Living Every Day

We can often feel that once we have achieved a goal, won that gold medal, graduated from a university degree, own our on home, have kids, travel around the world etc etc, that we will be happier. Can’t you see the crystal clear water sparkling while you are lying in the deck chain in your bikini’s or speedos drinking coconut water out of a coconut with a little umbrella?! Bliss and happiness right?

While there is no doubt that lying on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean is very appealing, I am guessing that you are not there right now reading this blog post? So what are you doing today? Maybe some training, a recovery session, school, uni or work. Maybe catching up with friends for a coffee, taking the dog for a walk, whipping up a quick dinner. All normal, routine events yeah?

Since returning from my European adventure I have slotted extremely easily back into routine, perhaps a little too easily! Admittedly, hip surgery last week was slightly out of the ordinary but the fact that I knew the route to the hospital, where to park, and that surgery happens on Level 3, could all be considered part of my routine. As such, I have been struggling with how one can infuse each day with something new, creative or pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone. Making each day an adventure, challenging yourself, or appreciating the familiar, yet beautiful world we live in. Something that when travelling is very easy to do but perhaps less so when return to the comfort of our own homes.

It is easy to forget how precious each day actually is when we are caught up in the midst of our routines and daydreaming about when will be happier. I am actually reading this book at the moment called ‘The Happiness Project’ and it synthesises the wisdom of the ages with current scientific research. The author, Gretchin Rubin, embarks upon a year-long Happiness Project where she implements different monthly ‘To Do’ lists such as ‘Make time to be silly’ and ‘Be generous with my time’.

I drew a little bit of inspiration from her ‘Do a little bit everyday’ where one spends that odd 15 minutes de-cluttering, tidying or cleaning. I have had on my ‘To Do’ list for a little while ‘Clean desk’; the whole space was covered in old articles left over from university last year, superannuation forms, mole-check reminders and pens that have gone to pen heaven. When I realised that I had a spare 15 minutes before dinner, I began to tackle the mountain of paper. While I did need another 30minutes after dinner to complete the task, I can now see my beautiful wooden desk and have recycled, bagged or placed in-the-correct spot, all the loose pieces of paper that previously inhabited my work space. And guess what – it gave me an enormous sense of happiness to walk into my room this morning and see my clean desk. I now have a much more creative space and know that I haven’t won’t be getting any nasty reminders about bills that I haven’t paid, which equals peace of mind as well. Double tick.

So achieving little things, like tidying a desk or making a pot of jam for someone, can boost your happiness. Little things that can be achieved everyday. Little things like stepping-stone goals to our long-term goals – maybe it could be 5 chin-ups in the gym or adding a little creativity to your next assignment or taking a walk during your lunch break; we are definitely blessed living in Melbourne – the coffee capital of the world (yep, I am putting it out there! If anyone wants to disagree over a coffee just let me know). 

 What do your stepping stone goals look like?

Continuously achieving the little things so we can enjoy the journey, and make the most of every single day. Maybe we could all even take a moment to stop and smell the roses (or roasted coffee beans). 

The difference a little bit of care makes: A brief rendevous at the Avenue Hospital

Regular follows of this blog will know all about my European adventures. For those of you who are first-time visitors to this blog, welcome! Just to bring you up to speed the last three months have been extremely tough – I cycled up a few mountains, tromped around numerous well-worn tourist tracks over the UK, plus went off the beaten track all in the name of food and a good coffee. Yep, I was living the good life. However, during this time I had a return of my hip pain for which I had surgery last year. Definitely ‘not happy Jan’!

After coming back home I saw my surgeon, the fabulous Dr David Young (DY for short), down at Melbourne Orthopedic Group. While David is an insanely busy man, he will always make time for his patients, ensures he gets all the details, and covers all the bases. Something that I dare say is probably becoming quite rare in our high-speed society and 24/7 desire for anything and everything. After having nothing turn up on an MRI, we decided to go in for a hip arthroscropy to see what has been causing my pain and try to fix the problem once and for all.

Yesterday, Friday 24th August 2012, I went back into the Avenue hospital to have my second hip surgery. Unlike my first surgery where I went in to get DY’s opinion in the morning and was on the operating table that very night, I had had a whole 9 days to ruminate about my upcoming ordeal. Usually I deal with stressful events by using the power of distraction i.e. not thinking about the event I am stressed about until it arrives. Hence, by the time the stressful event arrives you have to live in the moment and don’t have time to get nervous or stressed. Genius really. As such, I made sure I chatted to all the nurses after I was admitted and I finally got to have a decent chat to my friend G who has also just gotten back from OS (he did have a bit of a chuckle that the only time I could find to talk to him that wasn’t at the end of the day was while I was waiting for surgery; I thought it was the perfect time for a catch-up!).

I suppose the reason for this post is to really give a massive shout-out to all the team at the Avenue Hospital down in Windsor. I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of people. As an aside – it is a very small world. My brilliant Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner, Michael Keshishian at Sakura, his partner was working that night and came in to say hi after my surgery. So not only did I get to meet a whole lot of new people but also had the loving faces of my parents when I woke up, an unexpected smiling face from Leor, and my new Dougal Superman Daffodil Day bear - courtesy of my mum.

However, I did find my power of distraction technique wasn’t quite strong enough when my anesthetist was going through the facts and figures associated with the general anesthetic, the epidural and all the painkillers I was about the have. Some of the stats were: 1 in 100 experience headaches, 1 in 550 chance of ongoing numbness for three months, 1 in 20 000 chance of permanent nerve damage or 1 in 200 000 chance of death. Queue for the expected hyperventilation. Thankfully Mark’s phone rang and he had to quell his compulsory pre-surgery prep talk to take a call for a few minutes. That gave me a chance to lie down, focus on breathing, stop my head spinning and resume some control of my faculties upon his return.

After that everything went smoothly. I had a lovely orderly, who is currently studying marketing (a very interesting combo!), a nurse who made sure I was rugged up nice and tight, an assistant nurse with the magical warm rug who helped out last year, and another man, whom I believe was helping out Mark, in the surgery room by the name of Tom. Tom was fantastic – not only a cyclist but also knew about all the great rides in Europe. Talking about cycling did the trick; I successfully managed to avoid thinking about the needle for the drip being shoved firstly into my hand, and after this didn’t work (apparently I have petite veins, which I naturally thank my mother for), we had to go down the side of my wrist. Joy. However, I soon had a surgery gin and tonic followed shortly by three glasses of champagne when the epidural went in. Ciao world, Bonjour sleep.

Part of the procedure is having a smiling face when you wake up. My lovely orderly was back and I had another friendly nurse to chat to while still in a semi-induced daze of general anesthetic. DY came over briefly – my hip is awesome, he just had to remove some adhesion's from my labrum. Other than that, two weeks of gentle spinning and then I am back on the bike. Awesome news.

This was followed up by extremely caring evening and night nurses. Can’t say I have ever had a catheter before, apologies if I am sharing a little too much, and I found it be an ‘interesting’ experience. On the one hand, it was great because I didn’t need to go to the bathroom and disturb the recent site of surgery. On the other hand, knowing that there is a bag at the end of your bed didn’t exactly make for the best bedfellows. I kept trying to compare it to being drug tested – didn’t quite manage to convince myself though.

I had a yummy brekkie of porridge and tea, with another familiar smiling face behind the breakfast trolley. Shortly afterwards it was back home for a nice warm shower, a change into non-hospital underpants, and a cup of green tea while reading The Age Epicure. Bliss.

Before I get too distracted by food or coffee, I would just like to say a MASSIVE thank-you to everyone at the Avenue Hospital. I truly felt like I was in extremely safe hands and that I was exceptionally well cared for. Sending out my best wishes to all of you.


Until next time,

Ride safe, ride happy, ride in the moment


Han

Yep, needles freak me out a little...

A Yellow Pair of Nikes

Instead of the typical swash-buckling adventures usually told in the current blog (I think i must be channeling the Captain Jack Sparrow I met in Edinburgh the other day - wooden leg jokes anyone?), today's blog post is more some general musings on what some would consider the most important component of a girls wardrobe - her shoes.

Now traipsing around Europe had resulted in some slight disintegration of my faithful Geox runners. It had gotten to the point of no return - my feet kept getting cold and wet from all the new holes and lack of sole. Good job I only have one foot to keep warm and plenty of soul! Wow, we are on a roll today.. So, as an early birthday present mum said she would buy me a new pair. Shoe shopping in Oxford - good times! After perusing a few stores and getting the shoppers disillusionment of 'why can I always find items when I am not specifically looking?!' we came across a shopping mall. Perfect. Right out the front was the traditional Nike/Adidas store. Double perfect. I head on in, full of renewed optimism and confidence. I walked out two minutes latter bitterly disappointed. Mum asked if I had looked in one particularly nook in the shop, I walk back in, and low and behold - the brightest pair of yellow Nike runners known to man kind. It was love at first sight.

Striking a pose with my new runners

Walking out of the store in my brand new runners, the Geox pair dumped ceremoniously in the bin, I feel like a new woman. Albeit a woman with extremely bright shoes on her feet; the new running family joke was 'don't look for Hannah, look for the shoes'. I loved my new runners but started having thoughts along the lines of 'is that person secretly laughing at me?', 'I wander if that cute guy over there is smiling at me or at my clown shoes?'.

Woah, woah, woah - wait a moment here Han. You are getting caught up in what other people think of you??! It was definitely time for some tough love and to revisit my values. Why should it matter what other people think of me? I can remember my mentor Donnie Elgin sitting down with the 9 year old version of my self and asking why I felt uncomfortable when people stared at my leg.
"Is their staring hurting you Han? Could you maybe be creating awareness that having one leg is not stopping you from getting out there and living life to the fullest?".  While it did take some time to change my thought process, I am now quietly proud of my black carbon fibre leg as I walk around in shorts or dresses; I think it looks dam sexy!

Also, I needed to remind myself that who am I to know what other people are thinking? You know the feeling when you are slightly self-conscious that you are wearing the same outfit you wore last Monday to work again the following Monday? I think traveling cured me of that - it got to the point of my three-day rotating wardrobe where I was jut happy that the clothes I had on where clean (tricky if you have been washing out of a sink for three months). But really, I can barely remember what I wore yesterday, let alone what other people wore last week!

After having these internal conversations and tough self-love, I pushed my shoulders back, held my head up and walked proudly down the main street in Oxford wearing my bright yellow runners. I loved every minute.

As an aside, I am having some difficulties keeping them clean - anyone have any suggestions?! Any help or direction would be great.

Till next time
Ride safe, ride happy, ride in the moment

Han

Family Ties

What type of image do you get when I say 17 days,  one car, four people who haven't spent more than 24hrs together since Christmas, 7 pieces of luggage, three spare legs, and a bike in the UK? Something resembling WW11 perhaps? Or did you go the optimistic kumbaya sing-along scenario? The truth is probably a mixture of both. Recent times have seen mum up in Sydney working furiously on delivering the national electronic healthy system to Australia plus doing a doctorate on the side through the University of Liverpool. My brother goes to Monash  Uni during the days, works most nights and is a foodie socialite in his spare time. John, affectionately dubbed JB, works long hours as an instrumental engineer, keeps the house running while mum commutes to Sydney Monday-Friday, and dreams of retirement. Me? I haven't seen Australian soil since May and am missing Vegemite terribly (imagine my excitement when I discovered mum had bough over a little pot and then discovering more at a supermarket in Oxford - score!). As such, some good family bonding was long overdue and promised to hold some memorable moments, even if these moments were heated arguments relating to navigational expertise.

The family reunion occurred at Heathrow airport. Everyone was looking a little worse for wear. Mum had been working 20hour days for the past two weeks, Duncan had just finished exams, JB had not slept a wink on the 36hr journey, and I had had about 5hrs sleep during the past 48hrs given a *small* hiccup in Barcelona that resulted in spending the night on some rather comfy airport floor and the shelling out of €487.... Lets save that story for another time - still a bit of a sore spot! 

You know when you get to the point and the only person in the world that you want to see is your mum? You just want to melt into her arms and feel safe from the world. Walking out of customs at Heathrow (hats off to the boys, had a brilliant run through) and spotting my mum in the crowd then dissolving into the mum hug was heaven. Just what the doctor ordered after the Barcelona debacle. Then the bro came to the rescue with carting the bike box around on the tube in London and JB carried my heavy backpack - I was definitely loving the family life! 

Some people may think that two kids in their twenties on a holiday for three weeks with their parents may be hell on earth, but, I have found that as my brother and I grow up, the more informal, relaxed and humorous our conversations with the parentals have gotten - especially after a few glasses of red wine or pints of cider. You get to know your parents more as people, who they are - as opposed to the providers of your daily needs. The relationship dynamics change, philosophical debates ensue, stories from hippy childhoods emerge. 

 

All aboard the Jacobite Steam train in Scotland (made famous by Harry Potter)

 

Not only did my brother and I get to know our parents a little better, I got to catch up with my brother and have some decent one-on-one bro / sis bonding. We both share a love of coffee and good food, wandering around markets and taking in the detail of the places we visit. A memorable brekkie in Nottinghill at Portobello markets saw an amazing apricot, ginger and walnut scone consumed. Plus being family, meals always means taste-testers of what each person ordered plus your own - the best way to dine! 

 

Punting along The Cam with my brother

 

From Stonehenge to the Highlands, Shakespeare to the West-End, black pudding to haggis, Jane Austin to Lewis Carol, Loch Ness monsters to walking the hotel dog - we did it all. I even managed to get JB out for a ride in his home town of Chester. This event was extremely fortuitous; driving back after visiting the stately ??? House, we made some unexpected turns down Cheshire lanes and on the side of on of these lanes was a group of club cyclists about to start their weekly 10mile time trial. The club was Weaver Valley Cycling club, the very club that JB had been a founding member of 50years before. Coincidence or fate?! 

After having a good chat and gander at all the decked-out bikes (some pretty flash wheels were being used), the decision was made to meet up for a pint down the road where the family could have dinner and JB's mates could come and chew the fat. During conversation I naturally popped the question as to where we could hire a bike for JB to go out on a ride tomorrow. In the space of about three sentences, it had been decided that tomorrow afternoon JB would be riding Graham's brand new bike in Weaver Valley gear with Dennis playing tour guide. 

 

 JB and Dennis modelling Weaver Valley Cycling Gear in Chester

The genuine generosity of these people meant that even though we got a 'tad' wet, the grin the next day on JB's face could not be wiped off for a good 48hrs. Here he was, on a bike, riding down the lanes of his childhood with a friend he hadn't seen in over 30 (maybe 40 - give or take) years. Like a pig in mud. Awesome and very special stuff. It was also nice not to have to worry about directions for the day and end up taking pictures of Pyramids instead of Buckingham house; yes, I can get very lost - remember the typical lack of direction in this female?!

I feel truly blessed to have spent three weeks in the UK with my family. It isn't everyone's cup of tea but for me, family is important. They are the people who you can turn when the cards fall on the floor, they are the people who truly know who you are - warts and all. There doesn't have to be any pretensions, all masks can slip away. I am not pretending my family is perfect - far from it - but I love each and everyone of them. So thanks Mum, JB and Schnooks for the wonderful times - Jamaica next?!

Till next time 

Ride safe, ride happy, ride in the moment

Han

La Grande Boucle des Pyrenees 2012

The Bike Dreams cycling tour came to an end in Barcelona just over a week ago; seems like almost another lifetime given the charming weather the UK is experiencing at the moment...bring back the heat wave of the Spanish Pyrenees aye!

One afternoon, about two days before we rolled into Barcelona, I was spending the day in the firetruck and hence had a few moments to spare. What better way than writing a few lines of poetry to thank everyone on the Bike Dreams tour and read aloud at our farewell dinner in Barcelona. Below is what I came up with - enjoy!*




All the way from Nice to Barcelona,
87.75 legs spun over and over.
Up, down, and through the Pyrenees,
We cycled lots of km's thanks to Bike Dreams.

The many adventures came both thick and fast,
Thankfully the headaches of Hotel Anis were soon in the past.
At half six or seven we had brekkie each day;
Many preferred the latter time slot way.
Muesli, nutella, bananas and bread;
Sometimes we were lucky and even had eggs!

An organised frenzy soon took place around the campsite,
Tents, mats, and bags packed away in the morning light.
Eager cyclists were soon riding away, 
Ready to take on the challenges of another day.
Very lucky with the weather we were,
Only a few days of rain to make us feel 'brr'.

The record heat wave of the Spanish Pyrenees,
Saw us melt in the sun and bought us to our knees.
Definitely ready to call it quits and throw the towel in,
The cycling spirit ensured each stage was finished on more than a whim.

As we climbed, the siren of the fire truck would cheer - 
It was definitely loud enough for all to hear...
A lot of teamwork and effort went into lunch,
As a result, the cyclists always had something to munch.
Richard, the ladies plus the Van of Bob, 
Seemed to be able to handle the ravenous mob.
Cheeses, meats, and salads galore,
We also had an occasional nutella war.

Dinner was always a feast with seconds for all;
Kudos to the chefs and their selection calls.
We were then treated to dessert by Rossanna -
Add in lots of vino and we were soon singing 'hosanna'.

The time would then come for Captain Wilbert to chat to the group - 
"Good evening peoples - the day of tomorrow we have mountains and a loop"
Enquiries regarding vital issues were usually made - 
The marmot moment and were lunch was to be laid.

Starting on La Bella, an award each day was meant,
For either an honorable, funny, silly or memorable  event.
For example, Nina rode an extra 32km before the lunch spot in the hills,
All due to blind faith in Richard and Tomas's interesting navigation skills.
We also had highway and tunnel removals by police;
A pity Gill couldn't bat his eyelids to bring about peace!
The marmot went from one riding buddy to another,
The strength of new friendships turning a stranger into a brother.
Drivers, cooks, and others took part,
To share around the important marmat.

As Barcelona drew nearer and nearer,
The swearing at the Garmin grew clearer and clearer...
A mini tour through the Andes will see an adjustment to the route,
In time for the next Le Grande Boucle des Pyrenees group.

So, it is with a heavy heart that we pack away our bikes,
And wave farewell to each other during the long Spanish nights.
A massive thank-you to all on the bike dreams tour, 
It has been a blast and much better than any brochure, I can assure! 

Aurevoir for now, adios amigos,
Until we meet again,
Take care, be safe, and ride happy 

Hannah 

* Disclaimer: I do not hold any type of qualifications in poetry and do not pretend to be a poet. The above are merely simple musings from a KISS girl. All characters and references are not fictitious and are based on real events. However, in some cases, artistic license has been used.

Tete-a-Tete about the Pyrenees

Somehow I will attempt to capture the past 2.5 weeks in the current post, and possibly keep it reasonably short as well... Good luck there Han! 

Just over 212km, 2.162m of climbing, two more nights spent in a tent, and approximately 5 banana, 3 coffee stops and 2 flats are separating the La Grande Boucle des Pryenees cycling team from Barcelona. Nearly there. 

The past few weeks have been filled with both amazing triumphs as well as pushing the mind to the limits. Don't need to worry about the body as apparently according to my new friend Chris - others are jealous that I can come into camp each night and put on a different leg. I did offer to share my spare walking legs around but nobody was keen to take me up on the offer. 

The Pryenees group of cyclists I am traveling with is a lot larger than La Bells Italia - 44 cyclists compared with 21. Excitingly there are a few girls around my own age so I no longer get laughed at by the blokes when another female asks me to go to the bathroom with her - strength in numbers right?! We have lots of Aussies on the trip (we know where the good times are to be had), a few from NZ, some from Holland, as well as Canada, Brazil, Germany and Czech Republic. All up, including the big dreams crew, we stand at a total of 53. Poor Annika, our amazing chef, having to cook dinne each night - she literally cleans out the supermarket each day. 

The Pyrenees has bought some beautiful climbing. I have climbed:
- Mt Ventoux (obviously more in Provence than the Pyrenees)
- Col de Portet 
- Col de Mente
- Col de la Core
- Puerto de Cortefablo
- Puerto de Portalet
- Col d'Aubiqsue 
- Col du Tourmalet
- Col d'Aspin 

Then we have all the gorgeous gorges we climbed up and through. Some of the best kept secrets are the gorges through the Spanish Pyrenees such as the Cañón de Añisclo just outside of Puyarruego. We have ridden up mountains, next to rivers, past waterfalls, across a Spanish desert, whizzed down Tour de France descents, seen stunning vistas from what feels like the top of the world. 

There have been close calls down the descents, especially coming around corners and nearly running over what I think was either a deer or a goat. Hence, I nearly ran over a dear goat. The next day it was nearly a dog to see the underside of some rubber tyre and another closes call with some interesting drivers going down Aubisique. Still, I am here writing this blog so I must be OK right?! 

We had a rest day in Carcassonne, a little village that LTF goes through on their three peaks day. Surrounded on all sides by the Pyrenees, it was wonderful to spend a morning wandering through French markets, eating a choc custard crossaint, buying dried strawberries and sitting in a river with sparkling clear fresh water and watching the sunset. Very noice!!! 

Yes, climbing up mountains for over two hours with gradients at a constent 8-9% for the last 7km can be tough, especially if a mountain has already been climbed that day but the rewards at the top, the sense of achievement and celebrating with others make it all worthwhile.  I have found a beautiful sense of peace among the Pyrenees. Life isn't running at a million miles an hour, you aren't constantly hounded by emails and deadlines, and the fresh air definitely does wonders for the soul. 

Apologies to all the food lovers who have been enjoying reading about the devine food I have been consuming recently. Our amazing cook Annika hasn't let us down - from Duck la'ronge to Paella, from curries to salads, fresh trout to tapas - all done on a camping stove. Amazing. However, bring on a good cup of Bushells tea and piece of piping hot toast with melted Western Star (salt free) butter and Vegemite. 


Till Barcelona, 
Ride safe, ride happy, ride in the moment

Han

A box of chocolates

Let me paint the picture for you -  I am currently sitting in a French campsite (pure luxury with toilet seats, toilet paper and a hair dryer!), listening to Bob Marley as well as the ping pong ball bouncing across the table, and am surrounded by the beautiful mountains of the Pryenees. A dinner of succulent lamb with fresh veggies followed by super sweet raspberries with yoghurt has just been polished off. The sun is setting behind the pink clouds and I have a cup of tea in my hand and piece of dark chocolate in the other. The laughter and chatter of my fellow cyclists completes the scene. Tough life aye?!

Admittedly it has been a bit tough to find time to write about all the amazing experiences I have been privileged to have recently - I have been taking my own advice and living each moment! However, I would love to share some of the highlights with you all. 

Let's take a few steps back to the end of the 1.75 leg adventure through Italia - most of these memories include food: we learnt how lemenoncello was made at a local family lemoncello grove in Sorrento. We then proceeded to taste the seven different types of liqueurs. These included different alcohol concentrations of lemoncello, and orange, mandarin, fennel, and liquorice liqueurs. We were told that people usually leave "very happy from this lemoncello grove". Definitely ticked that box. 

Next up was a trip to a local gelateria in Sorrento where we learnt how Italian gelato is made. Naturally taste testing was included. My favorite was an organge, lemon and candied mandarin gelato. The gelateria, called Gelateria David,  has been in the family for a few generations and has an owner who is currently married to a Sydney-sider. The good news is that he  is not only marketing savy (pancakes are known as the PanDavid) but he has plans to open up shop in Australia - exciting times ahead!! And yes, I did go back in the morning for brekkie and consumed a Pan David with chocolate, fresh fruit and gelato. Damn marketing gimmicks! Nevertheless, it has been one of the best brekkies so far, excluding the pastries in Venice. 

I can hear all of your thinking - "Are you now the side of a house Han?", "Your parents will be happy when you get home as it will be a celery diet for awhile..." Fortunately other activities have included a trek up Mt Vesuvius and a 6hr hike along "the walk of the gods" along the Amalfi coast finished off with a staircase of 1067 steps 🏀. So thankfully I still fit into my pants (let's just keep it on the hush that they are trackies). Back on track, I highly recommend taking the time to visit the ruins of Pompeii and have a guided tour to make sense out of all the rocks scattered around. Plus you get to go behind the scenes and take a trip to the Pompeii brothel where ceramics indicate the activities in each room - definitely stuff they didn't teach us in school. 

However, at the top of the list is the climb up Mt Vesuvius. The pure, untamed strength of the mountain still permeates the atmosphere and the plumes of smoke hissing out the side of the mountain, plus strong winds literally blowing the clouds straight past you make for one awesome experience. I did feel a little like Bridget Jones afterwards though as I literally had an afro by the time we got off the mountain.  We were also lucky as our guide, included in your ticket up the mountain, was explained to us as "the Casanova and ladies man of the tour guides available". It was a little contradictory given the wedding ring on his fourth finger. Nevertheless, Casanova didn't disappoint and delivered an interesting and fun tour. A pity about my hairstyle aye?! 

On a side note, we ate at Il Principe in Pompeii - a Michelin star restaurant that emulates food eaten by Pompeiins (yes I may have just made that word up- it may catch on), over 2000 years ago. I had some beautiful seafood with orange and asparagus followed by an amazing warm chocolate fondante with fresh fruit. The evening was made special as the owner, his wife, and their son all took turns to come out, explain the different dishes, the philosophy of the restaurant and the special events that they put on. So if you are ever out in Pompeii, head to Il Principe! 

The Intrepid tour soon drew to an end and it was tough to say goodbye to the new friends that had been made during the two short weeks we had been together, or even only one week in some cases. A few train rides later, I had made my way from Amalfi in Sourthern Italy to Nice, which is on the south coast of France. It was here that I rejoined the Bike Dreams Team to begin Le Boucheles Pyrenees. I arrived at Hotel Anis, aka Fawtly Towers, walked into the garage where all the cyclists we cleaning their bikes as was greeted with a very Australian "Oh bugger, you're back again!". It felt like I had come home. 

Till next time,
Ride safe, ride happy, ride in the moment

Han