tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37377112090295035082024-03-05T19:47:32.702-08:00SimplyBrian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-64085342266096169232014-08-30T10:51:00.000-07:002014-08-30T11:23:25.200-07:00A better "Bob".Chic-o-sticks and fun dip delivered from him. Seedy in a sea of cigarette smoke and dirty shelves, a new face in a small town; how was it always a new face? That was the cycle at Decker's depot. We're talking about 18 years of it. I grew up there. Not at Decker's per say, but I grew up in a town where such a place could not only exist but actually become a staple of functionality.<br />
<br />
Recently - an odd word to define. Well, it seems recent anyway that the reflection of the past is not recognizable in the glass of the new surroundings. Decker's is still there; I am not. Hence the new reflection in this blog.<br />
<br />
From white bread to free range crickets, from dusty trails to dusty trails, from humidity to... surroundings give context to understanding. Some things are different here. Some things are the same.
<br />
<br />
One of my friends says that "<i>people don't change. they just get closer to center.</i>"
<br />
<br />
Grasping at a collection of memories that seem to paint a different picture, change seems pretty obvious. (insert json formatted aside) {"<i>soliloquy</i>" : "you might not know me; I choose the word 'grasping' to describe the access issue. Being conversationally on point is easy when we're standing in the stream - the present doesn't flow by, it's always right there. But standing in a stream means that at some point in time, one had to get there, and that's why I'm grasping. Fishing out a penny that was dropped along the way, well, that's laughably (if you like me) difficult. Maybe that's why I used to hang out with the Christians; they could forgive me when I lost my keys." , "<i>meta comment</i>" : "using the word penny? Hmmm...I wonder what kind of priority I place on a change/fix for such 'minor' things. I mean honestly, to others this penny is a rare gem, a monumental story, life's most important material good. I'm just trivializing the challenge or significance of entertaining it. Just thought that I'd admit that fact to you."}<br />
<br />
The point is that memories, however shattered, can make individualism seem like a recycled dream or possibly a stunning turn in a memoir that no one will ever read. The Christians used to answer my questions with responses that boiled down to, "<i>God works the big picture and you don't see it</i>", but either did they. Saying that "<i>people don't change [because they drift towards actualizing a static state of identity]</i>", well, this seems like a similar response. A question starting with "how" is probably the wrong direction: how could we ever know when we're moving towards or away from center? That would be nice to know. I just doubt that answering that question is as important as recognizing the major premise: center exists.
<br />
<br />
I'm sure that you won't let me lay down a claim without a battle. You'll at least stop me and stay, "Well, maybe." I'll do the same for you.
<br />
<br />
So I'm going to start an argument. Ready?
<br />
<br />
The big picture isn't obvious when we're making claims like "<i>people don't change</i>". We can't see that centralized concept of self with it's gravity pulling us through awkward changes, releasing us from anxiety when it's alignment is satisfied. You could argue that we can feel it, but if there is a center, maybe it should be battled like any other dull whim that doesn't deserve a creative licence in this world. I reckon this situation to being a "<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Brian</b></span>" with an center that craves to be a "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>." I don't want to be a freaking "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>"! =]
<br />
<br />
Seriously though, assume that center exists. It's existence may not be predicated on goodness and as such we shouldn't necessarily steer our lives to reconcile it's needs.
<br />
<br />
Ok, now let's back up. What I'm suggesting might be impossible.
<br />
<br />
Let's stay that center exists. I've suggested that we can fight against it. However, it's also quite possible that center may be cloaking itself in our intuition. As such, the "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>" would be completely undiscoverable yet always active. We couldn't help but drift towards center.
<br />
<br />
Shoot. At this point, my two pronged conclusion might need some Fun Dip from the newest form of Stranger Danger at Deckers.<br />
<br />
1.) Center is not inherently good. [I'm going to leave this claim and let someone prove otherwise]<br />
<br />
2a.) If it is recognizable, then it's desires should be carefully judged even at the risk of increasing levels of internal discomfort (heaven forbid!).<br />
2b.) If it is not recognizable, then give in to "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>" simply because it is my internal compass against which I just all things. Battle is not possible.
<br />
<br />
So I have a question about changing "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>". Let's say that I can't recognize my "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>". Maybe other people can recognize him. Eh? Maybe, just maybe, that's why community is so important. Again, eh?Well, actually, community won't matter unless one thing is true: community needs to be able to be part of "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>" alteration or else it's just finger waving at a brick wall. So then, I wonder:
<br />
<br />
<b>Can community be the key to adjusting an unrecognizable internal compass named "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>"? </b>
<br />
<br />
We are now at the point of this post. I value friendship. The presence of 'community' gives friendship meaning (for me). And I miss you all.<br />
<br />
To all of my friends who try to help me drift towards a better "<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Bob</span>", I love you.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-998467843979868192011-04-08T23:29:00.000-07:002011-04-08T23:58:33.159-07:00ROAD to wearGolden to Denver seemed like a much more interesting ride when suddenly this thought occurred to me. What if capitalism morphed into a choice driven opportunity that focused on rewarding those who most rewarded others? <br /><br />Let's assume a state takes on this idea. I'm now curious. Given my affection for biking, what quality of bikes will this state produce? I'm serious (think about the larger implications of this discussion). Furthermore, how will we determine who is most rewarding others? <br /><br />On my short drive from Golden to Denver, I think that I went from wanting to change capitalism to understanding its necessity. Unless we're going to make communism a reality such that we focus on trying to make all distribution of wealth equal without regard to effort, then I think we're doing ok. <br /><br />So I must ask, why is my government shutting down if we're doing ok? Something must be really screwed up in the philosophy that our economy breads if we can shutdown a government during already difficult economic times.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-237148069984166852011-03-27T22:52:00.000-07:002011-03-27T22:55:05.687-07:00movedlyWe love what we do, so we do it well. <br /><br />It can be quite a risk to take that statement and let it invigorate my decision making. <br /><br />My goal: let it happen.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-69425241880307454652011-03-12T13:04:00.000-08:002011-03-12T14:13:01.289-08:00STATUS: Q13Comics can create cavelike chaos in the shadows that they cast. On the way into my office, one newspaper comic, among the many taped on my office door, caught my eye. The humor was as apparent as the meaning. <br /><br />Man says: "...You can only feel alive and whole when other's are listening to you. What do you think?"<br /><br />His friend: "About what?" <br /><br />I have a friend who once told me that when he dies, he wants others to look back on his life and say, "Oh, I get it..but not all of it." This friend is an artist and he does some pretty wild things with his interactive art (including placing live piranhas in a kid's swimming pool so students can fish for them by wrapping meat around toy soldiers tied to the end of fishing line). He has much more abstract moments than the piranhas, but even then he seems to have some sense of wanting to be thought about, considered, and maybe not fully understood, but at least someone is making an effort. I like him for his creativity and consistent friendship. Hopefully, I'll make an effort to listen to the lyrics of the song that his artwork plays.<br /><br />In my own life, it's fascinating to recognize truth. Sitting in the shadow of my own self, not for the sake of being acceptable, is more common than not because of the difficulty in sustaining the energy required to give more than a barley listening conversation. It hurts to participate in this act as much as it does to receive it. This past year, I got hit square in the jaw by what felt like a 300lb non-communicative fish taco. I put myself in the line of fire, but seriously, it was more than just a minor misunderstanding. Both of us produced the end result: a real absence of listening. I've been rethinking my actions ever since and recognized a little truth; the shadows can become home even when it's the last place that you want to live. <br /><br />It's time to stop counting 13 ways to keep dawn's dim daylight at a distance. Turn around and watch the sunrise with me. We'll let the light showcase our full faces...and just maybe, we can learn to love what we see. If that's too vague, try this on: LET'S TALK. ALL OF US.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-71786124851522663592011-02-24T22:53:00.000-08:002011-02-24T23:25:52.224-08:00Pa-shunFor the long days at work that should have been lived outdoors on a bike, I handle a friendship for growing up in those frustrations that breath life into a now altered existence. For who can forever groan in pains of labor? There's a train traveling through my house, destroying all I thought that I held dear. Carbon frames, King bottom brackets, and a kit that screams "I am;" it all got laid to waste in this dream that found the shores of a lonely tide rolling in screaming streaks of moonlit wonder. I could see the reflection of my youth standing right in front of me and it reminded me of me. "There will be an answer, let it be." So I sat back and stared into the clouds designed to eerily paint the only light in the sky. Whispering now, it came through with a religion that left nothing to measure. There was no comparison to be made, just a simple tug at my voice. Who am I apart from the rest of the world's chalk line snapped high on a slippery overhang? Impossible to be, then my voice became. I heard it roll through the night like a hungry wolf howling for something beyond itself. The mood seemed to wrap itself around the orchestra passionately playing for the right to recreate a perfectly timed melody. Out of my shoes and onto the sand running so that time could not find me, the last ounce of strength was spent tearing out all that seemed to resist the freedom of embracing a measureless pride. <br /><br />This, my friends, is how it feels to race for a cause. Come ride a bike with me and I guarantee you'll discover your passions. Together with good people, a team is being formed that will turn bikes into a curiosity that makes a wake worth noticing. You should be on this team.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-26080984984350314462010-11-21T23:15:00.000-08:002010-11-21T23:32:13.521-08:00tucked homeHistory, even that of personal experience, can be lost. This trip home has already reminded me of missing what I did not know that I miss. I miss my mother's home all the way from the tree filled backyard to the stuffed animals that accent the mommy decorum. Quite frankly, I miss my mother. She drove through the night to love me with hospitality that only a momma can give. I am staying in a home who knows nothing of me, yet I feel like my entire childhood lives in the walls. I feel at home; what a strange thing to forget. Home: what a wonderful thing to find again. I am thankful for my momma.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-39404271031713606672010-11-02T00:25:00.000-07:002010-11-02T00:43:16.741-07:00Translating antiwar herosWho wants war? I find myself undereducated on the necessity of war; however, even in my bliss of ignorance, I know that I would prefer to vote a president into power that would go to great lengths to avoid war. <br /><br />Without an expert to aid me, I'm going to conclude that the cause of all wars is perspective. The lack of at least one party's effort to understand why the other party thinks or acts a certain way, this my friend is the beginning of war. <br /><br />If you don't want war, how do you live? All of my friends seem to accept as truth the statement that war is not a good option. If you're like me and think that war generally sucks, consider your options the next time that you face conflict. It's one thing to be opinionated and another to avoid understanding (not just knowing) the perspective that others take. Take perspective!<br /><br />To sit down with a foe and look them in the eyes while listening to their take on life is to see them as they are: lovable, like me, like you.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-84510460743387912562010-10-28T00:25:00.000-07:002010-11-09T16:45:15.281-08:00daily do"And so the mature man would take the world as it comes, and within himself remain quite unperturbed. When he acted, he would know that he was only testing an hypothesis, and if he failed he would know that he made a mistake. He would be quite prepared for the discovery that he might make mistakes, for his intelligence would be disentangled from his hopes. The failure of his experiment could not, therefore, involve the failure of his life, and, to the understanding, defeat is no less interesting than victory...<br /><br />Since nothing gnawed at his vitals, neither doubt nor ambition, nor frustration, nor fear, he would move easily through life. And so, whether he saw the thing as comedy, or high tragedy, or plain farce, he would affirm that it is what it is, and that the wise man can enjoy it." <br /><br />-Walter LippmannBrian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-20136191885776998132010-10-06T00:10:00.000-07:002010-10-06T00:35:38.855-07:00When nothings are pluckedGood day to you. <br /><br />-It welcomes me like a familiar smell whose origin can't be placed. <br /><br />How have you been? <br /><br />-The emotions that surround this tone burst into flames.<br /><br />I'll be going then. <br /><br />-Action boils, but options put a lid on the steaming pot that screams "I'm ready." <br /><br />Bye.<br /><br />-When you want to know someone, how do you wait? I have been branded by an affection that grew too large for its home. Like a tree whose roots naturally search the earth for nourishment, my curiosity has found a direction.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-62096629674732208422010-10-04T02:07:00.000-07:002010-10-04T02:24:01.432-07:00Doc, the best and the worst of times are here.I am going to go to the doctor. <br /><br />After I race, my breathing produces a cough that produces phlegm. My other symptom is a lack of sleep, which is why I'm awake right now. I am tired and I want to sleep. I want to feel good again. <br /><br />I guess that a blog can be a memory to capture myself at a certain time. I'm writing this one so I can look back on it and be thankful that I'm no longer here, awake, writing memories that need to pass.<br /><br />Grandpa Lehman was sick for a while and yet without a complaint he died. My grandma and I often recall with amazement his spectacular feat. I have to wonder how he pulled it off. I'm drawn to the idea that he loved my grandma so much that he gave her his very best even until his dying day. <br /><br />If this sickness that is keeping me awake, stealing my energy and my breath, turns out to be the beginning of the end (yes, this is getting a bit dramatic), then I could only hope to meet my end with as much honor as my grandfather. <br /><br />Maybe the doctor will know what to do.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-1491821028684531912010-10-03T10:08:00.000-07:002010-10-03T11:12:15.124-07:00Single Man. Conjectures on the Unknown.This post is necessary. It should make me look like more of a fool though, which is rather typical. I'm going to talk about romantic love as an outsider, as a failure. As always, I want to start a dialogue about these thoughts. Feel free to join in with me at any time. If necessity is born from desire then here I am starting with a universal desire to love. All of the current models from which I draw wisdom are those relational stories that capture what not to do. From those negative examples, I am trying to construct the positive. <br /><br />How do we love? When I consider what a book might contain with this title, TIME and FAILURE seem like topics to include.<br /><br />On Time.<br /><br /> She wants this, I want that. <br /><br />To give her what she wants, go beyond communication:<br />1.) Think about her. What do you believe she needs?<br />2.) Ask her close friends, what does she need?<br />3.) Ask her father, what does she need?<br />4.) Ask her mother, what does she need?<br />5.) Pray and be your prayer that you will become what she needs.<br /><br />To receive what I need, go beyond my own thoughts and communicated information:<br />1.) What do I need from the perspective of others?<br />2.) Ask.<br />3.) Pray and be your prayer of understanding.<br /><br />Once needs are known, how should they be communicated?<br />- verbal requests?<br />- written requests?<br />- through analogy?<br />- within romance?<br />- temper tantrum?<br />Some effort should be spent applying thought to the options available for the unique opportunity to fit the situation. <br /><br />What will make a relationship succeed? <br />Living examples --> Who? --> Dave and Renee<br />Dating, always dating --> How? --> Be creative with words 1 hour a week. Write about her and the ideas will follow.<br />Talking --> When? --> While we dance, while we are silent, while we eat, while we sleep.<br /><br />On Failure.<br /><br />In regards to love, I see failure everywhere. What is the common thread when relationships fall apart?<br />"I do not love you anymore." <br /><br />How Lord can I become love's action and as such so much more than a mere desire to do so? ...<br /><br />My thoughts: To the extent that love is seen as a desire, to that extent it will be less lovely. No one loves. No one.<br /><br />We crave what love speaks or rather whispers in our thoughts, that is, being known. Despite our fragile appearance of goodness that veils our now unmasked ugliness, we receive our favor within love. Favor in the form of time. Favor in the form of communication. Favor in the form of presence. We receive what we know we want yet do not deserve. How do we secure an undeserved gift? We make promises with rings. We attempt to find the security. There must be something missing. If God is missing, let us find God. <br /><br />Again, the common thread is: "I do not love you anymore." <br /><br />The models in my life are filled with men who have had a wife that has added to this thread. I can learn from the two stories that I know the most.<br />1.) My father<br />- He left adventure out of his relationship.<br />- He did not make my mother his best friend.<br />- My mother's history communicated needs that were never explored.<br />2.) Paul<br />- He gained a lot of weight and left adventure out.<br />- He did not read books (even at the request of his wife).<br />- Him and his wife did not direct their thoughts at engendering the best version of themselves through the relationship.<br /><br />My commitments must reflect active learning:<br />Starting today...<br />On reading: <br />1.) I will read the news for 10 minutes everyday.<br />2.) I will read a book for 20 minutes everyday.<br />On fitness:<br />3.) Every morning: push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups.<br />4.) I will have an active passion.<br />On adventure:<br />5.) I will author an adventure that creates a story to tell every month that I am alive.<br />To my love:<br />1.) I will search your needs with this shared philosophy:<br />"We are comfortable discussing the needs we possess. Our words are essential to create the environment that will change us into individuals that will ultimately serve one another in a dynamic way. By dynamic, we understand that we will both change, our needs will change, and as a result we will need to continually change one another. Finally, we stand strong on these foundations: 1.) You can be what I need. 2.) I can be what you need. 3.) Together we will form each other into the best version of ourselves."Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-39621964423705471572010-09-21T11:20:00.000-07:002010-09-21T21:18:17.145-07:00Be known, float.Naked in an infinitely dark tank filled with 10 inches of supersaturated salt water, I am floating. No I'm serious, I really am. The rare joy of knowing quiet enters my life as I become unable to distinguish the difference between having my eyes open or closed. Entirely engulfed in blackness, my mind sort of freaks out and suddenly leaps from one thing to the next, which is comical to watch. I am actually working to turn my mind away from considering that the tank might run out of oxygen. This fear prompts a hilarious self dialogue for sure. It is reminiscent of being afraid to climb above a clip except that this fear is much less rational. Eventually though, things really slow down. They slow way down. My thoughts focus on one act: my breath. Hitting this point, my body temperature tangles with the matching water temperature and brings my motionless body towards a comfortable numbness. I am not sure if I am moving through the water or at rest. I am entirely still. Then, I breath. As I inhale, my body moves further above the surface and upon exhale I come back. When my eyes are open, I see the exact same images as when they are closed. It's sort of like when you press your thumb against your closed eye, expect that this time those yellow sense images are painting my thoughts on a black canvas. Yet since I am having thoughts about these thoughts, they seem more like objects to reflect upon than visual explosions emanating from my mind. So I dive into the experience. As clouds can become anything with enough imagination, I begin to experiment with these images by seeing them as parts of my body, ideas for prayer, and reminders of those individuals in my life that directly influence my thankfulness.<br /><br />This was the first waking hour of life that I've spent being motionless. I am still experiencing this unique gift, so I'm not sure how long this affect will last, but at the risk of sounding like a new age crystal wearing hippie, I must admit that I have a lifted spirit and blissful calm. Thank you Adam for this amazing gift. Necessity has a strange way of working itself into my life.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2hEKXkYe54AubVpEbk7tG1x8MGKqmF8QR1yJHzImcDohLq8_uC-JtfjKa7ZfRhgt_-wIQFCyQnMNdMWSVyoSVeeQkOiJToRtsOZ4ceuMqID9yVenCYVtNfNB00tO1enFDdtFiCpky84O/s1600/Float_Tank.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 90px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2hEKXkYe54AubVpEbk7tG1x8MGKqmF8QR1yJHzImcDohLq8_uC-JtfjKa7ZfRhgt_-wIQFCyQnMNdMWSVyoSVeeQkOiJToRtsOZ4ceuMqID9yVenCYVtNfNB00tO1enFDdtFiCpky84O/s320/Float_Tank.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519452875458137890" /></a>Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-78425328438818638412010-08-11T02:27:00.000-07:002010-08-11T02:33:27.758-07:00Buddy got the munchies<div>Staggering sideways, drooling uncontrollably and pissing like a leaky faucet that keeps you up at night by constantly dripping, Buddy is so sick that I have to take him to the emergency vet. Walking in to the emergency vet clinic, I am an emotional wreck, but I pull it together long enough to follow the clinician to a room where we are alone to wait for the veterinarian. As you might expect, I am quite anxious to get a diagnosis for my sick little puppy. As I start to tell Buddy "It's ok Bud man, the doctor will...." I absolutely burst into tears without finishing my sentence. Just as I started to cry with the sort of cry that turns the pronunciation of words to into short gasps of incomprehensible syllables, the vet walked in to examine Buddy. She greets me with a question.</div><div><br /></div><div>Vet: "Hi. How are you?"</div><div>Me: "I..am..sad.." (tears)</div><div>Buddy: laying sideways on the floor</div><div>Vet: hands me a Kleenex, which I soil immediately.</div><div><br /></div><div>Vet: "So has Buddy gotten into any substances that you know of."</div><div>Me: "River water and dog food." (The tears are slowing)</div><div>Vet: "He is exhibiting classic symptoms of pot ingestion."</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, so when she said this to me, I immediately felt her eyes burn into mine. Take note: I am wearing a shirt with a hole in it, shoes with holes in them, jeans that have food stains on the right leg and my hair is, well, you know, the usual jumble of unorganized curls. I could almost see myself in her eyes. Hence, I realized very quickly that no matter what I said, she was going to conclude that I was the one who accidently dosed my dog with mary jane.</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: "Um...I don't smoke pot."</div><div>Vet: (with a big grin) "Well, your dog found some and didn't share it then."</div><div><br /></div><div>She went on to tell me that Buddy will be ok by morning. I was still skeptical that my dog, my athletic frisbee catching cuddle machine, would have ingested pot. I mean, we're together almost 100% of the day. How the hell did he eat this stuff without me knowing? My skepticism brought on a urine test administered by the vet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Buddy tested positive for the presence of marijuana. I guess he's officially entered his experimental teenager years.</div><div><br /></div>Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-9438429698647959402010-07-20T17:45:00.000-07:002010-07-20T18:00:43.139-07:00Days 39-42: Baby, I'm coming home...but not yet!<div>I can't add a whole lot to these photos of various places in northern Italy. All I can say is that my last three days were not the sort of experiences that made me long to come home. Italy has been a blessing beyond compare. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitmYvZrI4QWGjwrs_lnmGLYmquNfvhunhoC97mar9ms1m88on6AxwsDTp-wdBgHdg3mSdv9EAJyOIdzCohdM_fm9xJVyIK-P1A3hxeFgCiLhnr-W3_8CxwbhvT1tpL-L3SBW8-JkIRwjbs/s1600/waterfall_me.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitmYvZrI4QWGjwrs_lnmGLYmquNfvhunhoC97mar9ms1m88on6AxwsDTp-wdBgHdg3mSdv9EAJyOIdzCohdM_fm9xJVyIK-P1A3hxeFgCiLhnr-W3_8CxwbhvT1tpL-L3SBW8-JkIRwjbs/s320/waterfall_me.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496156967599468674" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zrsZmgn5S_9ZP8vQkQP27WCMXWFYTXsrklvuYgXFl6xWktGhI9oGiO-lHkZbKSsKbsKYD_cHa2UWMOPxDb8hMOM5yYcvCv0LlIMrsienHg9gejUrcBG4V96ZhEgR3AgPks4KTyQfwrdu/s1600/Waterfall_chescie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zrsZmgn5S_9ZP8vQkQP27WCMXWFYTXsrklvuYgXFl6xWktGhI9oGiO-lHkZbKSsKbsKYD_cHa2UWMOPxDb8hMOM5yYcvCv0LlIMrsienHg9gejUrcBG4V96ZhEgR3AgPks4KTyQfwrdu/s320/Waterfall_chescie.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496156965851116338" /></a>This ballet dancer, Francesca, took me all over the place near her mountain home on the boarder of Italy and Switzerland. <div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZUNX89jwEVWoPZXmmaV-15a_K5X9aZjbo4M6jSbhdapUlc6wjD06jZ2S6Rl1Ps0rqXKNAhgtx9oCMPNBjrot_z7ZdHmzci2koj4sTWry7jAXjsrsCBxNuPhyphenhyphenZICps747ymLCO0sgBh-oO/s1600/chescie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZUNX89jwEVWoPZXmmaV-15a_K5X9aZjbo4M6jSbhdapUlc6wjD06jZ2S6Rl1Ps0rqXKNAhgtx9oCMPNBjrot_z7ZdHmzci2koj4sTWry7jAXjsrsCBxNuPhyphenhyphenZICps747ymLCO0sgBh-oO/s320/chescie.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496156961326654002" /></a><br /><div>We rode mountain bikes straight into the snow. </div></div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QUdMpjHZ_jyQoKiMvl1NmGOKF-x6c6t-zzcenfqC2GPOyvx6VtaNrsnDMbPhm-1kPigcfZcOcTtVol3mQrkNMg6oOeH9JQaALH90EkQ5BBGKj_gzdRHOOu6Jhad9mr-qAjc1GNmb_hvT/s1600/P6190105.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QUdMpjHZ_jyQoKiMvl1NmGOKF-x6c6t-zzcenfqC2GPOyvx6VtaNrsnDMbPhm-1kPigcfZcOcTtVol3mQrkNMg6oOeH9JQaALH90EkQ5BBGKj_gzdRHOOu6Jhad9mr-qAjc1GNmb_hvT/s320/P6190105.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496155165912281122" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tBm8xG5Q7VLt1KbVK31GKP_SoRhL_ZjxDfgYDVk1CRlknPI_dvcl3XmTnaZpSCyL8v8XHyV8eweUn48x57lkXZzl2YqPURRNY7AvCNcdnqZcyUSWW07_5Khde26fl6eBFq4gM-4iEMSH/s1600/P6190103.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1tBm8xG5Q7VLt1KbVK31GKP_SoRhL_ZjxDfgYDVk1CRlknPI_dvcl3XmTnaZpSCyL8v8XHyV8eweUn48x57lkXZzl2YqPURRNY7AvCNcdnqZcyUSWW07_5Khde26fl6eBFq4gM-4iEMSH/s320/P6190103.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496155151363131858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJKC3zS9PTLGdPfXGB7P1dgLA3T6rqoonon6z10NPluQNuACBln6g9TisLYuZKenKtnhIqS4O4jC2gFgP1E9Kg7HkpkHltGjBysF2TG5qxP9biW_bstlPZ0QKL_JDeRyCZ8_NwGlzIkwf/s1600/P6190088.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJKC3zS9PTLGdPfXGB7P1dgLA3T6rqoonon6z10NPluQNuACBln6g9TisLYuZKenKtnhIqS4O4jC2gFgP1E9Kg7HkpkHltGjBysF2TG5qxP9biW_bstlPZ0QKL_JDeRyCZ8_NwGlzIkwf/s320/P6190088.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496155140270513682" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtShcj9ElRZgQczW5r0GvIuwu6VEBczMfNWdhDVlZO_XIkLiafLrTRYJFDJ7NFsrHP6xbE0Mt_g-R628HCXrh_FmzqWiykzB6pEYx5MqJTWisU44Bl0iuwQkrgVJj5d4J-lpwg1mJky8mQ/s1600/P6190084.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtShcj9ElRZgQczW5r0GvIuwu6VEBczMfNWdhDVlZO_XIkLiafLrTRYJFDJ7NFsrHP6xbE0Mt_g-R628HCXrh_FmzqWiykzB6pEYx5MqJTWisU44Bl0iuwQkrgVJj5d4J-lpwg1mJky8mQ/s320/P6190084.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496154743394591346" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqyhpj-mha5kdJlGO14LnrhHuCJlst9z_sMXRXbMiQuwAZkOmwr2dyQMVqMrwe60V2F_BjkLMxJX16eD8Put2mG_vOB_Nd-AtfhvPDeKkAM7ALTX7w7qTDFo9s8yS2rM_pEUaFfTTZ5MA/s1600/P6190080.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqyhpj-mha5kdJlGO14LnrhHuCJlst9z_sMXRXbMiQuwAZkOmwr2dyQMVqMrwe60V2F_BjkLMxJX16eD8Put2mG_vOB_Nd-AtfhvPDeKkAM7ALTX7w7qTDFo9s8yS2rM_pEUaFfTTZ5MA/s320/P6190080.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496154732811987010" /></a>I heart Switzerland! We took a quick tour of Switzerland on my way back to Milan. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0KcEnPp7RocFNyCEsM20kSxZa9CuVjiQVQLK8dPH0amBjwyf5exue0dt0E87l2Wc0J-Hk7XTuMOmG_fF341qevUldgVHJE2sSAvhFaN25liYM2PhAsNXebAN_4fZrduyqtuPrnzMNFTT/s1600/P6180053.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0KcEnPp7RocFNyCEsM20kSxZa9CuVjiQVQLK8dPH0amBjwyf5exue0dt0E87l2Wc0J-Hk7XTuMOmG_fF341qevUldgVHJE2sSAvhFaN25liYM2PhAsNXebAN_4fZrduyqtuPrnzMNFTT/s320/P6180053.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496154727702850850" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0V_C6g-KJqpybzpBeC6rDLzrrnvH127SBKMrt5e8x7jzDyqC867CjXeK5sNgwHv5Cp3tPEIhCWVO9rsLwHm5zF5Di8dm29FY3P_DRlq1_2Yx_JxF0jhsU2AGExa6WHF29-1a8SpTVKmI/s1600/P6180042.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0V_C6g-KJqpybzpBeC6rDLzrrnvH127SBKMrt5e8x7jzDyqC867CjXeK5sNgwHv5Cp3tPEIhCWVO9rsLwHm5zF5Di8dm29FY3P_DRlq1_2Yx_JxF0jhsU2AGExa6WHF29-1a8SpTVKmI/s320/P6180042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496154712149774322" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEASCdau0N8ydqsjhfS-MOQfUHdSTGyaW4JMBrHf6imKCkpu-QadaMp_FAZbp37aTaFC7rxViYT9LuezHv7PZgzqlEgFtGIWixoqjhLkOCzwGDcNwJGHuqdASRnfM9Gq4k1RW_iztaBuM/s1600/P6180031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEASCdau0N8ydqsjhfS-MOQfUHdSTGyaW4JMBrHf6imKCkpu-QadaMp_FAZbp37aTaFC7rxViYT9LuezHv7PZgzqlEgFtGIWixoqjhLkOCzwGDcNwJGHuqdASRnfM9Gq4k1RW_iztaBuM/s320/P6180031.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496154703999844306" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9kxmizx9WUqhQ8ewIKu6fK9z306PwQplV_PuuRExCpJBH6P24h0M8YlpZO9N2oCl6lvDI6n-M27B8v_BpWC6OASA1iUrA88_pXUKLmy4EnbEki5bDLNlZYDEU8fOQDzSSRnhLVpImh_B3/s1600/P6200161.JPG"><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9kxmizx9WUqhQ8ewIKu6fK9z306PwQplV_PuuRExCpJBH6P24h0M8YlpZO9N2oCl6lvDI6n-M27B8v_BpWC6OASA1iUrA88_pXUKLmy4EnbEki5bDLNlZYDEU8fOQDzSSRnhLVpImh_B3/s320/P6200161.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496155187806949986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div>Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-7466842337337566692010-06-16T07:44:00.000-07:002010-07-20T17:45:29.407-07:00Days 35-39: Flying kites in the rain<div style="text-align: center;">Apparently, this place sells nice bikes.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlPM8ze-UEo9Vxiv_JnvrIhbyPOQ0foljDCurKdh7DLmDllYTPoLQMCNJI7zuapp2eYC6Xw5kyepIcoxz3R-yhBxTeQm08uMQ4GYhK6QpLDdIte8vDaDggtYxaivWs9QGPBorzvjTNT9R/s1600/P6160180.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlPM8ze-UEo9Vxiv_JnvrIhbyPOQ0foljDCurKdh7DLmDllYTPoLQMCNJI7zuapp2eYC6Xw5kyepIcoxz3R-yhBxTeQm08uMQ4GYhK6QpLDdIte8vDaDggtYxaivWs9QGPBorzvjTNT9R/s320/P6160180.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485785448053242786" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I did a 7 mile mountain bike ride on my road bike to grab these photos. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEyiX82Wd38m0-apeDhks9asPQ7FZ1cwmpXAhFv5esKYnOWAUKSkUg41WkSwiEETsIUtV1XMyiAVdnkCT3cBKFwJg4qaMJv-skmKjKsC2AHxytB_88KEdjiltStSUQroFtt1g8wa-Z9LDZ/s1600/P6160155.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEyiX82Wd38m0-apeDhks9asPQ7FZ1cwmpXAhFv5esKYnOWAUKSkUg41WkSwiEETsIUtV1XMyiAVdnkCT3cBKFwJg4qaMJv-skmKjKsC2AHxytB_88KEdjiltStSUQroFtt1g8wa-Z9LDZ/s320/P6160155.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485784663273281938" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3S7xoFTS_sfhh__4zYMtHs3ZZbIv5YyVnj3PdnBKhFi0uknNjaS8UYzNeYIttbydSaj-y5h_oDTbD5KbYbdOGG7Te8QZMMJQWf8qZgagsw65ul6IWzIl3iUegbV_5Ig_DUIR1jcdzM7VZ/s1600/P6150145.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3S7xoFTS_sfhh__4zYMtHs3ZZbIv5YyVnj3PdnBKhFi0uknNjaS8UYzNeYIttbydSaj-y5h_oDTbD5KbYbdOGG7Te8QZMMJQWf8qZgagsw65ul6IWzIl3iUegbV_5Ig_DUIR1jcdzM7VZ/s320/P6150145.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485784658195261138" /></a><br />=] Everyone had been telling me that I'd been so lucky to have missed the rain for the majority of my trip. A group that I met from England actually told me that for almost a full month of their trip they had just been sitting in their van waiting for the rain to stop. And now, well, I'm in Arco and it's raining hard. So common were the storms on this beautiful lake. <div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzt0XKTV9Q_6-z1gIqkdiDSeyhklomi-NJVI7NX7RpvV8Ns9btK4ehAeSAeTgc3PFxonr4d9YufKRtrS5uEv_QAbeV5z-ScB7TJWcj_V0pCTIEkbpg6SEVOS84L9s_Qe1tc6aTeQIEBWk/s1600/P6160174.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJzt0XKTV9Q_6-z1gIqkdiDSeyhklomi-NJVI7NX7RpvV8Ns9btK4ehAeSAeTgc3PFxonr4d9YufKRtrS5uEv_QAbeV5z-ScB7TJWcj_V0pCTIEkbpg6SEVOS84L9s_Qe1tc6aTeQIEBWk/s320/P6160174.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485784695214517330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3uchmcSDuv119wLqPm1avfnqsXyOtKiBlIkjvQwnvchxJAJcMelBCP5MNxan97RiZxbdmHsSOzmq_v7aMMFZpntUGdZ9CEpmcD5OH3qgrgRqi9oluLLiBLkP0rd5IxsQugRGyHAObhFx/s1600/P6160163.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv3uchmcSDuv119wLqPm1avfnqsXyOtKiBlIkjvQwnvchxJAJcMelBCP5MNxan97RiZxbdmHsSOzmq_v7aMMFZpntUGdZ9CEpmcD5OH3qgrgRqi9oluLLiBLkP0rd5IxsQugRGyHAObhFx/s320/P6160163.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485784687489124962" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX0oD_d9vRttdOB32xqXhLJmXvtJP1rK7GLnrSRBKOk6GzapMdZj_N1zkN9MUHWWwgT-pUIXtKT_FN03sn4pPrhGn-SgfuKmZLEU8d-fyUAVuy1GGubO_Tp2LJO2snLBuZwpGUUgmhx8f1/s1600/P6160162.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX0oD_d9vRttdOB32xqXhLJmXvtJP1rK7GLnrSRBKOk6GzapMdZj_N1zkN9MUHWWwgT-pUIXtKT_FN03sn4pPrhGn-SgfuKmZLEU8d-fyUAVuy1GGubO_Tp2LJO2snLBuZwpGUUgmhx8f1/s320/P6160162.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485784679861713314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div>I have had some very good fortune here though. I met Inez from couchsurfing.org who has let me stay with her for three nights. She is from Argentina. It's hilarious how we communicate. She speaks to me in broken English and I speak to her in broken Spanish. We've had fun with one of her friends trying to make the best of the rainy days.<br /><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBE_HpLKP81Nkjuo1ozxKwsDKCB04COthpiJYahZP1kvZMG5viuJHFaLsLuEUWA2z0OwrUmI4IrblR2ZnW7jVIq9f8xe5zsbZuUM75-RRsY1_UF6hHNuNOBUspOlIXUJ5IdX1osjEoRL-x/s320/P6160179.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485785439463314306" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-t8YyNeV5gyEaHthR1RnoAceMQ8e8Y__yaURLBv5LQ5DFhIdiDvmg040Xo6YgEoo7kwZ6U0ngJIE4fLbVm9HBWe0k9WdAH-9G9qvCcEEd3b74CRm7L9Rn978Rll3jFOTdfMHUgjbN-oc/s320/P6150133.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485784008974064946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXhlfKZ2i5AuHHnoy3E082t2xsVo5GInzTp9A1q182GYFy-_qCjq27SyTv9KHNHVAk0o4MTIX_PB5oTrg_BNoAnrCADf73yNnk1LXAW1NSxy4jnFRinTXRALHJfWZ975MFt8KacuWZCIT/s320/P6140105.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485783977263377762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5swwM15tSqUU-BM8hF409AxDV6GxRFw81TUMsfWh8EtRD6E5jaKeauUpp0_S5p4afdNt8L0MzJidultKDHlEcVAByZY3s80VgePvE3lPqNhUguIx0EQGBxwotwUxzk3NBLNuqxaT_d14R/s320/P6140125.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485783993979256610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span>It's been hard to stay here and not climb though. Arco is surrounded by huge walls of climbable rock. This is the only city that I've ever been in to celebrate with such vigor a climbing championship that's not until 2011!<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw5KpsMfLLxdZZFKUDucISCLdE6VEO4bV-m8rQLB5eC3yxK7bdrq6TclqftbJHeoWHWghI-rc68e6vGqo2kSYgK-DNAvk8_v7jdnRQOV5wcfuKVPsxSJaO3aJClDQ5q2ISjBd0b4yqFyWJ/s320/P6140104.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485783964529389650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><br />Arco is at the northern tip of the beautiful lake Garda. The regularity of the wind makes wind surfing and kite boarding quite popular. I've signed up for some kite boarding lessons and I'm now waiting for them to call Inez to tell us that there is good wind! I can't wait!! Rain or not, I'm going to give this all I have. I've wanted to learn how to kite board ever since Danielle Boromisa got me hooked on the sport by taking me kite skiing back home in Colorado. The guys who took my money for this kite boarding lesson also snapped this photo. Then, they dropped me off in the water only to leave me without instructions. They drove the boat away while I sat in ice cold water pondering what to do. I'd seen those crazy video's of kite boarders flying through parking lots and decided to become a statistic. I moved the kite into the power of the wind and let it rip me through the water. Although I couldn't get up on the board, I had a blast.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbr0hgAyAMciVbpXEW0oF8dP9DR1Q7mVl1H_QsROZIbwNETvMkd72QOTet7YUvFpQdumW1Oin1gJj0ilQhQrsEtIr-5nzbWH72araH6DPqTer06vgD7b8tyxTgyeGshyZC8xMom7UYltM/s1600/P6170008.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbr0hgAyAMciVbpXEW0oF8dP9DR1Q7mVl1H_QsROZIbwNETvMkd72QOTet7YUvFpQdumW1Oin1gJj0ilQhQrsEtIr-5nzbWH72araH6DPqTer06vgD7b8tyxTgyeGshyZC8xMom7UYltM/s320/P6170008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485785481432299090" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTbr0hgAyAMciVbpXEW0oF8dP9DR1Q7mVl1H_QsROZIbwNETvMkd72QOTet7YUvFpQdumW1Oin1gJj0ilQhQrsEtIr-5nzbWH72araH6DPqTer06vgD7b8tyxTgyeGshyZC8xMom7UYltM/s1600/P6170008.JPG"></a>After two full days of rain, I couldn't take the temptation to climb on my finger that is not ready to climb. I went to some overhanging cliffs to look for partners. I met some really cool folks and got to climb in Arco on a beautiful day.<div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLq3fNl-qICr3pCCStZX0hH_8okEPc-OBBOcJzI06lvUU44XDbQGqXSaAkWXePwaTZRW3RkZMAMy2wUgmtGTdiINCfHlF1wSFvfmDbpz9cbOc5-ZoLvsGIZfNJBdE15dHr4jsbFoSyNaJx/s1600/P6160187.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLq3fNl-qICr3pCCStZX0hH_8okEPc-OBBOcJzI06lvUU44XDbQGqXSaAkWXePwaTZRW3RkZMAMy2wUgmtGTdiINCfHlF1wSFvfmDbpz9cbOc5-ZoLvsGIZfNJBdE15dHr4jsbFoSyNaJx/s320/P6160187.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485785472984251234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDFkNhbuGhuv4nduy1HDyNx3QwW_DPjEgVhgMNgejjgulQIBMMfgPcWzHeClR2L_aYFyK1ahsSYjWA30x35P-jvuY1zKYgSDv2mIHr5aK8qlUMfX4u7Fnci-rVUq4YxLypEwwLEz_x1-K/s1600/P6160185.JPG"></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDFkNhbuGhuv4nduy1HDyNx3QwW_DPjEgVhgMNgejjgulQIBMMfgPcWzHeClR2L_aYFyK1ahsSYjWA30x35P-jvuY1zKYgSDv2mIHr5aK8qlUMfX4u7Fnci-rVUq4YxLypEwwLEz_x1-K/s1600/P6160185.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDFkNhbuGhuv4nduy1HDyNx3QwW_DPjEgVhgMNgejjgulQIBMMfgPcWzHeClR2L_aYFyK1ahsSYjWA30x35P-jvuY1zKYgSDv2mIHr5aK8qlUMfX4u7Fnci-rVUq4YxLypEwwLEz_x1-K/s320/P6160185.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485785458463352162" style="text-align: left; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div>Mike and Kathy have an adorable child named Maya. This was their first day climbing as a threesome. So when Maya started crying, they were happy to have me around. It's funny how meeting a family like this can make me long to have children one day. They were so cool!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwP6qIZKhOv6u010oOFS2bug3zjNL3BXdi7gjthFbXYiuAm-983mNASe222ABLXGo5BI2f9ZPoH-Akhus0j4yNTSeQofKEl4FohuDjJ2Wh1r3QQITE6cZHkfIDgtPhaFPpSfkf_Fa8uq2o/s320/P6170193.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496154021140762994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div>Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-10374225901938278522010-06-16T07:15:00.000-07:002010-06-22T07:02:36.261-07:00Days 33-35: Finale Ligure and the immense gut bugFrance tried to keep me. The trains were all jacked with delays. Luckily, I ran into Maria and Liddo (sorry if I misspelled your names). Maria spoke Spanish and Liddo spoke Italian (which meant that he actually knew where we needed to go). With Liddo as our guide, we coordinated our efforts through a language jungle of broken Spanish and bandaged English. It was so much fun to have them share in the craziness. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3UMOBzQtKBpVvjhn0gbVw22ho_ijG8RSw3Ml-o5stNm5wySKE0wlC7dMZU5M_KR3hq3bWxAhyphenhyphenY0j1a5mN26xdyCv9DWyF6Snn2obPD7IYIZdB8J4gPixZzybZJWwC5cSLJdmV6qsAICKL/s1600/P6110088.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3UMOBzQtKBpVvjhn0gbVw22ho_ijG8RSw3Ml-o5stNm5wySKE0wlC7dMZU5M_KR3hq3bWxAhyphenhyphenY0j1a5mN26xdyCv9DWyF6Snn2obPD7IYIZdB8J4gPixZzybZJWwC5cSLJdmV6qsAICKL/s320/P6110088.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483874308686781826" /></a><br /><br />If you're living in Milan, the news of some celebrity shopping at Prada might peak your interest as much as good weather in Finale Ligure, but it's unlikely. Finale Ligure receives a lot of athletic traffic from Milan as it's only 3 hours away. There's a good bit of climbing as well as mountain biking in this seaside town. Finale Ligure is a darn cool place.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgxErqXpaadBeH0K1p3ElEtjD-8asXlFM2zUHj8Prpc-DCGcgjqwA5SyzeD73wszXNbOfzj4Mno5Hk1O2cmzbxB54y7Ef5vz53Xa50hR6Rth8LeiRTz0JCtTlynZK5-QhBZ4JBBGUJU4A/s1600/P6110089.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgxErqXpaadBeH0K1p3ElEtjD-8asXlFM2zUHj8Prpc-DCGcgjqwA5SyzeD73wszXNbOfzj4Mno5Hk1O2cmzbxB54y7Ef5vz53Xa50hR6Rth8LeiRTz0JCtTlynZK5-QhBZ4JBBGUJU4A/s320/P6110089.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483869410038763618" /></a><br /><br />Unfortunately, I was incredibly sick for the 2 night, 3 days that I stayed in Finale Ligure with the following symptoms: cold chills, intense night sweats, really fun flu symptoms that included not being able to eat anything that would stay eaten for a few days. While experiencing cold chills in the warm sunshine, I forced myself to go climb this tuffa latent beauty (6C+) just so I could claim that I'd climbed in this athletic oasis. Gosh darn it though, after the send I was so freaking exhausted that I almost couldn't hike out. I'm glad that my friend Francesca met me there because she certainly helped bring me back to health. It especially sucks being sick alone, you know? (So thanks Francesca!!)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQ4UeGJwIOaaSVSaGe4IdRy-UESkhA81QKQcCMZJ4q6cRJQtnUhMfgWYm5NP22DCVOPzPhb4oG4VBvlh9XkaYqbBTI27LMJrgw4IqyGlVW3cb_EC4XJLuDbT7GmCZVlKn-ZdaJ4JPCFiR/s1600/P6110092.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQ4UeGJwIOaaSVSaGe4IdRy-UESkhA81QKQcCMZJ4q6cRJQtnUhMfgWYm5NP22DCVOPzPhb4oG4VBvlh9XkaYqbBTI27LMJrgw4IqyGlVW3cb_EC4XJLuDbT7GmCZVlKn-ZdaJ4JPCFiR/s320/P6110092.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483869419087506242" /></a><br /><br />Francesca did so many nice things worth mentioning. The highlight was when she actually went down from the hotel to holler at these drunk and unbelievably untalented singers who were blasting karaoke in the street until 3am. The result was that she actually got them to shut things down after she reminded them that they were legally only allowed to broadcast such noise until 2am. Laying immobile and shivering in my bed, I couldn't think of a kinder person than Francesca. <br /><br />Our second night we found an agritourismo that was perfectly peacful<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0o2e3F-2z0dL6rYY0CBrKVSkC5ltULbgSwn1xxG3w1mwl37EqsVfcl0cTpQgcgtR_3MGlgNrOSsaT49SGUNqRLz-p6KQdFXdeB9a9f5X2uJ_M5GYB8I0k1q0-sYWv7Fz91xTn7ew3CS9/s1600/P6120093.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0o2e3F-2z0dL6rYY0CBrKVSkC5ltULbgSwn1xxG3w1mwl37EqsVfcl0cTpQgcgtR_3MGlgNrOSsaT49SGUNqRLz-p6KQdFXdeB9a9f5X2uJ_M5GYB8I0k1q0-sYWv7Fz91xTn7ew3CS9/s320/P6120093.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483874318290571042" /></a><br /><br />With Francesca's kindness, I was on the mend as we left, but still sick with the flu. I hadn't biked or climbed anything worth mentioning for what feels like way to long. I wanted some adventure badly though...so I started to make plans for Arco.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-32705791574935617692010-06-16T06:13:00.000-07:002010-06-17T16:14:13.692-07:00Days 30-33: Bus smoke, Calanques Junks, and Ceuse PeeuseThe bus ride from Barcelona to Marseille involved several exciting events. First, this gal carrying a toddler decided to smoke a cigarette in the bathroom, which made the bus driver furious. So he pulled over the bus and for about 10 minutes scolded her with many instructions as to how to avoid such stupidity in the future. I felt like giving him a high five as he walked back to the driver's seat, but I restrained myself because several angry French people thought that his tirade (entirely held in Spanish even though the French folks were requesting that he speak French) lasted too long. Verbal fights about the bus being cold and then fierce verbal battles about the bus being too warm brought me flashbacks from scenes out of Gladiator. The driver endured the brunt of all these complaints and frustrations. When I arrived in Marseille, I felt like crap from all the stress. <br /><br />I hiked for a mile to meet a familiar face. Clothilde was once a visiting professor at Mines with an office next to mine. She allowed me to stay in her place as a refuge. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIhbE98fw6YDpdCe1VXnRK6LqjmSCjGm-RAsIeG7FZ6eiJ02h-0Q2qcsvxZShf2eM2Nmq_vyMGQrrsVQaKF1_2j08-FMCiSGAeFCAuAJV2T9iE0Dll8O6GTX__IxcQKk2k1DGft1dOFe_/s1600/clothilde.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIhbE98fw6YDpdCe1VXnRK6LqjmSCjGm-RAsIeG7FZ6eiJ02h-0Q2qcsvxZShf2eM2Nmq_vyMGQrrsVQaKF1_2j08-FMCiSGAeFCAuAJV2T9iE0Dll8O6GTX__IxcQKk2k1DGft1dOFe_/s320/clothilde.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483883958360518626" /></a><br /><br />Clothilde set me up to climb with some of her friends at the Calanques, but we ended up climbing some slab in a light rain. =] I put the draws on the scariest 11d of my life at this place. I have no plans to return to do the harder routes. <br /><br />[Mental photo activity: imagine a flat piece of granite like rock that sucks and insert it here.]<br /><br />I sort of gathered that the climbing in Marseille was not my style, so the next day I rented a car and drove 2.5 hours to Ceuse. Now this was nice: during the drive through the beautiful countryside of southern France, I was continually accompanied by large fields of colorful flowers who were receiving a tango lesson from the light wind. I watched the flowers being wildly dipped into the green grass, but I'll ask Shelton to confirm that these were tango moves. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9T-oJG_rlXzcRtzphm3jcqQJ-aH16LC0ItW5jZ7vmE04YiIByhZ2mzOfcwYs4YaiKFeelZYK79eXamnU4vhyzi1OSM6XKel7jkIJTdJJ__Ai4iXs0rX2_NPllqfFwULubgflV49BwpfnL/s1600/P6100079.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9T-oJG_rlXzcRtzphm3jcqQJ-aH16LC0ItW5jZ7vmE04YiIByhZ2mzOfcwYs4YaiKFeelZYK79eXamnU4vhyzi1OSM6XKel7jkIJTdJJ__Ai4iXs0rX2_NPllqfFwULubgflV49BwpfnL/s320/P6100079.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483879506934058466" /></a><br /><br />After the slab, I could hardly contain myself as I was approaching Ceuse. Towering high above the valley, the cliffs of Ceuse just beg you to hike to them as they are unmistakably visible from almost any point from the flowering fields below. So as soon as I arrived at the campsite, I parked the car and bursted up the trail. The burst lasted for the entire long, long hike. And when I say long hike, I'm not joking. This bad boy cliff is straight up hill for 45 minutes or more. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7YHeaO907EyicHTAq0yTla4b_GPhl8hYsllFOdtcp0E3IaMxJ00hgYMk0ybfeijxlaa1dNwTclliviD3mAQdcRT0k9mcQrasJQWg7wzSGyHMT8XINqD838YauMdpUZvNnbWjrYXShYKE/s1600/P6090038.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7YHeaO907EyicHTAq0yTla4b_GPhl8hYsllFOdtcp0E3IaMxJ00hgYMk0ybfeijxlaa1dNwTclliviD3mAQdcRT0k9mcQrasJQWg7wzSGyHMT8XINqD838YauMdpUZvNnbWjrYXShYKE/s320/P6090038.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483879479580456402" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJJibEtBBHAAXizDdKP0xrZ6f28SsZvILVEJmTOGCkOUg4jZNFI5WGzKUPoLWTQd7bJUx1ak00Spm-68Gdf9BhHk-D7FeyksWzQfa-xeEfcgLnYZ3d-b_ykyNLkFzWZhBJHq47DzdrGkY/s1600/P6100083.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJJibEtBBHAAXizDdKP0xrZ6f28SsZvILVEJmTOGCkOUg4jZNFI5WGzKUPoLWTQd7bJUx1ak00Spm-68Gdf9BhHk-D7FeyksWzQfa-xeEfcgLnYZ3d-b_ykyNLkFzWZhBJHq47DzdrGkY/s320/P6100083.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483880825183444130" /></a><br /><br />As soon as I arrived at the cliff, I people started offering me belays even before I would ask! [For me, this experience was much better than showing up to Rifle without a partner - anyone feel me there? I love Rifle but I think we need a cultural revolution out there]. Anyway, I got to climb almost immediately. Three climbs deep, I sent my first Ceuse 12a, not without complications though.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bDnRwBZtcQJ_K3pf6LAJpFooqetNiMt9_ZsDzIiEyrOCxaLdCsTreWWFkTkD7D-uedPsdBmR06FrYKY5jsve9uPtk2JC-r2HwqUYA5zxj5GSGl_WUEHR9zuqj9sZ0liqI2Ri6sVOWozM/s1600/P6100045.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9bDnRwBZtcQJ_K3pf6LAJpFooqetNiMt9_ZsDzIiEyrOCxaLdCsTreWWFkTkD7D-uedPsdBmR06FrYKY5jsve9uPtk2JC-r2HwqUYA5zxj5GSGl_WUEHR9zuqj9sZ0liqI2Ri6sVOWozM/s320/P6100045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483879493508017122" /></a><br /><br />Ceuse sort of seems like a mushroom to me. Similar to a mushroom cap, the cliff band is almost perfectly round and much of the climbing starts vertical only to tapper off as you get closer to the top. Now I have not tested this theory, but apparently most mushrooms are poisonous and will make you sick. Ceuse was a cap that I should not have tasted. The climbing generally has crimps and slopping pockets (except for one good wall), which stole my health. On that 12a, I was pulling on a mono crimp with my left middle finger when I heard it pop. It was so loud that my belayer heard it! It seriously sounded like a nerf gun shooting a ball by the force of compressed air. Ceuse is a poisonous mushroom and my ruptured pulley can prove it, but the view from the cliff is worth the hike.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK7xGWAQDEQkm6Uz6gbYW8Ri-xrOaAWgyDRcV0bF_dZQ7pzJT5zR6SmRFXQwpswuE1kknw97oRmZlXJEFrZwTOsqPGnl4N3wSMjhfteu_oUnL0EgYtQO_AjvnkW7dCUh_CQAAKqFp1U40x/s1600/P6090040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK7xGWAQDEQkm6Uz6gbYW8Ri-xrOaAWgyDRcV0bF_dZQ7pzJT5zR6SmRFXQwpswuE1kknw97oRmZlXJEFrZwTOsqPGnl4N3wSMjhfteu_oUnL0EgYtQO_AjvnkW7dCUh_CQAAKqFp1U40x/s320/P6090040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483879492665336626" /></a><br /><br />I had planned to stay in Ceuse for two days, but the finger injury made that pointless. So I did the long hike back down to camp and drove during the night to reach Marseille. When I arrived at Clothilde house, I realized that I had reached my France synopsis: I saw a small part of this country and it didn't really make me want more. I thought that I might go to Fontainebleau, but I couldn't bring myself to stay. Hence, I was on my way to Finale Ligure, Italy in the morning.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-2265849612060122512010-06-16T05:22:00.000-07:002010-06-17T15:07:15.081-07:00Days 28-29: Barcelona HOSPITALITY shoots GaudiCristina and Ferron took hospitality to an entirely new level! I met them through my friend Francesca (from Milan). They turned out to be two of the nicest people on the planet! They had a hip flat in downtown Barcelona with a chill patio scene. Our midnight meals were something that we enjoyed together.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-BzRGTtaaGes-aAsznV1ev6C4OAl8wT-2hrVJTE-2Exy6lRWlrpEhNRt6pG491xXhcXs5mSKEImq2ldJD2my7XskI0xzfNuTrfTNa3j72RWHYNmiQ7LdQsEBm_8XlVA-72758woBz5Lp/s1600/P6060495.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-BzRGTtaaGes-aAsznV1ev6C4OAl8wT-2hrVJTE-2Exy6lRWlrpEhNRt6pG491xXhcXs5mSKEImq2ldJD2my7XskI0xzfNuTrfTNa3j72RWHYNmiQ7LdQsEBm_8XlVA-72758woBz5Lp/s320/P6060495.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483855907433279634" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_kRGquMLRFfEJiH1Zc4ukdJG693j45T3_XeQ4GyKw1djW1yVjFtp5GW0WwxKGyYkI-WpGGh3LLQm15vDFKmyN1NEh5Ug0x6UMhCJw0JWGKYJjdVgc4663RkjYkC-SIU9aELO-JLMC4I5/s1600/P6060500.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi_kRGquMLRFfEJiH1Zc4ukdJG693j45T3_XeQ4GyKw1djW1yVjFtp5GW0WwxKGyYkI-WpGGh3LLQm15vDFKmyN1NEh5Ug0x6UMhCJw0JWGKYJjdVgc4663RkjYkC-SIU9aELO-JLMC4I5/s320/P6060500.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483859828539380002" /></a><br /><br />Cristina and Ferron were aslo incredibly helpful in pointing me towards Gudi's wild architectural achievements that fill this town with some curiously curvy creations.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOYgA6T3l8TOKRhvS2pU4Ob1afOWWXgX-_TaMeH24rmE7lcJrw9tsjOy1n42LO7irhWvzhxoGrLoniWKyAdFFI7RsbvnMgcYt66RxbrKgo2P9gRqv32yL5YV_2HaWfbn0onNGuePM3d1E/s1600/P6060514.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOYgA6T3l8TOKRhvS2pU4Ob1afOWWXgX-_TaMeH24rmE7lcJrw9tsjOy1n42LO7irhWvzhxoGrLoniWKyAdFFI7RsbvnMgcYt66RxbrKgo2P9gRqv32yL5YV_2HaWfbn0onNGuePM3d1E/s320/P6060514.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483859855331286450" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdQnx2hXOM_p0NU2AMloJgmK9nwk401xx01sL-RsvfdWT0iAk30t4OTUTPJ0mbNhys28dcPnfCscGRX6bebW9UcKIvxmoL9HjZauhkFTS5qqzJxVvfHfiq1Mfubo3z5yJGKjZnZyA8FRL/s1600/P6060502_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdQnx2hXOM_p0NU2AMloJgmK9nwk401xx01sL-RsvfdWT0iAk30t4OTUTPJ0mbNhys28dcPnfCscGRX6bebW9UcKIvxmoL9HjZauhkFTS5qqzJxVvfHfiq1Mfubo3z5yJGKjZnZyA8FRL/s320/P6060502_2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483859836275783042" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBlOsyzmsX4pURAhTjk_f1fkUvd4jhtDn47-KJT8jlq5MUrIN9RZRc0PDKdKDKvwuYyFeUFVgsaKYovCnp7KoBHyYoerncb1bvBW1DS-a8AeAIz5n1U-OJT5pbhefrm5lgY3ohOEeDiVU/s1600/P6060024.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzBlOsyzmsX4pURAhTjk_f1fkUvd4jhtDn47-KJT8jlq5MUrIN9RZRc0PDKdKDKvwuYyFeUFVgsaKYovCnp7KoBHyYoerncb1bvBW1DS-a8AeAIz5n1U-OJT5pbhefrm5lgY3ohOEeDiVU/s320/P6060024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483859814067697698" /></a><br /><br />[video to come]<br /><br />Before my trip even started, people were warning me about pick pockets on this street filled with crazy performers: <br /><br />[video to come]<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXvsHNS2GrVDQj0Qbw__FIFiFwGZRxOHNfAqSRe1YIxeen-xZPZAvUUYwBqehbGYGZOblUJPRq4nw1UWfAi9IR5jfytseWVypHVCRbaUsKEXswm2zb5WBMA4ssbCSXMult_0p3GqBm2mlD/s1600/P6060021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXvsHNS2GrVDQj0Qbw__FIFiFwGZRxOHNfAqSRe1YIxeen-xZPZAvUUYwBqehbGYGZOblUJPRq4nw1UWfAi9IR5jfytseWVypHVCRbaUsKEXswm2zb5WBMA4ssbCSXMult_0p3GqBm2mlD/s320/P6060021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483865761563526866" /></a><br /><br />The colorful eye candy in Barcelona's fresh market's was no match for the flavors that this food catered to my pallet. Yum!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfpoSh2Kf4lsZ90-qbKhaq_ve7AqM_whuMDrc_YVb0-G2EKtSj5kAUAsPhRG6wY9DCAS_WjSlLoFcAHF2cUzKioRsJJLIs8Y846w3ylOImpjm9CIocZduO_KX84kJTSQJluiQbiFs6iPx/s1600/P6060009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMfpoSh2Kf4lsZ90-qbKhaq_ve7AqM_whuMDrc_YVb0-G2EKtSj5kAUAsPhRG6wY9DCAS_WjSlLoFcAHF2cUzKioRsJJLIs8Y846w3ylOImpjm9CIocZduO_KX84kJTSQJluiQbiFs6iPx/s320/P6060009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483865746854837410" /></a><br /><br />I left Barcelona wondering if I might one day study Spanish near this town. I think that it would be quite possible to study here for three months (and of course, climb in Rodellar as much as humanly possible).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_2vywMW23374HBaokbXIbV3YPgh1joGxIWCF2SfprZ83JkDVHoqi2XKb3znJSC_NfAetrs82PSQ93gNeotqBcJETvEn24sr-wEq0eu5uRtYTbTn3xKgVCXFnmPmPdHL0wi_a3Po9aIBL/s1600/P6050336_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_2vywMW23374HBaokbXIbV3YPgh1joGxIWCF2SfprZ83JkDVHoqi2XKb3znJSC_NfAetrs82PSQ93gNeotqBcJETvEn24sr-wEq0eu5uRtYTbTn3xKgVCXFnmPmPdHL0wi_a3Po9aIBL/s320/P6050336_2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483865763455006882" /></a>Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-58604251398533162182010-06-07T12:15:00.000-07:002010-06-08T14:50:02.761-07:00Days 22-27: World's best climbingIf monkey's had wings, they'd certainly use them here. The mighty forearm pump that these tufa latent walls manifest is just ridiculous! To date, I will go on record to make the following claim: Rodellar is hands down the best place to climb in the world. This route, El Delfin, proves it:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rhajwpm9GXwIS_3f1jRAjTMf65p94VaDatfm4J-xH2b-8HsltT6dKm6CsNpYqExeMSgXGKi4KUzw4VbkVaf6ulSb2sKQLQ9yBAj-ldoD1tZxwy8lk_KxMTDc0cvAzb1TWifUT9HIQCun/s1600/P6030134.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2rhajwpm9GXwIS_3f1jRAjTMf65p94VaDatfm4J-xH2b-8HsltT6dKm6CsNpYqExeMSgXGKi4KUzw4VbkVaf6ulSb2sKQLQ9yBAj-ldoD1tZxwy8lk_KxMTDc0cvAzb1TWifUT9HIQCun/s320/P6030134.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480116219614806834" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGgccTxLC_XQ23E22pbV_cYLLatpxeAiR-deXkOwabkUAFuKQpbjfj3fby-kJtjFfSmP2wrNZFlZ20HERzyo0tJ4gV81iwoW5Qdhspe_seTnYpYvwSyI-zYUmlvXfoOxHt9gqRODx8Bsh/s1600/P6040184.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGgccTxLC_XQ23E22pbV_cYLLatpxeAiR-deXkOwabkUAFuKQpbjfj3fby-kJtjFfSmP2wrNZFlZ20HERzyo0tJ4gV81iwoW5Qdhspe_seTnYpYvwSyI-zYUmlvXfoOxHt9gqRODx8Bsh/s320/P6040184.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480117699401750546" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6jPMk3YNkzJ4r1319tuCKORkQU0piY47DgyPnLf6kt89Z2Cour4-7CZnXlm6OSP2gwvzMs0eMGuuSgNKc7CZjO5e-S8FRCQFf5kR4C0ZSdt3ra3dsQP5E3evVxkINRZaA-3R0GlMtYsr/s1600/P6040208.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE6jPMk3YNkzJ4r1319tuCKORkQU0piY47DgyPnLf6kt89Z2Cour4-7CZnXlm6OSP2gwvzMs0eMGuuSgNKc7CZjO5e-S8FRCQFf5kR4C0ZSdt3ra3dsQP5E3evVxkINRZaA-3R0GlMtYsr/s320/P6040208.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480117711651427186" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Sk60FnhtoDI64GL61-kmEoHzBHhdDrMlFmx1qIAYoboFjU3W4KG9Ujo8i6SR3KHHnd0Nxes7wtmtmssMzEd41PwWX_a7YJpPFMVQCuznYfooIq8jxg1NsoDk0bx55QMVcHf9jXiwNom8/s1600/P6040220.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Sk60FnhtoDI64GL61-kmEoHzBHhdDrMlFmx1qIAYoboFjU3W4KG9Ujo8i6SR3KHHnd0Nxes7wtmtmssMzEd41PwWX_a7YJpPFMVQCuznYfooIq8jxg1NsoDk0bx55QMVcHf9jXiwNom8/s320/P6040220.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480117718198770402" /></a><br /><br />Despite the fact that we climbed for 5 days straight (no rest days, just lots of love for this place!), Di found a way to get her crush on:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEo-9p22fpO_KYmLIOgj_tl7ehIOSqvPmw1HHwO4emAtEgK7Ayi2NQrEH7S1e3F42vsZaMD0HpH0lo8tzP0anFyOyCYjtyDmOzKcYI8HqYyGh3HJAbaF0dL9WL-m64TRtqrh1HwIvsa3b/s1600/P6040241_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEo-9p22fpO_KYmLIOgj_tl7ehIOSqvPmw1HHwO4emAtEgK7Ayi2NQrEH7S1e3F42vsZaMD0HpH0lo8tzP0anFyOyCYjtyDmOzKcYI8HqYyGh3HJAbaF0dL9WL-m64TRtqrh1HwIvsa3b/s320/P6040241_2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480117725884449474" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTlchQZS-QETNpq28FiKVWL36-Lxrp5HOgkNG-yHVd4xmiuVh6VQ0ScZbVCdJFKYPZtO_MlgkRXjqa9uhKTRFhw468sLIIpcjKx6Oi5-ZFndUzswGtJEwtmLzMbeUysuBowYtojMK_r0x/s1600/P6040259_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTlchQZS-QETNpq28FiKVWL36-Lxrp5HOgkNG-yHVd4xmiuVh6VQ0ScZbVCdJFKYPZtO_MlgkRXjqa9uhKTRFhw468sLIIpcjKx6Oi5-ZFndUzswGtJEwtmLzMbeUysuBowYtojMK_r0x/s320/P6040259_2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480521914334751042" /></a><br /><br />The mid day siesta was luxurious at the many oasis spots along the shore line of the river that flows through the canyon of Rodellar.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRbd-Jfs6ecJYWnMp07uqZLv2RflSim7u_gC3wAdg_T5T8v0mBX5FEAv2PoPTcJ9cpUqgBqTD-rVmi_Lwldl7iHvgjNnWLVSV6vSj1LCwYK7G0V6oP-fy9B1GQW3OshfX2WZGqEXe27g3/s1600/P6010066.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTRbd-Jfs6ecJYWnMp07uqZLv2RflSim7u_gC3wAdg_T5T8v0mBX5FEAv2PoPTcJ9cpUqgBqTD-rVmi_Lwldl7iHvgjNnWLVSV6vSj1LCwYK7G0V6oP-fy9B1GQW3OshfX2WZGqEXe27g3/s320/P6010066.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480523209205025986" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_UaNSXioQ2CPO5i32kP61a7mRpgqztbGqWLe1FQpiJK8IJ0sbUo_H_lNh7LuNyupHO_Lp2hPLHNHhswcWFpY1tXGGudC0wDGhRq6Q3fKZQKLxSpaJQI7lCvm9S91PyAWQjjdIYotTuVIQ/s1600/P6040301.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_UaNSXioQ2CPO5i32kP61a7mRpgqztbGqWLe1FQpiJK8IJ0sbUo_H_lNh7LuNyupHO_Lp2hPLHNHhswcWFpY1tXGGudC0wDGhRq6Q3fKZQKLxSpaJQI7lCvm9S91PyAWQjjdIYotTuVIQ/s320/P6040301.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480521901952014818" /></a><br /><br />The great thing about traveling with Diana was that she made sure we did Spain with style. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWE9GcXZWnE40QjnGATRqE4OO5TjRq0RYTXtidaCyENbOL54u-zwyVKxUOlC2Z_VlWjjh16oOExSYPdvgw0-Vi9n-rP5D0zGqTalyoGqh6A4Q_75U3TZmZlWtX1Usx4qO1iDTRP1kkoIK/s1600/P6040163.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWE9GcXZWnE40QjnGATRqE4OO5TjRq0RYTXtidaCyENbOL54u-zwyVKxUOlC2Z_VlWjjh16oOExSYPdvgw0-Vi9n-rP5D0zGqTalyoGqh6A4Q_75U3TZmZlWtX1Usx4qO1iDTRP1kkoIK/s320/P6040163.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480116221906403618" /></a><br /><br />Our style didn't go to far though. Here was our daily lunch routine:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX4snLdwg4b6fbHkX_L4C5Lt9-O1eEauw2PMzFOpliFPUuDZAyWDygrs1LvMbywuMszUR4XXE3wQNczMDtG0JtDBk4RKq7IXwyTQEHx2VpshXCUI4fB6JFS9TMBL_-j-i1xJA24Co8OJk/s1600/P6030100.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX4snLdwg4b6fbHkX_L4C5Lt9-O1eEauw2PMzFOpliFPUuDZAyWDygrs1LvMbywuMszUR4XXE3wQNczMDtG0JtDBk4RKq7IXwyTQEHx2VpshXCUI4fB6JFS9TMBL_-j-i1xJA24Co8OJk/s320/P6030100.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480116202091471986" /></a><br /><br />The dogs in Spain were as strange as our chorizo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XtonBVUr5vYUjd654I2TCyqQfiHsijSxHMak5b43IrbpJ4mQo06Nsg-9E4pQi_ij8bqNASuq9Aa7gX-wrSxNSsBZK1TfAG76xmFukKJ67qKMw_i5J3bwby42HssuDgXjAD8iJl__9Vgr/s1600/P6050329.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XtonBVUr5vYUjd654I2TCyqQfiHsijSxHMak5b43IrbpJ4mQo06Nsg-9E4pQi_ij8bqNASuq9Aa7gX-wrSxNSsBZK1TfAG76xmFukKJ67qKMw_i5J3bwby42HssuDgXjAD8iJl__9Vgr/s320/P6050329.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480119589413482482" /></a><br /><br />When leaving Rodellar, we made the most room we could with our new friends Stephan and Makenzie. Holy cow! Four people, four climbing packs, a carry on bag and a bike were all crammed into the Mini Cooper for 3 hours. We felt like clowns. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-yCWjM12f7OEb9IG99xIugl71iidv3Q7b79AP89uMPgcaenoNAQYF_1_9Yt-XJyvq8Rrm_4IDzzWoLMwp3PUcOn92Sy8HSRkztPDKlNmLkGSc1jw-Mef3H8ndHxVD_3k45zfyYKGaatJ/s1600/P6050334.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz-yCWjM12f7OEb9IG99xIugl71iidv3Q7b79AP89uMPgcaenoNAQYF_1_9Yt-XJyvq8Rrm_4IDzzWoLMwp3PUcOn92Sy8HSRkztPDKlNmLkGSc1jw-Mef3H8ndHxVD_3k45zfyYKGaatJ/s320/P6050334.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480119597460837986" /></a><br /><br />On the way to Barcelona, we took a huge detour. We stopped to visit a museum of one of my favorite artists, Salvador Dali. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRQsuTKL0GA-t81UHv9TyP-Y1Bn7vwh6BiyAfU_WuP-ODnJq0qMvApf9xNgdxAzImp_PkrY3Poxvz5OtGrscMVo2tDJ1IQhdFRjhfOcnF36re9Lr4vPC95GLwMK-TBJ12n7sSE7q-umlSI/s1600/P6050486.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRQsuTKL0GA-t81UHv9TyP-Y1Bn7vwh6BiyAfU_WuP-ODnJq0qMvApf9xNgdxAzImp_PkrY3Poxvz5OtGrscMVo2tDJ1IQhdFRjhfOcnF36re9Lr4vPC95GLwMK-TBJ12n7sSE7q-umlSI/s320/P6050486.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480521894873128658" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Fp2-q6PgoEp3y8wi9yFthqnNaV4gf_23wBArrAHcklVgDLwcWX2I1B0RSFCKYHnegSBvFaIhLVXaGgGyQJILpujvpT5xIkAmw_uBrTbpjtnFkr7VzCFaN56eBsL0I-3lLS5PmvlWjd1f/s1600/P6050410.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Fp2-q6PgoEp3y8wi9yFthqnNaV4gf_23wBArrAHcklVgDLwcWX2I1B0RSFCKYHnegSBvFaIhLVXaGgGyQJILpujvpT5xIkAmw_uBrTbpjtnFkr7VzCFaN56eBsL0I-3lLS5PmvlWjd1f/s320/P6050410.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480119613140765970" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZmQDWOm8OLtXBVuiKCJZefYE2DxPG7qkGJ_1LHVpA_i-5ZoEPsfGPIJIOD_UcArwBORSGOoRVnWI60OQch1kKGjZtPiINXbixVCoGNwt1xirAXgfe3iPSWBHrZBkcxhxeZ3TM4sdS7MX/s1600/P6050359.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZmQDWOm8OLtXBVuiKCJZefYE2DxPG7qkGJ_1LHVpA_i-5ZoEPsfGPIJIOD_UcArwBORSGOoRVnWI60OQch1kKGjZtPiINXbixVCoGNwt1xirAXgfe3iPSWBHrZBkcxhxeZ3TM4sdS7MX/s320/P6050359.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480119604001616178" /></a><br /><br />After seeing my friend off to the airport, I think that I already miss Di! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQ1g0YMTw7BfR0Kxz2D3VvRI6GlX3mdu5yFS_DzhLYHCAkAggxXQe2pLGCxtMmZbE2TWrwDU7lNrlRBhIc3-d6daZMafocZCvbAXGZq0vRZjbO4igALhhHBTxATBqRLhaarISdMrZpKyV/s1600/P6030092.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQ1g0YMTw7BfR0Kxz2D3VvRI6GlX3mdu5yFS_DzhLYHCAkAggxXQe2pLGCxtMmZbE2TWrwDU7lNrlRBhIc3-d6daZMafocZCvbAXGZq0vRZjbO4igALhhHBTxATBqRLhaarISdMrZpKyV/s320/P6030092.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480122963448083762" /></a><br /><br /> Just to warn you folks back in Denver, she's traveling for about 28 hours straight due to some flight issues...please give her a foot massage or something upon her return. She also likes chorizo...a lot!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExSimQ_5mMtBzr1BGFqi35LZNcXDRiDHIrmtdHn98SkM03YdLe9x5PL9nd_WN4YrZDI8LOggZwe7ffdLOKNOR3oxBD5V7uoqW58E1jPka16284mBGjRSkfv85xUveSyl0nMXzJTmzCAS9/s1600/P6030108.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExSimQ_5mMtBzr1BGFqi35LZNcXDRiDHIrmtdHn98SkM03YdLe9x5PL9nd_WN4YrZDI8LOggZwe7ffdLOKNOR3oxBD5V7uoqW58E1jPka16284mBGjRSkfv85xUveSyl0nMXzJTmzCAS9/s320/P6030108.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480122954601661746" /></a>Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-15927714299951341382010-05-31T16:55:00.000-07:002010-06-05T02:07:49.589-07:00Days 13-21: Three stars for the cave man and 10 meter falls!Before Di arrived in Mallorca, I had two days to scour the island to find the best places to deepwater solo. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcKh89-UTqIinClXMO874u2sztDD4Q7CtxKnsQ1BNcKPUjpfo3NetnMcwFkOM8JRSHAJF56v3B3DeBB1N03I3A9yuJlbrwA9GKaFiFi5IrMJUYiEnIv6qGyWxbktualzCom8KM5yeZG34/s1600/P5250039.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcKh89-UTqIinClXMO874u2sztDD4Q7CtxKnsQ1BNcKPUjpfo3NetnMcwFkOM8JRSHAJF56v3B3DeBB1N03I3A9yuJlbrwA9GKaFiFi5IrMJUYiEnIv6qGyWxbktualzCom8KM5yeZG34/s320/P5250039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477904213769601986"></a><br /><br />The dream to visit Mallorca was crafted immediately after watching Chris Sharma climb this arch. Regularly, I find the desire to live wild rather unresolved. Certain moments calm this conflict though. As Di and I swam up to the base of this climb, I certainly felt the satisfaction of making one dream come true…<br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrr1MMULn93jTrJu1-hzQDJtQJdl3Fe6aUi51tM-tCqeZ8xTO5Dqj4dfgqaUTQ_VXlMoL_K5rWXrOGGTfWhqxZ8nk_ub2NpwfVFcjDAK5qfkDiaGQomeklDquEhA0pbL6KiCjetAP5wSG/s1600/P5290050.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrr1MMULn93jTrJu1-hzQDJtQJdl3Fe6aUi51tM-tCqeZ8xTO5Dqj4dfgqaUTQ_VXlMoL_K5rWXrOGGTfWhqxZ8nk_ub2NpwfVFcjDAK5qfkDiaGQomeklDquEhA0pbL6KiCjetAP5wSG/s320/P5290050.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477908502460300146"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgts8-Ma_vHddRbjWZGIcV6wGFQK5crO_z9aK-HFvxoz4j89b0hiuayr-0x_I0ROaR9lQfufsujYGMeXQ560tmLI_sPj0B9htMKizEx4HP67A2JCrWuHk2rdCwiq7ttPJ_fmPTNjObv2yDB/s1600/P5290031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgts8-Ma_vHddRbjWZGIcV6wGFQK5crO_z9aK-HFvxoz4j89b0hiuayr-0x_I0ROaR9lQfufsujYGMeXQ560tmLI_sPj0B9htMKizEx4HP67A2JCrWuHk2rdCwiq7ttPJ_fmPTNjObv2yDB/s320/P5290031.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477909255620221282"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2HZpvDEHA9vaiMtnVJcLGTZnd8q8VaT02wDhi1KI063dCOo-yfc4LL29okC4DrbDw3lAmTIuHqkOieNQmOYYmruXZKllvDHeXfo1Q5STHifu5uCiej4vZMCUc-_pAPBXdOzf5Gqwi32c/s1600/P5290037.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2HZpvDEHA9vaiMtnVJcLGTZnd8q8VaT02wDhi1KI063dCOo-yfc4LL29okC4DrbDw3lAmTIuHqkOieNQmOYYmruXZKllvDHeXfo1Q5STHifu5uCiej4vZMCUc-_pAPBXdOzf5Gqwi32c/s320/P5290037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477921936504674146"></a><br /><br />Our base camp was a 3-star hotel with a balcony view of a quiet lagoon (found a screaming cheap deal online). We ended up swimming in this lagoon each morning as a wake-up routine. (I grabbed the following image from http://www.spinofftravel.com).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJ_TBfhx16dtWDGfttmsFTMhpHiEtqbdqSbrzyYGghGQo9wHqcZVkb7mpEUetoCr05lctpA4SDdDtHH6L9lyYJpuwwh2nKSBvizcIKBlURyA4h3xn645FL0tjnximoJ3hAFUSxzIBzz6c/s1600/003121_hb_a_001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbJ_TBfhx16dtWDGfttmsFTMhpHiEtqbdqSbrzyYGghGQo9wHqcZVkb7mpEUetoCr05lctpA4SDdDtHH6L9lyYJpuwwh2nKSBvizcIKBlURyA4h3xn645FL0tjnximoJ3hAFUSxzIBzz6c/s320/003121_hb_a_001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477911108669039282"></a><br /><br />Regarding the hotel experience, Di and I would like to thank Rita at Hotel Barcelo for making each entry into the hotel something to enjoy. We always had the pleasure of walking into her welcoming smile and sharp wit. You are a rock star Rita bonita! Thanks for hanging out with us lady.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFohRLBVEWLoQgymHc4U5exrfgZC6lo1n_QB3b8XStL_C5cCtuoWUVUZ1228V9EaUsj4YGC0NarIfc4FT4cl8-X6nMElD1o0GOyFkVEY67UTVLw2KQGHyANtcLjHw_HYSrsjkoJczJC42o/s1600/P5270164.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFohRLBVEWLoQgymHc4U5exrfgZC6lo1n_QB3b8XStL_C5cCtuoWUVUZ1228V9EaUsj4YGC0NarIfc4FT4cl8-X6nMElD1o0GOyFkVEY67UTVLw2KQGHyANtcLjHw_HYSrsjkoJczJC42o/s320/P5270164.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477911682232998674"></a><br /><br />Di and I headed to Cala Barques – comically known as beach 4 (a cousin to camp 4 at Yosemite) for the majority of our trip because the people we met there were as incredible as the climbing. On day 1 so many things happened. One of the most memorable events was meeting Cesar. I met him while he was playing the guitar outside of a deep cave near the beach. I noticed that he had an outstanding setup with tables and chairs inside the cave. So I commented on the décor. Before I knew it, Di and I were sharing a meal that Cesar prepared for us in his cave. After dinner, Cesar took a large group of us for a tour of the cave, which included cliff diving into a large water supply inside of the cave. He insists that all of us are part of "La Familia" and constantly refers to everyone in this manner. What a guy! The crazy thing is that he seriously lives year-round in this cave. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYwlOQL5IwTQI11uk6VQUJnRKY4DgrBNqj71btdZqtNFTC5hVV14cE5J743qsC3am5XDkIeh3ELvInPDMiaTi_n9-IP24uR25tGN0f8tpH3driltPq6z-KRUSBFIH2K_lC6yTtpzyNVad/s1600/P5250073.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYwlOQL5IwTQI11uk6VQUJnRKY4DgrBNqj71btdZqtNFTC5hVV14cE5J743qsC3am5XDkIeh3ELvInPDMiaTi_n9-IP24uR25tGN0f8tpH3driltPq6z-KRUSBFIH2K_lC6yTtpzyNVad/s320/P5250073.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477919271679774754"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjterM9fqH7mH3LGmdCpn0Fx9a8ZEqiLAa7lCm_yF87CEit_nP6LP9ak36LBA8N6CzAAIVjx80jcTZrw-AQSNTJS-zq9FkJhxBJ3vC_OYSJN6hW0h0NO4rcu0xosUVNLS9u-j1l3ljU1Qcm/s1600/P5260108.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjterM9fqH7mH3LGmdCpn0Fx9a8ZEqiLAa7lCm_yF87CEit_nP6LP9ak36LBA8N6CzAAIVjx80jcTZrw-AQSNTJS-zq9FkJhxBJ3vC_OYSJN6hW0h0NO4rcu0xosUVNLS9u-j1l3ljU1Qcm/s320/P5260108.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477912599136731394"></a><br /><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQVtFiaaz6zF6VNUpZOFSPWezuK9KRqK3hb98bAzV0K62IEZLRXDyy6VS62DO8hwOB23W_VZ00nb__Gpajrx8WgeFNdwKveS0RFa-6k8boMm6uGrrxXwxxCkzNHuWQx2igNOTZLUwLKszm/s1600/P5260125.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQVtFiaaz6zF6VNUpZOFSPWezuK9KRqK3hb98bAzV0K62IEZLRXDyy6VS62DO8hwOB23W_VZ00nb__Gpajrx8WgeFNdwKveS0RFa-6k8boMm6uGrrxXwxxCkzNHuWQx2igNOTZLUwLKszm/s320/P5260125.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477932204728138722"></a><br /><br />It was easy to meet people because everyone was really curious to try new things. For instance, there were people trying to learn how to juggle, slackline, and even perform crazy yoga postures at all times on the beach. Here's Di, the mac, giving yoga lessons:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDIWUnghUuFFGerwtCEZwBPM7cT0ZfqYq0lGt30UOHvsUNxQ6NHK8qTbLmeJP8ChXMbr_F1xf7FozQ1oiBHGWZyAqSvqK2LgZ8KWFNWknsifp-7TVW5ouB55Y2sAoc-YeH1z_vsYYm3lG/s1600/P5280330.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDIWUnghUuFFGerwtCEZwBPM7cT0ZfqYq0lGt30UOHvsUNxQ6NHK8qTbLmeJP8ChXMbr_F1xf7FozQ1oiBHGWZyAqSvqK2LgZ8KWFNWknsifp-7TVW5ouB55Y2sAoc-YeH1z_vsYYm3lG/s320/P5280330.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477913492356136338"></a><br /> <br />Cala Barques is not only the best place to meet other climbers, but also the best place to deep water solo in Mallorca (at least that’s what I think). This place let us grow exponentially in more than just our rock climbing ability though. What I am about to write is probably common knowledge, but I was (as usual) not privy to this information. Beach nudity is not just accepted in this part of Europe, no, it’s more often than not a rather obligatory custom. The freedom to disrobe didn’t grab me as much as it did my climbing partner who surprised me (like a hilarious sister might do) with this daring send:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiW9noLPic9Ej6cEXWVUWI6CcFYmAEB5N51kHwrLVhI7_WcBpsRt6yGQ__R9Yw5m9seNE88aVUfVkDAWf-KwHKQriCXvDum-HoJhwUbKpk56bhpGuslFUcBr_COplydMUREgSgOhPE1AJn/s1600/P5280243.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiW9noLPic9Ej6cEXWVUWI6CcFYmAEB5N51kHwrLVhI7_WcBpsRt6yGQ__R9Yw5m9seNE88aVUfVkDAWf-KwHKQriCXvDum-HoJhwUbKpk56bhpGuslFUcBr_COplydMUREgSgOhPE1AJn/s320/P5280243.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477914251121136834"></a><br /><br />The funny thing was that she thought that she was only surprising me…=]. However, several other folks had stopped by while she was out of sight disrobing at the base of the climb. When she turned around to see the shocked look on my face, she was greeted by many other eyes than just my own. She was half way up the route so there was no hiding at all. Her American conservativeness only held her embarrassment for a few short seconds because I was the only one who knew how out of character this feat was for her. Everyone else just thought it was completely normal to climb without clothes. You gotta love Europe! So she went with it and just enjoyed the route. Way to go you crazy woman!<br /><br />Deep water soloing can be quite unusual (I think that I just proved that fact). There were several unique challenges beyond the occasion sausage blast that I might get in my peripheral vision while walking across the beach. [FYI: I’m a new comer to nudity, but seriously, men are just not meant for it. Come on, eh? A disrobed chorizo is never pretty. I do like the liberated spirits though. I guess that you can’t have one without the other, but man, all of the twig and berries that I saw will certainly scar my retina’s forever!] This writing is getting long. I'll get back to the challenge of deep water soloing in a sec, but to keep your attention, here's a great video of Cesar:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzPylF5zh0TtURnX-mSIdSpPiM0HRq3bl6oHbq6gKxP-tuU46GltNi008R4jv2zAkZpLXQFBJoTnUUHjV6Abg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />The challenges of deep water soling are many. We were often swimming up to the cliffs with soaking wet hands and shoes, which clearly made the climbing more difficult. Another challenge for the harder routes was that we were never able to hang on a rope to figure them out. Finally, there’s that necessary huge fall thing. Sometimes the falls were 30 plus feet. The fall alone can make the easiest route seem like an extraordinary feat of self-preservation because you really have to land in the water correctly to avoid pain. All of these factors contributed to us finding ourselves climbing in an entirely new arena. However, our timidity soon disappeared, as each hold on the route was one point further along a maze of spectacular tufa climbing. The climbing was so fascinating that we would often forget about the looming splash into the sea. This thought of falling would only enter our minds moments before we knew the fall was coming. Once recognized though, this thought of falling consumes all of the mental energy that once directed the courage to move into the unknown. I love deep water soling for this reason because the fear of falling is so much more calculated than rope climbing. A safe flight from the cliffs down into the water requires a calm disposition. Any radical change in a mummy like vertical body position while falling into the sea will either knock the wind out of you or provide a nice bruise (all of which we witnessed or experienced ourselves). This climbing style truly displays the heart of the climber. Soloing above deep water became a beautiful dance with our passions and our fears. The idea of life feeling short, Soloman’s midst in the wind (biblical reference), seemed so impossible on these cliffs. Life seems endless when slicing a piece of concentration pie while clutching a dripping tuffa at 30 feet as these nerve racking moments seriously transform into centuries. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtBxPQ5hAmpZHor0sxq1_4oRm861bFtbCntunlyftSIGiwTGSSO5Xwmygj8cF1fociL1dMf-keJSuMrXwhjTQXuaTYvcTczdoBOMs0pOd_Mag_TZlosvgJe3BgGVHp2C8cNKMtzglwWoP/s1600/P5250057.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEtBxPQ5hAmpZHor0sxq1_4oRm861bFtbCntunlyftSIGiwTGSSO5Xwmygj8cF1fociL1dMf-keJSuMrXwhjTQXuaTYvcTczdoBOMs0pOd_Mag_TZlosvgJe3BgGVHp2C8cNKMtzglwWoP/s320/P5250057.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477920688952362770"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoHweaw3pd2m2d80Zj0QAo3Qm04zt7COGbXsuFYlquYsVpEp4j9ZemtUBswV5FF9mOHY8qxx1_00d-9tYg99uuFep7f56Zr9WPSkATjYrZ-UsXSUi36xWalHSDYeJlbDGhulA5Ll0G4F5/s1600/P5260085.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYoHweaw3pd2m2d80Zj0QAo3Qm04zt7COGbXsuFYlquYsVpEp4j9ZemtUBswV5FF9mOHY8qxx1_00d-9tYg99uuFep7f56Zr9WPSkATjYrZ-UsXSUi36xWalHSDYeJlbDGhulA5Ll0G4F5/s320/P5260085.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477922928445529218"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdShGP7DQN1K2L_2qUUyC-4cvp7hyd-X3F-BOZh8P9pp-k_hKVdlqS7OfYbTdlyDdINHgYKPSLk6EN3W_yCn-0Mpmsxr0UPVl08r8-sGRBOIObltBtiatzyntN8ENXDyYdpExdnT2SZoz/s1600/P5290062.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrdShGP7DQN1K2L_2qUUyC-4cvp7hyd-X3F-BOZh8P9pp-k_hKVdlqS7OfYbTdlyDdINHgYKPSLk6EN3W_yCn-0Mpmsxr0UPVl08r8-sGRBOIObltBtiatzyntN8ENXDyYdpExdnT2SZoz/s320/P5290062.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477909736470194674"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhC20niQ1T3sjefDKsQsHYRCPo1Vbl1Y8GBlBGqnC7ktjh76u9jhnb0UndK0kD8Vu8qESUeF0wr7B6rM4CUnSm6IOqdZ3KDUKZlEORRCixK7Rd347K1WOfmRDJkRwjcgEYApLhX1qLDCgH/s1600/P5260044_3.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhC20niQ1T3sjefDKsQsHYRCPo1Vbl1Y8GBlBGqnC7ktjh76u9jhnb0UndK0kD8Vu8qESUeF0wr7B6rM4CUnSm6IOqdZ3KDUKZlEORRCixK7Rd347K1WOfmRDJkRwjcgEYApLhX1qLDCgH/s320/P5260044_3.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477923924128263490"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKF9fp4Ekk8VSmnzXSUTYAwhGH8YUz4EZUQZ4KVDPpgY0ssuwy1Cf92rhLRZgKWVMC_4qcXRS1iiHYQXTbKYcBt-b_g2iKLJqx2qdqqPCVp8pfXj3jEyUva86HYkYhzFooPDGKxbFThKvg/s1600/P5260015_3.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKF9fp4Ekk8VSmnzXSUTYAwhGH8YUz4EZUQZ4KVDPpgY0ssuwy1Cf92rhLRZgKWVMC_4qcXRS1iiHYQXTbKYcBt-b_g2iKLJqx2qdqqPCVp8pfXj3jEyUva86HYkYhzFooPDGKxbFThKvg/s320/P5260015_3.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477916668220200146"></a><br /><br />The best part of the trip may have been the dance parties in the car on the way to the crag each morning.<br /><br />[Video of dance party to come]<br /><br />Over several years of thick history, the friendship that Di throws my way is nothing short of feeling like family. It's awesome to have a curly haired twin that lives a mile away, travels the world with me, and makes me laugh until I cry! Thanks for not being a total butt head on our Mallorca trip Di!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8O2idKgZHwe-0YvAgEhR_pD23Z_4tGun1BaPuZrBvW13KAHx8n9jp1uEx5BLNKNqFFI3g7m8B_aj694tJQbYRU0kYSpGyyb8droCaaty3GcrEW7-t1ZPkcWDg323o5IPph8HAQ54IAwj/s1600/P5260100.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8O2idKgZHwe-0YvAgEhR_pD23Z_4tGun1BaPuZrBvW13KAHx8n9jp1uEx5BLNKNqFFI3g7m8B_aj694tJQbYRU0kYSpGyyb8droCaaty3GcrEW7-t1ZPkcWDg323o5IPph8HAQ54IAwj/s320/P5260100.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477925983498925810"></a><br /><br />We loved Mallorca so much that we actually extended our trip by 4 days. However, today we left this paradise and flew to Barcelona. We then high tailed it to one of Europe’s premier climbing destinations: RODELLAR!!! We love it here already. Photo updates will be a few days out because I lost my camera cable on the way to Barcelona. Shocker, right? I'll figure something out. Stay tuned.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-73018184855440486952010-05-23T15:16:00.000-07:002010-05-25T16:49:10.890-07:00Days 6-12: Italy had me at helloTears would describe my experience in Italy over the past few days much better than these words. Starting this story is difficult. <br /><br />I could certainly make Italy my home country. The people of this country gave me so much, so quickly, and without hesitation. With all that has taken place since I last posted to this blog, I can hardly describe the gravity that holds my thoughts to what I experienced in Italy. So I will frame the essence of the tour and leave the stories within the stories for our personal encounters.<br /><br />Dezi and Anne were hard to leave in Lucca because they made me feel as though I was, even for a very short time, part of their little family. I spent my last hour there just chatting with them about their lives in Lucca and laughing at Dezi being the character he’s been created to be.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwewZRbyGzpS13xA9W6Ttb-ZbD__2akmsPvVY7K7meNoUL0NaGIgn3deFnK-ISoLbEaCbSFzuNm7JppQKE0dG1x36MebehyPf9y7QjgxfCMxWA3svY2hfp5b2dD1cm6CTmffsXMZ-Dw7Dw/s1600/P5160006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwewZRbyGzpS13xA9W6Ttb-ZbD__2akmsPvVY7K7meNoUL0NaGIgn3deFnK-ISoLbEaCbSFzuNm7JppQKE0dG1x36MebehyPf9y7QjgxfCMxWA3svY2hfp5b2dD1cm6CTmffsXMZ-Dw7Dw/s320/P5160006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474599205075040738"></a><br /><br />After my 55 mile ride from Lucca to Florence, I took a shower at the wrong hotel. That was funny! The hotel manager was very kind. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5XXUzcPnWHT5QGMZrocP9ZUqBbROv0My4GvlFrS-Eg0rQvgqRcZthOJlqWAumsG-mL1yeX1WPjK2Ix0E5NhbnkqQEKbYkIO5ogtKhx1YBkM67AAI3vH6zyyrCStc4Db_7Vjit7qCnsPE/s1600/P5170029.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu5XXUzcPnWHT5QGMZrocP9ZUqBbROv0My4GvlFrS-Eg0rQvgqRcZthOJlqWAumsG-mL1yeX1WPjK2Ix0E5NhbnkqQEKbYkIO5ogtKhx1YBkM67AAI3vH6zyyrCStc4Db_7Vjit7qCnsPE/s320/P5170029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474599694810360306"></a><br /><br />I left Flourence for a very challenging 45 miles of hills/valleys, but it was well worth the effort. For the next three days I found myself surrounded by beauty beyond compare. Hand crafted stone homes, each whispering stories from their past, were scatted across the tops of the hills towering above endless seas of grape growing glory. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEJaFsGOLy7jKP07jtxX3AZ0oOF-HnxuUIFB95wiNU4PX6WqvkyryU7rvKBfoS6CjVy3vdXNtO8PWFpfoG2J15zOQqYrAe5yCBS8lMXYrrztPLrwzKst0HTNzztZn_Lp8PUZSqvvFxFfA/s1600/P5190108.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEJaFsGOLy7jKP07jtxX3AZ0oOF-HnxuUIFB95wiNU4PX6WqvkyryU7rvKBfoS6CjVy3vdXNtO8PWFpfoG2J15zOQqYrAe5yCBS8lMXYrrztPLrwzKst0HTNzztZn_Lp8PUZSqvvFxFfA/s320/P5190108.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474600897234184754"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8GLsCIoVTtFEHJPDfGL7QH5UuLivuMKLiQvyo0YT9wMesaFCapuf_COhUd9GCkQqO1IW0CQb3TsOJmym0aHo0v1NEEipJPN8wlHkwh3ASZojpQm4F6VQCNDo87gG2C71RQUZa07bCdo4H/s1600/P5170039.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8GLsCIoVTtFEHJPDfGL7QH5UuLivuMKLiQvyo0YT9wMesaFCapuf_COhUd9GCkQqO1IW0CQb3TsOJmym0aHo0v1NEEipJPN8wlHkwh3ASZojpQm4F6VQCNDo87gG2C71RQUZa07bCdo4H/s320/P5170039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474602371338397138"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUl86DpwbzjjulaPRqwv0CICzm6y3A6AFOfZ0ayNSzx5jS_BVvb0yYGdVvV9MEsQd-iKa2pmDd0INvC7iXiKGUM6E_iwLujtJoHOGILNtOPtTWb3HFOR9hY3UH66YQf89jusKR5hXoad8/s1600/P5190118.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUl86DpwbzjjulaPRqwv0CICzm6y3A6AFOfZ0ayNSzx5jS_BVvb0yYGdVvV9MEsQd-iKa2pmDd0INvC7iXiKGUM6E_iwLujtJoHOGILNtOPtTWb3HFOR9hY3UH66YQf89jusKR5hXoad8/s320/P5190118.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474603007097825874"></a><br /><br />The honor to settle in among this scene was unlimited. I ate meals with a family running their own winery, received a tour of their complex, and had a several complementary tastings straight from their huge drums of wine.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-XuEoohEKAz-sDh4DSaiw7TqLhsz9-Ff8mx0S3I3ClO194RJ_0EsqMDKa9TuaeuUZzEU3RyYAgXqDM8u2MScBGrvoZhJkQ9vWmLPmFgfqbOsWOWJuJ6WxmlCCXzzzANCHTBG88olJMjs/s1600/P5190110.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-XuEoohEKAz-sDh4DSaiw7TqLhsz9-Ff8mx0S3I3ClO194RJ_0EsqMDKa9TuaeuUZzEU3RyYAgXqDM8u2MScBGrvoZhJkQ9vWmLPmFgfqbOsWOWJuJ6WxmlCCXzzzANCHTBG88olJMjs/s320/P5190110.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474604435535797794"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3V905-K2rJp9Mv6aIr9kox5x9VMjmCEiYRZy8n13tJon31eMUG_XGfMpI-7l2oJgF_-myvwBHpH7ie69FAywHToBi_7xMJcujmrBlzAVR92U8OdpzlfTC-JhKjKbcMrV2EN34X8e1FvkK/s1600/P5190114.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3V905-K2rJp9Mv6aIr9kox5x9VMjmCEiYRZy8n13tJon31eMUG_XGfMpI-7l2oJgF_-myvwBHpH7ie69FAywHToBi_7xMJcujmrBlzAVR92U8OdpzlfTC-JhKjKbcMrV2EN34X8e1FvkK/s320/P5190114.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474603904456372514"></a><br /><br />I really enjoyed this family. Nadia was the main worker of the lodging who gave me the low down on what to do while in town (none of which I did, apart from the tour of the Duomo, because I enjoyed hanging out with them so much). Renaldo, Nadia’s husband, worked the vines and gave me a huge lesson about his passions for wine. Christian, Nadia’s brother, worked the business end of things and offered me a history of their winery dating back several hundred years. This complex orchestra of roles had me mesmerized. I’m sure that I was annoying because all I could do was ask questions. No other sentence form existed for my time there. Yet even my curiosity could not shatter the peaceful nature exuded by my surroundings and embodied by my hosts. This experience convinced me that I could not go to Rome. <br /><br />Instead of heading towards Rome, I rode the 45 miles of hills/vallyes back to Florence stopping along the way for a mid day pasta at a swank little trattoria that thrives on the hunger of wine aficionado’s making their way to the next tasting. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHM6hiLflteVJocFpzu5_CEBThDMtzWrC662UBsZ90HNgsPST3JX66cMHNLtDtV47H_JoMJKZ9CCbbMybD9ZXHuO2rDZI69OklIDjWGjTM5d3XdlZi9iCE0r_9eork0AS3wBQob73ILiQm/s1600/P5170042.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHM6hiLflteVJocFpzu5_CEBThDMtzWrC662UBsZ90HNgsPST3JX66cMHNLtDtV47H_JoMJKZ9CCbbMybD9ZXHuO2rDZI69OklIDjWGjTM5d3XdlZi9iCE0r_9eork0AS3wBQob73ILiQm/s320/P5170042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474605183206241634"></a><br /><br />I didn’t stay in Florence. I packed the bike into a trash bag and took the train to Venice. =] Venice…oh my. This city is a maze of what seems to be a fragile but living history floating in an ocean of time. Time for what? <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeutsRtML0ZKhtIMFPIoVJadi6HbpgtWIkdTjIVIKrhF0BCHCp7hnGx7MzOLBV6CiF4-QHTd2fZiyZkzakwFqbifC3z-zlQDYfQK8dRTBEZszrdIP4UAQEnBNeV8jVHcnsVN8E8QgkwKfB/s1600/P5190132.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeutsRtML0ZKhtIMFPIoVJadi6HbpgtWIkdTjIVIKrhF0BCHCp7hnGx7MzOLBV6CiF4-QHTd2fZiyZkzakwFqbifC3z-zlQDYfQK8dRTBEZszrdIP4UAQEnBNeV8jVHcnsVN8E8QgkwKfB/s320/P5190132.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474606128052118002"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggE0k1db0CPl7QC5yw3mw8fAXyaCT1h-1Dc7c39LR8_6kjToZj3wGEkptSbPnlGO_crSR7QcDV9O9Oj0hybbr_j4ibNH6Ob9uzarXEYRQO_Q2sFQFeVF5-fek3Udch63-Yruz01nVugww0/s1600/P5200193.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggE0k1db0CPl7QC5yw3mw8fAXyaCT1h-1Dc7c39LR8_6kjToZj3wGEkptSbPnlGO_crSR7QcDV9O9Oj0hybbr_j4ibNH6Ob9uzarXEYRQO_Q2sFQFeVF5-fek3Udch63-Yruz01nVugww0/s320/P5200193.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474606997151487090"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeftGlzNxgdF9dHcT9i1Yi3iXHQvU8f2W8t9c0UdN3LFUFLdnrrJ4QgpKxzTo3FhZKHSa_TpjdhBLDx16EX3UoYhb_6gASTtv93Y0JDUtHmdo50S9EIAUHxXzeEDudR-tpy6mVC4Yvk847/s1600/P5200154.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeftGlzNxgdF9dHcT9i1Yi3iXHQvU8f2W8t9c0UdN3LFUFLdnrrJ4QgpKxzTo3FhZKHSa_TpjdhBLDx16EX3UoYhb_6gASTtv93Y0JDUtHmdo50S9EIAUHxXzeEDudR-tpy6mVC4Yvk847/s320/P5200154.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474607356330477458"></a><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dywK-Em7tltRvWZeuuEyzwxVQCasvhF0Y1Dy-l3o_9iWI49biI0nDFr2r9IVhn3Cnvx0PAtAUU58H6d3OpPBQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />In Venice, the tourists make time to shop, but not this tourist. So I hit the road again. On my last stop in Italy, I had the most unexpected and splendid surprise of my trip. After accompanying me to Venice, Francesca invited me to stay for her birthday party and sleep at her home on Lake Como. I had no idea what I was in for…<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzvWayyEzSGzzpwY1j2mbkZNinK2e90yM9-7sE_up-9EC-UYjdR_rU6c-WvU6mN_jDbUthMSze2y_HGZq5iPQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />When we arrived, she was so kind. She made me a typical Italian meal to be eaten on their deck, which is a rather atypical scene as it’s filled with perfect views of the alps rising behind the lake. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpy-JA1EOha4tLglYNQAz0gUP42OduD8cZajgP4jeJ60Pu88-P1R4uix0cu4XL0cifuAldBrz4Tcmh-n1yIAQP89nX2V5ZbMqzZUbcSz2WZxRAXxWOoteC1uvw4GklOR_OkXVnWc3hCZxW/s1600/P5210210.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpy-JA1EOha4tLglYNQAz0gUP42OduD8cZajgP4jeJ60Pu88-P1R4uix0cu4XL0cifuAldBrz4Tcmh-n1yIAQP89nX2V5ZbMqzZUbcSz2WZxRAXxWOoteC1uvw4GklOR_OkXVnWc3hCZxW/s320/P5210210.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474622947954582322"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-T0dhO0VsECooA69rDAi5z-6qoN1pEbwTFGhWjLgQ-1uRp5QxQU1VMhC0TRNkNbMkioYszm_JT-CoSXXTyRyJg9klfjnkQWOfRM6EpYAt943rbaCwcBqqlXBsBJLXuXJD5SdYboarhvXw/s1600/P5210206.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-T0dhO0VsECooA69rDAi5z-6qoN1pEbwTFGhWjLgQ-1uRp5QxQU1VMhC0TRNkNbMkioYszm_JT-CoSXXTyRyJg9klfjnkQWOfRM6EpYAt943rbaCwcBqqlXBsBJLXuXJD5SdYboarhvXw/s320/P5210206.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474625959486987890"></a><br /><br />With the clear sunny skies, we did a morning hike up some steep slopes to encounter views of castles and the lake below. The only sounds to be heard were the bells of the cows as they grazed on the grassy fields. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEWtp8mob7QveR0o2amapUj2rRHdiGr-T2vLdDwYZk5QuT8FZOFY2W3A7GmJcSKPLo4yvj2pSwoAKWaVGsESBcIFEQgRk2kR_ybPzzJ3dJGtcV5hmUiFuTn2Vi-gbRo7MVjTS3J_nniuh/s1600/P5210232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfEWtp8mob7QveR0o2amapUj2rRHdiGr-T2vLdDwYZk5QuT8FZOFY2W3A7GmJcSKPLo4yvj2pSwoAKWaVGsESBcIFEQgRk2kR_ybPzzJ3dJGtcV5hmUiFuTn2Vi-gbRo7MVjTS3J_nniuh/s320/P5210232.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474621617389952930"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XMwB8h_fmkp0yt9aQ46hrjlOMznlWLeFbEK1pEHsKHubeirBy0PDkZasI2TyuYEpPhZs4oYiHR3HdEr8hF-jjXBlkkJKU6SyOnO0UrYe2zVdiQjOz8EA-tuqmAOiatGlRN_HDEPBEib_/s1600/P5210222.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2XMwB8h_fmkp0yt9aQ46hrjlOMznlWLeFbEK1pEHsKHubeirBy0PDkZasI2TyuYEpPhZs4oYiHR3HdEr8hF-jjXBlkkJKU6SyOnO0UrYe2zVdiQjOz8EA-tuqmAOiatGlRN_HDEPBEib_/s320/P5210222.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474622232402452690"></a><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dya7zRD-ADpxCBUhvdGzbC0Ee5JCmBr9Ui4hYT5VHrWxjiDa_2Mb7DBOIT68LjW62C4pyFsjlp1y4PgpdSuiA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />From the seats of her canoe, we painted the lake with paddles. George Clooney’s villa on Lake Como was nothing compared to way the K2 mansion moved us into an unresolved state of disregarding opulence while desiring a winning lotto ticket:<br /><br />[Video of canoe to come]<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHi9RBVPnmLg7wonUoAb0PsnfvKnrZrtSkauc2jVefVE7RWkRCB-1JWfx76ITpnzPwlf1CtA9jdqO90U3CHXxTJg9tL66Db_yOylOM2KxoNhoXGEK5dGJkViNUruKLXV3PTWUEJh2M-kh/s1600/P5210267.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHi9RBVPnmLg7wonUoAb0PsnfvKnrZrtSkauc2jVefVE7RWkRCB-1JWfx76ITpnzPwlf1CtA9jdqO90U3CHXxTJg9tL66Db_yOylOM2KxoNhoXGEK5dGJkViNUruKLXV3PTWUEJh2M-kh/s320/P5210267.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474623647653206290"></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQ68Tc11Y1rpvAov7ORFTdxdtKpE26Dc7M52_dgDZTjf1LkzM78diNkO_c6BYCFqWrLLkldzL8PPqEV5extjfmqPf-zRgdKJV2pnXk1aae3269x1AqgufCNR-pJdWtv7GcOHLURwLiFlP/s1600/P5210266.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQ68Tc11Y1rpvAov7ORFTdxdtKpE26Dc7M52_dgDZTjf1LkzM78diNkO_c6BYCFqWrLLkldzL8PPqEV5extjfmqPf-zRgdKJV2pnXk1aae3269x1AqgufCNR-pJdWtv7GcOHLURwLiFlP/s320/P5210266.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474626575050681250"></a><br /><br />That evening her friends came over for a large birthday party celebration where I made my new friend Thomas - quite the philosopher this man. And although I was the only one who didn't speak 12+ languages, they were very kind to often carry the conversations in english so I knew what was going on. I also met her brother Simione who is taking me wind surfing the day before I leave to come home to the US! <br /><br />I waited as long as I could to leave, but it was inevitable. I had ride 30 miles to my hotel near the airport and catch a 6:50 am flight. My ride was terrifying because the Italian soccer team had just won the Champions League. People flooded the streets screaming, honking horns, waving flags and in general just going crazy to celebrate the victory. I actually enjoyed most of it though. I was just never sure if these people were mad at me as they screamed various things my way while I was hastily biking past their celebrations. Assuming the best, I think that they were happy because I was decked out in their team’s colors (an accident that gave them even more reason to celebrate and freak me out as I rode by). <br /><br />Without a wink of sleep from 12am-4:30am, I ate breakfast, grabbed a shuttle to the airport and was soon passed out on a plane head to Mallorca. <br /><br /> [I must send out a HUGE thank you to Francesca for making this trip to Italy an incredible blessing....THANK YOU KIND LADY! I hope that you get your new job. All the best to you.]<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz9DvmKHRunshvWMmICmAB_MzCwdqjLJO5H6jDYEPMvm0Rf8-ug0lNqmjRwlaEuURUV2HIRTZQTgP0TCKrpGpGi8dpyBR2RnOuWTB9cJqC5UwIDP9UkLhkZuF5UAJrYSnCZWs23O9GNe4R/s1600/P5200160.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz9DvmKHRunshvWMmICmAB_MzCwdqjLJO5H6jDYEPMvm0Rf8-ug0lNqmjRwlaEuURUV2HIRTZQTgP0TCKrpGpGi8dpyBR2RnOuWTB9cJqC5UwIDP9UkLhkZuF5UAJrYSnCZWs23O9GNe4R/s320/P5200160.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474628471423477746"></a>Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-49281548827867272182010-05-16T14:40:00.000-07:002010-05-16T16:36:44.165-07:00Day 5: Sewer camera rescue & the leaning tower of...what the hail? (25 miles)Today was supposed to be a rest day in Lucca so I planned a leisurely tour around the city on my bike. Lucca town center is surrounded by an enormous 40 meter tall wall, which took 150 years to construct. The wall is now a park - strange, eh? People bike and run around the top of the wall. There's plenty of room because it's at least 40 ft wide at the top. The very best part of the ride was coming up on a vendor with a boom box playing my all time favorite song: <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy0HZqp9PlGATeag3AoZMxcwDFurnqlXlFYTzA2OIgiNxu1-7-EmAS9SbqvrMG-0QlzgjHw-2Qdp4AU1gUmGw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />So you can pay to tour these gardens OR you can ride around the wall and look down upon them. I chose the latter experience.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDyutlUrasiVEJzTUaYMcPKMRNvMeusEl3QQwTk6qPjAEz6vqClZ2nb0KCAXIe_ZHKHF1AS-ymn5ghYB4b2v5j2M4A2QGgoUWrocflUUJzEnKxt10WVYnkQOIGT2Fn6MlPwfCQ6nGz22v/s1600/P5150010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDyutlUrasiVEJzTUaYMcPKMRNvMeusEl3QQwTk6qPjAEz6vqClZ2nb0KCAXIe_ZHKHF1AS-ymn5ghYB4b2v5j2M4A2QGgoUWrocflUUJzEnKxt10WVYnkQOIGT2Fn6MlPwfCQ6nGz22v/s320/P5150010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471988835766476690" /></a><br /><br />In the following photo, look closely at the base of the wall for two people. This will give you a perspective on the size of these walls. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQpc7mBAlxKSsPJhntAS6zopoCGU5SKSgMyMdJngz1C_JMma4JT9K1rTCEKxCRa69u__TLaHeMd5jTW4ci9BUNlrxi3HDmK7a570hbIHDxAVAKr1VM5Jh41LwmLzvvgxI4OdrZytHEer0/s1600/P5150015.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKQpc7mBAlxKSsPJhntAS6zopoCGU5SKSgMyMdJngz1C_JMma4JT9K1rTCEKxCRa69u__TLaHeMd5jTW4ci9BUNlrxi3HDmK7a570hbIHDxAVAKr1VM5Jh41LwmLzvvgxI4OdrZytHEer0/s320/P5150015.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471989121173080866" /></a><br /><br />After lunch, I was walking to the B&B while looking at a few pictures in my camera. I accidently dropped my camera while viewing a photo. Unfortunately, I was standing on top of a sewer cap right when I dropped it...and, yeah, my camera fell through the slits in the sewer cap straight into the drain. Awesome! I tried to yank the drain cap off so I could grab it, but all I could do was fill my hands will a paste that would certainly rival all things vial for the award of most heinous substance. I returned to my hosts' house and told them my story. We had some laughs and then made a plan that involved a hanger, pole and a bit of tape. Dezi, my new Irish friend that runs a B&B with his wife Anna, helped me fish the camera out of the sewer. Pictured below is Dezi reenacting the rescue technique that I used to pull it out:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeP_uG4W9aibc4IRKvVHN-2XguQC6q5l2MyKTrP2-8weAyOcXPutlHxCNWjEh8mKYptN2A1loeGWOzy9EsM_GzoFydo3Xapq8G99f7yx0-jWRjlnq6WAXS9lrAcd5ccKB5pS7NnP_XqOW/s1600/P5150009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMeP_uG4W9aibc4IRKvVHN-2XguQC6q5l2MyKTrP2-8weAyOcXPutlHxCNWjEh8mKYptN2A1loeGWOzy9EsM_GzoFydo3Xapq8G99f7yx0-jWRjlnq6WAXS9lrAcd5ccKB5pS7NnP_XqOW/s320/P5150009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471992089404611826" /></a><br /><br />I then took a nap only to wake up psyched to do something. So...I randomly decided to ride my bike to Pisa to view the leaning tower. As you can see in the picture, there were some major storm clouds brewing, but I was hoping to beat the weather. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFGWX4idS3h9K65VeXlmyoYx44blQ3GeADPtW7ldbhgt_zTthRLdhr8E4b9GwPCYnVWxiYRpyxgqW-PmGz6nZ9M0zMuKPwnWUvLLOWA9ZOU1PvD70785kWX_0hBfPcekVF62gcQL03j4B/s1600/P5150026.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikFGWX4idS3h9K65VeXlmyoYx44blQ3GeADPtW7ldbhgt_zTthRLdhr8E4b9GwPCYnVWxiYRpyxgqW-PmGz6nZ9M0zMuKPwnWUvLLOWA9ZOU1PvD70785kWX_0hBfPcekVF62gcQL03j4B/s320/P5150026.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471994182417591490" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBqHFpzKI1f7AmLDbdrhHPFvql1hWdM7BOOjWCICm1OeQuqmjoJdGZa780ErrXTE0INwNg8w2rLoTsOZDAZmA96I_gTO0BsMDTILMm1bThhYP8Urc00oLEJSc2_gBP5ycGKChilPVX0K31/s1600/P5150027.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBqHFpzKI1f7AmLDbdrhHPFvql1hWdM7BOOjWCICm1OeQuqmjoJdGZa780ErrXTE0INwNg8w2rLoTsOZDAZmA96I_gTO0BsMDTILMm1bThhYP8Urc00oLEJSc2_gBP5ycGKChilPVX0K31/s320/P5150027.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471994683348942066" /></a><br /><br />Unfortunately, I got smashed by a hail storm on my way home from the leaning tower of Pisa. A bunch of cars were stopped because the weather was so bad, but I couldn't stop...it was cold enough that I knew I'd start to get frigid if I didn't keep going. [By the way, I came prepared. I have rain gear and I don't ride in jeans if anyone was wondering. I just don't take photo's wearing spandex for safety sake.]Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-13304122356798632402010-05-15T23:18:00.000-07:002010-05-16T16:37:48.390-07:00Day 2-4: The 503 and Cinque Terre (60 miles, 50 miles)The travel plan was to leave Bellagio and ride 50 miles to meet Francesca, my new couchsurfing.com friend, for lunch. The ride from Bellagio started off wonderfully. Bellagio to Lecco is simply spectacular. The video below captures a typical part of the ride along with the voice of my GPS lady:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwASsoAz4_ZU2mSLEyErKPjidBUuTWQ2iJJoXd6WnzLW2KxyvhDeybi7Lx8LfIowm860CrtAeraBsJviNCTSw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />After the peaceful ride from lake como, I neared Milan to encounter 3 flats and road construction. This put a major delay in my travels and caused the GPS battery to die. At one point, I literally had absolutely no idea where I was. So I stopped at local business and spoke to a non-English speaker about using her outlet to recharge my GPS. That was fun. =] It was even more fun to watch her eyes explode with shock when she realized that I was ridding my bike "all the way to Milan."<br /><br />Francesca was very patient with me as I was 4+ hours late to meet her. Her accent was worth the trip and her place was great. She even made me some dessert! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3kT2bHaQMRCA8ABiB8ZszR38x-BDQOeAtI8ymrSq1PJAkaUsqwY9dlltrH0tdM4c_38fJIdX7WHiZ3erPiOcQZcRTvmzCUDk5vYPq5PLudLR5GvFl6PjqnGz7E19b26CO8pbjPMR043V/s1600/P5130017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3kT2bHaQMRCA8ABiB8ZszR38x-BDQOeAtI8ymrSq1PJAkaUsqwY9dlltrH0tdM4c_38fJIdX7WHiZ3erPiOcQZcRTvmzCUDk5vYPq5PLudLR5GvFl6PjqnGz7E19b26CO8pbjPMR043V/s320/P5130017.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471757114873630242" /></a><br /><br />The next day we had breakfast, which in Italy means bread with cappuccino. After "breakfast" I usually find some place to eat crepes. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vgOlVH6dpeyoMMtvbbGUzzESHPm-Ez_ttMFGv4Bylzgk7DACPLQOvedSOLh7wIM4JwOrVLMBUpbx3kh-6oh18-EV6cI_Dbzghy60G3DfAxe3bFpWQjVWUwMnBnnets72FKolIqo_eGs7/s1600/P5130018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vgOlVH6dpeyoMMtvbbGUzzESHPm-Ez_ttMFGv4Bylzgk7DACPLQOvedSOLh7wIM4JwOrVLMBUpbx3kh-6oh18-EV6cI_Dbzghy60G3DfAxe3bFpWQjVWUwMnBnnets72FKolIqo_eGs7/s320/P5130018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471757736295830834" /></a><br /><br />I briefly toured around Milan on my bike. When I saw this Duomo in downtown Milan, I was shocked. I can't believe the humans can make such artwork. I've never been struck with awe for an architectural creation before this one. As I rode around it, I was simply in a state of misunderstanding. It's just so beautiful that it's hard to believe anyone could build it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcVNeCCfigUHDH_Nj2Q-_GAiTEoTkmjC1iPyNvWv_ikfuDwoqdEQwOmm2Y0xNu3342gAhRYkYUB1UFEKFn3NuUTKcuI6ofzDRPdySoUL-OieTK4Ws8EDFqq_P5w_XOqa3dJC2MkpEBVMV/s1600/P5130020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcVNeCCfigUHDH_Nj2Q-_GAiTEoTkmjC1iPyNvWv_ikfuDwoqdEQwOmm2Y0xNu3342gAhRYkYUB1UFEKFn3NuUTKcuI6ofzDRPdySoUL-OieTK4Ws8EDFqq_P5w_XOqa3dJC2MkpEBVMV/s320/P5130020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471763957875335602" /></a><br /><br />I took the "tren" from Milan to La Spieza near the coast. It was somewhat intimidating to purchase a ticket at Milan Central because all of these scam artists kept buzzing around telling me lies about what I needed to do (without me asking for their help), but I deflected their crapola, figured it out and found the correct platform for departure.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsBlnOoI27NCoRteLV40zmVO28ye0lZppJ0j43Mqx1x-A_UgCOLGK-iclZR97OhNijfQJRFpIcuPPpfr8lJtW2Z5aP_CM7jJ2tUJgZjMxct937VvN-dD4rGg-CTRSgB7PU-p0xdVrWMXu/s1600/P5130033.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsBlnOoI27NCoRteLV40zmVO28ye0lZppJ0j43Mqx1x-A_UgCOLGK-iclZR97OhNijfQJRFpIcuPPpfr8lJtW2Z5aP_CM7jJ2tUJgZjMxct937VvN-dD4rGg-CTRSgB7PU-p0xdVrWMXu/s320/P5130033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471764473120050738" /></a><br /><br />I rode from La Spieza to Riomaggiore in Chinque Terre, which was about 7 miles of insane up hill riding. Cinque Terre is a region of 5 very small villages on the coast of Italy. The villages are connected by a foot path along the coastal cliffs. After arriving, I quickly found a room and then hiked 8 miles among 3 villages to capture the pictures below. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0HlfoqxYcZOFo82YgrQkTDUJflSc2VHjrfWU8uGfizjhh8xqehCqtIMttGFi1VQPtXJ9nMeIIYiTrrMHkDr66ZELgsphZtraJ4nEBpvFWN6BD6qE06TSGAq5XLpkBpZIVqQjEMoUzCvVe/s1600/P5130057.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0HlfoqxYcZOFo82YgrQkTDUJflSc2VHjrfWU8uGfizjhh8xqehCqtIMttGFi1VQPtXJ9nMeIIYiTrrMHkDr66ZELgsphZtraJ4nEBpvFWN6BD6qE06TSGAq5XLpkBpZIVqQjEMoUzCvVe/s320/P5130057.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471760126095317826" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklLFtgtMcRClzNC9uHE0RzWem8OLuFFqruzQhYEP5VNs_rdHIHWB3pcawrRr98L1k_BVOip9xt8BlvAup8qjJgLyK6XAEGACy61Bvd_lnRL23cXAnu5BItNQXpIcd5dhEoDB5WebVhyphenhyphen6s/s1600/P5130040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjklLFtgtMcRClzNC9uHE0RzWem8OLuFFqruzQhYEP5VNs_rdHIHWB3pcawrRr98L1k_BVOip9xt8BlvAup8qjJgLyK6XAEGACy61Bvd_lnRL23cXAnu5BItNQXpIcd5dhEoDB5WebVhyphenhyphen6s/s320/P5130040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471764912808792754" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2bAw1Mk5vMEYszIpY7rpAEgFOl84M1mJQnabFw7DHk55vuRiYuiK22yPmqRPRoeS-KY-FQfTqQ3-Xc2RhUcWno1Hw6lKkLcXt7kmfEqb4Wcsgji03WxUQJIvAbuLaqWIEA6ippXvC75BX/s1600/P5130041.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2bAw1Mk5vMEYszIpY7rpAEgFOl84M1mJQnabFw7DHk55vuRiYuiK22yPmqRPRoeS-KY-FQfTqQ3-Xc2RhUcWno1Hw6lKkLcXt7kmfEqb4Wcsgji03WxUQJIvAbuLaqWIEA6ippXvC75BX/s320/P5130041.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471761563457895506" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5icrRp-e5spJ4DbMN3fqN8jnjbUwfY3UpdoaWK3lAbW93OOzHPSlvzZ0zy1jHlOAzjjyTR4WggGMinkPb4qnU1r2gR6q_F7QKUv6O6SvHzCDgmPDfZhB7WOw-q54_RSmZF0NtiJgi7SPM/s1600/P5140068.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5icrRp-e5spJ4DbMN3fqN8jnjbUwfY3UpdoaWK3lAbW93OOzHPSlvzZ0zy1jHlOAzjjyTR4WggGMinkPb4qnU1r2gR6q_F7QKUv6O6SvHzCDgmPDfZhB7WOw-q54_RSmZF0NtiJgi7SPM/s320/P5140068.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471762190511353794" /></a><br /><br />Even though I was sporting running attire on the hike, this graffiti brought out some west coast love.<br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xEuL58nv3denIuyrL_h6zDhEpdODzI4U1gtGnlHWuVfQbeSlI5fk4fu91FLhnJJ-d8sdrchn7LkzmR0Nd2yKdobRRU1QzyqPgKiWxzKHhXtE3V3Z22uuTmErwjsHip69obAG3Q53acJ1/s1600/P5140073.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xEuL58nv3denIuyrL_h6zDhEpdODzI4U1gtGnlHWuVfQbeSlI5fk4fu91FLhnJJ-d8sdrchn7LkzmR0Nd2yKdobRRU1QzyqPgKiWxzKHhXtE3V3Z22uuTmErwjsHip69obAG3Q53acJ1/s320/P5140073.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471760443172088146" /></a>Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-48791482689482963212010-05-13T01:26:00.000-07:002010-05-13T01:48:50.054-07:00Day 1: Malpensa Aiport to Bellagio (50 miles)The rain today has me enjoying life at a café. Here’s the update after day numero uno:<br /> <br />After landing in Milan and receiving a rain filled greeting at the airport, I took a free shuttle to a Best Western close by where I built my bike in their parking garage and dropped off my bike’s case in their luggage storage. I was amazed that the build went so smoothly, but the pump I have with me is for for mountain bikes tire pressure….ooops. I didn’t think of that when I deflated the tires for packing:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVuNq96SbBMNfdRLibXsLO-2bijGmm1sabAF1htebVbXja_ifK0ytUqnR4LcuC2lhLZv89ahdUyYff8c4CAFS3pb8m9glCtLYGV4DNBvLFiVo1_e66lNrIW7Ycgy_Kl5R1mwCOMghxput/s1600/P5110001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyVuNq96SbBMNfdRLibXsLO-2bijGmm1sabAF1htebVbXja_ifK0ytUqnR4LcuC2lhLZv89ahdUyYff8c4CAFS3pb8m9glCtLYGV4DNBvLFiVo1_e66lNrIW7Ycgy_Kl5R1mwCOMghxput/s320/P5110001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470669528324044418" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cVudW7L7vB5OFGXca5JdvVsrtCEgr_GC2rlA8WgaLkJW2Acza2_Y-v_CxWgxsETz9oCem8QPouI8V_PRlPpbTQHGYpEJE9H27dMgDSS7wRqVBdV3znsdkUZIaKaE7_g8TF2c0OjLbkxT/s1600/P5110002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cVudW7L7vB5OFGXca5JdvVsrtCEgr_GC2rlA8WgaLkJW2Acza2_Y-v_CxWgxsETz9oCem8QPouI8V_PRlPpbTQHGYpEJE9H27dMgDSS7wRqVBdV3znsdkUZIaKaE7_g8TF2c0OjLbkxT/s320/P5110002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470670022641249218" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinNkyEh9fgrPX4Z9EolKuuE066wInlf7aR_g7E5BDk5Z2Z1Wp_yZMdohUpr5JbEx5AG3WYk6V98C3jJ-wP5ooyuxyrVrr-MugLBaSRGXwIKCgtZmpl3eHUmB1kBTHzTTrsN1CzMHYRa9xE/s1600/P5110004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinNkyEh9fgrPX4Z9EolKuuE066wInlf7aR_g7E5BDk5Z2Z1Wp_yZMdohUpr5JbEx5AG3WYk6V98C3jJ-wP5ooyuxyrVrr-MugLBaSRGXwIKCgtZmpl3eHUmB1kBTHzTTrsN1CzMHYRa9xE/s320/P5110004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470670991482297938" /></a><br /><br />With 50 lbs of pressure in the tubes, I set off on a long ride. Since I’ve made absolutely no reservations or plans for my whereabouts on a day to day basis, I decided to push a 75+ kilometers ride from Malpensa Airport to Bellagio, an idyllic town on lake Como. <br /><br />I was very lucky to follow these roads just after the rain had passed. The waterfalls around the lake were beautiful! <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5JYspbv5G_l7nyW8tV0id7SdfEeFppzra7DLgzZ6t0ee9zAeMRI3278L5NuwKyhTHiKROIpBKZTkuko9BLln6tER3qQEjj1GlHu7Q25AW8oSXAtFtC-LVONY8lpgg5GKlYtqOnBvazGM/s1600/P5110011.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5JYspbv5G_l7nyW8tV0id7SdfEeFppzra7DLgzZ6t0ee9zAeMRI3278L5NuwKyhTHiKROIpBKZTkuko9BLln6tER3qQEjj1GlHu7Q25AW8oSXAtFtC-LVONY8lpgg5GKlYtqOnBvazGM/s320/P5110011.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470671436802220258" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQh02D5b__dKHD7sglaK0fYpyGnM2gvO6DqDcjxogq0chIjDc9HUxHQ1hMgGOjZTHUpxZq5PQaPk2TtB_53BRGcfspMXAqRykw6h37kGm0QZ2K3c3AzkhFKL9qPwNjd-tZZc-ZJkKELCg-/s1600/P5110031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQh02D5b__dKHD7sglaK0fYpyGnM2gvO6DqDcjxogq0chIjDc9HUxHQ1hMgGOjZTHUpxZq5PQaPk2TtB_53BRGcfspMXAqRykw6h37kGm0QZ2K3c3AzkhFKL9qPwNjd-tZZc-ZJkKELCg-/s320/P5110031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470672369397125058" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKsQpGFAc0kS25-4UNnAaEfX6Oc5lbngGWKIQBwvG1L1pn4atdFS2rKuMZLL3H4Zsx8EG-_AxDxFbNllzd9WPiznpaeOeP3f7UHKAZDU5EcXaiEBcw0rZ_TMhBes_9qucRMKPOLsOf4iCA/s1600/P5110029.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKsQpGFAc0kS25-4UNnAaEfX6Oc5lbngGWKIQBwvG1L1pn4atdFS2rKuMZLL3H4Zsx8EG-_AxDxFbNllzd9WPiznpaeOeP3f7UHKAZDU5EcXaiEBcw0rZ_TMhBes_9qucRMKPOLsOf4iCA/s320/P5110029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470672909941681986" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtdXok8l366lu7w7AD1odIj031pW_7gpTw26x1rHd6VpyqEgNWkL2steMGDflEzAzHGL_jhCMpggH-q-abSn_NF_5zANvaYPjZ9LZNhfm4tdP7qWAIecEL1n0IH1qVch1N6y1j06bgwPbN/s1600/P5110007.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtdXok8l366lu7w7AD1odIj031pW_7gpTw26x1rHd6VpyqEgNWkL2steMGDflEzAzHGL_jhCMpggH-q-abSn_NF_5zANvaYPjZ9LZNhfm4tdP7qWAIecEL1n0IH1qVch1N6y1j06bgwPbN/s320/P5110007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470673472133580082" /></a><br />Several good things happened on this fist ride. I didn’t get a flat and I ended up finding a bike shop with a pump about 40 kilometers into the ride. My GPS worked perfectly while taking me through tight winding streets and avoiding major highways. The rain’s departure opened the sky up to share a beautifully sunny day. The fact that I hadn’t slept for about 24hours affected me little as I was so psyched that everything was working well and on my way!! <br /><br />As usual though, a few funny things happened to me as well. The battery died on my GPS when I was about 15 miles from my destination (My fault. I didn’t charge it before I left). No problem, the town was easy to find with a few questions answered by the non-English speaking Italians. They were more than amused by my hand gestures and repeating of the same English words, but they always helped me out somehow. <br /><br />Towards the end of the ride, I realized that my sleep deprivation and lack of food was catching up to me when I having a very hard time pedaling down a large hill near Bellagio. So the fist thing that I did when I rolled into town was to find a cheapish place to stay and eat some fresh caught fish out of the lake. <br /><br />Lake Como truly is beautiful. George Clunny filmed the home that his owns here for Ocean’s 11 (or was it 12?). The romantic Star Wars scenes were filmed on this lake as well. For a single man from the US, it’s a great place to relax, get lost in the maze of narrow alleyways as well as my own thoughts as I enjoy the views.<br /><br />Day two is upon me. I feel refreshed after an amazing night sleep. I'll soon be on my way to ride another 50 miles to have lunch with Francesca.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3737711209029503508.post-38064174214051880072010-04-06T00:18:00.001-07:002010-04-06T21:55:06.772-07:00Siren of the NorthThe culprit caught. Crimes against all of humanity, cruelty beyond compare, and even torture were some of her charges. Yet she remains free to continue sending others through her vein of immoral onslaught. Outrage should grip the heart of the sane upon hearing such a story!! Good news though, I have found retribution. <br /><br />Like a call from a siren, I went to her, the climbing gym. Warming up seemed pointless when she had so may alluring boulder problems that made my hands sweat just thinking about the process of unlocking their secrets. I found a beauty and went to work on her. After several intense burns, I reached her crown on link. An indoor send releases a psych based on the potential that my strength is moving in a direction that will allow me to more adequately explore the rock outdoors. Hence, with my psych level peaked, I found another lady to admire. The first run was inspiring. She seemed within my reach but complex enough that I knew she'd really make me work to get farther on a second date. The story is not unique. This gal hurt me just when I thought that I had her. The evil siren of the north (ie the gym) was proud of the fact that she had tangled yet another climber in her web of warm up stupidity.<br /><br />At present, I've been a non-climber for a grand total of four days all the while carefully monitoring the progress of my finger. I've fully accepted the fact that I'm going to go a full 7 days before exploring my climbing potential. It's been amazing to watch the thoughts that fly through my head when I'm not training for a climb. Within these thoughts, I've found my retribution.<br /><br />Let me digress. Climbing is a sport that gives me the opportunity to find the necessary parts of identity as I manage the constraints of mental and physical boundaries among the company of the most uniquely passionate and inspiring folks that I've ever met. When the climbing community beckons your presence, the draw is relentless. <br /><br />Yet climbing takes so much time that I hardly realized what thoughts I've ignored in the presence of its greatness. Over the past few days, I have actually considered giving up climbing for some time because I discovered the ease with which I can move into one other passion that I have in life. This passion has been almost completely ignored since I first heard the call to climb. After a simple workout that did not involve climbing, I had extra time on my hands and sort of naturally sat down to read philosophy. Hours later, it hit me: the siren's hold on me has been broken. In this massive world of wonders, climbing is but one. <br /><br />Chances are that I'll be back in a harness soon. I feel changed though. I can now see what I have given up to be a climber. It's significant, but so is climbing.Brian Lehmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17593915041914264284noreply@blogger.com0