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

The People You Meet

Yet another quirk of traveling that I absolutely love is discovering how easy it is to befriend people. This is more than have a basic conversation, but having meaningful connections with those who were strangers just five minutes prior. It is, of course, possible at home, but the barrier feels so much lower when everybody seems to find themselves in the same boat (even literally in some cases).

My entire week in Zagreb embodied this. “Where are you from?” and travel plans quickly evolved into civil conversations around politics, philosophy and other normally divisive themes. There is an infinite wealth of perspectives to learn from.

This carries into my current visit to Belgrade, Serbia. I’m visiting two more friends from IACS last year; people that I bonded with quickly despite only having a short amount of time with them. Yet Ana and Irina here (plus Yan in Bulgaria next week) are my entire reason for pursuing this side trip.

Which of course called for a celebratory selfie

Just like in the hostel garden, I’ve been up late talking to new people and discovering new views. I’ve discovered Serbians to be especially sociable and startlingly easy to befriend (or I’m just that awesome). As a result, we’re quick to share whatever comes to mind, celebrating all of our differences and similarities. The conversation only slows down when somebody (usually me) falls asleep on the table. Now that I can take the time to reflect on it (it’s been near constant motion and interaction) I do think that even the most unexpected people can make a deep connection. And it’s in a far shorter time that one would expect.

Whether you never see each other after one night or visit someone years later in other countries, whether you can remember an individual or a general sensation, all of these connections are the foundation of travel and home. They’ll bring you to places you never expected. Had I not befriended the Balkan participants last year, I likely would not have made such a detour on this trip. Those travelers I spoke with in the hostel garden and the Serbians here will greatly influence my future travels in some way. The best part, all it really takes is a friendly introduction. The story can go anywhere from there.

Symbolism