"Interiors" are some poems by Rande Mack, that arrived at my e-mail box at christmas time. I met Rande and his family on this journey,in the small village of Manhattan, Montana, on my way to the rocky mountains, and had the pleasure to be his guest in his house.
Thank you Rande, even if my life at the moment is more a "outdoors" one, its always inspiring reading,and I would like to share it with everyone...
Nuno
"Interiors"
inside a man is a room filled with corners
on sleepless nights he searches this room for sleep
on many nights the quest is the best he can do
inside this room the intersections of lives accumulate
illuminate coagulate conjugate disintegrate into
what could and what should and what wide eyed is
inside a man is a sky demanding horizons
under wispy certainties he improvises revelations
grateful that a sky can fit in the soul of a man
inside the distance beyond horizons a mumble of thunder
sometimes a man dissolves in his own weather
unable to shelter both longing and what’s left of his faith
inside a man is a pond reflecting constellations
incarnations of timeless possibilities shimmering
in the simple wakes of moon boned migrations
inside the pond is a river yearning to tumble and bend
with galaxies of slippery iotas chasing its current
as shadows of vanished seasons settle slowly to the bottom
inside a man is a toolbox filled with eternity
his angel of wrenches almost tightens convictions
trues the wobble and fine tunes the fictions
inside the toolbox a prayer for every sort of consternation
dimensions to gauge the cusp of every consequence
the sharpest tools sheathed between layers of sure things
inside a man is the fruit and the root
an orchard built with hatchets and spades
a thicket concealing his ancestral nest
inside the nest is a seed undigested by generations
a pebble never splattered by any clatter of light
a glint of hope winking from the gone of what’s missing
inside a man is furthermore fashioned from doubt
a shelf on which to place his best now on
a thin curtain to keep the fading of the day out
inside every little bit of letting go a reaching
believing bleaching reasons shrouded in every man
the paradox of echoes returning the irretrievable
Rande Mack
2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
3 Iberian ciclists in Hollywood (USA)
Dia 134
Km 9210
That morning I woke up decided to continue my journey south. I was already 8 days in San Francisco, and even if I was enjoying the town atmosphere and the break in the saddle, it was time to move on. I still had 17000 kms in front of me, and hundreds of other towns to visit. I had my bike in the entrance hall of the tortoise hostel, through the glass door I could see the rain falling outside. I put the 4 panniers on the bike, the sleeping bad in between the saddle and the metallic support, and the brand new tent that I bought the previous day ( the one I had had the zips broken, the fabric was tearing apart and one of the poles was broken) and tight all together with 2 elastic cords.
My panniers represent a bit the way I travel on this journey. The 2 front panniers are the organized and tidy Nuno. On it I have all my cloths well packed and folded, my books: a travel journal, a note book, a guide to the USA, a field book of plants and animals north America, a mini-atlas of the world a log book where I register all the daily mileages altitudes etc, and several maps. As if it was not enough weight, I added to the load a brand new guide to Mexico, the size of a bible and with the absurd weight of more then a kilogram. On the front panniers also travel my inflatable mattress, a pair of solar panels and a bag meticulously kept, full with flyer's, Cd's and small kids books and other stuff from the special children of APPC-Leiria, to give away once I enter the Latin America. On the front panniers, I found easily what I´m looking for.
The rear panniers are the disorganized and chaotic Nuno, on them I have my kitchen that includes a petrol stove pans pots and plates, condiments, etc. Spare parts travel next to groceries, or the fishing gear next to the water filter. Amongst other travel equipment I carry also a hammock, that I expect to use as a bed between 2 trees further south when the temperatures rise a bit. a sewing kit, cables and ropes, I-pod and speakers, and a small piece of wood with Our Lady of Fatima carved on it, that my mother insisted on me to bring as a protection to the difficulties of the life on the road. Everything floats between the 2 panniers and I always have trouble to found what I´m looking for.
I verify that everything is well tight together, and climb the stairs of the hostel and leave the keys with the receptionist. The Internet was free in the hostel, so I decided to check my e-mail for one last time. I received an e-mail from Sheila.that e-mail would help me to decide on the rest of my itinerary in the United States. Sheila was an young American cyclist from Pennsylvania that I met in a state park 2 weeks ago in north California. She had spend 9 years of military service. 4 in a military academy, plus 5 years of service in the US coast guard, and after a summer spent in Alaska guiding bike tours, decided to release the rigid discipline of so many years of service, by riding her bike along the entire west coast of the USA. She was in San Francisco and invited me to ride with her until San Diego, where she would finish her solo cycling journey. I took the panniers of my bike and climbed the stairs once again, and payed the surprised receptionist for one more night. After all is was raining outside and what would be another day amongst a few hundred?
At 7am Sheila was knocking at the door of my room. It was a beautiful day and the exit of San Francisco was made without any fuss and at a good pace. That afternoon, already on highway 1, that follows the sea shore, we had 5 flat tires. Me 2 and Sheila 3. Next day Sheila had 3 more. Could it be that together we emitted some sort of negative energy? Or was it a bad karma, because I said that the schwalbe marathon tires are the best for cycling road trips? whatever the explanation for so many punctures in such short period of time, Sheila decided to change the tires of her bike for two specialized armadillo, in the next town of Santa Cruz.
The days that followed, it was a pleasure to ride along the "Big Sur", an area between Monterrey and Cambria, where the highway 1 twists along the high cliffs with the surf crashing against the shore, and offering spectacular views.
We stop for lunch on the side of the road by a grocery store. Across the road was a church of the "Christian scientists". Throughout every village and town I cycled in the States, regardless how small the community is, there is always the choice of 4 or 5 churchs from different beliefs. Almost every religion in the world is represented here. And some of the born here, like the Jehovah followers, the Adventists of the seventh day, the Amish, Mormons, and the Christian scientists.
Cristian fundamentalism is an American phenomenon, which makes people in other countries suspect that Americans can´t be that sophisticated. Fundamentalism is found in other parts of the world, like the Jewish occupation of the Palestine or in certain fanatic Islamic sects, but it always seems surprising to found it in a modern country like the united states. Maybe Americans are so religious because their country is simply too big complicated and violent, and the only way to combat that alienation is to join a local church to feel part of smaller and save community. American are amongst the highly educated people on earth, superb literature, unrivaled scientific inventions, great thinkers in every academic field. But why don´t they educate themselves to learn about the rest of the world??
Its easy to the rest of us to became annoyed with the American ignorance, specially when their foreign policies affect the entire world. Most the American I´ve met, don´t fit this image. The average American may be ignorant in world geography, but when on holidays in Lisbon, he doesn´t advertise his ignorance at 15 decibels in the "Monosteiro dos jeronimos". To avoid embarrassing situations, some times, I add the word "Europe" to Portugal, this, after people positioned Portugal in all the world´s continents except Oceania. On the following day by causality, we met again Bernardo and Diego in Morro Bay state park. We traveled the 4 of us for the rest of my stay in the United States.
Days later we arrived at Santa Monica. One of the 88 satellite cities of the mega-metropolis of Los Angeles.
Waiting for us was Cassandra, Laura and Xavier, our young hosts that would show us around LA in the 4 days we stayed there. The house where we stayed was situated in one of the rich quarters of the city-beach of Santa Monica, and belonged to Betty Lucier, the grandmother of Cassandra. An American with 82 years old, but with an energy to envy many, and with a very interesting life. Author of the book "Amid my alien corn", Lucier had been spy in Madrid during the cold war. In one of the shelves of her great library was a french edition of Mario Soares´s book "Le Portugal baillonne". Our young hosts where all recently graduated in cinema, and trying their luck in the cinematographic jungle of Hollywood. They participated in the technical team of a horror movie (that will be called 30 griffin lane), the filming had finished and the director was offering a cocktail party at his house, and we where invited!!
I dressed my best attire: my mountain boots, a pair of army trousers, which the original green had turned yellowish by the sun and that I didn´t wash for several weeks, an orange t-shirt, clean, but a bit rugged, and a grey and black wind proof sleeveless jacket, with a big red stamp on the right side saying "wind-proof", which I thought it could be mistaken by the label of an unknown brand of a Milan boutique. I felt a bit uncomfortable as we entered the house situated in a "in" area of Long Beach, on the outskirts of LA... But the delicious free buffet in the garden, and the bar stocked with every sort of booze, put me More at ease in no time. And it didn´t take long for all the guest to know of the presence of 3 adventure (and beard) cyclist from the Iberian peninsula. After the 3th Scottish whiskey, I found myself involved in a entertaining conversation with the assistant of the director while, Diego was dancing with 2 of the actress in the lounge and Bernardo was talking with the camera man. On the good Iberian style, we where the last ones to leave the party, and with the cinematographic adrenaline reaching our heads, we went with our hosts to Hollywood boulevard for more drinks....
On the fourth day, still intoxicated by the atmosphere of LA, we set sail again cycling all day long without leaving the gigantic city of LA (12 million), and spend the night, ironically, in Long beach. On the following morning we met up with Sheila again, that had stayed with some friends nearby.
The roughly 250 kms that separated LA and San Diego, where the least interesting of my itinerary in the states. City after city of luxurious Maisons, roads with heavy traffic and pollution. Some times, bike paths along the sea shore,took us trough small and picturesque villages,and would alleviate the felling of cycling on a continuous city for 3 days. At a certain point we left the main road and followed a bike path that took us to the "camp pendleton US marine corps". The naval base was an authentic city with restaurants, shops, supermarkets, shopping centers and condominiums for the troops. Cyclist where authorised to cross it to run away from the heavy traffic of the main roads. They asked us for ID and ordered us to wear the helmet (probably the first time Bernardo used his in the states, if not at all!). We would have passed without any difficulty, if it wasn´t the brilliant idea of Diego to start filming. Sheila had to interfere showing her military ID and by making herself responsible for us, and because she was of a greater rank, inhibited us of any trouble.
San Diego is just a few kms from the Mexican town of Tijuana. On the other side of the border is the peninsula of baja California, my next leg on this journey south. It will be about 1500 kms to La Paz at the other end of the peninsula, trou white sandy beaches and blue sea. But in between is the dry and arid desert of Baja, where I will spend Christmas and new year.
Even after 4 and 1/2 months on the road, I feel very excited with the passage to the Latin world, and with the feeling that this trip is just about to begin...
Nuno Brilhanre Pedrosa, in San Diego, California, USA
Km 9210
That morning I woke up decided to continue my journey south. I was already 8 days in San Francisco, and even if I was enjoying the town atmosphere and the break in the saddle, it was time to move on. I still had 17000 kms in front of me, and hundreds of other towns to visit. I had my bike in the entrance hall of the tortoise hostel, through the glass door I could see the rain falling outside. I put the 4 panniers on the bike, the sleeping bad in between the saddle and the metallic support, and the brand new tent that I bought the previous day ( the one I had had the zips broken, the fabric was tearing apart and one of the poles was broken) and tight all together with 2 elastic cords.
My panniers represent a bit the way I travel on this journey. The 2 front panniers are the organized and tidy Nuno. On it I have all my cloths well packed and folded, my books: a travel journal, a note book, a guide to the USA, a field book of plants and animals north America, a mini-atlas of the world a log book where I register all the daily mileages altitudes etc, and several maps. As if it was not enough weight, I added to the load a brand new guide to Mexico, the size of a bible and with the absurd weight of more then a kilogram. On the front panniers also travel my inflatable mattress, a pair of solar panels and a bag meticulously kept, full with flyer's, Cd's and small kids books and other stuff from the special children of APPC-Leiria, to give away once I enter the Latin America. On the front panniers, I found easily what I´m looking for.
The rear panniers are the disorganized and chaotic Nuno, on them I have my kitchen that includes a petrol stove pans pots and plates, condiments, etc. Spare parts travel next to groceries, or the fishing gear next to the water filter. Amongst other travel equipment I carry also a hammock, that I expect to use as a bed between 2 trees further south when the temperatures rise a bit. a sewing kit, cables and ropes, I-pod and speakers, and a small piece of wood with Our Lady of Fatima carved on it, that my mother insisted on me to bring as a protection to the difficulties of the life on the road. Everything floats between the 2 panniers and I always have trouble to found what I´m looking for.
I verify that everything is well tight together, and climb the stairs of the hostel and leave the keys with the receptionist. The Internet was free in the hostel, so I decided to check my e-mail for one last time. I received an e-mail from Sheila.that e-mail would help me to decide on the rest of my itinerary in the United States. Sheila was an young American cyclist from Pennsylvania that I met in a state park 2 weeks ago in north California. She had spend 9 years of military service. 4 in a military academy, plus 5 years of service in the US coast guard, and after a summer spent in Alaska guiding bike tours, decided to release the rigid discipline of so many years of service, by riding her bike along the entire west coast of the USA. She was in San Francisco and invited me to ride with her until San Diego, where she would finish her solo cycling journey. I took the panniers of my bike and climbed the stairs once again, and payed the surprised receptionist for one more night. After all is was raining outside and what would be another day amongst a few hundred?
At 7am Sheila was knocking at the door of my room. It was a beautiful day and the exit of San Francisco was made without any fuss and at a good pace. That afternoon, already on highway 1, that follows the sea shore, we had 5 flat tires. Me 2 and Sheila 3. Next day Sheila had 3 more. Could it be that together we emitted some sort of negative energy? Or was it a bad karma, because I said that the schwalbe marathon tires are the best for cycling road trips? whatever the explanation for so many punctures in such short period of time, Sheila decided to change the tires of her bike for two specialized armadillo, in the next town of Santa Cruz.
The days that followed, it was a pleasure to ride along the "Big Sur", an area between Monterrey and Cambria, where the highway 1 twists along the high cliffs with the surf crashing against the shore, and offering spectacular views.
We stop for lunch on the side of the road by a grocery store. Across the road was a church of the "Christian scientists". Throughout every village and town I cycled in the States, regardless how small the community is, there is always the choice of 4 or 5 churchs from different beliefs. Almost every religion in the world is represented here. And some of the born here, like the Jehovah followers, the Adventists of the seventh day, the Amish, Mormons, and the Christian scientists.
Cristian fundamentalism is an American phenomenon, which makes people in other countries suspect that Americans can´t be that sophisticated. Fundamentalism is found in other parts of the world, like the Jewish occupation of the Palestine or in certain fanatic Islamic sects, but it always seems surprising to found it in a modern country like the united states. Maybe Americans are so religious because their country is simply too big complicated and violent, and the only way to combat that alienation is to join a local church to feel part of smaller and save community. American are amongst the highly educated people on earth, superb literature, unrivaled scientific inventions, great thinkers in every academic field. But why don´t they educate themselves to learn about the rest of the world??
Its easy to the rest of us to became annoyed with the American ignorance, specially when their foreign policies affect the entire world. Most the American I´ve met, don´t fit this image. The average American may be ignorant in world geography, but when on holidays in Lisbon, he doesn´t advertise his ignorance at 15 decibels in the "Monosteiro dos jeronimos". To avoid embarrassing situations, some times, I add the word "Europe" to Portugal, this, after people positioned Portugal in all the world´s continents except Oceania. On the following day by causality, we met again Bernardo and Diego in Morro Bay state park. We traveled the 4 of us for the rest of my stay in the United States.
Days later we arrived at Santa Monica. One of the 88 satellite cities of the mega-metropolis of Los Angeles.
Waiting for us was Cassandra, Laura and Xavier, our young hosts that would show us around LA in the 4 days we stayed there. The house where we stayed was situated in one of the rich quarters of the city-beach of Santa Monica, and belonged to Betty Lucier, the grandmother of Cassandra. An American with 82 years old, but with an energy to envy many, and with a very interesting life. Author of the book "Amid my alien corn", Lucier had been spy in Madrid during the cold war. In one of the shelves of her great library was a french edition of Mario Soares´s book "Le Portugal baillonne". Our young hosts where all recently graduated in cinema, and trying their luck in the cinematographic jungle of Hollywood. They participated in the technical team of a horror movie (that will be called 30 griffin lane), the filming had finished and the director was offering a cocktail party at his house, and we where invited!!
I dressed my best attire: my mountain boots, a pair of army trousers, which the original green had turned yellowish by the sun and that I didn´t wash for several weeks, an orange t-shirt, clean, but a bit rugged, and a grey and black wind proof sleeveless jacket, with a big red stamp on the right side saying "wind-proof", which I thought it could be mistaken by the label of an unknown brand of a Milan boutique. I felt a bit uncomfortable as we entered the house situated in a "in" area of Long Beach, on the outskirts of LA... But the delicious free buffet in the garden, and the bar stocked with every sort of booze, put me More at ease in no time. And it didn´t take long for all the guest to know of the presence of 3 adventure (and beard) cyclist from the Iberian peninsula. After the 3th Scottish whiskey, I found myself involved in a entertaining conversation with the assistant of the director while, Diego was dancing with 2 of the actress in the lounge and Bernardo was talking with the camera man. On the good Iberian style, we where the last ones to leave the party, and with the cinematographic adrenaline reaching our heads, we went with our hosts to Hollywood boulevard for more drinks....
On the fourth day, still intoxicated by the atmosphere of LA, we set sail again cycling all day long without leaving the gigantic city of LA (12 million), and spend the night, ironically, in Long beach. On the following morning we met up with Sheila again, that had stayed with some friends nearby.
The roughly 250 kms that separated LA and San Diego, where the least interesting of my itinerary in the states. City after city of luxurious Maisons, roads with heavy traffic and pollution. Some times, bike paths along the sea shore,took us trough small and picturesque villages,and would alleviate the felling of cycling on a continuous city for 3 days. At a certain point we left the main road and followed a bike path that took us to the "camp pendleton US marine corps". The naval base was an authentic city with restaurants, shops, supermarkets, shopping centers and condominiums for the troops. Cyclist where authorised to cross it to run away from the heavy traffic of the main roads. They asked us for ID and ordered us to wear the helmet (probably the first time Bernardo used his in the states, if not at all!). We would have passed without any difficulty, if it wasn´t the brilliant idea of Diego to start filming. Sheila had to interfere showing her military ID and by making herself responsible for us, and because she was of a greater rank, inhibited us of any trouble.
San Diego is just a few kms from the Mexican town of Tijuana. On the other side of the border is the peninsula of baja California, my next leg on this journey south. It will be about 1500 kms to La Paz at the other end of the peninsula, trou white sandy beaches and blue sea. But in between is the dry and arid desert of Baja, where I will spend Christmas and new year.
Even after 4 and 1/2 months on the road, I feel very excited with the passage to the Latin world, and with the feeling that this trip is just about to begin...
Nuno Brilhanre Pedrosa, in San Diego, California, USA
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