Never fear, we are alive and have been living behind a hedge in some town that starts with an A, watiting for a train to come that has room for our bikes and take us south.  We've made it as far as Bordeaux so far (pronounced bordo....does anyone else think that these french people are rather innefficient with their use of letters?)

Anyway--I pray those of you at home are truly representing for my FAVORITE HOLIDAY today as there seems to be very little enthusiasm for stupid costumes and solicited candy here.  I mean, really, what could be better than that.  Someday they will catch on.  I feel so deprived, I have been prevented from participating in the glory of all hallows eve for the third year now for, uh, various reasons.  And the year before that somehow Darin and I just ended up walking around in the snow all night very underdressed looking for a broom, I'm not sure exactly why.  Crap.  I want to hear who dressed up and as what.  Darin, Anna, Saq...I expect greatness.  Email me pictures!!!!

10/25/05

We've seen lots of big rich people's houses, as Zac calls the French chateaux.  Namely, we have seen Chambord (huge), Amboise, Rambouilet, and some others that i can't think of right now.  We saw some crazy cool churches in random little towns that our routes take us to which make the Notre Dame in Paris lose a bit of it's daunting mystique.  Paris Notre Dame was indeed amazing, but the effect is so much stronger in a comparable building that is not filled with tourists who pretend to have forgotten to turn off the flashes of their cameras as they scurry around the services. 

I woke up with a migraine yesterday and so we just stayed in the vineyard we'd been camping in the night before and now hopefully we can head out to Chinon as planned.

Sorry mom about the misspellings, I guess you will have to deal for now as I am not spending my time playing find the grammar mistakes with you when i could be in Europe. woah.

10/20/05

So after we visited the awesome cathedral in Chartres we were bombing down the hill out of town and a bunch of stuff fell off of Zac's trailor.  I was ahead so apparently he just piled it back on and rushed after me.  Well, we lost the birthday present we had gotten my sister in Paris, but we didn't realize it until the next morning.  I was not about to let Zac get away with being so silly as to not have looked around after himself after having lost so much baggage in the road, so we asked our hosts if we could leave our heavy things there and rode the 10km back into town, both expecting it to be a failing and miserable quest.  But then!!!!!!!!!  Never fear Anna, we recovered your birthday present from the middle of the road where it had apparently been ignored by all passersby since the previous evening.  It was only run over by about a zillion cars.  Aren't you excited to get it?  Yippee.

10/13/05

this french keyboard is driving me nuts, all the keys are in the wrong places, and i am used to typing rather fast, if i do say so myself.  arg.  we are in PARIS, got here last night and we've booked through friday night.  so we have two full days to explore museums, walk around and look at tall and obscurely famous objects and be surrounded by rude french people.  i am excited.  zac says i should just save him the trouble of trying to walk around a big city and just duck tape his mouth to a tailpipe...interesting...anyway.

10/4/05

Today we are going beating again in the morning and then being (totally spoiled by our hosts) driven to Poole to catch our ferry to France.

10/3/05

Today I had a fabulously, epicly, horrible migraine, but went with our wonderful hosts in Gillingham to go beating anyway.  I threw up several times on the side of the road on the way there and then had to sleep on someone's couch for the entire morning as I was not able to stand up all the way or quite see straight.  Great fun, let me tell you.  But then luckily, I felt well enough to go join the group after their lunch break in the old english tradition of 'beating.'  We had large orange flags and walked through the fields on a hill to flush out the pheasants so that the group of fancy old men down in the valley below could pay loads of money to shoot them.  It was quite fun actually, and the people, what little I got to know of them in the latter half of the day, were interesting and full of english character.  We got to do this through our adoptive family of the weekend.  M's brother works as the gamekeeper of this place and so she may invite people along to be 'beaters' (Hey HP FANS--I've been a BEATER in ENGLAND).  The job pays in cash, so as an added bonus to the unique experience, we got some GBP as well, which is doubly good because of the aweful exchange rate that we've so far been subjected to.

10/1/05

Today we road along for a long time.  Nothing much spectacular.  We stopped in a scenic churchyard at 3 for lunch and each ate about 3 and 1/2 PBJ sandwiches.  Yum. 

BUT THEN...when we were ready to stop for the day to set up camp, we were leaving Gillingham, and we stopped a bit past one of the houses on the outskirts to discuss if we should stop and setup camp or churn out a few more miles.  We decided to stop, and I went over to the house, which had a large grassy field next to it, to ask if we might pitch a tent in it for the night. A man was just leaving the house when I approached and immediately told me that the field was not actually his, but that I was welcome to sleep in the spacious backyard.  But then, after just a moment's pause, he decided to offer us the guestroom of his home!  I was a little taken aback, and asked him if he was sure a few times, but he (J) shuttled us into the house, we met his wife (M) who had just arrived, and then they left us with the key and went off to the Rugby Club where they had plans to meet with friends.  Zac and I stood stunned in a very nice guest bedroom with an adjoining shower (ahhhh).  'Man, how rough this life of our is', we thought as we sat in their hot tub out in their backyard, complete with a pool, soccer goal and pear tree. 

When we had gotten out of the tub and I was in the shower however, I believe it hit our hosts down the road at the pub, just how silly they might have been leaving two random Americans in their house with the keys to their cars and whatever other valuables.  The phone rang three times in a row and Zac went to pick it up to find that they urgently requested our company down at the club.  We got ready and followed the simple directions to the bar, and got lost anyway of course.  We flagged down a car to ask if this was the way to the Rugby Club, only to have our question answered before we opened our mouths when the car window rolled down to reveal a young man, grinning, with a bloody patch of gauze on his head.  Three people stopped in their cars going the other direction as we walked down the road to tell us that we were late, or to say that they were sorry to have missed meeting with us, that they had to be going a bit early.  We got there, everyone was amazingly nice, we have stayed with them three nights now, and the rest, as M would say, is history.

9/29/05

We went on a two hour walking tour of Bath today.  It's a very beautiful city.  And then we figured out how to get onto the internet for free at the University, so, sadly, that is where we've been since.

9/22-9/27

Tales of the Ridgeway and our many interesting stops along the way, particularly in Avebury, coming when I do not have a crik in my neck...

But I will say THANK YOU to our HOSTS IN AVEBURY for ever so graciously rescuing us from the cold and inviting us in for perhaps really the best cup of tea I've had (for my fingers as well as my taste buds) and allowing us the opportunity of leaving our bicycles and taking the rest day we (I) very much did need.  We did enjoy getting to know you and hearing tales of your worldly children.  Thank you also for the lovely shoulder of lamb, which Zac will still not stop talking about, and the HobNobs, which we both now 'fancy'.

9/21/05

We started on the Ridgeway today.  I read online that you can't cycle on it until about halfway down the path, starting in Goring.  Then you can hop onto it for the last 45 miles (they DO do things in miles here--we weren't sure and we changed our cycling computers to read in km...oops).  But Al, our generous host and new friend, of the night before had told us that we would be fine and to 'tell any buggers 'at tell us we can't cycle there to piss off.'  Well, ok then, except for the fact that there actually are little gates about every half mile that you can't get bikes through (designed that way) and we only were able to summon up enough energy to get over two of them before we ditched the trail and tried to find fairly traffic-free routes parallel to it. 

9/20/05

We took about five hours to get ready to leave this morning.  Zac lost his wrench, then we thought we lost the cat, but it was only hiding, then I couldn't get my camera to work.  Very aggravating.  We finally got loaded up and out the door about 3 o'clock and rode our bikes down the block from Kristen's flat to the train station.  We bought tickets to Tring for ÃÆ’ÃÃÆ’‚¢ÃÆ’Æ’¢ÃÆ’¢â‚¬Å¡ÃÆ’‚¬ÃÆ’Æ’…ÃÆ’‚¡ÃƒƒÆ’Æ’ÃÆ’Æ’¢ÃÆ’¢â€šÂ¬ÃÆ’…¡ÃƒƒÆ’ÃÆ’¢â‚¬Å¡ÃÆ’Æ’‚ÃÆ’‚£13.70 (about ) and had to start to realize that it was going to be a very long ride laden with much too heavy loads.  We were supposed to be off of the tube at 4 with our bikes because there is really no room for baggage, especially bikes, during rush hour in London.  But of course, we had been running late, so we just had to manage to lug our bikes and gear up and down stairs and through crowded corridors and endure glares from passengers on the extra-crowded trains.  We just tried not to talk so that they couldn't blame our nuisance on the fact that we were American. 

We finally got off the train and out of that horrid public transport system where everyone just nods off while reading their evening papers, nearly falls asleep on each other, and then startles awake and glares around at everyone.   It was dark and getting cold and we had no idea where we were going to sleep...of course.  But at least it wasn't raining (that will come later).  We battled our bags all the way up the never-ending flight of stairs, of which there seem to be never-ending numbers, and found that the only people around were some taxi drivers hanging out in a small trailer near the station.  We approached them to ask directions to the start of the Ridgeway trail and after lots of confusion and other people butting in, none of whom had any idea what we, or they, were talking about, we set off down some random dark road with very unclear directions.  We pedalled around in the dark for a bit and then I decided to ride off and find someone to ask, so I told Zac to stay put and cycled off down the adjoining street. 

I am riding down the right side of the street when this teetering man from the other side of the road calls to me to come over to his side of the road because it's safer over there.  I stop and stare at him for a moment, decide that he looks rather frightening and intoxicated, and ride over to his side of the street anyway for lack of any better ideas or sense.  He immediately moves closer to me and takes an interest in my bike. 'ooh, got SUSPENSION have you?  my bike doesn't have any suspension.'  Not good.  He eyes my bike some more as I realize that he is standing close enough to lunge at both me and my bike.  Still though, not wanting to offend him in case he indeed is a nice person, I proceed to ask him for directions.  At this point Zac peeks around the corner to find this grizzly man standing about two feet from me on this dark street waving his arms and stumbling around.  I explain to him that I am looking for the start of the Ridgeway and at this he turns and begins to run down the street towards Zac, gesturing for me to follow him.  I do.  We parade past a stunted Zac and down another dark street.  He gives me a warning glare and then turns to follow us.  I reach into my bag as we are riding, locate my knife and put it in my pocket.

We reach the trail head and the man enthusiastically presents it to us.  We then explain how we'd better get going and find a spot to set up for the night, mostly to try to get rid of him.  He thinks for a moment and then says 'well, I can't have you sleeping out here in the cold and wet can I?  You'd better come home with me.  Come on.'  We protest and inch ourselves away.  'Hey, I'm no rapist or murderer.  I live just up the street, was on me way home from the pub just now, got me two boys at home.'  We decided to believe him.  We precariously followed him up the road, past a few houses and down a sloped driveway.

In the next twelve hours he proved himself to be one of the most generous, welcoming, unassuming and entertaining individuals either of us had met. 'I'm a SKYDIIIIVER' he kept proclaiming all evening as he pulled out endless stacks of magazines about parachutists out for us to add to our bags for some 'light' reading.  We sat and chatted with him and his two sons for several hours.  He was not put off at all by the fact that we were American, as we had been prepared to expect, but instead extended his hand across the table at this news and said he was very glad to meet us.  I drew for them a map of the US, which turned out to be embarassing, and I entirely forgot Illinois and Mississippi.  He gave us each a beer, ordered in a pizza, provided us with locks to lock our bikes (though we do have our own), and absolutely, adamently insisted that we sleep in his room rather than on the floor and set himself up on the couch.  After many amusing debates about the US vs. England, the Crossbow vs. the Longbow and the style of helmets Viking used to wear, we locked and contained all of our things and made our way to the second floor of his house to lay our sleeping bags down on his bed. 

We woke in the morning to find two bowls with cereal, two mugs for tea and two glasses of juice laid out for us.  There was also a note for us telling us to help ourselves to showers and that he would soon return, which he did, bearing the fuel we had mentioned we needed for our camping stove.  He helped us pack up our things, pointed out and named all the planes that crossed the sky as we did, and followed us to the end of the drive to send us off.  I know our moms are cringing and gritting their teeth at this story of blind faith in our back-alley-stranger, but how else will we ever know Al.

9/19/05

In the morning we wasted time.  And then we went to the train station and Zac missed the train that we had waited half an hour for, so then we got to waste more time.  We went to lunch with Kristen in the Indian section of London and then went to the British museum and saw the Rosetta Stone and then went back and had dinner with Kristen in the Indian section of London.  We leave tomorrow...if we don't waste too much time tonight.

9/18/05

Today we walked all around and got lost and saw tons of cool stuff in London including: the guard station (which at first we had no idea what it was and could not figure out why these dudes were just standing around letting tons of rediculous people take pictures of them), Big Ben 'imself, Buckinham Palace (boring), and the Tate Modern where Zac lost it when he saw a canvas that was considered ART because it had a slash in it and was therefore innovative and modern, and went to take a nap in a chair outside the gallery for the next few hours.  At night we got to walk around for a really f^%$&^% long time looking for somewhere to eat that we could afford, and a guy in tights playing the bagpipes followed us down the street.

9/17

sleep and unpack and waste time...arrrg

9/16/05

So, right off the bat, when we got off the plane in London and collected our giant boxes from baggage claim, I lost Zac.  Of course.  He wandered off for about half an hour and told me to stay in one spot right in front of this store that about a million people were constantly trying to get in and out of, and came back, finally....with some tape.  Great.  We proceeded to then tape the bottoms of our boxes all the way across so that we could push all three of them through long crowded corridors down to the London Underground station.

We finally got there only to find that a single ticket was each...ouch. So we investigated the bus line as an alternative, and found that the bus drivers, although decidedly 'English,' pretended rather well not to understand us when we approached them for a ride and direction, toting three sizable and deteriorating boxes along behind us. Back to the Underground, where we did our usual gig of standing around for a while looking confused until someone with more initiative on what to do comes to our rescue.  Which they did. 

At first we were only overwhelmed by one Brit with a very strong accent trying to help us out, finding us very long pieces of string and presenting them to us ceremoniously, though we had no idea what we were to do with them, giving us more and more maps of the same thing, and strangely hovering over us as though we were the only people around.  I guess as hopeful patrons of the recently victimized London Underground, preparing to take three large and shabby looking boxes on 'the tube', it was understandable that they would want to keep an eye on us.  But it became a bit comical and overwhelming when two other guards joined the party and began fighting over the right to tell us what to do.  An older man came over, pulled me aside and showed me a route on the map, which he then pushed into my hand and told me that 'he had been around a lot longer than the other fellow and I'd do best to listen to what 'e 'ad to say.'  At this point, the first chap, that'd been directing this circus actually shooed the older man away and yelled for him to LEAVE US ALONE, that he knew what was best for us.  The older man stormed off.  Our savior of sorts shuttled us over to the elevator, which had just now magically appeared, never mentioned in the previous debates about how we were going to get our boxes up and down the stairs, pulled our cargo in after us and delivered us directly to the train we needed, told us the station to get off at, and to not listen to anyone else, and that we would be fine.  Goodday!

Five hours later, after many similar, but not quite so dramatic struggles of tugging our ever-diminishing loads across the tiled floors of the Underground, we arrived at the station where we had been instructed to meet our hostess, Robbie's older sister, Kristen.  Ahhh.