Cycling On Me Own

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Sunday, 28 July

Why Baguettes?

As I sit here in a park, in the French city of Vitre, I have currently seen 5 different people walking past me with fresh baguettes from what I presume to be a local bakery (ouvert en dimanche!!!). One was carrying at least eight baguettes, which appeared to be the most they could carry with both arms wrapped around them in some sort of loving embrace. In their defence… they did appear to be off for a picnic with their wife and two children so I suppose that allows them to all enjoy 2 baguettes each, a modest amount for a French family!

But why?! Why baguettes? What is this innate French adoration for the long bread stick? Where did it come from? For me, they are far too crunchy, far too crumbly and go stale far too quickly to even contemplate using them for sandwiches the next day. Maybe the French have very tough roofs in their mouth’s so they’ve never had that excruciating pain of the crust of a baguette cutting through it. I guess we’ll never know precisely why the French love baguettes so much.

Career paths and why we shouldn’t stress about them.

I was 17 years of age when I was taking 4 A Levels (two second year subjects along with two first year subjects). My workload was stupidly heavy: I was studying Psychology, History, English Literature and Drama.

Now, this wouldn’t have been excessive if I had actually had a plan. If I had actually wanted to go to university and could see the ‘end goal’ then I probably could have bashed out the 5 essays a week, 2,000 word history coursework, first-year drama productions and applied for UCAS whilst retaining some modicum of sanity. In reality, however, this wasn’t to be the case. After 5 breakdowns in a week and my bedroom floor now covered in notes that I hadn’t yet filed, I ended up burning out of my A Level career, 18 months into the 2 year course…

The three months that followed were possibly the darkest and most depressing months of my life. I had just passed my driving test but within 14 days of passing, and tasting freedom after living in rural Cornwall for 17 years of my life, I had already written off my first car. With no car and no career path I became a social recluse. I hardly saw friends, I started to become nocturnal and had no passion for life anymore.

By the time that I finally found a job in March of 2017 I was ready. I was ready to put all of my time and effort into a job and finally regain a purpose. I did. I worked 50+ hours a week for almost 18 months straight, burnt myself out, quit and went backpacking for 10 weeks.

Now, you might be beginning to see a pattern here and ask “why do you take on so much and then never see it through Joseph?”. To be honest with you, I have asked myself the same question. But once I returned from this, very expensive, backpacking trip around Scandinavia and the Baltic states (self-funded, I may add…) I realised that I still wasn’t quite done with the idea of hospitality as a career path…

That’s where Falmouth came in, with its 15 miles of country lane commutes that take 40 minutes on a good day. I began working for a lovely independent hotel called “Merchants Manor” (yes, I know fully well that it deserves an apostrophe but apparently the owner hasn’t yet realised this. Hi Nick, if you’re reading this!) This was a great experience though and I learnt a lot from working here for the 5 months that I did. I learnt that wooden floors involve an excessive amount of polishing, I learnt that people get very angry when you eat food out of the bin during a norovirus break out, but most importantly I learnt that hospitality is no longer to be the career path that I’m eager to pursue.

In actual fact, when I left Merchant’s Manor (sorry *Merchants Manor) back in June I didn’t have the foggiest of ideas of what I actually wanted to do with my life; I just knew there was more to life than exchanging food & drink for cash. To describe how whimsical my career path choices can be then when I tell you I contemplated tree surgery because I was once pruning some trees then that doesn’t even begin to explain it.

So after 5 months of cycling I finally realised what it was that I wanted in life. I knew that it involved people but most definitely children. I discovered that I had a fascination with speech development in children and how they’re such sponges for languages at a young age. I also realised how important speech/communication is and what a positive impact it can have, from the lonely elderly to the frustrated toddler.

I still don’t know precisely what career path I want to choose, I do know it must involve people, but you know what the beauty of it is? It doesn’t fucking matter. Since dropping out of my A Levels at 17 I have worked full time for about 2 years total, spent a total of 8 months solo travelling through about 15 countries; including Australia, backpacking across Scandinavia & the Baltics and also a 5,000km cycle trip… and I’m only twenty. I keep being asked “so do you have a job yet?”. No, I don’t. I’ve been making candy floss at the Trevena Cross Christmas markets and even doing some labouring because I am skint. But hopefully I will soon begin working as a teaching assistant in the New Year alongside a Health & Social Care diploma to get the qualifications, and experience, I need to possibly apply for an S&L therapy degree.

There’s no need to stress though, just go with the flow and the fun will follow.

From ‘Ja’ to ‘Da’ and how attitudes change from Western Europe to Eastern Europe.

So I’ve done it, I’ve cycled across Europe in 5 months.

Around the World in 80 days? Not quite… but West France to Eastern Romania in 140 days? Yes.

I always get asked “are you on your own?!”. From French people asking inquisitively, “tout seul, pourquoi pas de fille??!”, to (well-meaning) Germans saying to me “why are you on your own, wouldn’t it be a lot nicer to have company?”. The general response is a dreary “yes, I am on my own. Yes it would be lovely to have company.” However, in reality the solitude is refreshing and, most importantly, liberating! To spend EVERY minute of EVERY day with someone else also results in a need for justification and compromise… both of which I struggle with. How do I explain to someone that I just want to sit in a quiet church for an hour because the city I’m in has overwhelmed me? Also, one person results in one person’s worth of smell, adding another person into the equation would result in extra stink and a lot less privacy. Maybe one day I’ll meet The One™️ but, for now, I’m happy to not have to bore someone with my incessant singing for days on end…

I also find that ‘solo travel’ allows me to fully immerse myself in the culture of a new place as well. People are more welcoming when you’re on your own. I have had countless people who have paid for my food, drink and EVEN accommodation (hey Judith!). But honestly, I highly doubt that this would happen if there was someone else with me. I find it easier to make friends when I’m on my own.

This welcoming attitude and friendliness increased greatly once I’d crossed the invisible Iron Gates into Eastern Europe. It took me a day to cycle from bustling Vienna to Bratislava, Slovakia. Whilst they are both technically capital cities, the latter is ¼ of the size of the former so as I sat down the next morning, eating a traditional pastry, I finally felt comfortable. There wasn’t a disgusting clamour of camera-clad tourists (although Budapest was yet to come) and I didn’t feel pressured. I felt comfortable as the ex-soviet trams screeched past and the language around me changed from Germanic to Slavic. I realised suddenly how a lot of my heart is in Eastern Europe. Kefir, Burek and bullish bald men (who are always angry for no reason) out does Western Europe with those nuances of ‘polite’ conversation, with red wine and hard cheese. A lot of interactions I had during the 3 months of cycling Western Europe were superficial and, I might go as far as saying, false.

I should probably comment that I have spent a lot of time in Eastern Europe already. I’ve visited Poland 3 times and spent many months backpacking across the Baltic states and down in towards Romania. I’ve already experienced pierogi and all of it’s variations. I’ve tried it all, from cepelinai to weird squiggly Hungarian potato dumplings… so the food doesn’t scare me anymore but the people still certainly do.

Lithuanian Cepelinai…

Hungarian squiggly potato dumplings. They’re actually called ‘Spaetzle’ if you want to be a local or order this in the future which I highly don’t recommend!

One thing that I learnt about travelling through Eastern Europe is that you must adopt the mindset of an Eastern European. You will get shouted at some point with some adaptive use of ‘Kurwa’, this is absolutely inevitable, and often there’s no explanation as to why. Take a Polish milk bar (bar mleczny) for example. You finally pluck up the courage to enter into this cafe/ restaurant that is still decorated just as it was when it was opened back in the 1950’s. You then order off the large blackboard above the till lady’s head, but if you order something that doesn’t have a price next to it then they will get audibly frustrated with you. But wait! The fun hasn’t stopped yet! If you fail to clear your tray once you’ve finished eating your questionably cheap £1 pierogi and cold beetroot soup (yes, this is supposedly an Eastern European delicacy) then you will get YELLED at and trust me, you do not want half a dozen angry old polish ladies yelling at you in a milk bar. Similar situations happen if you’re in somebody’s way in a supermarket, there are no ‘oh sorry excuse me’s’ or ‘ooh could I just get past?’ You’ll either be shoved aside or told in no uncertain terms what a useless sack of shit you are for being in their way (or that’s at least how it sounds in the Slavic languages). These are things you can only learn the hard way or, in my case, after spending hours on Tripadvisor forums researching what to do and what not to do in such establishments.

However, whilst the populations of Eastern Europe may have an excessive risk of heart failure, and also most definitely all require some form of therapy, they are at least genuine. Behind the dreary eyes of the ever-increasing aged population they still retain genuine fascination and interest in life. This attitude is polarised to the locals I met in Germany and Austria who’s false niceties and sickly-sweet smiles could be compared to that of a certain Dolores Umbridge. Often I would ask myself whether the locals in Germany were just revelling in the pain of an English boy as they refused to help me ‘due to reasons beyond their control’ rather than trying to help in any way they could. I think the reason that I prefer Eastern Europe to Western Europe is for the lack of unnecessary ‘box-ticking’ and a favouring of independent thought.

And that’s what it comes down to, the attitudes from West to East change from superficial niceties to bullish bald men barking at you. But that’s what I like about Eastern Europe, you always know where you stand (or at least where you shouldn’t).

Snickers and Ham Sandwiches

4 weeks on the road!! Crikey, it doesn’t feel like it.. until I think back to all of the hills I’ve climbed over these past 28 days. To celebrate this milestone I thought I’ll discuss my idiosyncratic, largely unvarying, diet.

You see, the average cyclist (going at a fairly uptempo 12mph) burns 500 calories an hour. Most days I’m in the saddle for 6-7 hours. Now, if you’re good at maths you’ll be able to work out I need at least 3000 calories on these days I’m cranking the pedals, and I’m hardly nearing 2000.

“How do you attempt to combat the impending fatigue and doom that descends upon yourself young Joseph?”, I hear you ask. Well, it’s interesting that you ask such a question because that’s what this blog is all about!

I eat a fucking LOT of Snickers™️ and ham sandwiches.

Now, I obviously eat other foods but these are my daily staples. “Shall I buy this €0.88 intermarché sandwich avec jambon?” is a question I ask myself often (and one that rarely receives a negative answer). Snickers need no explanation as they are the snack from the heavens and deserve infinitely more praise than they receive.

I’d like to introduce you all to an unsung hero of the French culinary world. It is the Yoplait Yop Chocolat drink. One of these bad boys and you’ve successfully secured yourself 700 calories!!! But you’ve also secured impending type 2 diabetes as you’ve just consumed 95.7g of sugar. Pro’s and con’s… pro’s and con’s.

As I drink my 3rd Yoplait Yop Chocolat drink of the week I think about the words of wisdom that my grandfather, Eustice Eddy, once told me… “remember Joseph, everything in moderation”. I am reassured by this because I have eaten a banana this afternoon.

Eating whilst cycling is something that I’m becoming accustomed to also. Nothing is worse than getting your legs into a rhythm and then stopping when the stomach begins screaming for food. That’s why I like to keep a Babybel™️ within reaching distance of my position on the saddle, usually in my bike bag which contains my puncture repair kit. And yes, it is possible to eat a babybel one handed, and yes without the wax.

But the food choice that is truly keeping my body alive are Sodebo™️ salads (other variants are available). These are the core to my diet, and the sole reason I haven’t been diagnosed with pulmonary heart disease in this one month that I’ve been on the road. For less than €5 they provide a daily, very much needed, boost of health for what would be an otherwise gangreened, scurvied, sickly Joseph.

And to ‘wrap’ (food pun) it all up, when it comes to food and calories, listen to your body. Eat what you want, when you want and how you want! It’s your body and you decide what you want to power it with. I know after reading this blog you might be surprised and wonder “what on earth was his diet like at home?!” but I am eating a lot healthier than I was before this trip (I actually voluntarily bought fruit the other day!)

Thank you for reading my rambling food thoughts and stay tuned for the next blog!❤️