Thursday, March 8, 2012
Courtesy on a Bike
As soon as the temperatures sneak above 40F the racers come out in droves along the roads of my commute. University of Vermont teams practice pace lines. And Green Mountain Bike Club members of all ages ride the straights of Spear and Dorset Streets. Sometimes there's a group, other times single riders, some obviously trying to catch the pack. Thankfully, there's a growing number of commuters too.
I've ridden these roads for 10 years and a strange phenomena never fails to emerge early in the season: lack of communication. You see, I have to train the riders to be polite. To verbalize. By that I mean to acknowledge my humble presence. Whether they're coming toward me or passing, they're mute. No "hi" or "howdy" or even an "on your left" warning. Heads are bent. Tighly knit forms bobbing, intent and introspective.
So I take a different tact. I make it my personal quest to initiate the exchange. Blast 'em with kindness, so-to-speak. And I persist, time after time, until a month goes by and I begin to get feed back.
It's not like we're isolated behind the wheel of a car. We all enjoy the weather, the simple pleasure of a ride. Spinning wheels. Alone or with friends. Fast group ride or slow commute. Bikes are bikes. There should be a baseline of camaraderie. Speed is no excuse; if you breathe you can say "hi". We're talking Vermont here, not New York City.
I have a license plate that reads "Annie" prominently displayed beneath my seat. It's my signature. My message to those behind, a simple sign of bike love. And when they pass—as they invariably do because I'm slow—many will say, "Hi Annie, nice day huh?"
But as I said, it takes time. One person will respond. Then another. Pretty soon the results astound me. Though for whatever reason, there will be holdouts who can't utter a word. For those, a hand wave or wagging finger will suffice. I'll take what I can get.
Mission accomplished for another year.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Snowman in a Tree
Oh the things you'll see
high up in a tree.
A basket for a hat.
A basket on a rack.
Green bike and feet. Sam I am not. (Nor am I Dr.Seuss—sorry about that.)
Isn't it amazing what you can see by bike?
high up in a tree.
A snowman for you and me.
A basket for a hat.
| A bit of snow on my ride, but it was soft and not too difficult to get through. |
A basket on a rack.
Green bike and feet. Sam I am not. (Nor am I Dr.Seuss—sorry about that.)
Isn't it amazing what you can see by bike?
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Cabin Fever
I get cabin fever, especially with our two boys wrestling, playing video games, and then the fights...especially during vacation week. It was a Saturday with a brief, but welcome bit of warmth. I could've attended the Mardi Gras parade. Or retreated to the sanctity of my sewing corner. Or settled with a good book. But no. When I'm cranky and at my wits end, and my other half is at home, nothing calms me like a two-wheeled getaway.
Monday, March 5, 2012
France - Pedaling in Paris
Follow New Posts in the Around The World series on Mondays. Click here for the Introduction.
The iconic structure rises far above any other building
in Paris and was originally built in 1870 for the World’s Fair. For a lesser
charge, 12 Francs, we walked the stairs to the second platform for a magnificent
view of the city. By then Andy and I were hot. We lingered for a time, soaking
up the breeze. At 11 million inhabitants, Paris was my largest city to date.
Only a few “bumps” swelled from the landscape. Otherwise it was mostly flat.
10 miles, Thursday, August
4
The campground is on the edge of a huge park, Bois du Boulogne. We’d contemplated taking public transportation, but Gerrit, a Dutch cyclist on a tour of France, recommended we pedal to the attractions. He cycled late at night during the coolest part of the day and still felt safe. Immediately we got lost. Several cyclists looped the park roads and one helped us navigate to the Arc de Triomphe before waving and continuing on his ride.
The campground is on the edge of a huge park, Bois du Boulogne. We’d contemplated taking public transportation, but Gerrit, a Dutch cyclist on a tour of France, recommended we pedal to the attractions. He cycled late at night during the coolest part of the day and still felt safe. Immediately we got lost. Several cyclists looped the park roads and one helped us navigate to the Arc de Triomphe before waving and continuing on his ride.
Goosebumps prickled my arms as the great arch towered above
our heads. We rattled over the cobblestones and locked our bikes on the outside
of the roundabout for the underground entrance to the Arc. The monument sits in
the middle of the largest traffic circle in the world. It is also the confluence
of 14 avenues, one of which is the infamous Champs Elysees. Traffic weaved in
and out, curving around the monument. Horns honk. The amazing feat is that the
drivers negotiate it all, six lanes wide, without markings. No wonder the
tourist entrance is underground!
The Arc de Triomphe was commissioned by Napoleon Bonaparte in the early 1800s as a tribute to his army’s success, but was never completed during his reign. It was finished in 1836. A panel displays Napoleon with an angel flying over his head—a true depiction, Andy said, of his apparent arrogance. Various armies have marched through the arch, including Hitler’s soldiers as they stormed into Paris. There is a tomb for an unknown WWI soldier; its flame is rekindled every evening.
The Arc de Triomphe was commissioned by Napoleon Bonaparte in the early 1800s as a tribute to his army’s success, but was never completed during his reign. It was finished in 1836. A panel displays Napoleon with an angel flying over his head—a true depiction, Andy said, of his apparent arrogance. Various armies have marched through the arch, including Hitler’s soldiers as they stormed into Paris. There is a tomb for an unknown WWI soldier; its flame is rekindled every evening.
Bicycling through Paris was surprisingly easy. Our Dutch
friend was right. Though traffic was heavy, the drivers were conscientious.
And pedaling over cobblestones was interesting. The stones are laid in a
diamond pattern as opposed to checkerboard fashion, allowing the wheels a
smoother ride. It was all really confounding and the crazy traffic a bit
overwhelming, but orderly nonetheless. I was giddy as we headed to the Eiffel
Tower.
| The view from the lower platform on the Eiffel Tower. |
On the ground we sweated profusely and cycled under a
sprinkler. Our bellies grumbled. Andy stayed with the bikes while I gathered
baguettes from a storefront, fruit from another stand, then went inside a supermarche for cereal, yogurt and
orange juice. We’d adapted to the French foraging way to buy things. I lingered
in the dairy aisle for a moment of coolness.
By late afternoon the heat was unbearable. We were edgy and
impatient with each other outside the Louvre. The line to get into the museum
was 100 feet long. Instead, we crossed the Seine to visit the Musee de Orsay.
The museum is famous for its collection of Impressionist art.
I lost myself among its Picassos, Renoirs, and Cezannes. It may have the largest
accumulation of Monets; I saw at least 30 of his paintings, including a famous
water lily scene. As I walked along the high ceilinged rooms among the great
masters, it was an education to appreciate how many artists were notable
(posthumously), while Monet continues to enjoy so much notoriety. I sat on benches,
enthralled for minutes at a time.
By early evening we were exhausted. In 45 minutes we made it
back to the noisy, crowded campground. I queued up in a 20 minute line, waiting
for an available shower. The facilities are rather dismal, with perpetually wet
and dirty floors, so it’s a balancing act to wash and leave with clean feet. One
concrete block houses these “foreign” toilets, the hole in floor variety between
raised stepping stone-style footprints, and a nearby water spigot—all without
toilet paper. We avoid their use out of unease, preferring the conventional
toilets, even though they’re further away.
| Courtyard at the Louvre with glass pyramid entrance. |
15 miles, Friday, August
5
A thunder and lightning storm belts the sky with high winds. We wait out the storm inside the tent, catching up on correspondence. Andy has become the “contact scribe”. He writes postcards and letters home to family and friends while I am in charge of the journal.
A thunder and lightning storm belts the sky with high winds. We wait out the storm inside the tent, catching up on correspondence. Andy has become the “contact scribe”. He writes postcards and letters home to family and friends while I am in charge of the journal.
When the deluge and gusts subsided the air is less humid.
Used to Paris traffic now, we brave the roundabout around the Arc de Triomphe. I
held my breath, but the automobiles parted the way as if we were dignitaries.
And then in the busy environment we rode right down the wide Champs Elysses to
the Louvre. How truly exhilarating!
| Impressive Venus de Milo statue. |
The lines were fortunately short this time. We descended inside
the glass pyramid entrance, a recent addition designed by I.M. Pei which seems
to stand on the cobbles of the square like a child’s block. It’s also a modern
accoutrement in a classic old city—a bit out of place to my eye. As the
museum was formerly a royal palace, the building itself is a spectacular
exhibit and we marvel at the interior as much as the exhibits. Frescoes, golden
domes, and tiles adorn the ceiling. The floors are mosaics of marble. We could’ve
spent 3 days in the museum but we concentrate on the cooler temperatures of the
lower two floors and peruse the Roman, Greek, and Medieval displays.
But we couldn’t ignore the crowds around the armless Venus
de Milo statue. This 200 year old marble edifice was found in the waters around
the Greek island of Mios. Or pass up the opportunity to see Davinci’s Mona
Lisa. Behind protective glass, the painting is much smaller than I expected. Unfortunately
its mystique was lost in my glimpse above a sea of heads. I imagine there are
only moments in a day when one can truly appreciate the masterpiece.
| City traveling. Using the toilets or WCs under the street. |
A red granite sphinx from 2000 B.C. sits alone. We circled
the ten foot creature, noting a smoothly formed tail that swept back to his
haunches and tucked beneath his body. This grand statue is an appropriate introduction
to the medieval section. The remains of a 12 century castle are showcased within
the grounds of the Louvre. It was excavated in 1984 to expose the base walls,
crypts, and several pieces of pottery for display to the public. The lower
portions of the perimeter turrets and inner tower are amazingly preserved.
| The Latin Quarter |
With our heads filled with wonder we left in the afternoon
for errands: food, bank, post office for a phone card, then wandered towards
the Notre Dame cathedral. On the way we walked the bikes though the Latin
Quarter. Greek restaurants spilled onto the narrow alleys of cobblestones. Hunks
of lamb sizzled on vertical spits. The smell of gyros and pastry was tantalizing,
making our grocery purchases suddenly seemed inadequate for our taste buds. Oh,
to spend whatever I wanted on the restaurant life!
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Thwarted
It's March and just when I was ready to ride to work 4 inches of snow fell in the Champlain Valley. I took these photos on my drive home. The snow clung to branches, setting a wintry mood.
It didn't appear to stop some hardy riders from pedaling on a whitened bike path.
Or this skier on the edge of the road. Maybe I'll be able to ride my skinny boards for one last time if the cold hangs on for another day. If not, well, I might as well embrace the coming spring. Bulbs are sprouting in my front yard and squirrels are draining my feeders.
Ah, but it's supposed to get warmer by the weekend. Bring it on.
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