Changing Our Commutes

A few days ago, while biking to work, I found myself in a bit of a traffic jam. However, I didn’t mind this one. That’s because, instead of cars, the road was clogged with bikes. What’s more, despite a few who blew carelessly through red lights and weaved through traffic, everybody was incredibly respectful and safe.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was a beautiful morning: a slight autumnal chill had set in, but the sun was quickly cutting through it. Birds sang merrily among the lightly rustling leaves while bike bells all around announced the fluidity of cyclists’ movements around each other.

Then, as I entered the downtown area, I braced myself for the abrupt end to the pleasantries: no more trees, songbirds or bells. Just concrete, car horns and dangerous motorists blatantly disregarding the wellbeing of everybody outside their metallic shell. There’s some semblance of defense in the fact that DC’s road system is atrocious, both in quality and layout. It’s impossible that it won’t overwhelm you and bring out the worst in you. But instead of accepting higher anxiety and aggression levels as a given in life, can’t this just indicate a dire need for drastic change?

The question answered itself once I crossed the 14th street bridge and got onto the Mount Vernon Trail towards Alexandria. Riding close to the GW Parkway, I pitied the drivers stuck staring at concrete and metal, time and money evaporating from their idling tailpipes.

This is NON-rush hour traffic

On the trail, “active commuters,” as the term goes, moved freely. Though the Parkway is visible from, and sometimes right next to, the path, most of the ride consists of a lush canopy of trees, flowers and benches to rest along the way. The Potomac River borders the other side, and riders can feel the sun glitter from its surface. Which commute sounds better?

Replacing cars with bikes is good for everybody. And the more cyclists, the more benefits for the community as a whole. It’s far more cost-effective and immensely beneficial to public health. Even better, with more cyclists comes better infrastructure, and therefore more cyclists. It’s all a truly positive reinforcement cycle.

 On a personal level, it opens up even more of your city to you than you could expect. A slow cruise down the road brings the sights sounds and smells right to you, helping you discover those places you may have sped past so many times before.

Those tiny details that stand out from the noise that are only apparent when you slow down

Of course motor vehicles are necessary in myriad situations and some people can only get around as such. However, the vast majority of us would benefit incredibly from getting out of our steel shells (there’s a metaphor in this!). It would help appreciate your area even more, and make it that much better in the process. Not to mention, your legs will look damn good very quickly.

The "Real World"

I moved back to DC about two weeks ago. Between getting myself together and jumping right back into the chaos of Bike and Roll has kept me from writing much of anything. But here’s what’s gone through my mind as I rediscover a city I thought I knew so well.

Jumping back into the working world is even more disorienting and distracting than the travel world. Many people sardonically had welcomed me “back to the real world” upon my return. But I can hardly accept this phrase, since what’s so real about running yourself down in pursuit of money? Don’t get me wrong; I do love working at Bike and Roll and helping people discover DC. But the way many of us approach work-life balance fails to take in the world (and therefore reality) around us.

After only a week I’m already trying to ward off aggression during my commute (though I maintain that taxis deserve all the hostility they receive) and exhausted apathy at all other hours. There’s even a sense of defeat as I pinch pennies in an effort to responsibly rebuild my worn-out bank account, despite the fact that it’s so I can fully engage in traveling later. Though I still resist the validity of calling this the real world, if it is, it’s harsher than I remember.

However, I won’t let it get me down. I’m experiencing DC from a new perspective, living in a far more exciting neighborhood than AU’s residential surroundings. And now that I’m not indulging (as much) in exciting beer and food, I’m actually quite fit (yes, I ate and drank so much that I was still somewhat pudgy after biking/walking through Europe). I also have the chance to explore the many questions and half-thoughts that filled my notebook over the past year. And I’m reading way more than I have in awhile (alternating between Robinson Crusoe and The Genius of Dogs, a fascinating study about canine cognition).

Most importantly, returning to this city, and therefore relearning it is giving me a new approach to that starry-eyed idealism that I talk so much about: a harsh (and all-too-true) reality that I observe every day is that of crushing poverty and homelessness. DC has a huge issue with this, even right next to the White House. Yet, despite being directly visible from the president’s windows, we never hear anything about it.

Many folks line up for an overnight shelter transport in front of our shop at the central library (which is effectively a daytime shelter) and therefore loiter about during the day. Because what else can you do if you have mental issues for which there is little to no support or motivation to help? Though there are some bad eggs, the vast majority of the guys (it’s all men, as far as I’ve noticed) are subdued, simply wanting somewhere to go and trying to figure a way out.

With such a dire situation in front of me, it’s impossible to avoid thinking about it. How can I find the world so beautiful, life so wonderful, when such huge problems exist? How can I relish jumping from place to place when so many people just want a roof and a bed of their own? How can I be critical of bland office work, long hours, or any other soul-crushing aspect of our working world when the guy twenty feet from me is excited to make five dollars selling Gatorade from a plastic bag?

Over the past few days I’ve alternated between fear and defeat while pondering the situation. Vee, my coworker, has had the same impression. We realize how easily we, too, could end up on that same curb with nowhere to go. As cogs in a very large machine, what can we do to lessen the suffering of others, around the world or right in front of us? As I interact with this other side of life, directly and indirectly, for the next few months, I suspect many of these questions will keep me up at night.

I do think there’s hope, though. Maybe it’s because I’ve lived a privileged life, but I believe in mankind. Systems, usually unintentionally, put us down and bring out the worst in us. But we’ve evolved to help each other. In the Genius of Dogs book I mentioned, the author mentions that our species has been so successful because of our ability to cooperate. It’s through this that so many great things have come to creation. As time goes on, life does improve. With every generation we get better at humanity. It takes a long time, and there’s no quick fix. But we can do it.

So this real real world is harsh, but it’s hopeful as well. We have a lot to work on, but we’ve come a long way. And while it feels impossible at times. In the end, though, paying attention to our world and learning about it will keep us going in the right direction.

Make a Better World

It’s common knowledge among most travelers: if everybody traveled, the world would be a better place. We live in a time that so easily allows us, if not forces us, to take sides and opine on things we don’t understand. It’s natural to generalize, stereotype and assume. And it’s harmful to us all.

On the other hand, establishing a personal connection, empathizing and seeing the effects of our world on itself changes our approach entirely. Experiencing the humanity of a group we reflexively criticize causes reflection. Learning about customs we initially deem “weird” helps us empathize. We realize there’s hardly a “right” or “wrong”, just differences to reconcile.

So it’s easy to hate, impulsive to take sides. Terrible things happen in the world, and the news feels like it’s surrounding you, tightening its grip around the final vestiges of humanity. But it’s the exceptional (read: sensational) that sells, not the normal. The vast, vast, vast majority of people are good, and wish well for everyone else. There’s no line in the sand or sides to take; everybody depends on everyone else in some way. It’s far more difficult, uncomfortable and scary to pursue this type of relationship with the world, but the effects are far better, and longer-lasting, for everybody. 

While it’s tempting to lash out or hide behind a self-imposed fence, that will only perpetuate those false senses of threats. Instead, it takes deliberate thought and connection to those very same elements. The world really is beautiful, and we can continue to make it even more so if we truly set out to learn about it. 

Travel. Break down barriers. Look for a bridge to build. Listen to an opposing view (and I mean really listen). Respect humans, because they are humans. Be part of the world, and connect with it. Step by step, little by little, it will become an even better place.

I'm a Tourist at Home

Returning home is exhausting, probably even more so than the trip itself. Or perhaps it’s just the four months of momentum now swinging wildly in another direction despite my feeble resistance. Changing from nonstop adventure, not really knowing where I’d end up two days later, to searching for one place to plant myself for months can feel a bit demoralizing.

Then again, it still looks like I’ll show up in DC without definite housing. So, that sense of adventure is still going strong.

I've managed in the past
Credit: Ana Stojanovic, Gili Trawangan, Indonesia, 2013

Despite my reservations, I am very excited to move back to DC. There’s always something going on, and the people watching is unmatched. There are few places in the world that one can find a scruffy social activist mingling with a buttoned-up political hopeful and flashy, new-money businesspeople. The contrast isn’t usually so strong, but I’ve seen it.

Nor can most other people frequently use motorcades as an excuse for being late (I’ve only done it once or twice), visit multiple embassies in one day just for fun (Passport DC), or find drink specials based on Capitol Hill’s absurdities.

They influence everything from taxes to drinking games

After living in one place for awhile, it’s easy to forget about the quirks that make it special. They’re normal to you. But spend enough time away (it’s been over a year since I left) and you’ll appreciate it that much more. Those familiarities you came to love welcome you back, and everything you’d forgotten is now new again.

Cherry Blossoms, 2013

I’m particularly fortunate working as a tour guide - not only do I constantly see DC from a visitor’s view, but it prompted me to think about and articulate what about the city kept me around and brings me back. It's made me appreciate the place that much more.

Holi on the Quad, 2011

A Brief Reflection

Coming home seems to have been almost as exhausting as backpacking itself. Five days in and I’m only just getting my thoughts together. Sure enough, there’s still plenty of excitement to go around, mostly in the form of beach soccer, beach fireworks and beach drinking.

Now I’m back in the Philly area, using it as a base for some mini-adventures before returning to DC. It’s strange to me how everything feels exactly as I left it, just much hotter. For some reason I’d expected things to seem drastically different and almost foreign to me. Instead it’s more like I’ve just woken up from a dream, my tour already feeling like a foggy creation in the back of my mind. Here I am simply continuing along as I always have.

I imagine a lot of the fog comes from just how intense the trip was. While on any individual day I could explore at my leisure, overall I crammed a lot into a fairly short amount of time: 

11 countries, 30 cities
~200 hours of biking
~100 different beers, and as many liters
Unknown hours of aimless exploring

And, of course, the people. Everybody I met was living an impressively unique life. For a light sample, I’ve hung out with two traveling musicians, a beekeeper, a physicist, a lawyer, actors, bankers and, above all, wanderers. 

A lot happened. Quirky details, strange contexts and new ideas are all swirling about. I used to feel as if my travel world and home world existed separately from each other. But now they are blending together. Everything is foggy and confused, but I can see the familiar with a fresh sensation and feel the new as if it were home. So, although I can separate my experiences into segments like the past four months it really is just becoming one grand adventure.

Moving Along

One of the most stunning movies I’ve seen (and I’ll eventually read the book, too) is Life of Pi. Though the context could hardly be more different, it’s still a story of personal transformation and self-discovery. I could write an entire post about this, but there’s one quote that I find particularly relevant today:

“I suppose, in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go…” - Adult Pi Patel

We release certain inhibitions that keep us within our comfort zones; we let go of our former selves, the world we know and people we love. Sometimes it’s for survival and sometimes to thrive.

At times, travel can seem like an accelerated version of such. Just as you accustom yourself to a new place, learn its streets and feel its pulse, it’s time to start again. People flow through your life faster than you usually meet them. Memories pile into your brain so quickly they blur and merge. And every trip comes to a close.

Technically, anyway.

I wrote that paragraph upon leaving Switzerland, sad to have to leave yet another close friend and wonderful place behind (this is resurfacing with my friend here in Vienna). Brooding over the flight home that was rapidly approaching (and is now under 24 hours from now), I had considered it an end-point of fun and excitement; the next page in life would be a return to drudgery and monotony.

But that didn’t seem right. Home is hardly devoid of joy and excitement. Indeed, I love living in Philly/DC. So the journey is far from over. Instead I’m just going to a different place yet again. It’s another section of a long, continuous adventure that’s only over when I stop pursuing it.

Just as when day turns to night, life does not disappear but renews its romance

Thinking about it further, everything I do after returning to the States will be a result of these experiences. I’ve built ideas and clarified others along the way that will guide me through future decisions. Plus, I’ll have these memories as motivators to continue the adventure, as well as to cherish along the way.

And Rocinante to remind me of it all

So while, physically, you must move on from everything, your experiences will always remain an influential part of your persona. Just as Pi (in context of his quote) must let go of Richard Parker, his family and so on, they continue to be a part of his life. I’ve parted ways with dozens of friends and left behind enchanting locales. Tomorrow I break with my current path, but also realize that it’s part of the eternally growing foundation of the rest of my life.

In that sense, letting go isn’t so bad.

So jump in and enjoy the ride

It's a Big Small World

A quick update from Salzburg, home of classical music and troublesome nuns:

And dramatic statues

I have now crossed my final border, and only one destination remains between myself and the fast-approaching return to the States. For some time I had called this the “end” of my trip. But now I’m changing my outlook. Instead, I just view it as a major shift in my journey. At the very least it’s helping me keep up the sense of adventure as long as possible.

Wide-eyed excitement in action

Thus I set out from Zurich one last time towards Austria. I struggled my way up hill after hill, wondering for hours how many more there could be before I found Lake Constance. Eventually, finally, I reached a peak and saw only downward slopes towards the shores of this multinational body of water, and let gravity pull my bike towards the water. Thankfully my brakes held out through the descent, but it only took one errant pedestrian along the beach for the front cable to snap.

Whoops

Consequently, the final 50 kilometers were rather slow, fearing the back would follow suit. But it allowed me to better enjoy the seaside feel of the lake’s visitors. Then I left Switzerland behind and endured a very trying border control…

It must have taken at least 30 seconds for people to get out of the way

And, despite pressing hunger, a crippled bike and a very sore butt, this reminded me why cycle touring is so wonderful:

In no other way can you truly feel the place you’re in than by cycling through it (or walking, if you’re particularly ambitious). Admittedly, trains and cars are useful if you’re behind schedule. But it’s by wandering slowly through the area with foot power, that makes me feel alive. 

Hiking through the mountains and biking along these paths that stretch to infinity remind me just how small I am. Something about that is absolutely thrilling.

From the Tip of the Tongue

My surprise detour has come and gone. Now I find myself back in Switzerland, nursing sore legs and gasping all over again as I share my photos with friends. In short: impulsive decisions can have epic results.

Kym, the fellow traveler who roped me into this quest, had found a house in a small village nestled into the fjords outside of Bergen. Before I arrived she and the rest of the group had already befriended some students at a music school down the street. Once I showed up they took us on a very comical boat ride towards a small island out in the icy blue water. With one faulty and one missing rowlock, we mostly spun the boat in circles, taking far longer to get anywhere than the Norwegians expected. On the return leg, struggling against the wind, we took so long that a neighbor with a motorboat came out and towed us back to our cove. Though we returned to land at 11:30, it didn’t matter because the sun had only just dipped below the mountains. Just think of all the things you could do with only four hours of nighttime.

We also had a canoe. That worked much better

"Our" island

Who can't row and talk on the phone at the same time? 

Notice the twine holding the oar down

If he hadn't shown up, we might still be out there

Our proud vessel

This is the darkest it got

Monday, though, was the focal point and the reason for this whole excursion: a grueling, 22 kilometer hike to Trolltunga, The Troll’s Tongue. Along with trekking in Torres del Paine (Chilean Patagonia), this turned out to be one of the more difficult and incredible experiences of my life. While the distance itself isn’t terrible (half-marathon length), the terrain is unfriendly at best. The path crosses through boulder fields, down steep sheets of rock and over melting glaciers. Thus, you always have to watch your step for risk of slipping, catching your foot, or just falling through the snow (though there’s a cool stream to catch you underneath). That’s not to mention the first, and therefore final, kilometer is this:

3,197 rickety steps. Notice how much steeper it gets in the distance

I happened to be one of those whose foot suddenly didn't have ground beneath it

Everything that makes the trek perilous is what makes it wondrous. Remote and difficult to reach, it’s relatively unspoiled, so as we took a break (nap) on one outcrop, I heard nothing but the wind dancing over us.

Considering the landmark’s name, the scenery fits. It looks like the place a troll would inhabit: wild and unforgiving. The scenery rewards you the whole way, and the effort you put into reaching it makes it that much more fulfilling.

Of course, the whole trail is scenic. But the highlight is, as you’d expect, the Tongue itself. It’s hidden behind the hills until just before you reach it. Then it’s there, and all you can say is “wow”.

Or, "Oh my god don't do that so close to the edge"

Oddly enough, nobody else thought to picnic there

A slightly crazy Norwegian brought Kym and me to this semi-secret angle via a difficult climb down from the plateau.

Had to climb between this rock and hard place to get the angle. Not shown: the narrow ledge and sharp drop off just beyond my toes. I dared not look down.

While it’s pretty cliche to implore that you go with whatever feels right or wherever the wind takes you, there’s a reason behind it. If these are the experiences you wish for and save up towards, you have to recognize the opportunity to realize them; it might not come when you expect it. But if it’s there, and you can take it, no matter how nervous you might be or unprepared you might feel, it’ll pay off. You never know where this kind of spontaneity may lead, but I would guarantee it’ll be one of the most positive and memorable decisions you make.

You'll get some cool pictures at the very least

A Bit of Spontaneity

One of the more entertaining aspects of describing my trip before I left was how little I had planned out between London and Vienna. Many caring people were shocked, even a bit worried, about my leaving so much to chance and my lack of organization. While there are definite benefits to having a plan, I felt that would limit me with the ambitions that govern this trip. This has worked for the best in plenty of minor events and allowed me to carve out the best time for my Balkan side trip. But the next four days will really epitomize this ideal that I laid out in the beginning. In fact, it may well be a culmination of these numerous minor events building into something grand.

Four days ago, I booked a flight to Bergen, Norway with about ten minutes' deliberation.

A friend I made in Zagreb, and now a bit of a role model in my travel career aspirations, was organizing a hiking trip to this area as we lounged in the garden. Upon mentioning my aspirations to one day see Norway, she quickly invited me along. What was stopping me?

I quickly realized that this was exactly the moment I wasn't planning for: changing course on a whim because of a stranger's recommendation. Short of racing across India in a rickshaw, this is adventure at its finest. What makes this even more fitting is the fact that we'll be hiking to Trolltunga, The Troll's Tongue - one of the most surreal places to visit (according to the trustworthy Internet). And I've already established how strongly that sensation attracts me.

So I found a cheap enough flight that the only thing to stop me would be myself. I returned to Zurich for a couple days, arranged things with my magnificently hospitable hosts and am now writing from my iPod in the Frankfurt airport. It feels  pretty damn awesome. This is where I am truly in my element.

Local Personalities

So quickly, I’ve already brought my Balkan adventure full circle, returning to Zagreb after getting a taste of what the region has to offer. From Belgrade I took the night train to Sofia, Bulgaria to visit even more friends from last year’s Indonesia Arts and Culture Scholarship. Just like in Belgrade, my hosts treated me to an in-depth experience of many aspects of local life. Yan gave me a full tour of the city, including historical facts, important places and his favorite bars, which we tried later on. For culture, of course.

The experience also ranged from a rowdy Bulgaria vs. Serbia volleyball match to a serene day in the countryside. I met Yan’s friends and family, ate grandmother cooked food and, of course, learned an Indonesian dance at the embassy. IACS will have a hold on me for a long time, I feel.

Just before the start

One of the most noticeable parts of seeing the world is experiencing the enthusiasm locals have for their homes. It gives meaning to what could otherwise just be a generic place. Such a love is what turns a location into a destination.

Tour guide Yan and his lovely Sofia

 I think working as a tour guide in DC helped me see this (or made me take so long to notice, depending on your perspective). It’s what made my job so exciting, helping people to understand the “why” of a certain place. That’s what I’ve been sure to discover with every place I visit here, and my hosts have gone over the top to show what is so special about their homes.

Thankfully Yan didn't go so far as to join the guide turf war inside this very, very tiny (but remarkable) 10th century church filled with frescoes that I couldn't photograph

It’s inspiring to see how every little corner of the world has such a unique personality worth discovering. From snack foods (provided by Irina’s boyfriend) to historical figures (pretty much everyone in this Koprivshtitsa, Bulgaria) those little things that locals enthusiastically share as part of themselves add up into something beautiful. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I’ve been walking around in a constant state of awe and wonder, in part due to this. Seeing people so lovingly share their lives has further enhanced that starry-eyed idealism I mentioned at the beginning of the trip, and has energized me to do this when I return home.

Koprivshtitsa: home of Bulgarian independence, symbolic root of their strong spirit

So I’m always sad to leave a place that has won my affection, but equally excited to discover what the next destination has to offer, and the personality that goes along with it. 

Photo credit: Yan and his ever-ready selfie mode