IMPROMPTU POST.

I've just been night swimming in the Budva bay. Perfectly clear water, a full moon, stars, PERFECTION OF A MOMENT. I was feeling pooped after my dinner at a table for one, then remembered my commitment to ridding myself of poopy feelings, so stripped off and dived in!

I feel like crying I am so refreshed.

If you have the chance, please go and do this now. A quick dip in the ocean will give you the exact answer to your unanswerable question that's buzzing around your head.

There is no better office in the world than the deep blue sea.

Everyone has a chance.

One of the topics my mind constantly falls to whilst I cycle, was inspired by something I probably didn't need to come all the way across a continent to witness. It was in my hotel room in Ohrid, Macedonia; and I was watching TV... I know- exploring the world, adventure, outdoors... I shouldn't be watching TV, but it was 11pm, I was in bed AND it was the Macedonian Discovery Channel. I think that just about makes it acceptable.

ANYWAY- the moment was thus; James May, of Top Gear fame, had just landed back on earth after flying up to 70, 000 ft- what in 1950, was considered space.
    As he climbs from the cockpit he says "If everybody could do that once, it would completely change the face of global politics, religion, everything."

It made me think about my trip. Imagine everybody could do this once. How would it change our world?

As I sit here in the Montenegrin sunset I think back over some of the moments I've been part of so far. I think of:

• The English couple who made me tea.
• Free peach juice in Albania because "the roads are difficult."
• The Turkish sunrises.
• Being kicked off my bicycle and asked for money by two boys on a motorbike. (I waved down a car and they sped off. No harm done.)
• Being chased by no less than 15 dogs that, according to a Greek woman "have become like wolves because they have no owner."
• The beer. 
• The roads in Montenegro.
• Greek salads.
• Clouds of mosquitos.
• The friends I have made.
• The scenarios I dream up.
• The plans I make for the future and how ridiculous they become after 2 double espressos for one pound, and 25km of downhill cycling.
• Sweat stinging my eyes.
• Clothes becoming solid with salt.
• The roads in Albania.
• Waking up in a peach orchard.
• Having a snake slither below your tent whilst you are inside.
• Free grapes.
• Encouragement from the locals.
• Inspirational messages from home.
• Fresh mountain spring water.
• The meat.

The list goes on...and on.

The point is, good or bad, all these moments have added together to the Aaron you'll meet tomorrow. They give me perspective on the world. Of its enormity; I'm cycling a long way. And of how small it is; I can actually cross a continent just by leg power!

   We all share this world and I think by meeting "the other" what ever that might be- proves that point. Every interaction, a smile, a punch, a look, a thought. They all feed into someone's life. If that can happen successfully in our comfortable life as we know it, imagine what would happen if everyone did as Aboriginal teenagers do, and went walkabout!

THE SMILES!

THE PUNCHES!

THE LOOKS!

THE THOUGHTS!

I can only experience how it affects my life- a punch is a negative to me- but to another, a world leader perhaps; it could be the life changing, manifesto altering interaction they've been waiting for!

In my first diary entry from Luton Airport, I wrote; 

"Everyone is so enthusiastic about my trip. The lust for adventure is present in so many it makes feel so lucky to be in this position."

So many have the desire to go and explore. I know how fortunate I am to be cycling across a continent. I know not everyone has the chance to do that. 

But everyone has the chance to go down a street they haven't been down before. 

Everyone can say hello to the good looking barista they've been avoiding from nervousness.

Everyone can smile at someone new.

Everyone can adventure outside of the lives they know.

Everyone can go on their own walkabout.

And believe me, it's not all punches and sweat!

There's no time to write. Here are some visual aides. Macedonia is the best country I've visited.

I couldn't camp with these folk; instead the gave me kilo upon kilo of white and red grapes straight from the vine!

Sunset on a mountain top in Northern Greece. Ended up sleeping in a peach orchard.

This is a Balkan gem, quite literally powering me up to Croatia.

1000km from Istanbul. Quarter of the way home!

Beautiful Lake Ohrid in Macedonia.

Albanian Border before some serious switchbacks on the downhill. I hit a new top speed of 51.8 kmph!




That's all we've got time for folks! Tune in next time for more of Aaron's thoughts from the saddle.

Alex the Tortoise.

"Alex... Alex..."

Alex knew exactly why his mum was waking him up early today.

"Alex come on!" She whispered excitedly. "Its not even six am and already there's a whole bunch of lizards waiting to watch you!"

Alex slowly poked his head from his shell. He stretched his wrinkly neck until it wrinkled no more, then; smiled, yawned, and laughed all at the same time.
     Today was Alex's 89th birthday. The day he became an adult. Now as it happens, a strange tradition accompanies your 89th birthday in Alex's family- the crossing of the great road. A feat that hadn't been completed since his great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather did it almost 2000 years ago.

 
As Alex waddled out from under the pile of rocks he'd been sharing, with not only his mother and his two sisters, but also a very grumpy snake who secretly loved a cuddle; he felt extremely nervous.
   In fact he couldn't remember ever feeling like this.

He gave his mother a nose nudge, as all tortoises do. Then he scraped his shell against his sister's shell, one at a time, as all tortoises do. Finally he tucked his limbs inside their sockets and rolled right into the snake so he wrapped around Alex. Not as all tortoises do.

It was time to go.

The Greek morning sun felt hot on his head. The gravel at the roadside was sharp under his feet.

"Good luck Alex!" Shouted his mother with that embarrassing enthusiasm mother's have. "Remember, if you think you are too slow, just think of the time you beat Trevor the snail at Chess!"

Alex blushed, then he was off! The smooth asphalt stretched out for a whole 6 metres in front of him. (Which is roughly 320 tortoise miles.)

A cheer went up from the lizards, who had all secretly placed bets on where Alex would perish on the road, then they all went about doing what ever it is lizards do. They would come back at sunset and see if he'd made it, or, who had won the bet...

It was about two hours in when it happened. Alex heard a strange clicking noise first- then heavy breathing, and finally a word he had never heard before. (It was probably a bad word; Alex knew all Tortoise words and Tortoises never swear.)

Then, through the haze of the sun, he saw a skinny human animal riding on the back of a horse, only this horse had no legs, no eyes, and didn't neigh but dinged!

"I'm doomed..." said Alex. He knew that a horse could crush a tortoise in one well placed stamp- and Alex didn't know this type of horse- so he retreated into his shell and waited to die...
   But there was no pain. No shell piercing through tortoise flesh- instead, as Alex re-emerged into the sunshine, there was a white flash from a box in the human animals hand, and all of a sudden he was picked up and was being CARRIED across the road!

"WOOHOO!" hissed Alex- as any tortoise would. "It's me! It's me!" he said as he touched down on the cliff side of the road.

"WHAT IS?!" said the human animal, whose name happened to be Aaron.

"I've fulfilled my family's dream! Many tortoise lives ago my great, great, great, great, great grandfather Cadmus, was crossing this great road when a man picked him up and carried him to the other side!"

"And?" Said Aaron, who was happy for the photograph with a tortoise, but wanted to get up and over the mountains he faced pronto.

"And?! AND?!" Alex fizzed, "AND, that man was Alexander the Great! After whom I am named. Now I will call all my children after you good sir!"

"Wait..." Said Aaron, slightly more intrigued now that history was being discussed. "Alexander the Great was here?" he said with a childish giggle in his voice.

"Of course! This is the famous Via Egnatia, the Way of Egnatius- the road that Alexander marched his army down on his way to Asia, and sadly also the road Darius and Xerxes took to attack Greece, but they weren't good men..."

"That is cool- cheers. Sweet. Enjoy the cliff life turtle dude. I mean, Tortoise... Bye!" Said Aaron, as he put a rock in his bag to remember this place.

"WAIT! Did you know it was when Alexander helped my grandfather, that he became great?"

"Aye right- the historians, and Greeks, and Romans called him that. Not a tortoise."

"No its true!" Pleaded Alex. "GREAT  is one of the oldest words in tortoise speak, that we use when we think someone does something that is nothing but good. One of the soldiers in Alexander's army overheard my grandfather say it and so used it as a nickname for him! It is the little things that make a man Great, Aaron."

Aaron paused. What wise words from a tortoise on his 89th birthday. He thought for a moment. He remembered a few days before, when he was cycling through Turkey, (Because he is riding a bicycle, not a horse with no legs, no eyes and didn't neigh but dinged.) and he was down and out. The wind, the sun, the flies, the dust, the never-ending road that just went up and down- he remembered that. And then he remembered  all the people who sent him lovely messages on the internet to help him through, but then he remembered something else. He turned to face Alex.

"There were six or seven young men hanging off've a tractor the other day. They were driving toward me and look quite scary- but instead they starting clapping and cheering me on as I climbed another hill. I think they're great. "

"If you say they're great, then they're great." Said Alex, happy that Aaron seemed to have forgotten how hot and sweaty and dangerously low on water he was.

Aaron went on, "The Syrian man who invited me on a whiskey tour in Glasgow...The Greek woman who forced me to pour out my water so she could refill it with cold water... The Turkish man who fist-pumped his chest from the third floor of a building site as I cycled past... The hotel owner who gave me a towel for free... The cyclists who helped me when I was lost... The young people in bar Baraki in Sepas who gave me Turkey for my bread, an iced coffee, and cheesy breadsticks...The bartender who gave me a free pint in Thessaloniki..." His list went on, and on, and on. "I think they're all great."

And with a nod, Alex said, "You are right Aaron. The world is full of great people. Alexander was just one of them." And gracefully he popped his legs from his shell, and wandered down the cliff side, content that he had become a grown up Tortoise.

---------------

So that was Alex the Tortoise! Turns out I am actually on the Via Egnatia, the road that ran all the way from Turkey to the Albanian Coast! Who thought drawing straight lines on a map was a bad idea? 

I thought so. I thought I'd be missing all the sites, and I've ended up cruising an infamous Roman road!

I'm in Thessaloniki now. Having a day off to recover from my 730km so far! Then it's only a few days until I pop out into Albania and out of the EU again!

By the way, for any of you who read that and are worried for my sanity, I FORGOT MY IPOD AND CYCLING IS LONELY. And don't worry. If you were actually looking for a daily list of what's happening, that's being handwritten. You can read it when I get home. I got to steer a boat on the Bosphorous... That was... interesting...

Love you all!

 

This is in the Agean sea JUST as the thuderstorm started.

  

 .....

 

Via Egnatia! My route (and Alexander the Great's) to Albania! There are photos of the actual road but I can't work out the Greek word for rotate. So we'll see them later.

"What you taking a TV to Turkey for?"

It was with a sigh of relief  that I finally sat down on my aeroplane seat. Then instantly cried with laughter. This adventure started as almost every adventure does- with an absurd cocktail of mishaps and calamities.
    Two flat tyres before I left Belfast, a near miss with the boat, a forgotten tent, 50km of unexpected cycling in London, an uncollectable package from a frıend, a bıke box too small and consequently €30 of hold baggage fares, and to top ıt all off, a ''manflu'' from a mixture of stress and cycling behind London buses.

    I was beginning to worry that due to all the stress I was feeling, I'd be missıng all the gems my trip would throw at me, but the divine intervined in the form of a lovely lady in St. Pancras station who asked,
"What you taking a TV to Turkey for?"
    This totally put all my minor calamities in their place. The absurdity of logic never fails to amuse me. My bıke in a box looks like it could very well be a plasma TV! She even saıd it mıght be a new take on "round Ireland with a fridge''! Amazing. From this poınt on, none of the issues I had before mattered. (So if you're readıng this, THANKYOU!)

    Istanbul is amazing. My hostel has a perfect lıttle roof top terrace that overlooks the Bosphorus back to Asıa. On both nıghts so far my "dıary and tea tıme" have coincided with the evenıng call to prayer; hundreds of mosques across the cıty calling out to each other for worshıp, made all the more spectacular gıven the fact my hostel ıs about 500 metres from both the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia.

    So far the Turks are winning first round as they knock out stereotypes. My taxı drıver, who did everythıng at 160kmph, chaın smoked, and road raged- then stopped at a pharmacy and bought me ındustrial strength Turkısh Lemsıp! It seems men sympathıse wıth manflu the world over!

    I've done what Emıly Waterman would call "toodlıng". Meanderıng from place to place, ınstead of tıckıng off a rıgıd lıst of tourıst hıghlıghts.
    Whıle doıng thıs I met Davud, a carpet and jewelry seller who's father lıves ın Dublın. Actually that's not strıctly true. I had been walkıng by a carpet shop and smıled at the woman who was weavıng just ınsıde. She smıled back, but for the fırst tıme ıt wasn't a busıness drıven, hurrıed smıle as ıs so often the case when a salesman smells a tourıst. Instead she caught my eye, smıled, closed her eyes, and went back to weavıng. She seemed so content. Humılıty and happıness summed up. It was then I met Davud, who, wıth tea, bread, superb Englısh, and fırst class salesman skılls, sold me a carpet.
"To keep you warm whıle you are sleepıng ın nasty Italy." He saıd.

    I joıned Rob Brown, along wıth Brad and James, for dınner last nıght. All three have seperately cycled from London, and thıs mornıng, all set off across the Marmaras sea to Asıa. Rob ıs headed for Chına, and the other two to Australıa. I'm pretty sure the jealousy I felt whıle eatıng wıth them wasn't just of theır exotıc adventures to come, but also my own want to just get goıng!
    Saturday ıs the bıg day- a 6am start to get me out of the cıty and ınto the countrysıde...

    I am lovıng Istanbul, and I wıll come back when I'm old, to sıp fıne apple tea and share a kebab wıth a wıfe, but for now I can't waıt to embark on the physıcal aspect of my adventure. To get up wıth the sun, to feel the ache ın my legs, and collapse wıth dusk. Sleepıng somewhere new every tıme.

    Once I'd laughed myself ınto a state of relaxatıon after the TV questıon, I read thıs poem by Wıllıam Arthur Ward; and ıt re-lıt the flame of adventure. Brıng on Europe!

To laugh ıs to rısk appearıng the fool,
To weep ıs to rısk appearıng sentımental.
To reach out to another ıs to rısk ınvolvement,
To expose feelıngs ıs to rısk exposıng your true self.
To place your ıdeas and dreams before a crowd ıs to rısk theır loss.
To love ıs to rısk not beıng loved ın return,
To lıve ıs to rısk dyıng,
To hope ıs to rısk despaır,
To try ıs to rısk faılure.
But rısks must be taken because the greatest hazard ın lıfe ıs to rısk nothıng.
The person who rısks nothıng, does nothıng, has nothıng, ıs nothıng.
He may avoıd sufferıng and sorrow,
But he cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, lıve.
Chaıned by hıs servıtude he ıs a slave who has fortıfıed hıs freedom.
Only a person who rısks ıs free.

Choosing the right fork.

The thought that there is "no better time to do it" is an interesting one. It ties in with the belief that there is no moment but this one, so use it. Carpe Diem. Sleep when you're dead.

Because who knows what will happen?

Who knows what comes next?

Just a few weeks ago I watched a filmed called "360" with some friends. I didn't like it. The reason why doesn't matter, but at one point a central character talks about how the choices you make in life are like a road that is continuously forking. One fork after another, and those forks are forks into another's path. The journey you take through life is traveled on a series of paths. 

We get to choose the forks we take. 

Some forks are at a very acute angle, almost running side by side, yet ever so slowly drifting apart. Others are obtuse and blatantly life changing.

As we grow up, people are constantly advertising their paths to us. 

"You should do this because...."

"I did this and it made me feel..." 

"Why don't you consider..."

We get to choose the forks we take, AND we get to choose what we do on the paths we take.

I find that there are two ways to choose your fork, and at some point in life almost everyone uses both. Either you spend time carefully wandering towards and weighing up which fork to take because of what might happen on that particular path, or, you sprint towards the fork and swerve dramatically, according to the curvature of the road.

In this case I have sprinted. 

For me it is not the choice that is to be seized, but the moments we encounter as we move beyond the choice. I was given a choice and excitedly galloped off down a fork. Now I can take the time to experience the moments this new colourful fork will present to me.

There is no better time to experience what is now.

So my choice was Belfast, or an adventure. I chose adventure. That adventure is a solo cycle from Istanbul to Belfast. I sat tonight with a friend and drew some lines on a very big map of Europe, turns out that route is nothing less than 3275 miles. Not exactly the shop for a loaf is it?

As it happens I'll be setting off from London on the 12th of September, so hopefully I'll get some nice autumnal sunshine as I cycle West along the Mediterranean coast before the European winter bears it's teeth! There is probably a better time to experience Europe by bicycle, but there is no better time to experience Europe as it is now by bicycle.

I hope that I can open myself to the experiences I will encounter over the coming months. I don't want to do things because I think I should, rather I want to go with whatever presents itself to me and experience what ever that is. 

A very wise man and good friend of mine once said, "Don't get in the boat to take a picture, take a picture because you got in the boat."

I'm tired of hearing people saying "shoulda, woulda, coulda."

I want to say "I am", and many years from now, "I did".