Just Another Day Cycling Myanmar

They meant well with the name, but definitely not a classy hotel like the watch brand

I wake up at 5am, oh no.....somethings not right. I spend the next two hours going back and forth between the bathroom and my room at Hotel Rolex, which definitely didn't live up to it's name.  The food finally caught up with me! What was it? The water I got from the local ceramic pot, dinner last night even though I had actually splurged and gone to a proper restaurant with an menu in English? Maybe it was the ice that went in my sugar cane juice that I saw fall to the dusty ground and then get rinsed off with the stagnant water from the wash basin? It isn't until I'm an hour into my ride that I realize it was the fish salad from dinner, or at least that is what I keep repeating as I burp non-stop on my bike.

Diarrhea definitely wasn't in the plans today as I have a fairly big day ahead of me. I'm not at the most glamorous hotel so staying an extra day to rest is out of the question. In between my visits to the bathroom, I manage to sleep in until 7am. How on earth am I going to pedal if I go to the bathroom every 10 minutes? Breakfast is awaiting me in the lobby, but I can't even look at the food. I set off, determined I'm in good enough shape to make it.

The Ayeyarwady River is massive now in the dry season.  I can only imagine it's flooded banks during the rainy season

I had been traveling up the East side of the Ayeyarwady river, but today I wanted to explore the road on the west side. I've been told it is a good road. I cross an immense bridge, that spans two kilometers, a massive river indeed, as I'm sure it swells during the rainy season. I pass a police station on the other side of the river and I ask them for the road to Chauk. Little did I know I would be escorted by an “under cover” police throughout most of my day who magically appeared at every tricky road junction to guide the way. 

I love the police slogan in Myanmar,.....need you really ask?

My first escort starts just after the bridge with two young guys on a motorcycle. “Who is your country?” This is the question that everyone asks me. The people here are fascinate by tourists, a novelty and they always want to know their nationality.  I tell them Spain. I pedal for 10 km and they follow. The road is bumpy, just like all the other roads in this country but there seems to be less traffic on this side of the river. Just when I think I have lost them, I realize they were replaced by a solo under cover police. Again he asks, “What country?” Again I answer, Spain. I ask him a one word question, “Police?” The answer is obvious. He's a bit better at escorting than the first two and stays a good 300 meters behind me. 

My first police escort, very non-threatening gentlemen who laughed when I took their picture

I take in the scenery. Pagodas everywhere. I feel like I've already arrived at Bagan, but this is just what you see when you aren't on the tourist route in Myanmar.  Pagodas surround me old and new.  Where the old ones are crumbling and coming down, new ones are going up.  Along with the statues and decorative doorways and wall, I forget about my unsettled stomach which rumbles and turns at every divot in the road.  I stop and take photos, my escort stops as well, so I get a photo of him, and he takes one of me. How many people in Myanmar have a photo of me? A handful of policemen and many locals too!

The pagodas and ruins I stumbled upon

I continue on. This was not the best day to have a police escort. I need to stop every 20 minutes to go to the bathroom.  I should be embarrassed as I wave the toilet paper in the air, a universal symbol for toilet, except in SE Asia, where they don't really use it!   I usually try to stop every 40 kilometer for a snack, but today I need the extra sugar and fluid and stop after thirty.  I now have my third escort following me, a true tag team effort on the part of the Myanmar police. I skip the little town lined with shops and carry on to a smaller family establishment.  I prefer to support a rural family and their shop than one of the cafes that line a small town. I catch my escort off guard and take refuge in the shade. The family that runs the shop is also taken off guard by the foreigner who plops herself down and quickly drinks a glass of fresh sugar cane juice. When I leave, my escort isn't around.....but it only takes him a few minutes to find me on the road again. I put on my ipod to block out the constant hum of the motorcycle behind me and take my mind off of my currently state. Today is going to be a long day, I actually doubt I will make it, but I don't know my alternative..... My stomach is very unsettled and I have zero energy and even less motivation.

When I pulled over for pictures so did he and pretended to me engaged in conversation, although he broke into a smile when I took a picture of him

Thankfully I get wrapped up in my audiobook and before I know it I'm in another town.  I cross a police check point assuming there is no need to stop as they have me tightly controlled.  My assumption is incorrect and they come chasing after me on motorbikes. They are immigration officers. I apologize and give them my passport, which has also had a fair amount of photographs.  They copy down my details and of course ask me the ever so popular question that always gets an answer of disbelief.  Alone?  I nod.

I pedal on and to my surprise, I'm no longer escorted by a police officer. I've got some privacy, perfect for an emergency pit stop.  You aren't ever truly alone on these roads though.  Houses, farm stands, and villagers carrying on their daily tasks dot the road, as well as broken down vehicles who just couldn't hack the roads.  As I continue to pedal the road conditions worsen: No wider than a bike path with frequent patches of gravel.  Maybe this is why the police has given up on me?  The roads are so bad, that even the bridges are made out of wood rather than concrete. But to my surprise, there are still makeshift "toll booths" collecting a toll from time to time for cars and trucks to pay.

These bridges are tricky for me to maneuver, imagine for a truck.....

By this time I'm halfway through my day distance-wise, from what I can tell and I decide to stop again at the next town I see. I'm extremely dehydrated and need more sugar. I choose a store which looks promising.  There is a small fridge which I equate to cold drinks.  No one is in the store, but it doesn't stop me from opening fridge, only to find that it isn't plugged in.  The juice is in the freezer section which is as warm as the air outside.  At this point, I just appreciate the fact that it is wet and will quench my thirst.  A young girl comes as I point to the Lychee juice. I sit in the shade on the bench in front of the store and gulp down my juice. When I look up, there is a crowd in front of me. There are more to the side,....more by my bike. They are all just staring and talking, their eyes fixed with an incredibly curious face. I'm entertained by their presence and can't help taking a picture.  I go for a second juice, gesturing that it is really hot, but actually today isn't that warm, temperatures are in the low 30Cs (90F) and there isn't any humidity.

They were amazed with the automatic timer.....Notice the Barça jersey, ever present in SE Asia, anywhere!

I love this photo....notice my clean underwear hanging off my bag, they sure don't seem to notice.....

I say good-bye and continue to pedal.  At this point, my bum is rather numb, no matter how comfortable my Brooks saddle is, nothing can take on the pot holes and bumpy asphalt of Myanmar. I  consider myself lucky, it would be a much more painful ride for a man.  I would definitely refrain from cycling here if I were a young man and want to have kids some day.......

The road gets a bit better at the same time I notice my 4^th police escort who magically appears at an intersection to gesture me to turn left.  I wonder what was down the road to the right?  Today is not the day to explore.  I try not to look at my speed, knowing it will take another 3 hours before I'm in the town I've been told has a hotel, Chauk.

With 30 kilometers left, I stop at a cafe, and make my last pit stop and rid myself of my last police escort.  They don't like the local people to see them, they never stop to rest with me. Another warm juice, but the sugar does me well.  The homestretch is horrendously long with a steep climb, but the thought of a cold shower and rest keeps me motivated. I cross over the bridge and go back on the east side of the river and arrive in Chauk. Hopefully Chauk is like every other town in Myanmar with a hotel or two along the main drag so you never have to detour (and also contributes to a noisy room).   This time, however I don't find a hotel so I have to stop and ask. I am pointed in the direction and pull up at Dream II, with pictures of palm trees on the hotel sign. I ask the women if she has a room for one person, and she gestures no. What? You are full? No rooms? Then she uses the gesture I've learned here that means Sorry, I can't help you and it dawns on me, this hotel can't take foreigners. 

I ask for a hotel for foreigners and she tells me the name of Jessica Hotel and points me down the road. I carry on pedaling. By now I'm so exhausted I'd sleep on a park bench if I could find one. For a good 15 minutes, I try to find Jessica Hotel without success. I'm frustrated.  Where are my police escorts when you need them? They escorted me for about 80 kilometers today, but then abandoned me when I got to a city. Don't they care where I sleep?  Didn't they realize there were no hotels for foreigners in Chauk.  I give up and decide to pedal out of town looking for a pagoda. Within a few kilometers I ride by what seems to be a large monastery as there are a lot of small monks playing in the yard.

The head monk on the left who had his eyes fixed on me from the moment I rolled up.  His assistant on the right was ever so friendly

This man spoke the best of English and his wife was the one who cared for me so when I first arrived.

After a few other phone calls, some more men arrive. There continues to be a lot of silence and pondering the situation and then they tell me that I can stay. Relief sets in. I see a few men go off with blankets and a mosquito net to prepare my room while the main monk and a few other men who act as translators sit with me. They want to offer me a meal, but I lie and tell them I already ate. I can't imagine their response if I were to use charades and sound effects to describe my ailment.  Basic conversation and silence continues until they can see I can't stop yawning. The sun hasn't set, but they walk me over to a new building in the monastery, a huge new building, I should stay with a lonely bed, Buddha, and bathroom. Now more people arrive, children and other people from the neighborhood. Some monks are outside trying to get water hooked up to the bathroom, by running a hose to the ceiling and into the PVC pipes. It takes about a half hour and I just sit and watch. It's a community event preparing the room for the foreigner and they are so excited to have a visitor.  Now it's me who gets to stare at them.

Word travels fast at the monastery that a foreigner is present

My shower.  I'm super efficient with a pan and cold water

When everything is finally ready, they show me how to work the water, toilet and fans on the ceiling. A truly luxurious accommodation compared to budget hotels in Myanmar, and best of yet, it is peaceful outside. A few giggles from the curious monks substitute the sound of chaotic traffic and relentless horns. I realize, and appreciate, how lucky I am to be sleeping here. They leave me be, show me how to lock the door, and ask for my passport to copy. I comply and wash up. Cold water is the norm and I bathe myself in yet another cold bath that revives my energy.  It's 7:30 and I'm ready for bed when I hear a knocking at the door. I knew the people from the neighborhood were too curious not to come over. Outside a young mother and her two daughters come in. She wants me to pose with her daughters in a photo and then invites me to her home. Despite my exhaustion, of course I accept. The Burmese I meet seem to be craving interaction with foreigners, it amazes me! I should probably feel guilty for not staying at a proper guest house registered for foreigners, but instead I feel delighted because I know my presence for these people is very special and will be memorable, even if we can hardly communicate.

They love taking pictures with me and I give them my camera as well!

I walk with the young woman and her daughters to their house. The women explains to me that she works at a small shop and lives with her sister and mom. She is so excited to have me in her house you can see the pride in the expression on her face. I meet her other family members and we converse using very basic English. The other women and children from the monastery appear with their same jolly faces.  I'm content observing the situation. I do realize that there is something unique about traveling as a solo young woman, especially on a bike. Not only does it make for a natural bond among women in any country, there is an immediate respect and admiration that is exchanged by both parties. Traveling by bike breaks down any cultural barrier that might exist otherwise at the sight of a foreigner, washing away any sort of fear or threat between me and them.

Very thoughtful women and children

With fans on the ceiling and a mosquito net, and multiple plugs.....what more could you ask for?

Very politely a half hour later, they take me back to the monastery where a monk is waiting to let me in to my palace, at least that is what I called the giant room I occupy. As he opens the door, he gestures to me to pray to Buddha.  It's 9pm and I'm shattered. I set my alarm for 6:30am although I know I will be awakened before that to the sound of the morning prayer. Today is just another day on my bike pedaling,  although thankfully I rarely have the stomach issues.  I'm not 100% recuperated by any means, but I'm in the most peaceful of places and well looked after.  The monks once again have come to my rescue and the local people have showered me with their kindness. I can't ask for much more than that at the end of a long day's ride!   

The Wongwang Family: A Hidden Jewel

Sunset in Ban Pong Ho San

Once upon a time in a little village called Ban Pong Ho San there lived a family called the Wongwang family. This family was not small, indeed there were many different members: aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, grandchildren, and great grand children. Pisak, an inspiring artist was among them. He had moved away to Bangkok when he was young as many young Thais do to seek work. In the big city he found more than work, he met Au-sa, from Isan, a northeast province of Thailand, and also a young artist. The two fell in love and decided to move back to Ban Pong Ho San take care of Pisak's elderly parents and start a family of their own.

The village bridge in Ban Pong Ho San

Pisak had taught himself English as a young adult watching movies in English over and over again until he could understand them. He read books, looked at videos and TV on the internet, hungry for anything in English to improve his skills. When their first child, Nara, was born in 2008, Pisak decided to put in practice what he had read in a book, Parenting in Two Languages. He was determined to give his child a better life than he had and wanted to teach him English. And so Pisak decided to do as the book suggested, he would speak to Nara in English and expose his child to as much English as possible and the rest of his family would speak to him in Thai. Would this really work? He wasn't certain, but he had to try, it was the only opportunity for his son, Narah, to learn English.

The Wongwang family enjoying dinner

You see their village is so small that several years ago, the primary school that served the students closed down. Their is a one-room-school house in the village in place of the larger primary school but Au-sa and Pisak opted to homeschool their children, one of about 2,000 families in Thailand who also choose this type of education. Both Pisak and Au-sa are involved in Narah's education. They rely heavily on the internet for videos and website with English content. When Narah is five his baby sister Myda, is born and they also speak to her in English and Thai. Not having the opportunity to speak with natives, they aren't sure what sort of language proficiency their children really have, they are just eager to expose them to as much English as possible.

This Dad has a lot of love (and knowledge) to give

How did I stumble upon this family in a tiny village that isn't even on the map? Again, it is my faithful warmshowers network of hospitality for cyclists. Au-sa was eager to have “phalang” visit and come to her village from a cultural exchange point-of-view. A friend of her's mentioned warmshowers and not being a cyclist herself, although they frequently ride bikes around the village, she signed her family up, on January 2, 2015 to be precise. I ready their profile a couple of weeks later as I was traveling through the area. It read: “No smoke, no pets, peace full place Kakaiarts ceramic at garden, we have painting thai arts.” I chuckled! I should compile a list of the funny warmshower profiles I have read in non-English countries. Sometimes they scare me so, I wouldn't even think of contacting them, but then there are profiles like this, where I stop and reason. This is a new user, perhaps very proud of their house and eager to show foreigners a traditional Thai lifestyle, with limited English. Just because they can't speak perfect English doesn't mean I should disregard them as warmshowers hosts, afterall, their house was en route, and would make for a nice stopover.

I decide to write and I'm surprised when they respond. We work out the details via email, and they come pick me up in the city of Lampang, because they are unable to give me specific directions to their house. I can't help but form a mental image of what they are like; perhaps a very wealthy thai art collector. Maybe the husband cycles while the wife goes shopping? My mind is drifting and envisioning their house and decorations when I'm greeted by Au-Sa who waves from a pick-up. We were suppose to meet at the 7-eleven across from the bus station at 4pm. It is now 4:20, wouldn't you know there are two 7-elevens within 200 meters of each other at the bus station, but not visible from one to the other? Only in Thailand. He husband gets out of the truck and we load my bicycle in the back of the truck with buckets of paint and construction working gear. I speak slowly and use simple sentences and basic vocabulary, but their English is much better than portrayed in the WS profile, I'm shocked.

Narah playing Mindcraft, he's addicted!

We are off to pick up their son, and a baby daughter at home awaits. They inform me their son speaks English too. It is rare to meet a Thai adult who speaks English rather fluently, so I can't imagine a child. Narah is shy at first, but active. We pick him up from an after school learning center where he occasional goes while his parents run errands in town. We all pile in the pick-up truck and start driving home. I'm conversing with Pisak and Au-sa while Narah is in the back seat with me playing a video game on a tablet. I try to stay focused on my conversation with the couple, but I can't help but listen to Narah, who is narrating the entire video game in English using such natural English, you'd think I was sitting next to a little American boy. I listen intently, I can't believe what I'm witnessing. I comment out loud that I'm blown away by his English and his parents start to explain to me the way they have brought up their two children.

Myda, her name suits her well!

We arrive home and I meet little Myda. When asked how to pronounce her name, they told me to think of the “My Darling”, and truncate the word at Da. She is 2 years old and 4 months, she speaks clear English and answers all her dad's questions and talks to everyone in English, she even has a British accent that can be heard ever so slightly, especially when she calls for her “Mummy”. I'm speechless. Yes, I'm an educator and work with a lot of multi-lingual children, but they speak multiple languages because their parents have different mother tongues. They are also typically from elite families and have a wealth of resources and opportunities for their children. I've never witnessed bilingual children from parents who aren't native English speakers, not to mention who live in a small village in a third world developing country with few resources, including a spotty internet connection. Unbelievable!

Everyone is there to help, always.  It's an incredible family

Myda is so easily entertained and enjoys everyone's company

In Thailand, as witnessed in several other southeast Asian countries, they take the phrase, “It takes a village to raise a child” literally. Pisak has 2 other siblings in the village and their families as well as other extended family and all participate in their children's education and upbringing. One of Pisak's sisters was the English teacher at the village primary school before it closed and she also talks with the kids solely in English. Another one of Pisak's sister was a music teacher and sings songs with them frequently in English, even though her conversational English is limited. During my time with them, I see Myda spend time with a number of different relatives in all sorts of activities. Although it is hard to get Narah unglued from the internet and Mindcraft, when he isn't playing video games or watching youtube videos in English on Mindcraft strategy, he is in his Aunt's garden, drawing, playing by the river or paddling their boat in the river, or helping out the family with the ceramic factory.

Paddling a boat is a challenge with a language barrier and without facial contact!  Little did I know we weren't going anywhere, just collecting weeds for their pet rabbits

Pisak working on one of his paintings for the inside of a local temple

Yes, that is another coincidence. Pisak's family is incredibly artistic and so is Au-sa. Pisak is a freelance artist, he remodels old temples, is commissioned to make decorative paintings for their interiors, really, he is a “jack-of-all-trades”. He has a studio set-up at their house, which is also the corner store in the village. He works all day on the various projects he has taken on during the day, and at night, he paints trying to finish up the piece he has been commissioned to do recently. But he also finds time to be with his kids, teach them, and play with them. I stayed with his sister's family, the house across the street from theirs. Ampa, his older sister is a live wire and a creative soul as well. In fact, I'd say she's the Thai version of me, almost double my age. No sooner did I arrive, she gestured if she could try my bike, and off she set. Very few people dare to ride my bike, but she didn't hesitate for a minute. Au-sa told me to hop on her bike and follow her, and so I did, leading me to their property where they have both an organic farm, access to the river with a dock and boat, and a small ceramic factory.

Ampa has two hired workers helping with production

In the background you can see the pieces ready to go into the kiln

I was in heaven! Ceramics is my passion, and something I have been longing to get back into after my trip. Although they don' have potter wheels, they had plenty of slip cast dishes, and on day three I found myself decorating mugs and platters getting ready for the firing that would take place that evening. It was like a dream come true for me, my soul was dying for some sort of creative outlet and this was it!

I was so happy painting ceramics, Ampa caught me humming!

I was only going to stay a night or two at most, but in the end, before going to bed, I asked if I could stay one more day. They were all thrilled to have me. Ampa and her girlfriends gave me cooking lessons. I learned how to make Pad Thai, and Som Tam (papaya salad) as well as my favorite sweet treat, Caw Lam (sticky rice with coconut milk and beans) stuffed in a bamboo shoot. I discovered that Au-sa had always dreamed about making western cakes and sweet breads, and bought a small over and electric mixer, but was intimidated to try a recipe. Narah, on the other hand wasn't. He'd mix up concoctions and experiment in the kitchen and the microwave with his mixtures with an incredible sense of curiosity, which is why he was delighted to partake in the baking demonstration. They took me to a baking store in Lampang and I was shocked to see all my faovrite ingredients, cocoa powder, yeast, baking powder, and every type of flour imaginable. They even had McCormick spices imported from the United States and I was able to get cinnamon. We baked consecutive nights so that Au-sa had the recipe down and could make it on her own. They were intrigued by the western sweets I saw each pan pass through the hands of anyone and everyone who entered their store, yet I couldn't keep my hands off the sweet sticky rice in bamboo shoots! I refuse to take responsibility for introducing Ban Pong Ho San to these sweet treats.

Making cinnamon rolls

I simply watched over as they made banana bread

Oh the food! It was ever so tasty and endless. I would wake up and there was a feast waiting for me on the table from noodles and pork soup to grilled catfish. It seemed like we had just finished breakfast when it was time for lunch! Ampa took my comment about loving Som Tam literally, and papaya salad appeared at every meal! I also participated in a Thai barbeque which involved going shopping for massive quantity of groceries at Makro, the European/Asian version of Costco, but this one obviously was “Thai style”. I participated in the grocery shopping and felt like my Warmshowers guests Raimon and Ma Joana when they visited me and stepped foot inside Costco for the first time. In Thailand, customers pick out the meat they want, collect the shrimp themselves, making westerners and their shopping habits of being served, seem so sterile and uneventful. After visiting so many local fresh markets, I wondered why anyone would go to Makro for food, but then again, globalization is a world phenomenon!

Buying seafood like this would not fly in the western world!

It was quite tedious to fill each shoot with sticky rice, and to think it sells for 60 cents a shoot!

Ampa stuffing the bamboo with sticky rice

Making Pad Thai, I wrote this recipe down for future reference, I will call it "Ampa's Pad Thai"

A typical Thai BBQ

Overwhelmed by all the delicious food!

My days in Ban Pong Ho San were action packed from visiting temples, sightseeing in Lampang, and tasting strawberries on a farm, a novelty in the area. It seemed every time I sat down in their store for a bit of a break, a neighbor from the village showed up, eager to talk with me and practice their English. Kim was ever so sweet and showed up in a football Barcelona jersey and ended up joining Au-sa and I baking, and on another occasion a young monk sat down and conversed a bit. Here I was always taken back by their presence on the streets in the morning, curious about their daily life and here was a 13 year-old monk in training seated in front of me, eager to know what I was doing in his village. I also met Ed, a friend of Au-sa and Pisak who ran a motorbike mechanic workshop and was famous in the area for his skills. He was an avid cyclist so on two different mornings he took me for a ride around on the most incredible peaceful back roads at sunrise. One morning I also went on a long ride on my own, craving a bit more of activity and some “me time”, not to mention I had to make room for all the food they were feeding me. There is an impressive network of roads around their village and the great metropolis area of Lampang and I road effortlessly for a 100 kilometers or so one morning with little to no traffic and plenty of scenery.

Sunrise outside of Ban Pong Ho San.  The red is from the field burning and fires in the area unfortuntaely

My loyal guide for two morning rides

We even had time to give offerings to the monk before riding

Let's just say, I felt right at home with Au-sa and Pisak's family. I could have stayed for weeks or a month with this gem of a family. It was almost eery just how much I had in common with them and shared similar values and perspectives on life, a family hundreds of thousands of kilometers from where I grew up. A family with a huge heart, making the most of all their resources, living a very simple yet fulfilling life in a tiny village in Northern Thailand. Again, my trip has showed me that things just happen for a reason, and some things are just meant to be and completely out of our control.

Simply adorable little kids

I had a hard time leaving their house after 4 nights and 5 delightful days. I gained an incredible amount of insight into the Thai culture and experienced plenty of daily life that felt so natural and welcoming. Something tells me I'll be back.......and I'm sure other Warmshowers guests will be through, we rewrote their profile to reflect who they really are!

Their corner shop and house in Ban Pong Ho San 

Leaving the village on the back roads

Withdrawal

I miss this!!!!

And nights like these......

I've been home for about 10 days now and I'm trying to settle in, but I have to admit I'm going stir crazy. People wondered how I pedaled 70 miles a day for 14 months and admired my energy, but I don't understand how they don't want to get on a bike and pedal all day. Some friends of mine were joking, suggesting that I organize a bikers anonymous group to cope with the withdrawal symptoms I'm experiencing. Laugh. Call me crazy, but it's a serious problem! Bike touring, like any addiction, becomes a lifestyle, something you live and breathe daily. A physical and mental dependency developed during the months I spent pedaling and now that I'm out of the saddle, I'm experiencing withdrawal symptoms that are ironically similar to someone who suffers from a physical addiction such as alcohol or smoking.

First ride on my brand new road bike, Barcelona 2009. little did I know what I was getting myself into.....

I'm what you might call a bikeaholic. I have always enjoyed being outdoors and riding a bike, but it became more or a serious habit when I turned 30 and bought my first road bike. At first, I just rode my bike on Saturday mornings with my bike club; 80 to 100 kilometers (50 to 60 miles) up or down the coast near Barcelona. Then I started riding my bike more often, going out both weekend days for longer and longer rides. When that wasn't enough, I would ride my road bike to work, and when the bell rang at the end of the day, I'd quickly change in my gear and hurry out after my students had left to go ride in the foothills on the outskirts of Barcelona. On the weekends, I found myself getting up earlier and earlier to go out for rides. When other people my age were stumbling back from night clubs drunk, I was decked out in my bike kit with flashing lights headed out with the gang from CC Gracia to explore yet another gorgeous region of Catalunya on two wheels. Then I started signing up for races, not just one or two, but sometimes three or four a season. These weren't casual race, but Gran Fondos. 150+ kilometer races that took me over mountain ranges, through vineyard valleys on backroads where we hardly ever encountered traffic for 6 to 8 hours until we crossed the finish line.

Puertos de Ribagorça Gran Fondo, Spain 2011.

Quebrantahuesos Gran Fondo, Spain/France 2012

The best summer job I ever landed, ride leading for Thomson Bike Tours

I thought I was hooked back then, but then in the fall of 2013, my habit became even more serious and I discovered I had a real addiction. I started cycling around the world, riding 100 to 130 kilometers (60 to 80 miles) daily, day after day, with little rest, eager to hop back on my saddle every morning. My body adapted beautifully, although I did take an occasional rest day, I was the happiest in motion pedaling. As if pedaling an average of 2,500 kilometers (1,500 miles) a month wasn't enough, I was carrying an extra 45 kg (100 lbs). Sometimes I would go days without finding a grocery store or taking a shower and weeks without saying more than a few words in my native language. Even with the harsh weather in Alaska when temperatures dropped below freezing, I didn't want to stop cycling. When temperatures got as hot as 109F (43C) in the deserts of North American and the rain forests of Malaysia, I sweat so much I was drinking at least 12 liters (3,5 gallons) of water a day, but I continued to pedal. The headwinds were demoralizing at times impeding my progress and a few cold damp descents brought tears on the verge of hypothermia, but I never gave up. Five years after buying my first bike, I can't stop pedaling! I'm hooked. I'm the happiest person in the world on a bike saddle.

I'd go back to the Ha Giang province in Vietnam in a heart beat 

Happy to be going downhill after a month of pedaling in the mountains of Vietnam and N. Laos

But look at me now. All of a sudden I'm out of the saddle and I don't know what to do with myself. I've had 14 months of time to think about my life after this trip, but obviously I didn't. What on earth did I do for so many months on a bike? What went through my head? I don't know!?!? I pedaled a bike day after day, for 417 days and most of the time I had no idea where I would end up at the end of the day. But I never actually felt lost, not like I do now. You could say I'm experiencing a type of culture shock, only it is magnified with an abrupt lifestyle change as well. I feel like a foreigner in my own hometown, a complete stranger around family and friends unable to relate to my present surroundings. Yet I've been here before, I know this place, it's not new, in fact it should be familiar, but I've changed and I'm at a total loss for figuring out how and where I fit in. I could have ended my trip back in Barcelona and I'd have the same feelings upon arrival. I pedaled from place to place, dropping in to observe and experience the lives of other people, their daily routines, their normal everyday life and all of a sudden I've been thrown in to this “normal” life.

How did I not see this coming? Didn't I think the transition would be rough? It never really occurred to me, I guess. Perhaps it was the fact I was so focused on the moment and living in the present I didn't realize the implications of transitioning into life after you pedal around the world on a bike. I was (and am) excited to see family and friends, sleep in my own bed, but it didn't dawn on me that my reality and feelings would shift so dramatically, making me feel nostalgic, sad, out of place, and sometimes numb.

Even with the world worst road construction, I was happy!

Tell us a story Melissa......We want to hear about your trip, they say. But where do I even begin? I struggle to share and describe the experiences I had in the past year and express how my perspective on the world and my outlook on life has changed. I still visit schools because I miss the classroom. I've had several dinner dates and met up with friends and followers. I enjoy their company and appreciate their interest in my trip. I show them videos and pictures, but I find myself looking on nostalgically, my mind flooding with memories and all of a sudden I'm all choked up and have to hold back the tears. I look at myself in the pictures from my trip and I radiate happiness. But now that I'm home and no longer pedaling, I don't have the same glow and strangely, I feel lost and lonely.

Visiting familiar classrooms, my old high school and high school teacher, Josh Hamill

More classroom visits in Eugene, The Oak Hill School

Can you honestly tell me you were never lonely on your trip? A friend of mine from Barcelona asked upon my arrival. I paused, thought for a moment and answered truthfully, “Never!” Lonely? That word is similar to “bored” in my vocabulary, it is obsolete. How could I get lonely? I never had time to feel lonely. There was always something or somebody around me to stimulate my interests, ignite my curiosity, and fascinate me. I took up random strangers on their offers to have dinner, I let the locals guide me around their town, explored a night market on my own......I was writing blog posts, reading other cyclist's blogs, researching my route, or catching up with family and friends. As I've expressed before, I often found myself needing more down time, more time to just be, absorb my surroundings, and reflect.

Walking around exploring a town in Northern Loas, I joined a local game of volleyball

This same friend from Barcelona who asked me if I was lonely criticized my decision to ride around the world initially. “Only weird people go off on their bike for a year!” he remarked. Maybe he's right, maybe bike tourers are weird, but I don't know any different. Bike touring isn't for everyone, but I am proud to be part of this weird yet global group of society. Now that I'm back, I find myself reaching out to people who've been on similar trips, who share a passion to bike tour. I continue to read other cyclist's blogs so that I can pedal vicariously through them and reminisce together with someone who understands.

I'd meet a few other tour cyclists now and again and we'd share our stories and laugh a lot

I knew myself so well on the bike and now I feel as though I've lost my identity, like I have to start from scratch now that I've been thrown in to a world that feels weird to me! I don't have the patience to go through an identity crisis right now, not after being so happy and at peace with myself just a few weeks back. I like the person I've become after pedaling a bike 14 months, around the world, solo. I've gained confidence and perspective. I have a very clear idea of who I am, what makes me tick, and my vision for the future. The bike has brought out the best in me and now the true challenge will be how to maintain these ideals as I try to integrate into a “normal” world and lifestyle that feels so foreign. The problem is, my idea or a “normal” is so different than the majority of the world, that unless I'm around others who understand or share my values, I do feel alone.

Remember Ly Peng and family?? They took me in just north of Phnom Phen when I had no where else to stay

Instead of facing reality, I continue dreaming. I've been gifted some great books since I've been back, but I can't seem to put down my current reading material: A map of the world. Every night I climb into bed and open it up and start ponder the places I want to go. I look at all the different land out there calling my name just waiting to be explored and the ideas spin in my head. After dozing and nodding off a bit, with the map in my hand, I surrender and turn off the light and go to bed. Ideas continue to spin in my head with the lights off and I have trouble sleeping. This never happened on the bike. It might sound crazy, but when I don't pedal for 6 to 7 hours, I don't exhaust my energy and my body doesn't recognize the need to rest and sleep.

I'm not asking for pity. Believe me, I do acknowledge that I had the most incredible and awesome experience during the last 14 months. As my Dad always says, “Life is a series of choices.” I never understood what he meant by this phrase but now I do and you know what?!?! I'm pretty damn pleased with the choices I've made in my life, especially in the last year and a half. Therefore, I have no doubt that I will continue to make good choices, even if it is difficult, I'm certain I've gained the strength to make decisions that will make me happy. Unfortunately, it all seems like a big blur right now. I managed to do a huge purge upon my arrival and clean out my room at my parent's home. Living out of four panniers makes it really easy to come home and get rid of a lot of extra an unnecessary belongings, thankfully. Shortly, I head east to compete in the New York marathon, the perfect activity that allows me to disconnect and let my mind wander. I'll visit friends and family and see familiar places. Sooner or later I think it will come to me; what it is I want to do in the upcoming year. I have a lot of followers telling me they miss following my trip and reading my blog and believe me, I miss it too! Something tells me I'll be on the road again sooner rather than later......