Advertisement
Published: October 30th 2005
Edit Blog Post
Who fears from the sunset
Sunset at Ohrid lake, Macedonia Who fears from the sunset?
באחד משיריה היפים רונה ("איזה באסה שהיא לסבית") קינן שואלת: "מי מפחד מהזריחה?", ועונה: "את, אני ואתה."
ובכן, רונה, יקירתי, יש לי חדשות בשבילך: לפחות במובן המילולי של הביטוי, קשה לומר שאני מפחד מהזריחה. רוב לילותי הם המתנה דרוכה וחסרת-סבלנות לבוקר, שיאפשר לי סופסוף למהר לעבודתי, שאותה אני מאוד אוהב.
ומה שנכון ביומיום בארץ, נכון שבעתיים
(seven-ging?)
בזמן טיול.
אלא שרונה התכוונה, כנראה, ל"פחד מהזריחה" כמטאפורה לפחד של כולנו מהעתיד, מהלא-נודע. וכאן אני נאלץ להודות, שיש משהו בדבריה: בניגוד לתדמית הטייל המנוסה והעשוי ללא חת
(Made without ‘H’ ?)
שאני מנסה להפגין, בדרך-כלל בלילה שלפני הטיסה אני מפחד פחד-מוות מהצפוי לי ברגע שאנחת ביעדים לא-מסבירי-פנים בעליל, כמו טיראנה, או גואטמלה סיטי.
רוצי, שמוליק לפני שטסתי פרסמתי מודעה "מחפש שותפ/ה לטיול אופניים" ב"למטייל". כרגיל, עשיתי את זה רק כדי לצאת ידי חובה: הדבר האחרון שחסר לי בטיול זה איזה נודניק שידבק אלי, ושאחרי שנחזור לארץ ידאג לספר לחבר'ה שבעצם הסיפורים שלי מאוד רחוקים ממה שהתרחש במציאות.
להפתעתי, הפעם דווקא התקשרו כמה אנשים. אחד מהם היה בחור נחמד, שהציע לי לרכוב איתו באיטליה, ואף סיפר לי בהתלהבות על חברה מקומית, שתמורת תשלום נאות מתכננת לך מסלול לטיול, מזמינה לך מקום במלונות בדרך ומציידת אותך במפות
Vihren
Look from Vihren Peak, National Park Pirin, Bulgaria ובהמלצות על מסעדות ואתרים בדרך.
תגובתי המיידית היתה: 'אז שיטיילו במקומי, וזהו!'. ובאמת, מה הטעם בטיול אם לא לומדים לפרטי פרטים את מפת המדינה כדי לתכנן את המסלול באופן עצמאי, נתקלים בתקלות בדרך, ודופקים בדלת בבתים של כפריים כדי לבקש קצת מים ולחם לדרך?
אבל, במחשבה שנייה, אולי זה דווקא לא רעיון כל-כך גרוע. קישון הציע פעם, הרבה לפני עידן הגאדג'טים, לקנות שני מחשבים שיודעים לשחק שח - כדי שישחקו אחד עם השני, ובינתיים אתה תוכל ללכת לסרט. על אותו משקל, דווקא נראה לי נחמד לשכור איזה פועל תאילנדי, שיטייל במקומי, יסבול הוא את המקלחות הקרות ואת הפציעות הבלתי-נמנעות בדרך, ואני אוכל לשבת לי בבית (או, ליתר דיוק, בטכניון - אין לי בכלל מחשב בבית!) ולכתוב אי-מיילים, כמו שאני אוהב.
Speak the language of the Hebrew man
Speak the language of the Hebrew man Before flying, I promised the guys from “Lametayel” and from the bike association to translate the Blogs from my previous trips to Hebrew, and to upload them as soon as I return (though chances are that when I have time again, I’ll simply travel again). So, it would have been better, had I finally started writing in Hebrew.
Well, I’m sorry. It’s already
hard enough for me to get along with the fu…ing Cyrillic letters here. I think I will just keep on writing in Shakespeare’s language, and use some automatic translator when I come back. Though I’m afraid no automatic translator will succeed to translate well the title of the next item.
I subject with me the Ba’asa of the silence Which is a translation of “אני נושא עמי את צער השתיקה” by Salomon my-country (Shlomo Artzi).
אתם רואים? כשאני ממש רוצה, אני מצליח לכתוב בעברית.
And BTW Shloyme (תלמיד הולך לאיבוד דרך מרפסת) כשלימדתי לשון, נהגתי להעניש תלמידים בעייתיים וסוררים במיוחד, בכך שנתתי להם לנתח תחבירית שורה משיר של שלמה ארצי. זה היה עונש מאוד יעיל. התלמידים לא פצו פה.
Cut me to carrots
Bike & hike Last week I combined the two best ways of travelling - cycling and hiking. I simply ride up to the highest point which is accessible by bike, and then start hiking.
Today I climbed this way a vertical diffence of 2000m - half by bike, half by foot - up to the summit of Vihren mountain, which, at 2900m height, has already some snow on it, though we are
only at the beginning of October. The views were splendid - much better than everything I saw in Albania and in Guatemala (well, beside Tikal...).
Who let the dogs out? But not always I'm so lucky. A few days ago I was at the middle of the way, when I encountered 5 large crazy dogs. Usually in such cases I merely get on riding, and the dogs run after me for a while, until they get tired and leave me alone. But now it was a steep uphill, so the dogs were faster than me, and anyway they just blocked the way.
So I simply ran away, and rode down back.
Cut me to carrots But, as it seemed to me really FADICHOT that stupid dogs will destroy all my plans, I tried again, riding up, doing "voices of Shatiach".
But now they were even more angry. One of them bited my bag, giving me clue that the next thing to be bitten is my leg.
But, a go-get-on guy as I'm, I really wanted to get up. So I tied the bike to a tree by the way, and started to hike up far above the road,
Goce Delchev statue
On the mountain pass, the way from Goce Delchev to Melnik trying to do a huge bypass around the dogs' location.
Well, this try failed as well, at the moment I heard a dog's nevicha, which sounded quite close.
My own private museum and the tangue of the fewa
One of my favorites activities during travelling is visiting small little-known museums. In Bulgaria, I've already visited 2 museums, in which I was the only visitor. It's very nice - the staff is a bit stressed from the surprising visitor (I already know I should come with many coins, as they usually don't have change), and think that I'm a researcher, who is doing his doctorate on related issues or so. But the best thing is leaving after 1-2 hours, knowing that I saw
everything, and not just a tiny piece, as usually happens in large museums. Well, these museums aren't exactly the Luvre, if to use "the tongue of the fewa" (LESHON HAM'ATA).
The Macedonian Cabab Today I crossed the border to Macedonia, via a very quiet road through beautiful mountains scenery.
At the first town in Macedonia I ate a Cabab, which is, according to the guidebook, the best one all over Macedonia. The owner, who was
Loundry
See the entry "Why women never cycle alone" an intellectual, in local terms (i.e. - he knows to read, and even in English!), asked me to glance at the guidebook. When he saw the compliments for his restaurant in the guidebook, he was so proud, that he read from the guidebook for every poor local, who was unlucky enough to enter the restaurant at this hour. The nice thing was, that he didn't bother to look for the appropriate page again and again, so he was actually just opening the book in an arbitrary page and "read" from his memory - knowing that the old locals here don't read English anwyay.
The wedding At the hotel I sleep, there was a wedding, so I was lucky to see some Macedonian authentic dances. Later, the bride arrived to the lobby to take some pictures. I did my best to push my bike, which lied on the wall, so that they would enter her photos - I found it very funny for some reason. Unfortunately, the photographer got me, and asked me to move the bike away.
My father eagle
I did all the way back to Sofia on a night bus. A tough traveller as I'm, I
Photo Retzach (2)
See entry "Photo Retzach" succeeded to sleep all the way, in spite of the many turn-abouts, curves and breaks.
But even a tough traveller needs to piss sometimes. I waited for the next stop, and when it arrived, I came to the driver, still half-sleeping, and asked if there is enough time for toilets in this stop.
The driver answered: "your passport, first!"
I was a bit surprised. I've already became used to the strange habbits in these post-communist countries, but this is the first time I'm asked for my passport for pissing.
Being too tired for asking redundant questions, I handed him my passport. 'Now, can I go to the toilets?'
-'One moment, please!', he answered, now more angrily. I opened my eyes a little more. Only now I saw, that there was an officer standing next to him. We were on the border pass to between Macedonia and Bulgaria.
My father eagle My passport poses a hard challenge for the passport controllers. It's from right to left. It's full of stamps for various exotic countries. I hand them the passport opened on the issue page, with my picture and my details, but it never helps. They run through the pages forward
Potatoes seller near Samokov, Bulgaria
See entry "Lord of the flies / the people" and backward, and stop at one page, which carries a large beautiful stamp, with my picture on it: my visa to Guyana. 'Where is Guyana?' they ask. 'East of Venezuela', I answer. SOF HA'OLAM SMOLA (no connection to MY FATHER FALCON (Avi Nesher)'s film.
Next page is my visa to China. And next one - the stamps from my poor travel in Albania. Now they become suspecting: the various nations in the Balkans hate each other. There is only one thing which unify them: the common hate to the Albanians.
- 'so, are you a student in Sofia?'
- 'No, I study in Israel'. I showed him my Technion's student card.
He was still very suspecting.
'Where have you travelled in Macedonia?'
Oh, that's my favorite question. I said the names of the towns I passed on the way, in a pace of a machine gun. That's finally conviced him. I was finally free to leave Macedonia, with my bike.
Why women never cycle alone
Rain I have got two tactics against rain: one for light rain, and one for heavy rain.
In case of light rain, I simply continue riding.
In case of heavy rain, however, I say
Bike on large bridge
The rural way from Bansko to Goce Delchev, National Park Pirin, Bulgaria "KUS OCHTACK" - and continue riding.
The real problems At my lectures in "Lametayel" people ask me many irrelevant questions. Never am I asked about the only real problems: the phycial fitness, the loundry and the maps.
Among the three, the fitness is the easiest one. All you have to do is to sell your car, throw your TV, quit your job that you hate and never buy in the supermarket anything, which contains more than 3%!f(MISSING)at. That's all.
Finding topographical maps is much harder. You should start your visit in each country in its capital, and prepare yourself for wasting the whole first day of your travel for this issue - quite frustrating, as these capitals are not exactly Paris or London, if to use 'TAT-MEDINIYUT' (understatement).
If you don't understand why it takes a whole day, let's take Tirana as an example: there are hardly any signs with the streets' names there, not to talk about houses' numbers. The locals speak only Albanian. When I finally found the address, where, according to the guidebook, the minstry of agriculture (which sells the maps) is found, I found there nobody but a bore policeman, who had
Photo Retzach (3)
See entry "Photo Retzach" no idea what I was talking about.
But this is the easier case. The harder case is when I do find maps: leaving me in a shop of topgoraphical maps is just like leaving a kid in a toys shop: I want everything. In Guatemala I first chose maps by 100$, and only hardly I succeeded to decrease it to 60$ (which was found indeed insufficient during the travel itself).
The hardest problem is the loundry. This is really art, so I'll try only to give it on a shoestring.
The basic axiom is, that you'll have to wash yourself, by hand, everything you wear. The simple conclusion is, that if you take with you 100 shirts rather than 2, you'll still have to wash the very same number of shirts, but now you'll also have to carry a very heavy bag.
Thus, there's no use of taking more than 2 units from each wearing item: one for wearing, and one for washing. This requires an iron discipline: if you are too lazy to wash your clothes one evening - tomorrow you will have nothing to wear. Cruel and simple. And indeed, two sequencing rainy days are catastrophe.
The
Bike on little bridge
The downhill to Goce Delchev, Pirin, Bulgaria real problem is not the washing itself, but the drying. This requires skills of a
super-Dany-Rup: where to dry the close: inside or outside? near the window or near the bed?
But this is not enough: no matter how hard you try, what you washed by evening will never be really dry by morning. And it's totally forbidden to put it in the bag a cloth, which is even very slighly wet - unless you would like to wear a stink meduza by evening. Thus, you should hang it on the side of your bag.
As I always say, the best advice for cyclists is simply to ride, and not to stop. Now this simple rule is even more important: when you stop for pissing, you find out, that the way - and its shoulders (SHULAYIM?) - are totally muddy, and there's nothing to sustain your bike on. If you want to keep your loundry clean, you must sustain the bike on you while pissing. Maybe this is the reason why I've never met of a woman, who travels by bike alone.
Lord of the flies
The People The locals, who invited me for a coffee, which became a meal,
Pipeline
Picture taken at Berovo lake, Macedonia which became an invitation to sleep at their place.
The fruit's sellers in the markets and on the roads' sides, who gave me 2-3 fruit by free (the few times I insisted to pay them, turned to be big mistakes, because now they loaded me by 3-4 kgs of fruit, which I had nothing to do with).
The shoemakers, the sellers in the working tools shop and the bike mechanics, who repaired my bike, my bags and my shows, and many times refused to being paid for it.
Lord of the flies Once I read an interview with a German guy, who have cycled for 10 years around the world, including many war areas (Israel was on of the least dangerous places, in which he travelled). The nicest thing he said, was that people always 'came out from their fence' (YATZ'U MIGIDRAM) for helping him. Hardly anyone tried to steal from him, and nobody tried to phsically assault him.
For a person like me, who is a very little believer in human beings and admires the book "Lord of the flies", this is a kind of NECHAMA.
Touring cycling makes people to reveal their best characteristics. People consider a
touring cyclist as a simple, brave person, who has admirable will power, and thus are much more friendly with him than they are with any other tourist. They usually don't realize, that if you travel for so long, you are quite reach; that usually the only needed courage is usually is the courage to ask help from foreign people; and that "will power" is actually not more than simply moving the legs up and down in a monotic motion, many times.
The (anti)-mirracle of the battery can
The (anti)-mirracle of the battery can The oil can mirracle of the mighty Hashmona'im is "dwarfing" (MITGAMED), regarding to my own little (anti)-mirracle: each night I load my rechargable batteries for 12 hours, I never use them, but still, they are never fully charged. Maybe I should fix my bike's mezuza (BTW: strange as it may be considered for those who know my aetheistic opinions, I've a girlfriend, who kisses Mezuzot. Well, fine with me, as long as she kisses me as well).
My Slovakian Deja-vu By now, Bulgaria offers me plenty of a deja-vu feeling, of my great Slovakia trip, some 6 years ago: beautiful strange-colored (very NOT "swiss-classic"
beuaty) mountains; empty roads, ideal for cycling; well-marked mountain trails, which connects mountain huts, in which you may eat life-returning rich soap. Or not (see next item).
The double-side dead-end, the 7 virtual lakes and the Miyauska The beautiful mountain road between Samokov and Dupnica implements a genios idea: it's a dead-end from both sides: Some 5 kms in the middle of the way, are actually a "single track", which is hardly passable even by mountain bike (at parts of the way I carried the bike on my back). This makes it completely useless for cars - and ideal for bikes: I saw there no moving vehicle car there for some happy 24 hours.
At the "trail" section of the road is Lovna mountains' hut, where I planned to buy some food. Big mistake: there was nobody there (many mountains huts here get closed off-season). The only living creature there was a cat, who was amazingly thirsty-for-love: again and again he climbed my bags, starting to cut him with his "weaves" (TFARIM). I tried to pleasantly ask him not to destroy my bags, but this cat probably spoke only Bulgarian (I can sware you that even his yell was
Bike on large bridge
The uphill to Vihren, National Park Pirin, Bulgaria "Miyau-ska"). Nothing helped.
The problem was that at this very place I planned to live my bags & bike, and go for a few hours' hike. and I understood that if I just hide the bags in the woods, I will probably find them copletely torn (by the cat) and wet (by the rain, which will surely come, sooner or later).
So finally I opened one of the hut's doors - which turned out to be the kitchen's door, , and left there my bike & bags. On the way, I checked out what's in this kitchen: it seemed to me a cool idea to sleep all alone in this hut (at another room, which I already visited, there were some beds and many blankets). So I must get some food. If nobody comes, I may take from the kitchen and leave the owners some money on the table. They will understand the meaning. As for shower, I may boil water in one of the pots. And as for the extreme night cold - I have got the blankets.
But the kitchen was totally empty. Only some pots and plates (I tried to use my investigating skills for estimating when
Bike on little bridge
The downhill to Goce Delchev, Pirin, Bulgaria lately there have been people in that place, but failed).
Well, finally I left there the bike (I didn't even lock there: a guy who is strong enough for taking the bike all the way down would surely be strong enough also for breaking the lock). And went out to the hike.
The trail took off high above the pines' range, to the area where the only plants are alpine-like low shrowberries. And then I got to the Sedemte Ezera (the seven lakes) circus.
In touristic postcards this place looks marvelous: I guess that the postcards' photographers took waited passiently to the about one day per year where this place is not full of clouds. Well, unfortunately this day wasn't today, so I saw nothing but an (beautiful for itself) end-of-the-world vision of the lakes' water, the fog and the sky get unified to one strage cluster of "nothing".
Between two of the lakes there was another hut. But, unlucky as I'm, again there was nobody there. And it was locked.
While back in the mountain hut in Lovna (the bike were still there. And the bags. And the fucking cat. And nobody else), I first made a more exhaustive
Moustache (2)
Goce Delchev's profile, Novo Delchevo, Bulgaria search in the kitchen. I found some sugar, a tzintzenet of hot peppers, and another one, of "occupied cucumbers" (melafefonim kvushim). Nicha. Never am I very distinguisher (bareran) at food issues, especially not when I starve to death. I ate everything, and left on the table 3$.
Now there was only one problem: the hike is said to take about 5 hours. But a glance at the clock (something which I only very rarel do) told me, that I did it much faster. So it was now only 16:00, the gas for boiling my shower's water didn't seem to work, I had no any more food, and the whole idea of sleeping all-alone in a mountain hut started to seemed quite stupid. After all, I can always sleep in a good hotel and tell everybody that I slept alone in a deserted mountain hut; anyway the connection of my stories to what happens in reality is quite amorphic.
So I just went on. And rode and rode and rode. I had luck. The next mountain hut I arrived to was inhabited. Not only that, but there were there some locals, who played cards, smoked and drank. So after my shower
and meal, I joined them for a little. They shortly understand the clue, and gave me my last request for this great day: some Shnaps, for sleeping well, having a hot feeling in my throat.
עד העונג הבא: אפילוג
לפעמים אלוהים מתנהג כמו ז'ול ורן עם אלצהיימר.* אחרת, קשה להבין למה הוא ממשיך לשמור כל-כך טוב על שנינו (האופניים שלי ואני), כשאני מקלל אותו כל-כך הרבה.
לפני שנתיים, כשטיילתי בקרואטיה, פגשתי אופנן אוסטרלי, ורכבנו ביחד יומיים. הוא היה רוכב מצויין ואדם מצויין, והוא זה שאחראי להרבה מאוד סבל, שנגרם לפקידי הצ'ק-אין ("המחאה-פנימה"?) בנמלי-תעופה שונים בעולם, מאז ועד היום.
עד שפגשתי את מארק, הרוכב האוסטרלי, הייתי בחור תמים וצייתן. לפני שובי מהטיול שלפני קרואטיה בזבזתי חצי יום בשוטטות בבודפשט, עד שמצאתי חנות אופניים, שבעליה גם מכר אופניים באותו יום וגם לא הספיק עדיין לחתוך את הקרטון הענק, שבתוכו מגיעים האופניים, ולזרוק אותו לקרטונייה. אחר-כך חזרתי לאכסניה ברגל, כשאני נושא עמי קרטון ענק, משל הייתי שליח של פיצה לפילים, ולמחרת שילמתי לנהג מונית מחיר מופקע, כדי שייקח אותי לשדה"ת יחד עם קרטון בגודל של פסנתר-כנף בינוני.
כשסיפרתי את כל זה למארק, הוא צחק. "אני פשוט רוכב לשדה התעופה, מראה להם את האופניים, ואומר להם שזאת המזוודה שלי, ושזו בעייה שלהם איך בדיוק זה יגיע לצד השני".
אני לא כל-כך יודע. אולי באוסטרליה בכביש לשדה התעופה נוהגים רק קנגורואים מסבירי-פנים, ופקידות הקבלה עדינות ונותנות כמו קיילי מינו. מכיוון שאני מוותר על התענוג לרכוב במקומות נוחים, בטוחים וידידותיים (ולפיכך גם משעממים להחריד, בעיני) כמו אוסטרליה, לא תהיה לי הזדמנות לבדוק את זה בעצמי בשנים הקרובות. בשאר העולם, מכל מקום, הרכיבה לשדה התעופה היא הסיכון הכי גדול והכי מיותר שאני לוקח על עצמי בכל טיול, והוויכוח עם אנשי הצ'ק-אין הוא מייגע למדי. אבל, מה שנכון נכון: עובדה שהאופניים תמיד מגיעים בסוף.
ביום חזרתי מסופיה הצצתי במפה, ושמחתי לגלות, שניתן לרכוב את הדרך הקצרה ממרכז העיר לשדה התעופה דרך פארק עירוני גדול וכבישים שכונתיים שקטים. מה שלא לקחתי בחשבון הוא, שמי שסובל מדיסאוריינטציה קיצונית יצליח לאבד את דרכו גם בתוך פארק עירוני, ושכבישים שכונתיים נוטים להיות תמיד חד-סטריים, ותמיד בכיוון ההפוך לכיוון הרצוי לך. בנוסף גיליתי, שהשעון שלי היה מכוון שעה אחורה במשך כל הטיול. מזל שיצאתי מספיק מוקדם.
*"משה חוואטו והעורב" / קובי אוז, עמוד 54.
מבחר ציטוטים נוספים מתוך הקרטונייה שלי
המוח שלי מיותר. הוא רק חושב מחשבות מעגליות מרגיזות, כמו בן אדם שנדון לדווש בדוושות של אופניים לנצח.
משה חוואטו והעורב / קובי אוז, עמוד 129.
אני סקרן כפייתי, חייב לשים לב לכל דבר. זו גם תכונה טובה. בלי הסקרנות, המין האנושי לא היה מגיע לאן שהגיע. מצד שני, לאן בכלל הגיע?
משה חוואטו והעורב / קובי אוז, עמוד 121.
הוא יצא לרחוב, שם צלל לעברו עיט חולף מן השחקים, וכמעט דחף אותו לנתיבו של רוכב אופניים, שחירף וגידף אותו - באותה עליונות מוסרית שרק רוכבי אופניים לבדם מסוגלים, כמדומה, להגיע אליה.
שעת התה הארוכה והאפלה של הנפש / דאגלס אדאמס
Travel date: Oct-2005 Old Kato
Advertisement
Tot: 0.197s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 17; qc: 79; dbt: 0.0882s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.3mb