Girona mountain ride

I always feel a little bit nervous riding in a strange place -- never quite sure if I just took the correct turn, what the local customs are for things like stopping for red lights, how the drivers treat cyclists.

Finding a good route is often a challenge. If you ask a local person where is a good place to ride, they often will suggest a bike path that runs for maybe a few miles. They have no sense of how far you can go when you ride for several hours. So the trick is to talk to a local cyclist.

For Sunday's ride, I wanted to go towards the mountains. A little Internet searching led me to Michael Barry's (U.S. Postal - Discovery - now T-Moble) website. He's one of those pro riders based in Girona during the season, and he happened to have 2 suggested routes -- both involving some climbing.

I was prepared with 2 Snickers bars, a packet of Gu, and 2 full water bottles.



Here, as in Germany, roads aren't marked North-South-East-West, nor are they laid out in a grid pattern. They're marked by what town they lead to. This is great if you know that Llagostera is on the way to Tossa de Mar. If not, you're stopping a lot to look at maps. On the bike, this actually works out pretty well, since you only have to remember a few towns and not a bunch of turn-by-turn directions.

That's how it worked out for this ride. Once out of Girona, the road climbed gradually for maybe 10 miles, then more steeply. I pulled out the map a few times, just to make sure I was headed to the right town.

About halfway into the ride is the 9km (5.6 mile) climb to St Marti Sacalm -- a climb that many of the pros use as a test to measure their fitness. It's a bit early in the season for a climb that long (or for fitness tests), but I couldn't pass up the opportunity. The view from the top was worth the sore knee later.


(I think that is the start of the Pyrenees way off in the distance)

Back in Girona after almost 4 hours on the road, I stopped in a tapas restaurant. I was ready to say, "I'll take one of everything" but showed a little restraint -- 3 tapas plates followed by an espresso. Great way to end the ride and the weekend.

Sunny in Girona

I want to move to Girona (Spain).

That's my impression after one day here. Germany is great, don't get me wrong. But it's hard to compete with sunshine, mountains, the ocean, good restaurants, and great roads to ride on.

I was able to find a cheap flight on Ryanair for the weekend. Then found a place that would rent a road bike. The weather forecast called for sun with highs around 50.

Most people fly here then go on to Barcelona. But Girona is well known as a cycling area -- Lance Armstrong had an apartment here, and other pro riders come here to train and live during the season. I can tell why -- the riding is great and Girona is big enough to have lots of restaurants, but not overwhelmingly big.

The first ride today took me to the coast, then for maybe an hour and a half along the coastal road that was as spectacular as any road I've ridden on: views of the Mediterranean, seaside cliffs, constant climbing or decsending, and almost no traffic.


As much as I like Germany, this is a refreshing change -- from the gray weather, from the traffic, and also from the general atmosphere. It seems obvious that people are more easy-going here, at least in Girona, and that things move a bit more slowly. Many of the restaurants don't even open for dinner until 8 or 8:30.

P.S. to Jim Mullins: here's another one you were right on.

Anyone want to come join me first week in March?

Something about the cold

I’ve written previously about “attitudes towards strangers”, and how it’s unusual for someone to wave or say hello while I’m out riding, whereas in the U.S. this is commonplace.

It has finally turned cold here. It’s been below freezing, and there is talk of some snow. It’s been dry so far, and I’ve been able to continue riding outside. I still see the people who are out riding to get somewhere – work, to the store, etc. They don’t seem to be discouraged by the cold. But they’re not usually going very far.

I’ve not seen so many recreational cyclists though. At home, when it’s cold and I see another rider, it’s usually someone fairly serious, often someone I know. So I wave, say hello, and acknowledge that there is someone else who is a little bit crazy to be out riding.

Strangely enough, it seems to be the case here too. In the last week of riding, I’ve been acknowledged by other cyclists more than in the entire previous 6 months combined. I’ve had guys wave, nod, even say hello on a couple of occasions.

Yesterday I was on my way back home, riding the path along the Rhine. There was a tailwind, and I was moving along pretty fast. I passed a mountain biker and nodded hello. He slipped in behind me --- I could hear the knobby tires on the pavement. Then I realized there was another rider too. The three of us rode for a while in a paceline at 23 mph dodging the walkers and runners.

The other rider rolled up alongside, and started up a conversation. He was riding a nice Colnago, asked if I raced, said he used to, said this is a bit fast for winter riding, said he was Canadian but grew up in Oberkassel where I’m living. We rode for just a little bit longer, to where he had to turn for home. I had to turn the other way, to cross the bridge. The mountain biker said “goodbye” (in English) and rode straight, with his knobby tires humming on the pavement as passed.

Going to the movies

I’ve realized you can have more of a “cultural experience” from the seemingly small and trivial activities than going to a tourist attraction. Even something simple like going to see a movie is an interesting experience in itself – regardless of seeing the film.

At the theaters around here, you get an assigned seat when you buy your ticket. You can look at the seating plan and pick the one you want (during which time you may encounter the impatience of the cashier).

Now, I’ve wondered why go through so much trouble to assign seats? Surely the computer system to manage this was expensive. And then you’ve got to train the cashiers. And it makes the process go slower.

But it does allow the early comers to pick the better seats (encouraging you to get there a bit early and eat more of the theater snacks). And when the theater is full, it allows them to better manage filling the seats (so there’s not a single seat between different groups). Good German logic applied there.

Then of course you are allowed to buy beer and bring it into the theater. That is no surprise, as you can pretty much buy beer at any kind of event.

The previews and advertisements before the film seem to go on forever. Last time I looked at my watch and it was 25 minutes. The first time I went to a movie I realized that, when so many people came in just in time for the real start, they knew something I didn’t.

After the previews comes the strangest thing, something I've never understood. The curtain closes across the screen. Then there is a slight pause of a few seconds to maybe a minute. Then they open the curtain and start the film (with maybe one more preview).

I’m sure there is some logic behind this, but I've yet to figure out what it might be.

Storm aftermath

Looking out the window, you wouldn't know there was a big storm yesterday. The sky is perfectly blue. The only clue is the sound of a chainsaw the next street over.

In typical German fashion, the street cleaning machine has already come by, and the street looks as clean as usual. Walking around the neighborhood here, the only evidence of the storm I saw was an abandoned umbrella that was turned inside-out.

I saw in reports that 5 people in Germany and 25 across Europe died as a result of the storm. Not surprising as I've seen pictures of a toppled crane, trees fallen on cars, trucks blown over. I read that the wind was measured at 118 mph.

Here's one report:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16687660/

With some additional pictures:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16696403/displaymode/1176/rstry/16687660/

I like this quote:
In Amsterdam, bicyclists who ventured out despite warnings from the fire department were blown over or, in some cases, blown backward.

I went out for a ride a little later, and saw many trees that were uprooted or that had broken off partway up the trunk. It was the most difficult flat-land ride I have ever done. The wind was still strong -- a constant 25, maybe 30 mph I would guess, with gusts. For those cyclists who can appreciate this, I was pedaling into the wind in a 39x19 gear (that's a low gear) on a perfectly flat road, and was going about as hard a pace as I could maintain.

Hurricane hits Deutschland

I don't really watch too much TV news here (or much TV at all). I heard on the radio this morning that there would be high winds today, but I didn't appreciate that it would be an actual hurricane.

It wasn't until one of the maintenance guys came around to make sure all the blinds on the outside of the windows were raised all the way. He told me they were predicting wind speeds of up to 170 km/h (over 100 mph), though I think that was only the highest elevations.

It took me 1.5 hours to get home from work because of downed trees and accidents. The crazy part was trying to cross over the Rhine to get home. The Rheinkniebruecke, my usual way, was completely jammed and I could see the flashing police lights. I took a detour through town and to the next bridge. About halfway over, I could see they had the other direction blocked. It appeared as though some scaffolding had come loose.

I realized this as my car was stopped right underneath.

And then I noticed that people were walking on the sidewalk across the bridge. Now the winds were nowhere near 170 km/h but they were still way stronger than I would like when walking aross a bridge.

I got home and jumped on the trainer for a while, after which I was hungry and needed some food. Without thinking I headed out on foot to the grocery store, thinking the winds had died down some. Which they hadn't. When I started to see all the broken flower pots and tree limbs that had fallen I realized I should have brought my bike helmet.

But I did make it there and back OK. Bonus was that hardly anyone was in the store.

German Salsa

Back in September someone at work asked me what I was going to do for fun once the weather turned and I couldn’t ride so much. I jokingly said maybe I would take dance lessons. I had no clue at the time I would actually be doing it.

I suspect that everyone secretly (or maybe it’s no secret) would like to be a great dancer. Even, or especially, those of us who are for the most part non-dancers. How can you watch someone who is a great dancer and not want to be able to move like that?

Back in November, on a whim, I went out with a group of people here to a Salsa night. They were having a beginner lesson followed by the regular dancing. I told the person organizing the event that I didn’t know anything about Salsa and I wasn’t really a good dancer.

She told me she was a big fan of doing things, “and not caring what other people thought of it.” She said she would never wear a bathing suit if she cared too much about what other people thought.

That was enough to give me the little push to go and do it.

Despite the beginner lesson I felt completely awkward and quite stupid. It was warm and I was sweating like crazy. But I got a few of the basics. Mostly though, I was watching the teacher and some of the others and thinking, “I have to learn how to do that.”

This is sort of a pattern with me. I can’t just ride my bike, I have to race and ride 8000 miles a year. I have 4 snowboards. I can’t just learn a little German, I have to live there.

Since November I’ve been to two different Salsa weekend classes, and am going to another this weekend. I was lucky enough to find a teacher here who is very good. The classes are in German, so I figure it’s another one of those situations where I get German lessons to go along with the real reason I’m there.

It’s also an opportunity to get out and do something with some local people – all of whom were quite friendly.

It’s also a chance to put aside some fear and do something I wouldn’t ordinarily do. I realized, just going and getting a lesson – getting that basic instruction on how to get started – was enough. It was that way with snowboarding too. And German. Bike racing I learned the hard way by crashing in my first race.

Learning German through film

Most of the movies shown here are from America. Most all of them are dubbed in German. I don’t like the dubbed movies. There’s something wrong when you see German coming from Bill Murray or Johnny Depp. It just doesn’t work.

Sometimes we get movies in the original English and less often English with German subtitles. Someone told me that Germans generally don’t like reading subtitles and would rather have the dubbed versions.

I noticed the theater closest to me was showing “Babel” (Brad Pitt, Kate Blanchett), with subtitles. This movie would have been ruined had it been dubbed. It has several interconnected story lines, taking place in the U.S., Mexico, Morocco, and Japan, with the native languages spoken. To dub the entire film in German would be absurd.

It’s not one of those “easy” movies to see. But it’s quite powerful. And quite fitting for where I am right now, because one of the themes is how our perceived cultural differences come between us – language being one of those differences. So it was fitting also that the subtitles were in a foreign language. Even though I’ve learned a fair amount of German, I realize the perception of being different is still very much apparent.

It occurred to me that seeing films with German subtitles is a great learning tool. You see many of the same words over and over, and for me that commits them to memory. I learned the words for “rifle” (Gewehr), “bleed to death” (verbluten), and “shoot” (schießen) among quite a few others (you should get some sense of the intensity of the movie).

I figure getting a language lesson helped offset the 9 Euro (almost $12) ticket price.

What winter?

The weather here has been dreadful. It reminds me of Cleveland in late March-early April: cool, grey, and rainy.

But it's not cold. And it's not snowing.

One day this week I rode in shorts and a jersey (with arm and knee warmers though). 60 degrees F on January 9!

I have all my snowboard gear here, thinking I would do some of that this winter. There might be snow in the mountains (7 hours to the south). But with the warm weather, who even thinks about it?

People around here are skiiing/snowboarding in the indoor ski hall in Neuss, about 10 minutes from here. That is something I may try, just for the curiosity factor.

I've seen a few nordic ski events on television, and they all appear to be using machine-made snow on the race courses.

I'm not complaining about this, because I would rather be out riding my bike. And from what I hear it's been pretty similar back in the U.S., which means I am gaining no advantage by being able to ride.

I guess I need to look for another edge: a training week in sunny Spain? Find out where Jens Voigt lives and infiltrate his training rides? Or Erik Zabel? Maybe talk to one of the old-school East Germans and ask about some "training tips"?

More on driving habits

I had to drive to Brussels yesterday -- just a 2.5 hr drive from here.

As I've written previously, I'm at the point now where I really don't like driving far, because of traffic and construction. Sure enough, 15 minutes from home I hit the first traffic jam. It was only a 10 minute delay, so not a huge impact.

I then listened closely to the traffic reports, but didn't hear anything that sounded like it would affect me. Somehow I missed one, and not too far from the border, just as I chose one of the two possible routes, I ran into the back of a 6 kilometer jam. Then I heard it on the radio. It took 30 minutes to go the next 1.5 km to get to the next exit where I turned around and took the other highway.

This is where I would be totally stressed out if my car didn't have a navigation system.

Crossing the border into Belgium, it was as if someone had hit the "relax" button for the highway. In Belgium, the speed limit is 120km/h, and I was told to obey it because the fines are steep. It seems most everyone obeys it, except, I was told again, for Germans who have not yet had the pleasure of being ticketed.

The end effect is that as soon as you hit the border, the entire experience of driving changes. It is so much more relaxed, and so less stressful than driving in Germany. There are no cars coming up on your bumper, or flying by so fast that your car shudders.

I mentioned this to someone at work -- someone who is German -- and he laughed and agreed completely. He said, that is the German way. Everything is so compact, so aggressive, and so stressful. He said he loves to drive in the U.S. (except, I discovered, he had never driven in say Boston or Chicago.)

I did notice though that the Belgians don't seem to easily let you merge into another lane. In Germany it seems if you put your blinker on, the other car is prepared for you to go ahead and merge ... like now. Driving in Belgium, they seemed to go out of their way to not let you merge.

Then I wondered ... maybe I was getting a little payback because of my German license plate.

***

Further note:
While driving to / from work the last 2 days I was noticing again how the drivers here will so often wait until the absolute last minute to merge right to get off at their exit, especially at the Autobahn interchanges. They will drive 160 km/h in the left lane then just before the exit move over to the right, jamming on the brakes and squeezing in where there may be less than a car length. I guess saving a few seconds is worth the price of brake replacement.

(a small) Language milestone

I have this picture in my head that someday I will walk into a German bar, order a beer, sit down, and have a regular conversation in German about yesterday’s football match (European, that is), or smoking bans (works for me), or speed limits on the Autobahn (not sure about that one).

Right now though, my attempts to speak German often center on my attempts to speak German. That’s true in more than one way.

My own self-consciousness and focus on getting the language right mean the communication sometimes comes second. When my attention is mostly on the language itself it’s easy to lose sight of the most important aspect, which is that I’m communicating with another person.

Often the conversation turns to my learning of German. Partly this is because people seem curious about it. Partly it’s because this is one of my stock set of things I can talk about – little conversation tidbits that I now know well, that relieve some of the pressure of getting the language right.

I want badly to get to the point where I can have a conversation without being self-conscious about it, and without having to talk about my learning of German. I know that for the most part this is a matter of time and practice, but I have a feeling it’s a matter of also letting go of mostly being concerned with saying things correctly.

I reached one small milestone a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t even realize this until after the fact. I had gone up to the coffee room where one of the guys in the office, who I’d not met before, started up a conversation with me. He somehow knew I was from the U.S., and he was asking about what my assignment was, what I did in the U.S., how long I was staying, etc. I asked him about what he did, how long he’d been at the company, etc.

It wasn’t until afterwards that I realized we’d had a normal conversation, that I hadn’t been nervous about it, and that we hadn’t talked mostly about my learning German. Now this was a 5 minute conversation of very limited scope, so I don’t want to make too big of a deal about it. It’s not like I was discussing German philosophers … but I suppose even they had to start with something small.