Specialized – An Idiot Broad Abroad

Day 25: Luxembourg to Esch-sur-Sûre

Sûre I know where I am.

Actually, there was a moment today when I walked into a gas station and couldn’t remember where I was and what language to attempt to poorly communicate in.

Anyway, the map tells me I am in Esch-sur-Sûre, Luxembourg. Here is how I made it:

The dawn broke as it always does and I was to live another day. The first day of the rest of my life. What excitement!

Breakfast at my hotel in Luxembourg was lux. Stolen sandwiches, check. Packed and on the road before 10 am, check. Complete and utter breakdown when I realize my pannier rack was detached on one side, check and check.

I was already planning to head to the bike shop for 10 am when it opened. The issue now was getting there with a bum rack. I didn’t have far to go – maybe 2 km – so I tried to gingerly attach the panniers and ride. I didn’t get too far before I couldn’t handle the sound of metal on metal, pannier rack on chain ring.

I stopped and took the pannier off the affected side. First, I tried resting the pannier on top of the rack, knowing it wouldn’t work, but just to give it a whirl. Obviously, it fell off immediately.

Next, I tried slinging the bag over my shoulder like a purse. This ended perilously. The bag slung from it’s resting place on my back into the path of my pedalling right knee and I had to stop, try not to fall, and reassess.

I would have to sling the bag across my body like a messenger bag and secure it tightly. This led to slightly choking myself the remainder of the ride. I didn’t think it would be much of an issue, but as I was nearing the shop it really wasn’t pleasant to be mildly strangled – surprising as I have heard otherwise from some…

Anyways, that was the point when I went through a slow-motion fall on the side walk next to a busy road. The pannier that was still attached flew off going over a bump, I slowed to a stop, the pannier over my shoulder swung abruptly and the bike was going down, down, down – but it all happened in slow motion and was extremely awkward. The stopped traffic watching this all happen must have been entertained.

I walked the remaining 200 m to the shop and talked to an employee. And by talk, I mean gesticulate wildly and try to communicate the issue. He understood well enough and readied to insert a new bolt into the problematic hole. However, he enlightened me to the fact that the previous bolt was actually still inside the frame, but the head had been sheared off and what remained was stuck. No way to get it out. Now there was a mild panic. Surface level, I remained somewhat calm.

He suggested putting a different rack on that didn’t connect with the frame in the same place. That wouldn’t work because it could only support 20 lbs. My panniers, full of god knows what, are way heavier. Next, he brought out some zap straps. He seemed to be seriously considering how to attach them and then managed to say, the problem is, they are a bit flimsy – yea dude! Oh well, he was trying.

I thought maybe if I could take it to a hardware store they could use some power tools to get the bolt out. I told him and he suggested a different bike shop that was closer that might have the expertise. Phew. I asked if I could leave my bags there and rode over to the other store.

Luckily, the guy working at bike shop number two seemed to think he could either handle it or provide a different solution. Only issue – it wouldn’t be done until the end of the day. No matter, as long as the bike got sorted. I left it there and walked back to the first shop where my bags were.

I asked if they didn’t mind if I left my panniers there for the day because I didn’t want to schlep them around with me all afternoon. No problem! I was mildly questioning my trust in random shopkeepers, but at that point I didn’t really care anymore.

I took the bus, still wearing – and sweating in considerably – my full spandex cycling get-up, to the city centre. The only silver lining of the day is that I could go to the National History and Art Museum, which was closed yesterday. It was an overwhelming display. I had to take a lunch break halfway through my visit. And it was free for students! Yes, I am definitely milking my nearly expired student card. Thanks, UBC!

After the museum, the thought occurred to me that if my bike was ready in the late afternoon I could take the train most of the way to my destination. It had been a long and trying day already and I didn’t know if I could handle a big ride into the evening hours.

So, I went to the central station and asked about taking the train in Luxembourg with a bike. No reservations, no extra charge – great! Only issue – no trains, at all, going in my direction for the next two to three days. Temporarily replaced by bus. Hmm – okay, can I take my bike on the bus? Yes. Great! But only if there is space. Hmm, again. I left and made my way back to bike shop number one pondering my options.

I picked up my panniers and then took the bus to bike shop number two. I hadn’t received a call from the guy at the shop yet, but I also had literally nothing else to do, so I alternated between sitting in the entry area and loitering around the store. I received a phone call from him at about 4:45 pm telling me the bike was fixed and that he would see me soon! He had no idea how soon.

I dawdled a little and used their bathroom before heading over to the service area approximately four minutes later. I was super close when you called, I said. Anyways, the bike was fixed! After some lost in translation dealings over tire pressure and my lock, I was on my way. I don’t know what happened with my lock today but I must have left it somewhere, so I had to buy a new one. Cool.

I decided to give the bus a shot and rode my mended bike, beautifully, to the main station. I got on a bus within 5 minutes and the bus employees were handing out bottles of water because of the heat.

The bus ride was pretty brutal due to rush hour traffic, but we made it eventually to Ettelbruck. The ride from there to my final destination was 18 km and 1 hour and 24 minutes according to Google maps. The terrain looked rather hilly. It was. Joy.

I won’t go into vivid detail about it, but I really was not surprised that the remaining ride would be hellish after the day I had.

When I reached Esch-sur-Sûre there was one final climb up to my hotel. The surroundings were glorious though. The town is deep inside a small green pocket of dense forest with a river encircling it. I arrived near 8 pm when the sun was casting a soft evening glow.

The hotel is called Gourmet and Relax Hotel… so I thought this was it, I would finally be able to relax after a hectic day. Little did I know I was walking into a modern day Fawlty Towers. The evening has been too comical to even be properly angry about.

The matron who checked me in was beside herself because it was clearly the evening dinner rush. She did her best to kindly check me in, while curtly ordering around the bellboy. He appeared to have no idea where my room actually was when he was trying to lead me to it. Once we had doubled back once or twice he found the correct hall and proceeded to try to unlock the door to room 1. I was staying in room 2.

Next, dinner: Since it was already quite late and a town this small surely didn’t have many options, I opted to dine at the hotel. Further Fawlty Towers moments ensued.

The bellboy made a reappearance during this scene in his main role as bread basket deliverer. There were only two waiters plus him and there was a clear hierarchy. The top dog took the orders and then relayed table setting and delivery instructions to the middle man. The middle man then pointed out to bellboy where to take bread. The whole operation was utterly inefficient and hilarious. I was so hungry it was almost hard to appreciate, but nonetheless amazing.

The icing on the cake is that I need to vacate my room by 8:30 tomorrow morning or I will be charged for tomorrow night as well. I guess I should set my alarm for 4 am to make sure I am through the breakfast service in time for check-out and to hit the road – direction: St. Vith, Belgium!

COTD: Cow of the day

Day 1: Barcelona to Calella

I eased into my cycling extravaganza with an easy little 90 km jaunt in temperature up to 37 degrees. Child’s play, I know.

Okay really though, I am a jelly-doughboy now. I was sweating out of orifices I didn’t even know I had, my thighs are a very sexy sun kissed (read: rash) red, and I have wounds on both knees. Don’t worry! I survived.

Still looking super fresh before leaving the hotel in Barcelona. Yes that is the glistening of sweat on my upper lip already. Setting up the panniers really got me goin’.

I started nice and early out of Barcelona at 8 am and had to adjust a bit to riding with the extra weight of the panniers. This came to a head later in the day when I tried to begin pedalling after a break on a slight – very slight – uphill and fell over because my cleat was already clipped in. This is where one of the knee scrapes developed. Note to self: do not try to start on an uphill, or even a flat surface, and especially not after kilometre 75 of the day.

Everything went quite smoothly out of Barcelona. Luckily there wasn’t too much traffic as it was still early and I could follow other cyclists commuting to work to try to figure out where I could ride / when to cross the street. Without this I am sure it would have taken me double the time.

I stopped for a coffee in La Roca de Vallès and for lunch (featuring stolen hotel sandwiches) in Mataró. Despite refilling my water bottles from fountains in both of these places I was feeling pretty dehydrated and started getting the first ticklings of a headache shortly after lunch.

Refilling water from a fountain – Spain (Catalonia) has a good water fountain set up!

May the little baby jeebus bless my dear mother for leaving me with electrolyte tabs – after adding one to my water bottle I felt quite a lot better and the headache faded as I rode on.

Not a lot of people were out and about in the towns I rode through because of the heat. There was also a haze over the sea whenever I could get a glimpse from up on the mountain roads. Forgot to take a photo. But I did take a shot of a very cute little town up high in the hills.

I don’t remember where this was… but definitely somewhere between Barcelona and Calella…

Upon arrival at my three star hotel in Calella (I don’t know who decides how many stars hotels get, but I am questioning whether or not it should even have any associated with it’s name) I showered the sweat, blood, and tears off my body and made my way to the beach. Ahh, the beach in Calella. Certainly lovely scenery. Masses of human detritus sprawled out baking in the sun. The water littered with people bobbing around like buoys lost at sea. Pasty white Brits abound! Okay, I am being too harsh. By North American standards, Calella is beautiful. It is rather the collection of economical tourist offerings that have tarnished it’s purity. Guilty as charged. I also forgot to take a picture at the beach. I will make up for this by taking lots in Calella de Palafrugell (a much more serene spot that I will ride to tomorrow).

Mandatory post-ride cerveza and olives! Ahh, the olives here are so amazing.

I am sitting in my 0 star room now and am absolutely knackered. I think I will hit the hay early today for a fresh start tomorrow. Here’s hoping for cooler conditions. Hasta mañana, Calella de Palagrugell!

DOTD

Sad to report that I saw very few dogs today and the one that had the most potential for photographing / touching was seen when I was without phone. Instead I will post COTD: crab of the day.

Dalí with a crab. Photo from the Dalí Museum in Figueres last week.

Back in Barcelona

As we bid farewell to young Tomithy in Girona this morn (he has now returned to the land of tea and crumpets), we prepared for our own journey back to Barcelona. Immediately upon arrival my parents and I pounded the pavement to visit what seemed like every bike shop in Barcelona. Eventually, the perfect bike and pannier set up was found at Probike. I am super excited because it is a Specialized and quite similar to my bike back at home in Vancouver so it feels just like ‘riding a bike’ – yikes, could not resist. Photos and details to come once it’s all set up.

How joyful I am that I have a bike to ride for the next couple of months! (this is from the old walls around Girona)

Following the busy day of bicycle acquisition I actually rode my new bike home through rush hour traffic in Barcelona. No idea where I was going and it certainly was interesting to navigate the roads. I do think that Barcelona has very good cycling infrastructure and an ample number of dedicated bike lanes, however, without knowing which streets are one-way and which have multi-directional bike lanes it is kind of tough for a new cyclist. I think if you wrapped yourself fully in bubble wrap while learning over a few weeks it would become more comfortable. And invest in a bell.

When I made it back to our hotel and reconvened with my parents we reminisced over the enjoyable holiday we have had as well as the successes of the day.

Also of significant note today was the purchase of a SIM card. For those who are not aware, this is a little plastic chip that you insert into a phone and it makes magic happen via the internet. Of course, like most things I do, this feat was not without serious complications. First I spent nearly an hour in a Vodafone shop waiting to be served. Next, I paid 20 euro for a SIM card and 15 GBs of data later to find out that I can only reload it by going IN PERSON to a Vodafone store each month, queuing up and waiting again to pay 20 euros. Apparently it is too difficult for an international cell phone provider to allow humans to use plastic cards called VISA to load credit onto their phones. Ah well, I do love a challenge.

Now, you may be hoping that the SIM card story is over, but alas, it is not. Once I got over the blow of having to manually update the thing every month I carried on waiting for the data to arrive to my phone to start using the various features that require internet. Eventually after refreshing the screen every few minutes, restarting the phone, taking the SIM card out, gently massaging it, performing reiki on it, whispering sweet nothings into its ear, and returning it inside of the phone – all to no avail – I gave up trying. It was only after one and a half gin and tonics that my mom proposed we switch the SIM card into her cell and see what happens. And lo and behold – hello data! Upon this miraculous discovery I figured my dear mom would suggest I simply take her phone and she replace hers when she returns to Vancouver in two days. Oh how mistaken I was – I was faced with flat out refusal. Okay, fine. I guess I will just put the god forsaken SIM back in my Dad’s old phone and give up on ever being connected to anyone ever again. But wait, returning the SIM to my Dad’s phone and it works… someone please explain this to me.

In summary: I have a functioning cell phone with data. Yet to be sorted out: syncing it with my apple ID and shrinking the text down from extra extra large (sorry dad).

DOTD: Dog of the Day

This is a feature very close to my heart. I will do my very best to not only take a photo of a cute dog each day, but I will try to touch at least one dog per day. Ideally I will take a selfie with a dog. Today I got to touch a little Cavi (cavelier king charles spaniel) just like my old Winnie.

Note that is my hand touching the face of a dog.

Tomorrow will be my final full day in Barcelona and I have some last minute shopping and prep to do before I head out on the 28th. Looking like it is going to be a hot one!