People and places. But mainly People
Trip Start Aug 18, 2006
149Trip End Ongoing
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girl cycling to australia met in Vienna wombat hostel:
welsh guys who bought me drinks in Bratislava jazz bar:
93 MAES TALLEN
email@example.com (the young one)
Ilona Nudelman (isreali met at jazz bar in brussels)
roby81.fostwebnet.lt = guy in dorm in sleepwell in brusels
Sati Sekhon = brit met in grand place, brussels
girl who was getting the car share to dresden and gave details for emergency
K. hauser. Grossenhainer Str 53
simonett hummell and uwe kutsche - from campfire near dresden
Petra Drapsince 104
firstname.lastname@example.org - ozzie i went round belgrade with
A4053 Howl Ansfelotem
Wasserwerk Str 26a
Nefeleges Ut 31 Floor 1 Apt. 1
Welsh chick recommended:
Cat on a hot tin roof
Ivo Andric: Bridge on the driva
Dylon Thomas: The Force That Through The Green Fuse
matty - email@example.com (not sure. think Brasov)
jody cleaver (melbourne) firstname.lastname@example.org (think Brasov)
executive coach and family met in brasov (half polish half english)
email@example.com (girl on bus back to sunny beach?)
The next two days were characterised principally by the riding, which I
probably havn't mentioned in as much detail as you might expect given
that it's almost all I do. Things have changed somewhat since those
exhausting 50km rides in the first month, as you might have noticed.
It's been a while since I was last overtaken by and old farmer towing a
sack of potatos. That said, it's not changing speed that has really
increased my daily distances, but developing stamina. I typically rode
from 8am until around 5pm without stopping during this leg, in order to
arrive in Istanbul on the appointed day. This wasn't ideal, since it
meant my first meal of the day was usually dinner, and it shouldn't
have been necessary, given that for much of the time I was following
the Danube I could ride 100km in under 6hours. The mistake I made was
thinking that following the coastline would be similarly accomodating
terrain. Since roads can't be built on beaches, the logic that the
coastline is by definition at sea-level proved... misleading. Hacking
up hills being significantly slower than cruising along level tarmac, I
had to work harder to make the distances I'd set myself, hence the
marathon days. From now on, i'm going to follow rivers as often as
Of course the weather can have a huge effect on
-my changing ability
-the changing terrain
-gloves and helmet (and the claw)
-inverted travel (more time between than in, arrive late and leave early)
No escort until 10km from temple, cops insist on putting bike in van. look round temple. dinner.
No escort from temple, after delay, but from road to assyut, following me. Police guard in Assyut, so didn't see much of the not much there is to see. history of Assyut.
Assyut - police guard but next morning leave me to go alone.
No cops. Coptic houseboat and nice cafe. V. tired.
Half built hotel, quiet evening again, long, slow ride to cairo, finally finding campsite in dark and pitching tent for first time since hungary
A review: (250words.)
City Of Djinns, by William Dalrymple, dramatised by Dreamtheatre, Indira Ghandi National Centre for the Arts, New Delhi
A combination of travelogue and historical research, characterized by an eye for architectural nuance and dry, understated charm, City of Djinns is an unusual book to see adapted for the stage. Dreamtheatre admit in their promotional leaflet that anyone they told about the project called it 'undoable'. Last night, I'm sorry to report, the naysayers were finally proved... right. This adaptation was fettered by frankly unwise adherence to the form and chronology of a text that relies on the narration of the central character; and plods through the months of the year, while the imagination of the narrator dances at random through the epochs of Delhi's history. The consequence was that the production felt more like a reading with actors performing certain scenes for the hard of hearing.
The stage was impressive, using the sandstone monument in the IG centre to represent the famous locations of Delhi, but lacked the versatility to distinguish between them. Consequently Tom Alter, playing Dalrymple, had to vocalise 'I climbed a rickety ladder', one of many lines from the book that have no place in a play. Alter must be exhausted, appearing nonstop for three hours of inappropriate but necessarily overstated whooping and running every night, evoking the Delhi wedding season in under 20seconds (Partition gets five minutes). This challenge compounded by having to direct and adlib on the hop, as none of the other cast members appear to have attended rehearsals. Who can blame him for fluffing his own lines from time to time?
I feel a bit mean, since there isn't much in the way of professional theater in this neck of the woods, so basically they just bit off more than anyone can chew. I do hope they make more productions and get better.