From Rags to Riches in Myanmar

Rural life in Myanmar, their river is their bath and the place to wash clothes, and also provides them with food and water for crops.

From rags to riches, that is exactly what I witnessed as I made my way down to Yangon and the beaches of central Myanmar. I would say that during my travels in Myanmar, 70% of my time was spent on the backroads surrounded by rural villages and countryside. Here, life is very primitive and simple (hence I used the title “rags”) but that does not mean that they lack happiness in their daily life. Actually I'd argue the opposite. Village life witnessed from the side of the road and through my interaction might be titled as extreme poverty with few resources on which to live, but it was in these areas that I felt the most comfortable as a traveler because of the genuine heart filled personality of the locals.

Village houses in rural Myanmar

A grouping of houses by the main road

The bridge to a few houses on the other side of a canal.

Despite their very meager conditions, villagers in Myanmar always seemed happy and content with the bare minimum. And when I say refer to the bare minimum, that is even a bit of a stretch. Houses are nothing more than a roof, some without walls, others with only three walls and are as small as 3 or 4 square meters.  Privacy is a luxury, beds the floor unless they have a foldable mattress or some sort of bamboo pad.  Roofs made out of dried banana and palm leaves, raised on stilts if they are lucky to survive the wet season. It was common to encounter people here bathing in the streams or at a public water hole, which might be as simple as a big barrel of water and a bucket to be shared by all the people in the vicinity. Most families found a way to convert their living quarters into some sort of a business selling snacks or beverages, anything they could to make a little money. Close by was some sort of crop growing that they would all cultivate, probably one of the only sources of income for the people.

In a nut shell, the character of many Burmese is similar to this little girl

In the mountains from Inle Lake to the new capital city of Nay Pyi Taw, I had trouble finding a restaurant. Small shops were scattered along the way, but a proper tea house with green tea and meals were hard to come by. One morning I had to pedal 20 miles before I found a shop with tea I could drink to warm up in the crisp mountain air. This is unusual for SE Asia where food and drink is normally in abundance. Resources in the mountains in Myanmar were limited, making it feel as though I was really off the beaten track experiencing rural village life, which accounts for a good majority of the lives of people in Myanmar. As a tourist in rural Myanmar, they were always so curious regarding my presence, but never once treated me poorly. Never once did it dawn on them that I was a tourist and therefore they should treat me differently, charge me more, or take advantage of me in any other way. They were always willing to help me, even if it involved a lot of giggling.

No food stalls lining these mountain roads

Many of the remote landscapes in Myanmar's mountains

In rural Myanmar I was fascinated to observe their daily lives and have a profound respect for them. Survival is their objective as they are completely reliant on their own efforts in order to meet their daily needs. They build their houses by hand, they grow all their vegetables that they eat. Meat, I'm sure is a commodity but comes from the few chickens and pigs you seem roaming around freely. They might have a water buffalo to help with the efforts, but if not, they carry everything with their own bare hands, many times balancing things on their heads, or strapping heavy bags over their heads. If the road needs to be repaired, it is done all by hand. That means they gather the rocks, spread them out on the ground, level them with hand tools, and burn the barrels of tar that is then spread over the rocks. There are no bulldozers, no trucks, everything is done by hand. Witnessing their daily efforts were humbling. Their day is consumed doing everything in order to maintain a sustainable life up in the mountains. With few resources they depend completely on themselves, their family, and other village members.

A barrier to avoid mud slides, all done by hand

Road works, all done by hand

My company on the rural roads

Needless to say, I was in shock when I arrived in more developed areas, especially the new capital city of Nay Pyi Taw. About five years ago, the government decided to move Myanmar's capital from Yangon to Nay Pyi Taw, because of the more central location. Perhaps it is central geographically but the hub of activity remains in Yangon. My jaw dropped as I witnessed immaculate newly constructed 10 lane highways, skyscrapers, and infrastructure such as expo centers that looked as if they could accommodate events of many thousands of people. Oddly enough, the city is deserted with few inhabitants. I was repulsed by what I witnessed imagining the money and time that was spent to move the capital to Nay Pyi Taw, after observing the poverty conditions in rural villages. Just stop and thing about the money and effort that would be involved if all of a sudden the United States decided to move our capital from Washington DC to let's say somewhere central like Wichita, Kansas? With the money spent on the new capital the Myanmar government could have invested in the country's basic education system or improved the network of rural roads using the proper technology and machinery. It was appalling to witness and the reason why I chose hop on a night bus rather than spend the night and contribute to this economy.

Nay Pyi Taw, an empty capital

A empty massive highway, think it was an over kill?

Government buildings

Having cycled up the western central plains of Myanmar, I bused myself down to Yangon and cycled through the delta to the beach destination of Ngwe Saung, where I was also in for more surprises. In central and northern Myanmar there are a total of 3 beach destinations, one being for middle class locals and the other two for rich Yangonites and foreigners. I headed to the upper class beach because from the description of a 13 miles pristine stretch of beach with virtually no inhabitants, I thought I would find plenty of places to camp. Boy was I in for a surprise when I discovered that the entire stretch of beach basically belonged to a huge hotel compound and all the property was carefully gated and strictly patrolled. I cycled to the very end of the beach strip where the road turned to sand, and found myself among all the local village people who probably worked at the hotels. Their huts and houses were scattered everywhere and there wasn't one place I could put my tent and go under the radar. My plan back-fired as again I found myself surrounded by the “riches” of Myanmar.  Luckily I found a "resort" that would let me put my tent in the back corner of their property for a meager price, using their bucket shower to wash-up.

Definitely a tourist hub!

This is what the locals spend their time doing at the beach, taking photos of themselves

The average price of the beach resorts in Ngwe Saung go for about 80 dollars a night all the way up to 300 USD, and to tell you the truth, the amount of western foreigners is outnumbered by far by the locals. SUV after SUV with a Yangon license plate passed me on the road to the beach, which again blew my mind: the disparity between the rich and the poor in this country. It blows my mind as there is such an extreme spectrum. Here I had spent so much time up in rural Myanmar observing their simple and minimal lifestyle and now I was surrounded by extreme wealth among the very wealthy burmese. Here I had eaten three meals a day for under 2 dollars and at the beach, I couldn't even buy a fruit shake for 2 dollars. Amazing! Hence the title of this blog, from rags to riches.  Unlike western beach destinations, you won't find towels or people bathing in the sun on the sandy beaches.  No, the Burmese don't go to the beach to do that, they go there to take pictures, a status symbol, that let's others know they were there.  A few men were in the water in bathing suits, and the women that dares entered did so fully clothed or in a bathing suit that was completely covered up.  The sun was so intense on the beach during the middle of the day that everyone retreats to their resort for shade.  I found myself on a beach chair under an umbrella completely alone, which was absolutely delightful! 

The abandoned beach

Believe it or not, I can sit still, for an hour or so

My visit to Ngwe Saung prepared me for my visit to Yangon or Rangoon, as it was once called, the former capital of Myanmar. I'm glad I waited until the end of my trip to see Yangon, because, where as some people would see it as the norm for life in Myanmar, rural village life had become the norm and Yangon was something out of the ordinary. A bustling big city, that was actually quite calm and pleasant compared to other southeast Asian capitals such as Phnom Pehn, Bangkok, and Ho Chi Minh. For one, motorcycles are prohibited so traffic consists of a sea of taxis, buses, and bike taxis, making it easier to navigate than motor scooters. I also arrived on a Sunday and the following day was a bank holiday, so I think the city was calm in comparison to other days of the week. There was an ever-present essence of colonialism with the decrepit colonial style buildings that looked as if they hadn't been restored since they were built 200 years prior. Also remarkably noticeable is the confluence of cultures and religions all sharing the same city. There is an eclectic mix of Chinese, Indians, Myanmar, and a few westerners, and therefore on the same street you see a pagoda, there is also a Hindu temple, a cathedral around the corner, and a Chinese temple across the street. Yangon reminded me a bit of Penang or other cities in Malaysia with the cultural diversity and amicable relationship between all it's inhabitants.

Market goers, evidence of Yangon's cultural diversity 

A woman setting up her market stand, impeccably organized

A Hindu temple in the city center

A Mosque behind the ruins of another building in Yangon

An old colonial buildings in Yangon 

I'm not a fan of big cities and only scheduled a day and a half to visit. The noise, crowds, and traffic usually deter me, but Yangon was a pleasant surprise. I found a quiet guesthouse in Chinatown and found the downtown area easy to navigate. Even the main Schwedagon Pagoda is accessible by foot, making it a very friendly city to do on foot. Hands down the most enjoyable part of my visit was the food. I had no idea that Yangon is a foodie hub. With all the different ethnic groups it's no wonder. Basically my day and half here involved eating my way through the different neighborhoods trying anything and everything that I saw on the street. I would have needed an extra week if not month to do justice to the exquisite culinary offerings in the city, and I'm only talking about those that you find on the street food carts.......

Schwedagon pagoda, the main attraction in Yangon for tourists

The night market that lines the streets of downtown Yangon

With my visit to Yangon, my bike tour in Myanmar came to a close. I have thoroughly enjoyed biking this country even considering the more difficult circumstances involved with accommodation, the suspicious police, and the controlling government. I've developed a new appeal for traveling in a more undeveloped tourist destination making for more of a challenge and a memorable adventure. The daily life I witnessed in Myanmar is humbling. I have an incredible amount of respect for the Burmese, their work ethic, and their daily routine. After my month here, I'm again reminded about the perspective I gained after many months and kilometers traveling on a bike. I need very little in order to be happy and my standards and expectations are so low, that happiness comes from the most simple things in life and this, in my opinion, is priceless. Maybe you'd say I live like a poor person, especially traveling through Myanmar, but so be it! I prefer to experience a country as a local rather than as a king, pampering myself with frivolous amenities. I'm the happiest of people drinking a cup of milky tea and eating a fried pastry for a total of 30 cents. Dare I tell you the three souvenirs I bought? A burmese lunch box, the ingredients to make pickled tea leaf salad, my staple here in Myanmar, and their milky tea in sachets!

Stay tuned for a few more blog posts on Myanmar featuring their food, my accommodations in Myanmar, and a photo documentation of the country.   

The Homestretch: From Portland to Eugene

I left Portland to go to Eugene on bike, an odd feeling indeed since I always travel by car or train back and forth between the two cities. I could have easily made the trip in a day and a half, but again, stubborn me, wanted to time my arrival with my birthday, forcing me to take the more leisurely route.

There is a lot of gorgeous countryside on the outskirts of Portland that makes for nice riding

Since I wasn't worried about making good time, I decided to try out the bike path network to get out of the city. Portland, like Seattle, is very bike friendly with designated streets for cyclists, bike route signs posted on all corners, and a large network of paths. However, my theory for bike paths continues to hold true after my experience in Portland. Navigating the maze of bike paths feels a lot like a scavenger hunt, without the prize or treasure at the end, except arriving at your destination. I wish that cities would have some sort of secret cyclists, like the concept of secret shoppers that test out a bike path and evaluate just how easy and efficient they are to navigate. You have to be very focused and aware of the different signs directing you to turn left or continue straight and I have to admit, at this point in my trip, I spend a lot of time day dreaming in motion, impossible to hold a train of thought for more than two minutes. Therefore I'm a disaster when it come to navigating bike paths and hence I arrived an hour late to meet my friend south of Portland. A mere 12 miles took me 2 hours, due to a lot of wrong turns and my inability to follow the signs.

Molly and her two girls Lily and Olive

Molly is one of my friends who I've stayed in touch with since high school. She and I were two of the four “Fro's” in my close knit group of friends. We called ourselves the “Fros” because of our blonde curly curly hair that was simply out of control and wild at a time when curly hair was really not in! Molly and I were also tennis doubles partners in high school and we both have an incredible amount of energy and always on the go. Although she is now married and has two adorable girls, she hasn't aged a bit since high school. We might not see each other for a year or two, but it is always refreshing to catch up when I'm home. She and the girls brought me lunch and a cupcake to celebrate my birthday and we had a nice time together at a park just south of Portland.

Farm land close to Mollala, Oregon

Lots of farms and barns, some in better conditions than others

From there I kept pedaling south, taking the more scenic route to avoid major roads and found myself surrounded by a lot of farmland on rolling terrain. The colors were absolutely beautiful and so was the weather making the ride incredibly peaceful. I stopped off at a vegetable market to pick up some fresh fruit, the prices were unbelievably cheap and there were all sorts of apple varieties from local farms, which were impossible to pass up even though I only had two days left on the road. I had lightened my load in Portland, hence a bit of added weight didn't make much difference.

Alyssa, Jen, and myself

I arrived to Hubbard, Oregon where I stayed with a friend from my Master's program at OSU, Jen and her husband, Ben. Alyssa from our program also came up to have dinner together and it was fun to catch up and hear about teaching in the United States. Both work at bilingual schools and teach in dual immersion programs, which is something I would eventually like to do, teach Spanish that is. Jen and Ben are also avid outdoor enthusiasts and go to Alaska almost every summer to fish. I loved hearing about their fishing experiences and was pretty much convinced by the end of my stay that I should work a fishing season up in Alaska to replenish my back account. Of course I'd have to get past the whole sea sickness thing, and not showering for a week, but I think I could manage.

The next morning I set out bright and early when Jen left for school, pedaling to Corvallis, except that it wasn't bright at all as the entire Willamette Valley was socked in with fog. When the fog started to burn off, two hours later, it made for the most beautiful morning with colors so rich and deep it reminded me of dusk. Again, I lucked out with another delightful sunny day. I made such good time and only had to ride 60 miles, so I stopped at McDonalds in Salem in order to do a blog post. 

When the morning fog burned off, it was actually a gorgeous day

One thing I'm going to miss after this trip are my McDonalds pit stops. I have visited McDonalds all over the world. They are a fascinating place to people watch and it is very interesting to compare McDonalds globally. Did you know that the ice cream cones at McDonlalds in the United States are the most expensive in the world? All other countries I have visited have ice cream cones for less than a dollar and most hover right around 50 cents. Wireless connections at McDonalds were the best in Asia where it is not uncommon to find groups of friends getting together to stream and watch entire feature length films after ordering a burger. One of the only advantages to Macca's (as they call them down under) in the US is that they are open 24 hours, not to mention they are the place to be if you are 65+ (or a tour cyclist looking for free wifi) to have your morning coffee and meet friends. I suppose if I was desperate to find a safe place to pitch my tent, I could have done so in a McDonald's parking lot! Surprisingly, the quality of coffee at McDonalds is on par with a Starbucks and prices are a dollar or two cheaper!

From Salem, I had several different route options, all which eventually took me over the Willamette river and into Corvallis. I opted for the ferry, never having experienced a river ferry in Oregon. The Buena Vista ferry is truly unique. It crosses the Willamette river close to Independence running on a cable across the river. The whole journey takes all but 5 minutes, but it was quite an adrenaline rush and a time saver compared to navigating a lot of back roads to find a bridge that crosses the river. It is open all year except for Christmas and Thanksgiving from 7am to 7pm. I find it fascinating that someone mans the ferry all day long despite having such low volume traffic. I was the only passenger to make the journey and there weren't any cars waiting on the other side. Basically it runs for anyone, at any time, to accommodate traffic in both directions. For foot passengers it is free, bikes cost a dollar, and cars range in price from 3 to 9 dollars.

I had a good laugh at all the warning signs in order to board the ferry

I am the VIP passenger, the only one!

It dropped me off on the west side of the river where I pretty much cycled alone on the roads all the way down to Corvallis. Before arriving at my host for the evening I visited with the mom of one of my high school friends, Jacque. Basically all the people I know my age in Eugene have left, so when I come home I try to see their parents and enjoy catching up with them. Jacque travels to Corvallis frequently so it worked out perfectly to meet up with her there, even though she would be at my house the following day.

Tons of pumpkin patches, if they didn't weigh so much I would have taken a few

Flat rural riding on the outskirts of Corvallis

In Corvallis I stayed with a university professor from my Master's program Ken, and his wife, Melinda, both in the education field and global travelers. I feel right at home with Warmshowers host, but also people who share my interests, which is why I enjoyed my visit with the Winograds. We had a lot of stories to tell from our travels and had a lot of fun talking. They made me a delicious meal and a yummy dessert, pumpkin pie cheesecake. Pumpkin is up there on the list with beef jerky, of foods I miss living abroad. I'm guaranteed to scarf down any recipe with pumpkin as an ingredient, which explains going back for seconds with Melinda's cheesecake. In the morning they both wished me happy birthday and Ken gifted me with his latest book, Critical Literacy with Young Learners which I can't wait to read to help integrate back into the world of teaching.

Kindergartners at Franklin Elementary singing Happy Birthday in Corvallis

A geography presentation at Linus Pauling Middle School in Corvallis

That morning I visited Melinda's kindergarten class, where the students sang “Happy Birthday” and then I went over to the dual immersion program and spoke with the sixth graders at Linus Pauling. I started pedaling south to Eugene in the late morning with cloudy skies. Soon the clouds started spitting down rain and I knew that I was going to be accompanied by rain the entire ride to Eugene. I knew this was going to happen, and being wet didn't bother me one bit! I came to accept that symbolically the rain represented the tears of joy for my arrival, or was it my inner soul crying out in sadness now that I had nowhere else to pedal! I'm always an optimist, but I think the tears were both of sorrow and excitement representative of how I felt as I pedaled the last miles.

The clouds in the Willamette valley are truly unique. There isn't one specific cloud that passes over and dumps water on you, rather it is a blanket of grayness that hoovers low in the air for hours spitting out droplets of water that eventually create enough rain to make you wet. I do admit the rural countryside is still pleasant to observe, even in the rain!

I had some time to spare on the way home, so I stopped for lunch 20 miles north or Eugene, and again to make some phone calls 5 miles north of the city limits. I still had time to buy before my 4:30 arrival, so I went to a local grocery store in Eugene and changed into dry clothes. I know, that is cheating and after pedaling around the world, I should have been able to hack being wet and cold a few minutes longer, but I longed to be warm and dry for my arrival.

I made it to Eugene, soaked but ecstatic

What was going through my head as I pedaled the last few miles? How did I feel? The rain magnified my desire to be home. I was chuckling to myself, thinking I could have had a dry arrival if I came one day sooner. But stubborn me, wouldn't have had it any other way. It was October 14^th and the Oregon rain had come, just like my mom always said. I was anxious to be home, to be dry, surrounded by people I know, and to experience life out of the saddle. I had already seen my family so there wasn't that build up, but I was looking forward to seeing familiar faces and places. My dad called me from the supermarket to let me know I could come since everyone had arrived at my house. The rain had just started to fall again as I turned down my street. The closer I got to my house, the more cars I saw. There at the end of my driveway was a small crowd to cheer and applaud for me. I had a flashback to the Ironman that I won back in Spain, three years ago. Crossing a finish line isn't something you rehearse. It is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, just like my arrival to Eugene, and it actually feels a bit awkward. I'm not one to be in the lime light. I didn't let out a big scream, nor did I dance or prance around. I had a big smile on my face. Mentally, I think I let out a sigh of relief and content. I made it!

Pedaling into Pioneer Pike

The welcoming crew at my house

Hugging friends despite the wet rain

My parents had organized a small gathering of friends, mostly parents of friends, since I don't know many people in Eugene any more. They were such good sports to be waiting for me out in the rain. I admitted to them that I had changed my clothes recently at Market of Choice, but I was still eager to go inside and be warm. I didn't have much time to talk with everyone, but I appreciated a nice warm greeting for my arrival. A handful of my high school friend's parents came as well as some of my local followers and friends, and a few neighbors as well. One of my hosts from Wyoming even came to welcome me which was a real treat! A reporter from the local newspaper showed up for an interview and after he left I was able to talk some more with my friends.

A pretty casual newspaper interview in my kitchen

Talking with friends and family upon my arrival

Posing with a few moms from the Spanish Immersion Program Class of '97

Two hours later the crowd had cleared out and there I was with my parents sitting down in the living room talking. It's funny how after 14 months of pedaling it all came to an just like that. There I was at home as if I had never left. It felt surreal. Did I really just pedal 21,000 miles to get here? Had I really traveled through 4 continents and 26 countries and been on the road for 14 months? When you see a familiar place and so many recognizable faces it feels as though time had froze, like I'd always been there and never left. I guess that is the true definition of home; there is always something so comfortable and familiar about the space. The smells, space and distances, colors, subtle noises; these things never change. Even though you've grown and aged and so have the people around you, home is timeless.

My parents with the welcome sign stayed up for a few days

Colorado: My Long Lost Love

Rocky Mountain National Park

Just some more mountains in the distance on my way to Leadville, Co

As I’m riding to Boulder, Colorado, I’m a bit frustrated. Google maps said it was ALL downhill, but here I am again on the Colorado roller coaster,……Up, down, up, down, up, up, up….downnnnnn, up, upppppp, dowwwwwnn!  The terrain is a killer.  You get tired and you want to scream and get frustrated, but you lift your head and look around in any direction and there are mountains everywhere.  Anywhere you turn you have a cluster of snow-covered peaks surrounding you, a 360 degree breathtaking panorama!  You pedal 5 min. and see the same peaks from a different perspective and a new cluster comes into view.  I think to myself, as I have thought many times in Colorado, why doesn’t everyone in America live in Colorado?  I just don’t get it?!??!  Ok, not everyone is as obsessed, like me, but how can you go wrong in Colorado with all there is to do and see.

One of 53 14,000ft. plus mountains in Colorado

Crossing Hossier Pass by Breckenridge, Co

When almost all the roads are designated scenic byways, you can't go wrong with any itinerary through the Rockies

Planning my ride that day to Boulder, I took the direct route, not the scenic route, but even that way was beautiful.  You look at a map of Colorado and more than half the roads are designated scenic byways and the ones that aren’t should be, because even they are gorgeous.  I went out of my way here on the western side of the state looking for mountain passes to go over, just to take in even more breathtaking scenery.  Colorado has the highest continuous road in North America, Trail Ridge Road in Rocky Mountain National Park, rising to 12,183ft. at the summit. There are only two national parks in Colorado, but in reality the whole western half of the state ought to be a national park.   Did you know Colorado has 53 peaks over 14,000 ft?  The highest being Mt. Elbert, 14, 433ft. and there are 800 peaks between 13,000 and 13,999 ft.  Kid you not.  If you aren’t sold yet and love hiking, almost all of these peaks are possible to summit, in fact is a whole group of people who make it their lifetime goal to compete in hiking to the summit of most of these.  I’m afraid I’m off to a late start.

At the visitor center in Rocky Mountain National Park

I would love to come back and climb this pass, (without all the weight on my bike)

The other day at a concert in Estes Park, I heard a Brad Fitch, a local folk singer sing John Denver’s “Rocky Mountain High” song and all of a sudden it rung a bell.  I always knew about the Rocky Mountains, of course, and I knew they were high, as in elevation, but I think his song is more about being high on the Rocky Mountains, at least that is how I feel, and I have yet to check out the legal marijuana scene here.  Natural beauty is enough to leave me completely in awe, “stoned” with my mouth hanging open, marveling at the rugged outdoors.  How many times did I yell and scream, “Oh, MY GOD!!! It’s sooooo beautiful!!” or “I LOVE IT!”  How many times did I say, “I want to move here?”…..I lost count! 

"Foothills" in Colorado

My hike up to Emerald Lake in the park

To think, I’ve never been to Colorado before except to the Denver airport; I’m embarrassed.  This place is heaven on earth for someone like me who can never get enough of being in the mountains.  There are a lot of pick-up trucks here, and a good number of those have bikes in the back.  The other cars, well, I’d say every third car that passed me had multiple bikes on top.  There are bike stores galore in every town, and most bike stores have a cafe next door with easy bike parking, or a brewpub attached.  Nothing like getting your bike worked on or picking up some parts and having a cup of coffee or a beer.  There is a true understanding of the biking culture here.

This coffee shop knows how to get the bikes parked in the most efficient manner, triathlon racks

Road 34, a great bike +brewpub in Fort Collins, CO

I was pretty much already sold on Colorado as a place I’d add to my list where I could easily live, and then I met Ian.  Ian is a boy scout, going be a sophomore this year at school, a public school with an International Baccalaureate program, one of many in Fort Collins.  He was coming home on the bike path I was using, after being out on his mountain bike all day in the foothills of Fort Collins with his friends.  He was telling me about all the cool things in Fort Collins from the 13 or 14 different breweries to the coffee shops, to summer festivals, bike paths and running trails, the new tram, part of Fort Collins extensive public transportation system, the bilingual schools, and different neighborhoods around the city.  I was all ears as he led me to the bike shop in town I had contacted for some maintenance.  I was so impressed by him; I asked to the guys at the shop to take my picture with Ian, he of course wanted to do the same.  What a neat kid!  The guys at the shop were pretty excited about their city and while I got my bike tuned, they shared their opinion of Fort Collins, similar to Ian’s, kept me drooling.

Ian, my guide into Fort Collins, one cool teenager!

That evening I met Deb and John, who are international teachers in Germany, friends of a friend of mine who teaches with them. They’ve lived out of the states for the past 10 or 12 years and want to retire in the next few years, which is why they bought a house in Fort Collins.  From the moment I arrived, until the next morning when I departed, we were talking non-stop about either, teaching and living abroad or marveling at Colorado.  They gave me a great “snap shot” tour of Fort Collins that evening. Deb and Ian drove me into the foothills to see the rugged scenery and awesome roads for biking.   We toured campus, downtown, and ended the evening with ice cream at a local dairy/ice cream shop in town.  By then, I was officially sold! 

Colorado, you are my long lost love!  My soul mate, I WILL be back!

Deb and John, great hosts and international teachers