was worried that she might be too heavy and too old for such a long ride. So I took advantage of being able to borrow the Bella Ciao, which seemed to be somewhere in between as far as positioning and also had the benefit of modern components. I felt that I knew what to expect with this bike, since I have a similar one at home and have ridden mine for 30 mile stretches at a time. We lowered the Neorealista handlebars for a more aggressive posture, but otherwise nothing was altered. I was not sure that I'd actually be able to do the ride, but the plan was to go as far as I felt comfortable.





I had brought my Zimbale saddlebag from home and attached it to the bike before I set off. I have no pictures of myself during the course of this ride, but I was wearing pretty much this: wool tights, wool dress, 3/4 length wool overcoat, legwarmers, ankle boots with 2" heels, a hat, and (not pictured) gloves and a scarf. From the forecast I knew that the weather would be cold, mostly in the low 40s. In the event that I got too warm, I planned to take off my coat and attach it to the saddlebag with a bungee cord. In the event it got even colder, I packed an extra sweater. I also packed a pair of padded wool cycling shorts, in case my butt started to hurt on the way back. Aside from that, I packed battery-operated lights, a bottle of apple juice mixed with mineral water and salt, my camera, phone, bank card, cash, notebook, pen, and a packet of Ibuprofen. I did not bother taking a map - since I would simply be following the Danube cycle path.




Before I go on, I must warn you that my photographic documentation of this ride is disappointing. I passed some gorgeous spots, but it wasn't practical to stop and take pictures if I hoped to maintain momentum. So all my photos were taken during food-break stops, which did not necessarily coincide with the scenic moments. I am also disappointed that I do not have a single photo of myself during this trip, as a memento - but I was too cold to mess with the self-timer, and my camera is difficult for strangers to operate.





My trip did not begin according to plan. I had wanted to set off at 7:00 in the morning, but got delayed and was not able to leave until 10:00. With such a late start, I considered postponing to a different day - but my schedule was already full, so this was my only chance to do the ride. I went, making sure the batteries in my lights were fresh. The Danube Canal path is right around the corner from my flat, and within a minute of leaving the house I was on it. I sped through the urban part of the path, and within 15 minutes I reached the junction where the Danube Canal meets the Danube River proper.






I rode without stopping past all of myfavourite spots in the countrysidealong the river and did not take a break until I approached the outskirts of Tulln - a town about 25 miles from the center of Vienna. Things were going well so far: It was cold, but sunny. I was only very slightly tired and nothing hurt or felt uncomfortable on the bike. It was around 12:00 noon, which meant I'd been cycling at 12.5mph on average for two hours straight. So far, so good.I stopped at a cafe with outdoor seating, and had a huge bowl of soup while looking at ships making their way along the river. The sunshine made everything look gorgeous.






My plan was to continue on the Danube cycling path until I reached the town of Krems - a beautiful place in the Wachau valley. At this stage I was exactly half way. Unfortunately, this was the last time I would see nice weather during my ride.





Almost as soon as I got going again, the sunlight faded and the temperature fell. The change was sudden: One minute, everything was bathed in a golden light, and the next the landscape was grim. I was finding it difficult to warm up, even though the mostly flat route meant that I was vigorously pedaling the entire time (no hills means not only no climbing, but also no coasting!) I kept hoping the sunshine would return, but it only got more overcast as I continued cycling.




And then, things got worse: A milky fog descended over the valley. In the middle of the day! Just after Tulln, the Danube path veers away from the river for a few miles, cutting through woods and farmland. The landscape now looked washed out and dingy. Visually I did not mind it, and even found the idea of cycling all alone through fog and desolate fields romantic. But it was difficult to keep warm. The freezing fog was penetrating all my wool layers and getting into my very bones - a deep chill. And then the wind picked up. I pedaled harder and kept my head down.






By 1pm, it became clear that the weather was not likely to improve. It was time for a change of plans: Krems was too good to see for the first time in such bleak light. Instead, I decided to go as far as Traismauer (a town 10 miles closer), and make up the missing miles by getting off the Danube path and doing a longer loop through some of the villages set back from the river. In doing so, I was also hoping to find a cafe that sold hot drinks, as all the ones along this portion of the Danube cycling path were closed for the season.





As far as navigation went, it was not difficult to make my way through the villages. There were signs everywhere announcing what the next village was and which direction to Traismauer. But it was extremely depressing. In good weather, I think the villages would have looked cute. But under overcast skies and enveloped in fog they looked abandoned and sinister. There were very few people out doing any kind of farm work and the few places of businesses that existed were all closed - even though it was a weekday.






I passed though the centers of five or six villages before I finally found one with a functional cafe - which was on the side of a sort of country highway leading to Traismauer. After I drank 3 cups of tea and rested a bit, I spoke to the waitress and learned that this was in fact the only road leading to Traismauer. Hitherto I had been cycling along small village streets, but this was a big road with an 80km/h speed limit. I decided to go ahead and brave it.





My companions during this stretch of the trip were mainly trucks and tractors. The trucks went very fast. The tractors went very slowly. The odd sportscar would occasionally zoom past as well. We all got along and I never felt endangered. My stamina, on the other hand, seemed to be nearly depleted and I had barely even cycled 60 miles. Please do not underestimate what I wrote earlier about a flat landscape meaning that you don't have the opportunity to coast. Pedaling the entire time, I was starting to feel like a mechanical doll. Traismauer was further away that I'd realised, and it felt as if I were cycling on the edge on that highway forever.





But finally, I was unmistakably there: This town was surrounded by a medieval wall and I cycled right through the gate.






At one time there must also have been a moat. Now it was reduced to a sort of stream along the back part of the wall, with a modern bridge going across.






Under normal circumstances, I might have been excited by Traismauer. But now I just felt depleted. The cold weather, the fog, the lack of sunshine, the non-stop pedaling with the wind in my face - it had all beaten me down.





I circled around the town, then followed the signs to the train station. I am not proud of it, but yes - at this point I decided to cut my trip short and take the train back. It was already 3 pm and the most direct route home was over 40 miles. I didn't think I could handle it. At the station I learned that the next train to Vienna was not until 8:20pm, which was a long time to wait around. I decided to get something to eat while thinking about what to do next.





Turned out that I wasn't so much tired as just very hungry. Once I inhaled whatever it was that I bought at the food stand, my attitude suddenly improved and by 4pm I was ready to get back on the bike.





My plan now was to cycle the 15 miles back to Tulln - on the Danube cycling path and not through the villages this time - and see how I'd feel once I got there. The trains in Tulln ran more regularly, so if I was tired or did not want to continue in the dark, I would then take the train the rest of the way back.





Energised by the nutritional infusion, I pedaled enthusiastically for the next hour. Just as the light was fading, the sun started to come out and the fog dissipated - but it was late and I really wasn't able to stop and capture the beautiful scenery. There is a stretch at some point where the cycling path interrupts entirely, and cyclists must transition to the road for 2-3 miles. The route is signposted, but these signs are very small and have no provisions for being seen in the dark. The scenario I wanted to avoid, was cycling through this stretch once it had already gotten dark.





But of course, that is exactly what happened. I raced against the sunset, but despite my best efforts ended up cycling on the road with car traffic in rural darkness - squinting to find the signs instructing where to turn in order to get back onto the cycling path. It was just past 6pm now and there were lots of cars on the road - going quite fast, which was scary. I was starting to despair, when I noticed what was obviously another bicycle tail light in front of me. It was an elderly man, cycling with a sack of turnips strapped to his rear rack. I called out to him, asking if this was the right way to the cycle path. He replied that it was, and gestured for me to follow him. We "pacelined" for the next mile or so and then I followed him through an opening in the fields and we were on the Danube path. He then waved and turned around, and I realised that he'd gone out of his way only to show me how to get back on the path. I yelled "Danke vielmals!!" and waved wildly. This was my only interaction with another cyclist during the course of this ride.




Once in Tulln, I kept on going. It was already pitch black and my legs already felt as if someone else was controlling them, so it seemed I could just keep going this way. The last 20 miles of the trip felt like a trance. My headlight beam, the shadows of tree branches, the sounds of howling coming from the woods and the occasional lights of ships along the Danube felt like a dream. My wheels turned and turned and my feet pedaled and pedaled in as high as gear as I could manage. It wasn't a bad feeling, like an out of body experience. But I remember thinking "Hmm, I probably won't be able to walk tomorrow."





By the time my shaking hand retrieved the house key from my coat, it was almost exactly 8pm: 10 hours after I left. I had spent a total of an hour and a half taking breaks, which means that my average speed was 11.75 mph. I think that's not too bad for being on an upright bike and riding dressed as I was.I assumed that I would collapse upon coming home, but then a friend rang up and invited me for a drink. I went, and ended up staying out until midnight. The next morning I woke up at 8am and, to my astonishment, felt fine. I cycled around the city for transportation all day just as I normally do. There was hardly any evidence that I had ridden 100 miles the day before. My right shoulder was sore, and my sit bones were just a tad sensitive. However, there was no pain in my legs or knees, and I had plenty of energy. I expected to be wrecked, and this was almost anticlimactic.




This trip was not how I'd imagined completing my first "century." I was riding a city bike bundled up in an overcoat, the weather was horrible, and the countryside was at its bleakest. But I found the experience fulfilling, beyond just checking off a box. I relished the feel of being self-sufficient - not in the safety net of a group ride or a companion's presence, but alone in the middle of nowhere, amidst a stark landscape in a foreign country, and feeling as if I did not need to worry, because I was on a bike and could therefore do anything. It's what cycling is about for me. And I think I'm ready for a longer ride.