Different kind of travel

Being single is boring. Turns out you can only laugh at your jokes only so many times, if you hold hands in public people look at you strangely and if you try to snog yourself, you leave lip marks on the mirror. Okay, none of this happened, but solitude does become boring when I am not running, climbing, biking or working.

So today, I am treating you to a different kind of travel. I am entering the scary world of online dating. Your protestations aside, my little narwhals, there are times when drop dead stunning bloggers such as myself must brave this new world.

Live blogging from the first class coach

Quite by accident I found myself travelling to Ottawa via train. Well, the train part was not an accident, but the travel was. Even more by accident I found that my trip to Ottawa (at least 50% of it) was by first class. Instead of doing a recollection later on, I reckoned that I would liveblog this journey.

 1715 hrs 

In the train.  I entered the wrong coach. They judged me first and then grovelled when I showed my 1st class tickets. That’s right plebs.

1720 

Sitting in the right coach now. Lots of leg room. Very hot looking women here.

1721

Oh god made eye contact with one of the hot women. Must look away.

1721

Now her big male friend is looking at me. I am calmly checking my seat for irregular stitching.

1722

It is all good now. They have gone back to talking to each other.

1723

Wait, they are offering drinks already. Do I have to pay? I have never travelled first class. I am going to order pop just in case I have to pay.

1727

Damn. Alcohol was free.

1728

Telling the world over Gmail and twitter that I am travelling in First Class. Basking in my friends adulation.

1730

What was that ?!?! Oh, hah. We are moving. Silly me. I forgot where I was.

1731

I still have internet. This is a good thing.

1745

They are handing out menus. And we are only at the first station. I am never travelling like plebs again.

1747

Cute woman is asleep now. She has hot boots. Outside scenery is of …nothing. Sad. Oh wait houses. Man those houses must hate trains.

1800

Just saw the menu. Turkey cacciatore, stuffed pasta thing and salmon. Having the salmon. Hope it does not turn out like Airplane, as I do not know how to land a train. I also do not know how to drive one, as I have no license, train or otherwise. No, not drinking as I do not feel the need to supplement fish with beer. Walnut apple cake for dessert. Double W00t. *note to self* Must stop acting like a poor person.

1801

Just prevented a disaster of massive proportions. Saved my neighbour’s drink from spilling.  I am a fricking hero. She thanked me, I pretended it was not a big deal. I wonder if she can read this. Hello neighbour.

1810

At Oshawa station. Waiting for commoners to embark and disembark. I look at them with scorn. Why are the attendants not rushing to my side with nourishment. Heroes should not be kept waiting.

waiting….

waiting….

1900

Oh wait. A trolley. Hooray it is the appetizer. Quite succulent. That is what a rich person would say, right? Oh, maybe one glass of white wine will not really harm me.

1915

This wait is interminable. I wonder how fresh the fish is going to be. I simply cannot stand store bought you know.

1925

Ah yes, the good man who brings food has arrived. It smells appetizing.

1928

Umm… I finished it.

1929

I ate the dessert as well.

1931

Hmm. I think I might have eaten my food too fast. Others are still unwrapping their food. I am now staring at the pretty girl’s food. Oh hey guy, yes, I will take the baguette

1931

Ummm… I eated it and have resumed staring. She’s thin, I don’t think she needs to eat all that food does she? I mean will she really miss the cake?

1945

Yes, I will have the second glass of wine

1946

Also the decaf coffee

1947

Free chocolate you say. Yes… OM NOM NOM NOM

1949

No I do not need no goddamn liqueur… I will take some more wine and sparkling water though.

1951

WHEEEEEEEE……

1956

I am not as think as you drunk I am

2014

zzzzzzzzzzz *snork* I think we are at Kingston. Oh! I mean we are leaving Kingston. My head hurts. I am going back to sleep. I hate wine.

2021

Drinks trolley. Get thee behind me drink of Satan. I asked for a ginger ale. He told me that they are only doing bar now and that he would come back for pop. I think my poor parts are showing again.

2030

Pulling into a small town called Gananoque. Why it does it sound like a disease of the… you know… lower parts.

2035

The train horn keeps tooting. As I am listening to Stephen Fry caress my ears with his dulcet tones (I am listening to a Harry Potter audio book), I cannot help but think I am heading to Hogwarts.

2055

At Brockville. Ho-hum

2105

CHUG-A-CHUG-A… TOOOOT TOOOOT

2120

I have no idea where we are. Oh god Smith Falls. Be scared. BE VERY SCARED.

2140

Almost there. I give this trip 18 thumbs up. I shall wrap this up. And so ends my brief foray into the world of the rich. Now, I must mingle with the rest of smelly commoners. Oh well.

The one where I freeze myself for science.

Dear lemming-esque followers of my musings,

Today I cryogenically freeze my body. I shall attempt to ride this frigid, almost tundra like day on my beloved Trek 1.5 (2009). 

So why am I riding today? Is it because that cold air can act as a good replacement for Botox treatments to keep my youthful appeareance err.. appearing youthful? Not that I need it of course, I am after all a sprightly 210 years of age, and have been told that I can pass for a 200 year old. 

No, it is because I am attempting MONT VENTOUX *da dum dum*

To all my non-bikey readers, this (referring to the picture of Mont Ventoux) seems like a normal hill and would appear as a "what's the big deal?" moment. First of all, I would strongly encourage you all to start riding so that you understand how hills work and secondly, you see the greenish thing under the tower? That is about 23 km away from where this picture is taken from, and over a kilometer and a half straight up. 

The pain that this is going to cause is going to be epic. It is to steel myself against the pain that I am going to wilingly freeze myself. Oh goody, it is only -8 °C (-16 °C with windchill) today. 

Ugh. 

Oh and also St. Lucia.

So a few days back I posted an open letter to my fellow cyclists/adventurers. But that is not the only trip I am signed up to do.

A few days back, a couple of my friends suggested that the boys should have a boys trip out to a Caribbean island. The place in question... St. Lucia. (In case you didn't guess that you clever little golden marmoset)

At this point in time I have a sad admission to make. I am nearly 210 years old (give or take a couple of centruries) and I have never seen an ocean/sea/a large saline body of water in my life. Yes, I, @damookman the first, am an ocean virgin. Thusly it is up to the eastern Caribbean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean to take this precious gift away. Hmm, this metaphor seems to have gotten away from me.


Right, so I am heading to St. Lucia with a co-writer of this blog and a few of my close friends. A co-writer who, I must shame mention,  is yet to write even a single post. 


But this is not a normal boys trip. There are no strippers, there is no blow, and there is definitely no long walks on the beach followed by a glass of merlot by a campfire while the Atlantic ocean glistens under the moonligh... errr. 


Right, this is not a normal boys trip. You see, we are all cricket fans and being that St. Lucia is one of the places that the Twenty-20 world cup is being held, how could we not go? I am also going to use this opportunity to run on the beach to continue training for my upcoming duathlon, and to keep up with retirees clad in lycra who are going to make me climb up Mont Ventoux and then laugh at me for being slow.  


Well that's it for this post. More will come as things become more and more clear. 


@damookman

Elephants at Amer Fort.

Just a short post.




 Taken in Amer Fort, Rajasthan, India. (click on the picture to take you to my flickr page) 

One of the ways that you can actually get to Amer fort is on Elephant back. Here is the kicker though. They will take you up but they do not accept any fares to go down. 

An open letter to my fellow cyclists/adventurers

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening all of you hyper-intelligent shades of blue,

Yesterday, I received a communique from a certain Sir MT. It turns out that his family, and his in-laws are going to the south of France. Mr. T  has graciously invited me and another crazy cyclist @bad_akuro to join him for about a week or so.


 Ah-ha! I hear your protestations and complaints already.  "But @damookman", you say shrilly in a distinct but husky tone, "Why do you want to go on his family vacation? Is he adopting you?"

Hah, you lovable dopes. NO, OF COURSE NOT. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU TO ASK SUCH RIDICULOUS QUESTIONS ?!

*composes himself*

You see Big Lad MT, KT (his wife) and LM (his father in law, aka, the retiree who kicked our arses) are avid cyclists. And they plan on biking around the neighborhood. Of course, the neighborhood is the south of France, specifically the town of Orange, just a stone's throw away from Marseilles, close to being under the shadow of the legendary Mont Ventoux and maybe even spend a day or two in Barcelona which is 3 hours away. And as M "look at my shaven muscular legs" T put it.

Southern France has some great views through wine country so we could do la-la rides everyday and work in a few workout routes as well.  LM mentioned one nasty mountain route (he refered to it as iconic) that he and G? are planning to do.  I think it may be Montpellier.  Where we are LM says it's easy by car to get to a few good biking spots along the tour route.   Also we will be close to Avingnon (location of the "pont d'avingnon" a childrens song and key destination for AT) Marseille and a 3 hour drive from barcelona.  I think there will be a day trip of two to those locations.  KT has even suggested spending a night in Spain.

For those who do not know.
LM - Father in law, the retiree who kicked our arses fully clad in lycra at the beginning of last season.
G? - FIL's friend. Possibly also lycra clad. The ? is because he is mysterious.
AT - M "Productive Loins" T's daughter
Marseille - Type it into google, you lazy prat.


Ah yes, the cost. Here is the part I was scared of. It is not a trip to Wasaga beach or even to Goderich, ON. The flight is going to cost about 1000-1200 bucks. For staying there,  M "Sir Moneybags the Third" T, has suggested renting a house which would drop the cost to about 50 bucks a person per night. So if we stay for ten days that would mean $500. So just to get there and chill would cost us $1500 per person.


BUT. And pay attention here you spoiled yet lovely anacondas, for this is the important reason that I want to go to France.


I want to go to France. 


That being said, I am scared that at some point in time M "Dr. Livingstone, I presume" T will try to sell me to local caravans in exchange for trinkets. As he so nicely pointed out this time he will speak the local language. This worries me a bit because he did try to sell PD when we were in India, and it was only the fact that he could not speak the language that stopped him.


But it will be fun, we will have bikes, amazing scenery and French Women who will try to ply my affections with generous libations.

Yours in pain and hope,
@Damookman

Traffic is really physics

It has been a while, has it not, my frolicking mudskippers. Well fear not, this venerable charmer has not abandoned you. You can blame my infrequency on the recession and global weather changes. However, my musings will continue till the well starts to run dry and then I will run away to another location and carry on from there.

One of the constant factors in India that we always had to budget for was the traffic. Travelling is not straightforward there as heading from Yonge and Bloor to King and John (or Parliament Hill to Sussex drive if you are unfortunate lucky enough to live in Ottawa) might be.

Traffic in Delhi is not a stream but a raging torrent. In Jaipur, however, it was more akin to whitewater rapids… with sharks… with superlasers attached.. being ridden by bears… well you get the idea. Lanes are merely suggestions, and traffic lights are at best idealized concepts. Now granted that this might just be a small section of the city, but I sincerely doubt it.

Crossing the street is an exercise in physics. If car A approaches the intersection at 30 km/h and and is being driven by a man busy on his 22 cell phones, how many bodies does Car A need to dispatch before the sea of humanity forces it to stop before hitting you. The answer is dependent on how fast you can shove your friend.

The lesson that MT and I learned on our second day was to keep moving. As long as you can do that, the cars will adapt, but god forbid if you change your mind. That will lead to disaster. The other thingwe learned was the stick-your-hand-out-in-a- stop-please-gesture MANUeuvre(get it, huh? Huh? Huh?) . This complicated manoeuvre involves, and bear with me here, sticking your hand out in a stop-please gesture and walking. I am sorry if I got too technical there. There you go my lovely dumplings, armed with this knowledge you are now safe on the streets of Delhi. Assuming you know where the hell you are going because there are no street signs, and the streets have no names. Enjoy.