No, not lazy writing, just happy living every day of my trip...

Yesterday have been 3 weeks since I left Bucharest and I’m on my last day (out of 3) in Warsaw heading tomorrow for Gdansk and the polish lakes district on my way to Vilnius. I wish I would have written more, made more pictures but the time seems so very short and the things to do, see, feel, think about, almost infinite. There are places where I would have just sat and contemplated the view for days and people I’ve met I would have spent so much more time with, but I’m on a journey and leaving a place for another is how it’s done, and I still haven’t acquired the art of ancient oriental masters who had space and time in their grasp and could be in more places at the same time...

Is there yet a first important idea, lesson or conclusion that these first 3 weeks offered me? Yes, I have learned that nature in itself is beautiful and impressive absolutely everywhere, majestic mountains, rolling hills or ever-stretching plains. Beside this, what people inhabiting it have been and continue doing in and with it carries exceptional influence on how one relates to and remembers a place or another. In other words the nature of this world is wonderful but it is in conjunction with the particular cultures of every region that it gives us the entire magnificent gift of living in it and having the unique chance to discover it.

The Hungarian, Czech or Polish flatlands that I have crossed might not be as impressive as the breathtaking Alps but their rich and almost endless green, undulating hills and sense of tranquility stir no less a lasting emotion in the traveler. The major differences in perceiving and relating to a place are determined by the contacts with it’s inhabitants and the way they exist in their own environment. The aspect of villages, the cultural heritage of the cities (large or small), the attitude and expression on people’s faces make the difference in the way we ultimately perceive places. Here we can also discern a very fine balanced mix between the cultural heritage of a place, usually to be discovered in stone and metal, i.e. in it’s monuments and buildings, and it’s living spirit that comes out by the more or less silent concert of it’s people. The way they dress, walk, look around and at others around them, greet strangers or their neighbors, deal with side effects of every community (poverty, trash, the public/private space dialog), what they dress, eat and what (and how much) they drink, are just some things building up to one’s personal experience of a place.

On these grounds and despite the mythology about people of the two countries not being to friendly to each other (well, at least in Romania it is believed that Hungarians are not friendly to us...) I was most impressed in such a good way by Hungary among the former East European countries I have been through by now (Czech Rep. and Poland). The Czechs might be more “joyful” and the Poles more ... well, I don’t precisely know how they are yet as I have some conflicting impressions, but the Hungarians are the more “stylish”, more elitist and somehow more fancy of them. I also don’t by what determination, collective effort or general behavior they manage too keep a country more clean than you might ever expect in Eastern Europe. I haven’t seen for tens if not hundreds of miles a plastic bottle or any other kind of trash on the side of a city or country road. It really doesn’t feel like the East as in Czechia or Poland, where although both very nice and burdened with history, the “clean” aspect does not seem to be of prime importance or of much interest to their people. Not that they are filthy in any way, but the places just don’t have the "shine" they have in Hungary. What to mention about my home country in this respect? Any comparison with any of them would put us to very much shame...

But after the rather long time since I last posted and the countries I have been through already I am tempted to write too much so I’ll stop here, as abrupt as it is, and come back later with more crystallized thoughts and impressions, but not before making a short note of praise to my beemer: Almost 9.000km on the clock and not even a single glitch! I love this bike.

First ride of the year

Lured by the welcoming spring light and decent temperature (cca. 10oC) last week on Saturday I finally decided to take out of it’s winter shelter my trusted travel companion. The GS’s engine purred into motion at the first push of the starter, after, in the most rigorous German style, completed all the preliminary checks accompanied by soft “shirrs” and flashing symbols and lights in the instruments console. I felt it happy to come out of the 5 month or so retirement, even though the place it wintered was cozy and some furniture and a couple of bicycles kept it company.

Trying to avoid the havoc brought to our roads by the upcoming NATO summit, I headed east, cutting through a rather strong and annoying north wind, on my way to the sea. I don’t know if being an Aquarius has something to do with this but I always loved and felt almost happy for no other apparent reason than being close to a large water surface. Be it large lake, wide river, inner sea or mighty ocean, wide stretches of water had a soothing and exalting effect on me. So, NATO summit induced road blocks or not, it was almost obvious that my instincts would take me on the first trip of the year to the sea shore, so let me stop blaming all on politics.

The entire morning was under the “take it easy” disposition so by not rushing anything, around 11am I was waving my way out of the city. Not even 50km into the trip a car that drove behind me for the last 5 minutes or so while we were both doing about 150km/h, went past me so I could see on the front passenger’s seat the wife of a buddy who since I told him about the journey I will embark on insisted I shouldn’t leave before introducing him to my new bike, as he didn’t had the chance to see yet. So here were two good things: by chance I had the opportunity to show the guy my Beemer and also got to stick the iPod’s headphones in my ears before putting my helmet back on. So I waved them to stop (as they could not possibly recognize me under the full face ski mask I was wearing under the helmet and sun visor) and we had a few pleasant moments on the side of the road, time I tried to act cool about their (otherwise well deserved) praise of the bike

Because I mentioned helmets, I have to point out that this was also the first time I wore my new Schuberth C2 helmet. I have read good things about the brand as well as the model, I asked on a couple of forums for experiences of other people with the device and finally decided it was worth the rather steep investment because let me tell you, this “shell” does not come cheap. But if someone expects quality one has also be prepared to pay for it and this helmet is nothing less than first grade motorcycling equipment. I’m not saying that the roar of the air rushing past your head (helmet) is not one of the thrills of riding, but when this is going on for a certain number of hours, the whole thing becomes more painful than thrilling or pleasant. And I talk out of personal experience here as my former Caberg helmet, otherwise a decent city piece of equipment, the moment was taken on the open road and exposed to speeds exceeding 80-100km/h turned into a savage roar like noise producing contraption, no matter how well I was trying to hide behind the windshield. So yes, if someone contemplates doing some motorcycle traveling, he/she better save on some less critical stuff and invest in a good helmet. At the end of a riding day, the clear, non-pounding head as a result of good protection from continuous (strong) wind noise is worth every penny.

Come to think of it, actually all the gear I wore on this trip was band new… what a poser I am… no, just kidding, you wouldn’t catch me dead with this kind of show-off . It just happened that in view of the trip I bought lately all sort of stuff that now I had the chance to try out in actual riding conditions. The leather touring Daytona boots, the nice RST part leather part cordura pants, the Rev’It wind proof under-jacket, the very good Fourigan touring jacket and even the black and yellow Axo gloves, were all crystal new. And as much as I try to avoid sounding self-sufficient, they all performed incredibly well. Good for me as this means that all the years I have been riding have taught me a thing or two about spotting and choosing good riding gear.

But let me get back to the trip. After about 250km, a little less than 3 1/2 hours riding and some fierce AC/DC keeping me company, I was there, facing the sea in the warm glow of the afternoon sun scattering on the white crests of the rolling waves. Hands a bit cold as the temperature at sea shore was about 7oC but thrilled by the ride, I parked the Beemer just next to the beach and sat on a curb just enjoying the sight of my bike projected on the backdrop of the sea. I was happy again. See for yourselves why…

The First Beem Of A New Dawn

What a more appropriate moment to join the ranks of world traveling beemsters than the one you realize sheer speed is not all there is to motorcycle riding?
I haven't always thought that but my early days on a motorbike did not had the support of the technology to tackle the realm of speed, at least as it is today perceived by Japanese or Italian supersport or superbike motorcycles owners. Let me give you a clue: after numerous bicycles and a moped, my first two wheeled vehicle with an engine, clutch and proper gear box, was a locally produced, two strokes, 49ccm, contraption called Mobra (from “mo”-torcycles and “bra”-sov, the city where the factory was). The first winter we had together was spent in the house, in my room at the first floor of my grandparents house, where I hauled it with the help of a mate almost as intoxicated with motorbikes as I was… well, you have to keep in mind I was only 17 so give me a break. The Mobra with it’s minuscule bore had to slug around about 80!, yes, 80kg (about 175lbs) of it’s own weight plus the 55-60kg teenager I was, and could still do, in almost ideal conditions I have to admit, up to 70km/h (43mph), which please believe me, is not much on a straight line but when you take it to the bends with rubbers having the fiction index of a wet weasel, can be quite a challenge. For the rest of the time spent riding it, one could just enjoy the scenery at a very safe pace. After it, more 2 strokes, bigger bores (250ccm the most) eastern block (czech and east german) motorcycles followed but none took me to warp speeds the modern big bore bikes did in the last years. But enough with the paleontology of my motorcycling days. I will put this link though if someone is curious to see how the dear old Mobra looked like (not mine unfortunately as I was less keen on keeping visual records at that time): Mobra

So yes, on the 28th August 2007, I got hold of my first ever BMW motorcycle. It's a yellow 1200GS that I simply have fallen in love with at a test drive two weeks before that date... I had to have this bike! It looks big and sluggish but once in motion it feels incredible nimble and willing to follow your every whim... well, except maybe the one of going fast, but this is or should be no surprise from a BMW boxer engine, enduro-touring motorcycle. And you also have to consider that my last set of 2 wheels was an R1 Yamaha than really could fly. I felt in awe about how the beemer handled but was totally unimpressed when I twisted the gas open... it felt like I forgot to turn the engine on. So I very fast organized a joint ride with a mate who got hold of his, exact same model, few days before, in order to switch bikes and see if there was something wrong with this actual piece or this is just how these things work. It was a great relief to notice that his bike – it was in the break-in period, mind you – was even more sluggish than mine who had 2000km (1250ml) on the clock. So that it was: I knew the bike does not go fast... but it didn’t matter, I was hooked.