London (second time around)

Wednesday December 22, 2010 

I woke up at 9:30 am and ate the breakfast provided by the hostel, which consisted of cornflakes. And that was it. I only had a few bowls because the milk ran out, which was pretty disappointing; why didn't they go and buy some more? They should have had plenty in reserve anyway. Grumble grumble. I didn't have time to get more milk myself because I had to get to the meeting point for the free walking tour of London. This meeting point was the Wellington Arch, which I walked to from the hostel, a good half-hour walk through Hyde Park. My tour guide was called John. He spoke clearly and told a good yarn, and he's also an actor, apparently. So I don't remember too much about the tour, but it was informative, entertaining and enjoyable. Here are a few of the photos I took during the tour: 

A monument at the south end of Hyde Park, London.

Wellington Arch, London.

Behind that wall over the other side of the road is the Queen's back-yard.

Changing of the guards.

Buckingham Palace, London.

Changing of the guards.

A couple of squirrels.

Lancaster House, London.

A sentry near Lancaster House.

St James's Palace, one of London's oldest palaces.

Some statues beside Pall Mall and Waterloo Place, London.

Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square, London.

Horse Guards viewed across Horse Guards Parade, London.

Big Ben, London.

North entrance of Westminster Abbey

The Palace of Westminster, also known as the Houses of Parliament, with Victoria Tower on the right.

After the tour, most of us went to a restaurant/pub near Leicester Square. The tour company (Sandeman's) must have some kind of agreement with the restaurant because they seem to take each tour group there at the end of the tour; the restaurant would get a fair bit of business out of it. I ordered fish and chips, as most of the group did, but the serving size was very small, quite disappointing. The company was fine though, and I discovered I was sitting with two girls from Melbourne - Lisa Smoorenburg and Lauren Deeth. I told them I also lived in Melbourne, but that I was originally from Daylesford; coincidentally they said they'd met someone earlier in their trip from Daylesford. Being a small town of 4000 odd people, I figured I'd probably know the person they met from Daylesford, or at least know of them, so I asked them; turns out it was David Rowbotham, who I went to school with and who I just missed by a day when I was in Marseille a few weeks earlier. And also coincidentally, Lauren Deeth is best friends with Lauren Brownhill, who is the older sister of Stacey Brownhill, who is one of my younger sister Rachel's best friends. And Lauren Deeth had also attended my sister Rachel's 18th birthday party in our shearing shed at home on the farm. Small world. As my former housemate Jim used to say, it's as though we all live on the same planet! 
My next task was to wander the streets of London to find a bike shop selling the elusive Schwable Marathon 26x1.5 tyre which I'd been looking for all over Europe for the past few months. Since my front tyre had exploded yesterday, I would need a new one to replace it once I picked up my rebuilt wheel from the bike shop. Could I finally find the tyre I was after right at the end of my trip? I was confident I could, in a city of eight million people. Sure enough, after visiting half a dozen different bike shops, I eventually found the tyre I was after, and bought it for £30 without thinking twice. If only I'd had those tyres fitted on the bike when I started the trip, I probably would have had about thirty less punctures than I did! I would still have to ride to the airport the next morning, so I'd reduce my chances of getting a puncture then, and at least I'd have good tyres on when I got back to Melbourne.
I then walked to Evans Cycles in Waterloo and picked up my wheel that they rebuilt with a new rim for me, which cost £72, including the rim. I fitted the new tyre there at the bike shop, and good old Florey was back on the road. I'd had enough of walking, it's a bit too slow to get around London, so I was happy to be back on the bike.
I rode back to the hostel and spend the rest of the evening there. I sat down with the iPhone to charge it, drank cups of tea with biscuits and surfed the net, investigating my flight booking and the current status of Heathrow Airport. Britain and much of Europe was still going through a cold-snap, and there had been an unusually large amount of snow, and so Heathrow Airport had mostly closed down, since they didn't have the equipment to clear the snow from the run-ways. And they were copping a lot of flack for it. The snowy weather was causing all sorts of chaos across Britain, so it was a good time to get out - except that it looked like my flight would be cancelled! I'd booked the flight before I left for the trip, and booked it so that I would arrive back in Melbourne on Christmas Eve, so that I'd be home with the family for Christmas, but now I expected I wouldn't make it home for Christmas. Most of the flights out of Heathrow had been cancelled for the previous several days, and there was apparently a huge backlog of people trying to get out, so I didn't like my chances. I figured I'd just have to go to the airport and try to catch my original scheduled flight and see how I go.
In the hostel I got chatting to a few friendly girls called Alex and Lauren, who were from Australia, Queenslanders from memory. There was also another bloke called Gianni Acciarri, from Italy. He was a freelance programmer, and his English was very good for an Italian. We walked to the supermarket to get a few things for tea. It was only a little supermarket though, and too expensive for me, so I rode to another larger supermarket and bought a heap of cheap food, including a few baguettes, cheese, salami, tomato, milk and salt & vinegar Pringles - much more than I needed if indeed I could catch my flight out the next morning. I ate the rolls for tea, and then just chilled in the hostel chatting to various folks, including an Irish girl, an American bloke and another two from Arizona. Upon hearing my predicament with the uncertainty of my flight leaving as scheduled, the American bloke suggested I call QANTAS to check whether the flight was cancelled. Not a bad idea, I must say. He recommended I download an app on the iPhone called Talkatone and call from that for free. So I did that, the app did the trick and I called QANTAS and got through pretty quickly, and the woman reckoned my flight would go ahead as scheduled. That was good news, but I was still sceptical; I would soon find out.
I'd been hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep, but I ended up running out of time; I surfed the net into the wee hours, then had to just pack up my stuff and head off, just before 6 am. I was keen to leave a few hours of contingency time in getting to the airport, just in case I broke down or got lost, and because I didn't know how long it would take to get there in the snow.

The bike riding for the day, Waterloo to Marylebone.

Overview of the route from Rome to London

Ride stats:

Distance: 6.25 km
Average: 17.5 km/h
Maximum: 24 km/h
Time: 21:22
Total ascent: 56 m
Total descent: 29 m

Dieppe to London

Tuesday December 21, 2010

Standing on the top deck of the ferry, looking over the back with semi-trailers being loaded in.

I woke up in the waiting room at the port in Dieppe at 3:30 am after a brief doze. It was time to get my gear together and jump on the ferry. It wasn't until 5 am that I was finally on board, because it took a while for all the semi-trailers to be loaded onto the ferry. 

I found a nice comfortable seat and dozed off at about 5:45 am, then woke up at 8:30 am so that I had time to eat breakfast before disembarking the ferry, which was due to arrive in Newhaven, England, at 9 am. I ate the cereal with the long-life milk that I'd brought up to the passenger deck with me, while others were purchasing their breakfast on-board for an inflated price - but I was too frugal to do something like that.

The ferry arrived on schedule at 9 am, I disembarked with no problems, rode my bike along the designated route from the pier, somebody checked my passport and asked me a few questions, then I was free in the Motherland again! The first task was to find a Wi-Fi connection and look at the map on my iPhone to work out how to get to London. So I rode along, and saw a sign that said "London 58". "Piece of piss," I thought, "I'll be there in no time!" I had the whole day to get there, so I casually rolled on and soon found a McDonalds, a convenient place to stop for free Wi-Fi. I spent a few hours on the iPhone there looking up hostels in London, trying to find he most suitable one to stay at (plenty of choice!). I also chatted to three of my little sisters on the phone: Silkom, Rachel and Rosanna. Rosanna was actually in Zoersel, near Antwerp, Belgium with her Belgian boyfriend Sam Conix - she would be spending Christmas there with his family. She also told me about how she had a lot of difficulty getting from Siena to Antwerp because the airport in Pisa shut down for three days. She said she spent the first night in a hostel, then they slept at the airport, but she said it was a fun experience. Glad she enjoyed that.

Afterwards I looked at the map on the iPhone to figure out a suitable route to London. I realised then that the 58 I'd seen on the sign earlier was actually in miles, not in kilometres as I'd become accustomed to the previous few months traveling in Mainland Europe. That meant it was at least 93 kilometres to London by the most direct route - further than I'd been led to believe. Oh well, still wouldn't be a problem covering that distance by the end of the day.
I headed off around mid-day, on an "A-grade" road, which meant it was a very busy road. It was narrow and had lots of trucks, I didn't feel safe. There was still plenty of snow around on the sides of the roads and in the paddocks too.

I stopped in a little town called Lewes before 2 pm for lunch, as soon as I spotted a fish and chip shop. I was hanging out for fish and chips actually, hadn't eaten them for months so I pounced at the opportunity, and they didn't disappoint.

I kept going before long, turned off the main road to take a quieter country road and avoid the traffic. According to my map, I wasn't too far from a bike route which supposedly led all the way into London, so I was heading towards that.

I was happily cruising down a hill into a small town called Keymer, and started braking slightly when suddenly I heard a huge explosion, as though someone had just fired a firearm. The sound echoed off the surrounding shops, and a few passers-by stopped and looked to see what had happened. It took me a moment to realise what had happened - the bang had actually been my front tyre exploding! How embarrassing! 

I came to a stop pretty quickly since my front wheel had essentially fallen apart and no longer turned freely. I had to laugh; I'd been 3.5 months with no major bike problems, or at least none that had stopped me, and then on my final day of touring, the final 80 kilometres of my 9000 kilometre journey, and my tyres explodes on me!

Tyre blown apart - note the stray piece of rim hanging out. This happened on Keymer Rd, descending into Hassocks, England.

Close up of the cracked rim.

Close up of the cracked rim. 

I inspected the damage, and discovered a large section of the rim had broken off. Argh, what a bummer! I'd gone through three rear rims, and now one front rim as well, in only 3.5 months! The rear rims hadn't exploded violently like the front one just had though. You know, in all the bike riding I've done throughout my life in Australia, however many tens of thousands of kilometres I'd cycled, I'd never worn out a rim, and now I'd gone through four of them in as many months! The back one was presently cracked, which had happened the previous day, but still holding. So I would have expected the back tyre to explode, not the front.

A middle aged bloke who'd seen/heard the incident happen stopped by and offered a hand, and some advice. There wasn't much he could do though. I asked if there was bike shop nearby, he said there wasn't, and that my best bet would be just to hop on the train to London. I thanked him and he was on his way. I stood there on the side of the road for a while, not knowing what to do. Then a young bloke of around 18 years stopped by on his fixie, and also offered a hand. He was very willing to help actually, and I was grateful. He said there was a bike hire/service centre just down the road but he wasn't sure if it was open on a Tuesday or not, he suspected it wasn't. And he was correct. So it looked like my only option was to catch the train into London. How disappointing that I wouldn't be able to complete me loop of Europe on the bike, and I was so close! 

The young bloke told me a bit about himself as we walked to the nearby station in the town of Hassocks (which is the neighbouring town to Keymer, right beside each other). He was into his mountain-biking, and was still at school, trying to get a good result in his final year so that he could get into medicine, I think he said, from memory.

He took me through how to buy a ticket for the train to London, which I purchased for £11.40 - not cheap! I thanked him kindly for his help and he was off. 

In the centre of this shot, you can just make out a man riding off on a bike - he's the bloke who gave me a hand.

I plodded to the platform to wait for the train, which arrived before long and I hopped on. Luckily it wasn't peak hour so the train wasn't crowded - otherwise, according to the woman who sold me the train ticket, I wouldn't have been able to take my bike on it. 

Florey and I traveling on the train to London.

I accidentally fell asleep on the train, which I was wary of doing because I needed to disembark at a certain stop - London Bridge - as specified on my ticket, and I didn't want to miss it; not having a good idea of how the London train system worked, I didn't want to risk getting fined. I woke up in time for my stop though, and got off at London Bridge, then went for a wander in search of wi-fi and a bike shop. I had an app on my iPhone that showed me locations of most of the bike shops in London. There was one just a block away, Evans Cycles, which is a major bike chain in Britain. So I went in and asked if they could rebuild my wheel; unfortunately they didn't have the rim for it. I walked another few blocks to another bike shop called On Your Bike, but they didn't do "while-you-wait" services, so I kept going. I crossed the river heading north, over what must have been London Bridge, and got to another Evens Cycles, called Evans Cycles St Paul's. They didn't have the rim I wanted either, the Mavic 317, but they checked their other stores for the stock and suggested I try Evans Cycles Waterloo Cut So I crossed Blackfriars Bridge heading south, and found the bike shop. Thankfully they had the rim I needed, and they were able to rebuild the wheel for me (I couldn't just get a new wheel because of the dynahub), but I had to leave it with them though, and I'd be able to pick it up the following afternoon. That meant I had to walk all the way to the hostel. 

The hostel that I'd picked out that morning was 7 miles away, which I figured was too far to walk, so I picked out a different one using the Hostelworld app. I decided on one called the Phoenix Hostel, which was still a good 6 or 7 kilometre walk. I didn't mind, except that it was really difficult carrying the four panniers plus the handlebar bag, because they're not made for carrying by hand! I got there just before 10 pm I think, checked in and carried my bags upstairs, then returned downstairs. The downstairs area was actually a pub, which is the case for many hostels, so there were some randoms in there that weren't actually staying in the hostel. There was free tea, so I helped myself to that, and started chatting to the bloke beside me. His name was Nathan Millward, and as it turned out, he had quite an interesting story himself. He'd recently ridden a postie bike from Sydney to London! What an impressive journey! He had plenty of interesting tales to tell, and we chatted for hours. I found that we were really on the same page with many things, and we'd also had some similar experiences, doing a long, challenging, somewhat unplanned, self-supported trip through untraveled lands by bike (Nathan on a postie bike, me on my push-bike), camping along the way gaining interesting experiences and prevailing through any challenges we encountered. He actually wrote a book about it, called Going Postal, and I've been meaning to get my hands on a copy and read it, but I haven't yet. I think I'll order a copy now. Check out this link if you want to read the blurb: http://books.google.com.au/books?id=e8Iglppm6XwC

I can't remember why he was in the hostel that night, something about doing some freelance work for a car magazine I think he said. Anyway, he was a top bloke, and it was great to chat. It wasn't until about 5 pm that I got to sleep that night!

My route for the day, Newhaven to Hassocks.

Overview of my route from Rome to Hassocks.

Ride stats:

Distance: 27.1 km
Average: 18.9 km/h
Maximum: 38 km/h
Time: 1:26:08  

Total ascent: 200 m

Total descent: 152 m

Paris to Dieppe

Monday December 20, 2010

The corridor outside my dorm, in St Christopher's Paris.

Another early start at 8 am! I filled up on breakfast because I knew it was going to be a long day in the saddle. I also stashed a few rolls from breakfast for the road.

Before heading off, I hopped on Google Talk and Skype and tried to talk to my housemate Jim Files, but the connection wasn't good enough, the hostel wi-fi was having issues. I knew it was getting close to the end of my trip because it was time to transfer money to Jim for the next month's rent back in Gooch Street, Thornbury, Melbourne. 

I packed my bags, chatted to Sarah Abel, the girl from Noosa Heads, as well as the bloke from Delhi, then headed downstairs to the common room. I tried a Skype call to Mum, to say something like "Mum, I'm about to ride into the unknown, through adverse weather and thick snow towards the North coast of France, I might die, so if I don't make it, that's where I am"...but again the Skype call was unsuccessful because the Wi-Fi network was having issues. I was able to download some maps and podcasts before I headed off, but it took a while. 

One of the common rooms in the hostel, St Christopher's Paris.

The main common room/dining room in the hostel,  St Christopher's Paris.

While I was idling, I was overhearing a few conversations with people at the hostel reception desk. The typical conversation went along the lines of "Hi, do you have any rooms? I'm going to attempt to catch a train and leave, but I might be back again like yesterday." Or "Hi, I'd like to check out...for the second time." The problem was that most of the trains weren't running because of all the snow, and the main airport, the Paris-Charles de Gaulle Airport, which is one of the busiest airports in the world, had partially shut down due to all the snow! Lots of people were fretting about not being able to get to their next destination on their European tour/holiday, and that they were missing connecting flights, missing rooms that they'd booked in hostels in other cities, etc. See that's why you ought not plan things too far in advance. Well, there are pros and cons with both, but not planning, with its inherent spontaneity and flexibility is how I like to roll anyway. In a way I felt lucky that I was on a beautiful independent mode of transport - the bicycle, the freedom machine! I would have been the only person there who was on a bicycle; everyone else was dependent upon public transport and aeroplanes. I wasn't sure how my bicycle Florey would fare in the snow, but at the same time I was confident, due to my general optimism. I figured I could walk if I had to, and I would still get there eventually. I found the adverse weather quite exciting and knew it would provide a good challenge.

So it wasn't until after mid-day that I rolled out. Except that I didn't actually roll out, the blanket of snow provided a good deal of resistance so I had to pedal out. But nonetheless I was able to ride in the snow, albeit with a lack of traction. 

The view of the hostel from the outside as I was heading off.

Fortunately it wasn't presently snowing, so hopefully conditions wouldn't deteriorate too much.

Navigating out of Paris was a little difficult, but eventually I found my way out, and as I headed further North out of the city, the snow seemed to get progressively thicker. Some of the roads were difficult to ride on, especially the ones with low traffic because the cars and trucks driving over the road would tend to limit the amount of snow on it. For once, I wanted there to be more traffic, to clear the snow off the roads. 

Snow in Normandy. On the D915, Route de Paris à Dieppe, between Génicourt and Cormeilles-en-Vexin, France.

Snow in Normandy. On the D915, Route de Paris à Dieppe, between Génicourt and Cormeilles-en-Vexin, France. 

The other difficult parts were where the snow had been compressed into ice by the traffic, and where wheel ruts existed; it was difficult to hold a straight line! I almost came off the bike many times, but got very good at putting my foot down when the front wheel slipped to save myself from falling, so I never actually came off, although I did drop the bike once. Is that coming off? I stayed upright...

Snow in Normandy. On the Rue Pirre Eugène Boyer, in Domaine de Gueulancourt, France. 

I rode right through the afternoon and stopped at a supermarket at about 5 pm, after 93 kilometres, for my usual lunch of rolls with cheese, tomato and salami.

I kept riding and the roads got worse, with more snow, such that some sections were very difficult to ride on. Plus it was dark. But I persisted. Occasionally convoys of trucks would crawl by, while other trucks were stopped in groups on the side of the road. The traffic was just crawling along, much like ants in an ant trail on a cold day. I was grateful for the trucks, because they were helping to clear the snow on the roads, otherwise I think my progress would have been much slower. I listened to podcasts as I rode, John Saffran and Father Bob at that point I think, and it was quite enjoyable, and challenging at the same time.

Snow in Normandy. On the Les Terres de Bellozanne, Bellozanne, France.

Snow in Normandy. On the Route de Dieppe, in Pommeréval, France.

Snow in Normandy. On the Route de Dieppe, Les Grandes-Ventes, France.

At about 10 kilometres from my destination of Dieppe, after 160 kilomtres in the saddle, I noticed a rubbing noise coming from my back wheel. "Hmm, that's odd", I thought, "I wonder what it could be..." So I stopped and inspected the bike, and promptly noticed that the rim had cracked, a crack a few centimetres long in the centre of the braking surface, and running parallel to the rim lip. 

Cracked rim, not far from Dieppe.

Cracked rim, not far from Dieppe.

It was the same thing as what happened when I was riding over a mountain pass in Italy in the Northern Apennine Mountains, merely a month earlier. It's caused by wearing down of the rim braking surface from braking, especially when there is grit in between the brake pads and the rim. And I must admit I'd never cleaned the brake pads or rim during the trip. But I replaced that rim when I was in Siena (after it cracked), merely a month earlier, so that rear rim had only lasted a month! I was disappointed, a rim should definitely last longer than that! The rim was now bulging out above the crack, with risk of the crack growing and the tyre exploding. However, I took my chances, and hoped I could limp it through the rest of my trip, I only had another day of riding before I'd be in my final destination of London, less than 100 kilometres to go! I'd ridden some 9000 kilometres throughout Europe up to that point, surely the dear bike could make it another 100 kilometres? I didn't have much choice but to keep going anyway, it was 10 pm so there certainly wouldn't be any bike shops open to replace the wheel or rim. I was optimistic that I'd make it to London the next day, so long as I could catch a ferry across the English Channel that night, which I would soon find out about when I got to Dieppe.

As I got closer to Dieppe, I remembered the town - I passed through there a few months earlier in my trip, I just hadn't remembered it by name. And I didn't actually like the vibe of the town when I'd first gone through, although I did have one of the most delicious pizzas I've ever eaten there. I decided to go straight to that pizzeria again, on the off chance it was still open. Unfortunately it was closed, and so were all the kebab shops - no dinner tonight. I'd ridden 170 kilometres that day, almost nine hours on the bike, yet it had seemed an easy day! I mean it was challenging because of the snow, but my body and legs didn't feel tired at all - I guess that's what three months of bicycle touring does to you.

Upon discovering all the shops were closed, I headed straight to the port of Dieppe and enquired about the ferry. The next ferry to depart for England would be 5 pm, and tickets were only €25, plus I could use the waiting room to rest - perfect! I was happy. 

I took my soaking booties, shoes and socks off, and popped them on the heaters in the toilets to dry. Then I ate the rolls that I'd taken from the hostel that morning, plus some cake and chocolate I had stashed in the panniers - not the healthiest or heartiest dinner but it would have to do. Then at about 2 pm I lined up a row of chairs and layed my weary head for a little while. I was quite making myself at home in the rest room there, with my bike beside me, before I'd have to get up to catch the ferry.

The route for the day, Paris to Dieppe.

An overview of my route so far from Rome.

Ride Stats:

Distance: 170 km
Average: 19.1 km/h
Maximum: 54.8 km/h
Time: 8:53:16

Total ascent: 994 m

Total descent: 1051 m

Paris 2

Sunday December 19, 2010

The view from my hostel dorm window (St Christopher's Paris). Paris received a good dumping of snow over-night.

To make the most of the day, I woke up early at 8:45 am. It would be a day of sight-seeing and exploring Paris and the Louvre before heading off the next day. I was able to eat my full at breakfast for once, which I've been finding difficult to do at hostels throughout the trip, usually because they don't have enough food.

Then I went to hop on my bike and discovered the front tyre was flat! What a drag! I took the tyre off and discovered that a leaking patch was the culprit, so I pulled the old one off and stuck a new one over it. Then I put the tube back in and the tyre back on and pumped it up and...it went flat again! So I took it off again, discovered it was the new patch I'd just stuck on that was leaking, so I pulled it off, and stuck a second new one on it. Then I put the tyre back on and pumped it up and...it seemed okay. So I hopped on the bike and went to ride to my Melbourne friend Steph's hostel, and the tyre went flat on the way. So I had to walk for several kilometres back to the hostel and was very frustrated!

A bike lane in Paris, on the Bd de la Chapelle.

I took the tyre off and used my spare tube this time, making sure I repaired the tube that went flat so I still had that as a spare. Then I rode to Steph's hostel, some 4 km away but she wasn't there, must have been out and about. 

Then I rode to the Louvre. 

The Louvre, Paris.

The Louvre, Paris.

I was surprised at how busy it was, and I had to wait in the queue for quite a long time before purchasing a ticket for €9.50. Apparently the museum averages 15,000 visitors per day. It was 2 pm when I got in, later than I'd planned; it closed at 5 pm so I only had 3 hours.

The Louvre was jam-packed full of amazing pieces of artwork, it was incredible. I was mostly looking at each piece for only a short time, but still only saw about a third of the pieces. You could spend days in there, it was quite overwhelming, by the end of the three hours I spent in there I wasn't taking much in anymore, because I'd seen so many pieces already. I photographed just a few of the more notable pieces:

Antonio Canova's Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss was commissioned in 1787, donated in 1824.

Dying Slave by Michelangelo.

Inside the Louvre, Paris.

Paolo Veronese The Marriage at Cana, 1562-1563

The Mona Lisa, Leonardo da Vinci, oil on panel, 1503–19, probably completed while the artist was at the court of Francis I.

The Venus de Milo was added to the Louvre's collection during the reign of Louis XVIII.

Great Sphinx of Tanis

The Seated Scribe from Saqqara, Egypt, limestone and alabaster, circa 2600 and 2350 BC 

Grand Dining Room in the Royal Apartments of Napoleon III

Grand Dining Room in the Royal Apartments of Napoleon III

I rode back to the hostel, much of the snow from the morning had melted. I spotted one of the blokes I'd met the previous day, Peter Ison, and chatted to him and his sister Suzanne. It was generally a much more intellectual conversation than the usual hostel conversation because the two siblings were quite switched on, and at closer to 30 years of age than 20, they had more life experience than your average hostel-goer.

Afterwards I met a Pom called James, and his Australian cousin Kat, then had a quick chat to one of the Perth guys, then to a Turkish bloke.

I cooked and ate cous cous for tea again, chatted to the guy from Delhi in my dorm, and the Turkish bloke and his mate.

The corridor in the fourth floor of my hostel (St Christopher's Paris).

Then I headed downstairs and chatted with James, Kat and their friend Jess. There were also some Americans, more Aussies and some Irish there too. Seems like I just spent the whole night chatting to people.

Hostel-stayers of varying nationalities.

Hostel-stayers of varying nationalities.

Hostel-stayers of varying nationalities.

Before getting to sleep, I spent a bit of time on the iPhone surfing the internet, Facebook and Twitter, and stumbled upon a bloke who was cycling around the world. He'd been working for an engineering company before sustaining a serious knee injury, and after he recovered he decided he'd had enough of full-time work and that he wanted to cycle around the world instead. He's a few years into his trip which he expects to take 8 years. And people thought I was crazy!

Here are a few links to his website and an interview:

http://www.cyclestrongman.com/
http://www.facebook.com/notes/i-am-a-super-woman-iaascom/meet-a-dude-who-is-riding-the-world-literally/162153957163179 

The route for the day in Paris

Ride stats:

Distance: 21.2 km
Average: 13.2 km/h
Maximum: 29.4 km/h
Time: 1:36:18

Total ascent: 202 m

Total descent: 189 m