The bicycling itself was quite easy. I had already practiced a bit here on Paros, so I knew what it was like to ride 70km on a bicycle weighing 50 kilos. I had ridden up and down hills already on the treacherously questionable roads of Paros. Imagine my joy at the roads of Ireland–smooth, well-paved, clean and, until I reached County Antrim, free of potholes. So riding 50-80 km a day on the bike was not difficult. The hills and “mountains” of Counties Cork, Kerry, Galway, etc…not so tough. What was difficult was Day #4, when I woke up and realized I had to ride another day. And then Day #5 when I was resigned to my fate. After that I rarely thought about where I was going or how far I needed to ride that day. I had established my routine. When it was raining I packed up the tent and rode in the rain. There was no other choice. As I remarked to someone in Donegal Town, “If I didn’t ride in the rain I’d still be in Cork City.”

And it rained a lot. Sometimes three times a day. Mostly on me. I got wet. I didn’t melt. I dried out. I rode the kilometres I needed to and then I was done. I saw some beautiful sights–dramatic cliffs all along the coasts; sudden bursts of sunlight that made the landscape glisten and sparkle jewel-like…it’s all there. You can have it. I have learned there is no need for me to return. Rain is one thing, but every day, twice, thrice a day…no thank you. Such was the learning curve. You’ll have to pay me to go back. And that old saying about “the soft Irish rain…” Bullshit. It’s rain.

I missed Greece every day. I missed the food, the people, the climate. The food in Ireland is alright. Not great, really, yet ideal for the weather that one is forced to endure. Heavy, thick stuff, devoid of fresh produce (except potatoes). Mussels cooked in milk (yuck!), a severe lack of garlic and tomatoes that would be best used to repair dry-wall. I missed the heat of summer, the boiled-honey sun glazing the earth in late July through August, the din of the cicadas. By the 2/3 mark, the rain was not so much an obstacle but rather a tedious bore, a meteorological raconteur drawing out the same dull tale. I doubt the temperature ever rose above 22C while I was there. I missed the 35-40C days here on Paros. I missed the people I know, I missed my friends, my parea. This was the learning curve I traveled.

I enjoyed the long-distance bike tour. I enjoyed the hills, the distances. But I knew that going in. I had researched enough before hand and was prepared regarding gear. Everything I brought with me, I used. My kit was sound: waterproof, windproof, serviceable, warm and dry. My Dawes Karakum was the right bike for the job and I enjoyed riding it. I brought it home with me to Paros where I use it throughout the week. I am already looking at next year’s ride. I will stay in Greece, a country I love and in actuality have seen very little. I will ride in May so I don’t miss my summer heat and early morning swims. I will ride for a month because I can ride 2000km in that time. I will ride into the mountains northwest of Athens, to Corfu. Then east through the Pindus to Ioannina and Meteora. South to Trikala…these will be the places I visit. It will rain some but that’s ok. I won’t melt. But I will never leave home.

–JDCM

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I am appalled by the behaviour of the current US President and his smarmy,  creepy entourage.  His European trip is finished (probably his only trip here) and he acted poorly–immature, arrogant–the worst kind of visitor.  I am not the only one to be shocked and amazed at his ignorant, insulting and banal actions.  We have all read the news.  We have all seen the clips.  I am not going to link to anything.  I am appalled and disturbed to know that there are people in the US who believe this kind of behaviour is acceptable.  Educated, well-read, professionals who feel that this is how an American President should act.  I even know some of these folks.  How ashamed I am to be connected to the US at times like these.  Phew!  Enough of that…

I have been invited to show some of my work in a small group exhibit in September.  It will be in Hudson, New York and the woman who is organizing the event asked me to send a few pieces.  I have 7 new prints from the darkroom and will send an additional 6 from previous shows that I already have matted and framed.  A Baker’s Dozen of b/w darkroom work, some of Greece and some of the area where the show will be held.  I will price them well and my instructions to her are to not send any of them back!

I have decided I need an agent to sell me and my work.  I cannot do it well.  Other people see things in my work that I do not and are better at that kind of ‘retail’ mentality.  So I will ask around.  It needn’t be a full time job or even the first and last agent I have.  Just someone to get the process off the ground.

I competed in the 7th Round of Paros bicycle race last Sunday and I did very well.  The morning was perfect for the race, with light breezes from the north, sun and clouds.   In short, not too hot.  I was able to ride the 61km course in 2:31:45, which is a 6 minute improvement over my best time on the same route.  I placed 59th out of 99 bikes and 12th out of 18 in my age-group.  I am happy with these numbers.  Now I begin working towards the 40km mountain bike race on Paros towards the end of September which will be  gruelling.  Plus, the sea is wonderful so there is swimming every day.  In fact, I hope to do both–bike and swim–as soon as I post this missive.

I have begun yoga.  Odd…yoga has been around my life for so many years, people urging me to try it and all that.  I think my mind and heart were not ready.  There was too much I had to let go of before I could open up and do it.  Death, tumultuous change, perceived uprooting…On the surface it is allowing me to stretch muscles that I have been using in a way that actually stretches them.  I have discovered that those calisthenics and stretches I learned in high school were mostly wrong and don’t really stretch anything at all.  Deeper inside..I don’t know.  I have only taken three classes (once a week) so I’ll let you know what rises to the surface.  I know that I have moved on from where I was.

Uphill and off the saddle in Kostas

–JDCM

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The final kilometer…photo by Dimitris Chaniotis

The end…photo by Robert Van der Most

The times are here…

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B4PyrkQmGFMMVy1TYjlDVVR2aE51TEM4a1lBWGFVUnk4eWMw/view

–JDCM

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