Dear Santa,

I didn't get anything from you this year. What's up with that man? I thought we were buds. I always made sure Mom put out some cookies and milk and we've even fed your reindeer before. Have I been a bad kid this year? Personally I think I've been fairly good. It's been a nice year. You could have at least given me a pair of socks. But it's all good. Luckily I didn't need to rely on you to have a good Christmas.

Aside from the usual visit by our jolly old elf friend I can always rely on dinner with my family. Every year we gather together on Christmas Eve to eat dinner. When I was a younger kid I can remember the excitement being close to unbearable. The four boys chatting eagerly about what we hoped to get the next morning. My favorite part of Christmas Eve though has always been the trip into our Grandparent's attic. We'd go into the hallway and pull down the creaky stairs with "Twas the Night Before Christmas" in hand. In the attic we'll grab a bit of chalk and sign our names along with the year and occasionally a little note about something that had been going on that year. After this it was time to settle down and begin reading. Once with the lights on and a second time with the lights out pausing from time to time to listen for sounds of Santa on the roof.

This tradition has been going on since at least 1998. Over time it's gotten a little silly as we've grown up and take turns reading pages with our own words and spin on the story inserted here and there. Picking apart the artwork has also become a favorite activity. This year however I was the first to miss out. Luckily I was kept in the loop thanks to Will's videoing throughout the day. Maybe it's just our sense of humor, but he could be a vine celebrity. He also reserved a spot for me on the attic ceiling for 2014. I guess eventually someone that's not from our family may live in that house. I wonder what they will think when they see the attic. What exactly is "mowing"? Why did Zeb blow it that year? And where was he in 2014?

Y'all know of course that Christmas 2014 I was here in Scotland. And despite not being around my family this has been one of the best yet. I'll tell you why. My workday on Christmas Eve finished with a mince pie topped with brandy butter (this should be a thing in the states) and an invitation to Christmas lunch at the Dean's. Of course I'd have to consider as the invitation came on the condition I didn't wear a hat and I am on demand in these parts as the token American. Ultimately I'd accept and stop by the Spar on the way home to grab two bottles of whiskey. One for Ross and Polly (the Dell owners) and another for David and Valery. Later at the dell I settled into bed to dream of sugar plums and hope that soon St. Nicholas would soon be here.

As I mentioned earlier ol' Nick let me down. But to my surprise when I opened the door to go out on my run (it's traditional to take a walk on Christmas day) I was attacked by a large festive sock. Inside was a Christmas cracker, an orange, some candies, and a beer. It was a lovely surprise as I hadn't expected to have a stocking this year. Unfortunately I had slept in quite a bit and was returning from my run 30 minutes before I needed to be at the Dean's. I promised them I'd shower, it was a semi-formal event after all, so I hurried to get ready. On my way out I dropped by the big house and ran into Polly who I returned the stocking to, this time with whiskey inside. She invited me in but at this time I had 10 minutes to lunch. I rushed to the shed, grabbed my bike, and sped away sliding around on the icy road.

At the Lazy Duck I was immediately given the job of testing the mulled wine, David thought I appeared quite dehydrated. We decided it was suitable to distribute as Uncle John (Valery's nautical brother) arrived with his mother and her cousin. Bother are in their 90s. It's pretty funny to hear someone David's age talk about his mother-in-law. Of course looking at them and talking with them you'd really never guess they're 90-something. We'd move into the sun room to sit around the tree while snacking and opening presents. I'd given David his whiskey when I arrived and was very relieved that I had bought something acceptable. Not expecting anything in return though I was thrilled to be handed a few parcels from under the tree. My haul included a box of candies and a highland calendar from Elizabeth, the mother-in-law, a book about a cyclist going from Alaska to South America from the Dean's and a pair of wool socks! Even Jango (the dog) was given a small package, he loves opening presents.

Soon we'd plop down around the table to a wonderful traditional meal. Turkey and stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, roast vegetables, and little sausages. It was fantastic. For dessert there was Christmas pudding which was set on fire. What an exciting dessert, tasty too. Between courses I finally got to experience the whole "Christmas cracker" thing. They all contained a fabled "Party Hat" (mine was green!) along with a small knick knack (I got an eyepatch) and a bad joke. All the while through the meal we chatted away about all kinds of things including an unnamed family member and their famous "rock cakes" which were used to fill potholes on the drive. I learned a lot about the family I've been working alongside and it was a fantastic time. After the meal we'd head out for a brief walk. Luckily Uncle John had remembered that the queen would be speaking at 3. David thought it'd be a bit embarrassing to have to send her a letter explaining we regretfully missed her so we hurried back.

After the queen did her thing we did a bit of tidying. I'd then poke my head into the hostel to see if they needed anything. Staying with us over Christmas were two friendly folks, Andy from Ireland, and Louise from Scotland. Along with them were their 4-year old twins, a boy and a girl. They invited me in for traditional Christmas day Baileys. Eight hours later I'd be stumbling to my bike for a thrilling moon and starlit ride back to the cottage. In those eight hours we'd share a bit of our lives with each other while discussing many interesting topics ranging from parenthood to secret tequila bars in Mexico. Andy and Louise had done a fair amount of travelling themselves and were fascinating people. When they insisted I eat dinner with them there was no way I could miss out on the opportunity.

Upon returning to the cottage I'd find another stocking hung around the door handle. This time with a bottle of wine stuffed in it. I wouldn't go inside immediately despite the frigid temperature as the night sky was a sight to behold and I stood outside for a while to stare and reflect on my day. Standing there I felt like the luckiest person alive. And the feeling would continue.

Today is "Boxing Day", and again I'd receive a wonderful surprise. David handed me a map, compass, and rucksack complete with lunch packed by Valery shortly after I arrived at The Lazy Duck. By 11:50 I was hiking up to a ridge line and walking along it over three peaks headed for Bridge of Brown where I'd meet the two to get a ride back to Nethy. Along the ridge I was graced with a 360 degree view of the surrounding landscape. Everything was frozen today and covered in ice. A real Winter Wonderland. At the third peak I'd phone David before dropping into the valley along a creek. They'd meet me somewhere along the track. Over a fence, through a field, and across a bridge I'd wonder in the back of my mind if I was heading the right way. Suddenly there was a rustling in the brush at the side of the road and Jango came bounding out. Valery and David came trotting around the corner not long after.

It's like I've found the Philosopher's Stone to life. I'm putting in lead and in return receiving gold. Which reminds me of a quote from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.
“This is for you,' he (the Alchemist) said, holding one of the parts (of gold) out to the monk. 'It's for your generosity to the pilgrims.'
'But this payment goes well beyond my generosity,' the monk responded.
'Don't say that again. Life might be listening, and give you less the next time.”

For that reason I'll always be thankful for the gold I've been given. Even if I can't give it back I'll always give what I'm able. I'd like to think that in the right hands at the right time lead can be just as useful as gold anyway. As always I'll remain incredibly grateful to the kindness of others such as Andy and Louise, David and Valery, They've given me the greatest gifts of all, the fond memories that I'll keep with me wherever I go.

Sincerely,
Zeb

Geography of the Mind

Dreams are fascinating. I'm not talking about dreams as in aspirations but the dream you have while you're sleeping. Our dreams might be the oddest thing that we all have in common. No matter who you are, you still dream. They say that even if you don't remember having one you still did. What an incredible ability that our bodies have. I wonder about how big of an impact these uncontrollable thoughts have had on our species. Do we put too little emphasis on dreams? Too much? Do they really mean anything? Dreams seem to be the final frontier. One of the last great mysteries. I don't know too much about them but I am compelled to write mine down whenever I have one that is vivid and memorable. Since travelling there have been a good amount, I've written a description below.

Dream #1: The Fall - August 7th 2014 5:35 A.M.

Will and I are out at one of my old bosses new property. He's having a new house built and there's large machinery with folks wearing helmets. It's a really pretty location, my Dad is here too. Next thing I know we're at Will's house. He and I are late for class so my Dad gives us a ride part of the way to campus. Will is riding in the truck while I'm sitting on the tailgate. The truck stops and I hop off the tailgate, but I don't land where I planned. When I hit the ground I'm standing with Ennio, my fellow volunteer. There's something wild about him and he looks a bit like a wolf. We start walking and we're in a stadium on a huge staircase. It's either a baseball game or a concert, I'm not sure. Next to the staircase are huge support columns holding it up. For whatever reason I decide to hop over the rail onto one of these. Once on the column I realize how easy falling would be and I begin to get scared. And then a man comes riding down the stairs on a bike. He grabs too much front brake and endos over the rail and falls. Seeing him fall wakes me up. I record this dream on my phone.

Dream #2: The Hotel - August 15th 2014 5:46 A.M.

I'm in a huge hotel and there's some kind of party being thrown. As I look around I recognize many faces, it's a very odd gathering. At first we're all sitting around tables on a large balcony while a baseball game is being played below. The first hit of the game is a home run and some man's son near us almost catches it. Many of the people I recognize seem to have joined the military but they're not people you'd expect to join. This is never resolved. Suddenly I receive a text from Solomun and he lets me know there's a party going on somewhere in another room, with an Xbox tournament. When I look up from the message I'm standing with a friend and a friend of her's. I don't know why I know this but I'm aware that when they were younger they looked very similar. We part ways and I say goodbye. I'm now running up stairs passing all kinds of people in rooms with doors open. But a few floors up I realize I left my backpack with my friend. I turn to begin running back without knowing how to get there. One of the rooms I pass this time has a huge cat inside looking out at me, I keep going. End up in a large courtyard somewhere in the hotel. I can tell I'm almost where I'm trying to get to. And I wake up. Recorded this dream on my phone.

Dream #3: The Fortune Tree - October 3rd 2014 4:24 A.M.

I'm in a huge old house and everything is made out of wood. Wooden floors, walls, ceilings. There are so many rooms. It's a huge house and I get the feeling that I've dreamed about this before. I'm not alone and walking through the house with me is a girl that I don't recognize. Somewhere in the house there's a room with a window that opens up to a massive evergreen tree with fortunes growing on it. I'm a bit frustrated because as I search for this tree I feel like I know where it is, I've been to it before. This time it takes me much longer to find it. I'm hoping for a fortune about safe travels. We find the tree but I don't know which fortune I got. We continue walking and pass by rooms filled with globes, compasses, suits of armor and odd things. Some of these rooms look like the house I grew up in. We find a courtyard and across the way is a room filled with pews and candles, it looks like a church service. I wake up at this point to record the dream on my phone.

Dream #4: The River - December 20th 2014 6:27 A.M.

I'm back in the USA walking along a river by myself. Around the next bend I hear voices and when I walk around it I see a blonde girl I recognize in an inflatable kayak. She had been shouting at a man on the shore that I don't recognize. I say something that I can't recall but there's the feeling it was the wrong thing to say whatever it was. For some reason I'm now standing in the water as the man comes down to the edge of the river. He's unfriendly to me and tells me that I should leave, I have no business with this girl or being around. I was taken aback by this and asked him how he could be so mean to someone that he doesn't even know. He introduced himself as Kevin, I've forgotten his last name. I remember it was confusing. He insists I say his full name and so I repeat it. There's a feeling that he had hoped I'd botch his last name and end up looking silly in front of the girl. But I don't. I tell him that I'm "Zebulon Ramsbotham" and he gives me a funny look but not one of disapproval. By now the girl is off and he needs to go pick her up at the take out. She had been surfing on small waves. Kevin asks if I'd like to ride along with him. I'm pretty keen to see the girl again so I agree. Along the way we chat in the van and I tell him about the French Broad and Watauga rivers.

We arrive at the take out and I find I'm wearing a short-sleeve cycling jersey Kevin gave me. It's one advertising the company he works for. At the take out there's a little get together with folks from the company, it seems like a family affair. Some kind of BBQ. It's mostly women middle-aged and older. Kevin and I may be the only guys. Some folks shift around and I see the girl sitting in a chair, she's already off the river. When seeing her I realize my jersey pockets are filled with all kinds of things. I begin to empty them to find the Lazy Duck Notebook I carry, my phone, my Garmin, and some other oddities. Slowly I feel a great weight lifted from me. Someone shoots off a firework. It's still daytime but the rocket explodes in front of a dark cloud. It's a beautiful sight. One of the elderly women is laughing. I turn to Kevin and tell him "This isn't right, I'm going home." That's when I woke up.

This dream left me with a feeling of longing and a vivid memory of the view of the river where I first turned the corner to see Kevin and the girl. It was a fairly wide river with overhanging trees. It flowed down a series of steps before reaching the bend. I wasn't able to fall back asleep. Instead I typed a summary on my netbook.

I'm not sure dreams really mean anything but they certainly make me think about a lot. And I'd like to believe they happen for a reason. Even if that reason is just what we might have been thinking about before sleeping.

Dear December 17th,

December 17th is a pretty good day if you're reading about it on Wikipedia. It's the day the first Final Fantasy game was released; a franchise that I'd come enjoy a lot. It's also the day the Wright Brother's performed their first controlled-powered flight and conveniently the first flight of many other aircraft. The first episode of the Simpson's even aired on this day in 1989. Along with important historical events like these you'll also find a long list of births and deaths. However there is one birth that's missing. Mine. Maybe one day it'll be on there. So on December 17th you'll find me being a bit selfish celebrating being born instead of celebrating "Wright Brothers Day".

For a long time I always thought of my birthday as just that day I'd get some gifts from folks. But I guess when you're young sometimes you can miss out on the real value of things. Slowly I started appreciating my birthday because it meant getting together with my family but I still really enjoyed the gift bit. Slowly over the years though excitement about gifts has declined. To clarify quickly, maybe by the time I'm 70 I'll be over the gift thing, for now though I'm still a fan. If anyone wants a hint about next year... I'd really like a pair of nice rubber boots, hand knitted wool socks and mittens. If somehow a sweater made it my way..... Anyway, it's not all about presents anymore I swear!

So what is it about? It's about celebrating life. Isn't that the best gift of all? What's cooler than life? Wool socks and raspberry jam (not together please) come close. But nothing quite compares. On December 17th 1991 I was given a ticket to experiencing the greatest theme park ever, Earth. I'd give it a 5/5 on TripAdvisor for sure. There are all kinds of cool things to do like: eating, sleeping, drinking, breathing, cycling, running, talking, daydreaming, reading books, climbing trees, watching a sunset, getting rained on, listening to music, watching clouds, and looking at stars. The list goes on forever. But I'd like to take a minute to talk about cycling. Why? Because cycling helped me realize I love being alive. It was the gateway drug to life for me. Cycling made me pay attention to my body like I never really had before. I found myself enjoying exerting myself, breathing hard, sweating. Soon I was hooked on the rush of the wind through my hair (beard too), the smell of cold mountain air, the view from the top of a climb, taste of thirst quenching water, texture of a gooey Clif Bar. Even when I hate it, I love it. 28 degree F Winter Wilkesboro rides? That helped me learn what my body is capable of and how good a Snickers and a Coke tastes.

Slowly this mindset crept into the rest of my life. I'd find myself taking pleasure from a deep full breath, unable to resist a smile and laugh as I walked down King Street in the sun. Just today in Scotland I had to pause while working and stand still in the woods watching the snow fall while the wind whipped through the treetops. That's what my birthday is about.

Of course it's also about friends and family. The people that got me this far. As I said earlier on, usually we have a gathering with family. But here I am in Nethy Bridge far from family. Luckily Valery and David were here for me. When I showed up to work on the 17th they let me know we'd be going out to eat lunch at 12:30. They'd take me to the Heather Centre where I tried stovies and clootie dumplings. David even pulled out a couple of flasks and poured a few drinks, I'm not entirely sure that's a kosher move in a restaurant. But as they're elderly locals I don't think anyone minded. To my amazement they even handed me a gift. I'd unwrap it to find a copy of "The Well at the World's End" a novel by a Scottish author. I'm keen to start reading it soon, maybe tonight. We were a bit late returning to The Lazy Duck but the conversation and meal was well worth it. And it meant I didn't have as long of a work day.

Later on when I returned to the Dell I'd run into Paul (my roommate) and Ross (Dell co-owner). Ross had just given Paul some goodies from the butcher for us to enjoy. Paul and I would eat like kings before heading up to the fire pit to enjoy a roaring fire and drinks with Ross. We'd also have cupcakes courtesy of Polly (Ross's other half) and Harris their three year old. Paul's friend Joe who was visiting even whipped some cream for us. When I first arrived everyone used the expression that they thought I had "landed on my feet" here. Guess that means they thought I'd fit in well. But fitting in is easy when you're surrounded by incredible people.

I couldn't have imagined a better day to celebrate coming into this fantastic world.

Sincerely,
Zeb

P.S.
Shout out to Emily for being the first person to post a "Happy Birthday" on my Facebook wall. And huge thanks to Will and Zach (guest appearance by Jack and Jordan) for taking time to chat with me via Facebook video calls. Really enjoyed seeing you all and I'm looking forward to hanging out IRL soon. Pic Related; It's y'all.

P.P.S.
Flights are booked! I'll be back on American soil January 31st.

Will and Zach (Jordan too)

Dear Lazy Duck,

Hello from Nethy Bridge, Scotland! Home to the Lazy Duck Hostel as well as the Woodman's Hut and Duck's Nest, my current Workaway assignment. Way back in the days of Norway I was in contact with David who owns the Lazy Duck along with his wife Valerie. We exchanged a few emails and eventually I had three wonderful people write reference letters for me. Huge thanks to Will, Emily, and Sandra. They all wrote letters on my behalf on fairly short notice. In fact I remember being in a tent somewhere in the Rondanes National Park, using some precious data on my phone, when I asked Emily for a bit of help. Without this kind of help I never would have made it to the interview process. The interview took place while Anna and I sat in the Oslo train station waiting on Cinthia's arrival. And I suppose I must have done fairly well because here I am, in Scotland. I attribute my interview success to being able to understand David as he does not have a thick accent. Sometimes English over here is a bit of a foreign language. For instance today I found myself wondering what exactly the "skip" was. It's the bin. Or the place you put garbage. Anyway, my point is that I've been planning on coming to Scotland for a while. But it wasn't always something I set out to do. Really I got a bit lucky and happened to see the Lazy Duck's listing on Workaway. All of my moving around and travelling had lead me to consider learning some about hospitality, and offering folks a nice place to stay. And well, that's what I get to do here.

One of my primary responsibilities is the hostel. The huts are for David, Valerie, and JC to look after. JC by the way is the manager. He lives on the property with his wife and two kids. Originally from Ecuador, where he managed a place in the cloud rainforest. He gave me a bulk of my original training around the place, but is now a bit of a ghost. Recently (six days ago) his second child was born so he has other duties he needs to see to. That's ok though, I'm learning how to sail this ship. But it's a special ship. It's not your normal hostel, it's a tiny hostel that only fits eight people. Outside you'll come to a covered garden and if you've arrived late there will be lights on to welcome you. In the garden you'll find a few chairs, a table, massive fireplace, and a bird feeder where the illusive Crested-Tit loves to visit. Directly inside is a well supplied kitchen, wood stove, and living space. Further in you'll find four bunks, the bathroom, and a ladder leading upstairs. The upstairs is really neat, a big loft with four more beds. So what do I do at the hostel? Mostly "service". Which just means when guests are out for the day I sneak in and do a bit of tidying. Making sure that when they return from whatever adventure they've decided to go on they'll come back to a clean living space. I also try to make it cosy, lighting a fire to keep it all warm. I feel a bit like an elf from Harry Potter. But most of the time I'm at "work" I feel like Hagrid.

The bulk of my duties are outside, roaming the six acre property taking care of all kinds of jobs. One of the big ones is refilling stocks of wood all over. There's the wood for the hostel and Duck's nest, wood for David and Valerie, and wood for the hot tub. Some may be a bit confused by that, wood for the hot tub? Well, yes. Here at the Lazy Duck we have a wood fired hot tub. And it really likes wood. Top of the to-do list when I return from my day off is to get wood to it. Much of what's stored there is being burned tonight. My last job today was to light the fire and make sure it was heating up. It takes around one hour for every ten degrees Celsius. To heat it fully usually takes about two wheelbarrows full of wood. It's a bit fuel and labour intensive, but it's a major attraction here. Especially with all the snow on the ground. And it's just special, a big wooden barrel with a smokestack. You don't see it everyday.

When not dealing with the hot tub or wood you might find me doing a bit of brush clearing. Maybe some shovelling if we've had snow (which we've had a lot of lately). Or I might be a bit domestic, taking care of the laundry (which we've also had a lot of). And then there's the menagerie. Our lovely critters that live all about. Right by the entrance you'll find a field containing six Soay Sheep, a rare feral breed native to an island in the English Channel, and a house with ten hens. Every morning and afternoon I make sure they are well fed and accounted for. Today I had a bit of excitement as when I was counting the hens I realized one was missing. Luckily, she was just roosting on the sheep's hay. Silly girl. Aside from the sheep and hens we of course have what gives the Lazy Duck its name, ducks. In the centre of the property there's a large duck pond which is home to a large assortment of ducks. From really large ducks, practically geese, to smaller mandarins. I think there are around six or seven varieties in total. In the afternoon we make sure to put them away safely in their pens and feed them. Every now and then a large heron also visit the pond, one day I got to see him eat a fish! And lastly there's Jango, the always eager to have a pet dog. Sometimes he's a bit distracting when we're planning the day, nudging his way under your hands, but I really like him.

Really though I can find myself doing all manner of things. Checking hostellers in, counting our money from a donation drive for the volunteer rescue squad, taking out the garbage. Most often I'm an extra pair of hands. David and Valerie aren't so agile now. They're sharp and know what needs doing but sometimes they just need an able body to get out and do it, which is where I've entered the picture. And it's not a picture that I mind being in. Really it's quite a nice picture, a picture I'd have framed and put up on a wall. Which means that I'm enjoying myself at the Lazy Duck. I'm glad to have found my way here to the highlands of Scotland.

Sincerely,
Zeb

P.S.
Topics I hope to cover in future posts are what I'll do on my days off, where I'm living, and what Nethy Bridge is like. Of course, more stories from the Lazy Duck too. This post took a while to get up because since I landed here it's been a bit of a whirlwind of learning. I've been keeping busy and in my free time I've been lazy. I also was awaiting the arrival of my netbook! Finally caved and decided to get a little laptop and stop writing these articles on my phone. It's also time to start looking into what I'll be doing when I return home, sometime early 2015.

P.P.S.
Huge congratulations to all of my friends that had their graduation today! Dear friends of mine like Will, Emily, and former cycling team mates finished up their degrees at Appalachian State. I tuned into watch from the cottage. It was great fun to watch it all happen, just wish I could have been there in person! Looking forward to being back home and saying congrats to everyone.

Dear Amsterdam,

Before I really talk about Amsterdam I have to mention what it was that brought me to the city. Ever since I was a small person Amsterdam has been a city I wanted to visit. Growing up I can remember hearing stories from my Mom about her time spent there. She made it sound like such a wonderful place. Recently, a little over a week ago, my Mom came to Europe. She planned to visit Amsterdam. There's not much better than seeing your Mom after months of being abroad, and getting to go to her favorite city with her. So thanks Mom! Thanks for coming to Euroland and thanks for letting me tag along with you and Sandi on y'all's vacation. It really meant a lot to me to see you. In my life you've been one of the most influential folks, if not the most. Where would I be without "The Little Prince"? You've also been my greatest supporter, without your help I wouldn't be who I am today. It's not a joke that when asked what my greatest achievement is I've said, "I made my Mom proud".

But, all of that aside, I developed my own individual fascination with Amsterdam. Mostly thanks to the bicycle. Possibly man's greatest invention. Far better than sliced bread. More practical than a space shuttle. Prettier than Mona Lisa. Our most efficient machine. I knew Amsterdam was big on the bike. But one day in Barnes & Noble I came across Pete Jordan's book "In The City of Bikes", the story of the Amsterdam cyclist. In this book he gives his own perspective and stories of cycling in the city while giving an exciting account of the bikes role. My favorite bit? When he points out Anne Frank had written in her diary about riding her bike and shaking off boys trying to ask her out. After reading this book I was even more into the idea of visiting sometime.

That sometime became November 30th - December 3rd 2014. The morning of the 30th we left London from King's Cross via train and would later be leaving Centraal Station for Singel Hotel. That's the day I fell in love with a city. It isn't like anywhere I've ever been, and it's better than I imagined. Which doesn't happen often as I'm quite good at using my imagination. But it wasn't really until December 1st that Amsterdam took a bit of my heart. On that day I rented a bicycle. It took the better part of the day to build up the courage to join the sea of commuters but soon I'd find myself in Kings Bikes. There I talked to the very friendly Isaac and decided to rent a bike I never thought of myself riding. A beast of incredible weight. A step-through frame. Accessorized with a bell, front and rear light, fenders, a rack, and two bike locks. Pete Jordan often talks about bike theft in his book and Isaac confirmed it. Letting me know to use both locks at all times. Maybe I could get away with one if it's daylight and I'm parked in a nice place. And to always try to lock up on a fence if possible. He also showed me a picture of a common bike parking area, a white square on the ground. Saying if I see that, make sure I put the bike there. Otherwise the government gets it and that's a real pain. Isaac's last advice was to stick to the right side of the road as one way lanes don't really apply to cyclists.

All of a sudden I was sailing down cobbled streets, cruising alongside canals. To become aclimated I followed other people around, being a bit of a shadow. Soon I was lost in the city tailing person after person. It was the most fun I've had in a while, all for about €12/day. Over time I became more confident and comfortable. I stopped following others and began turning down any little street that looked interesting. Cycling on its own is a fantastic time and in Amsterdam, a stunning city, there's so much to look at. Not just the city itself either but also its people. Certainly some of the most attractive folks in the world are riding around the city on their bikes. This time of the year they are bundled up, scarves wrapped around their necks. Eyes watering and noses running.

Their bikes by the way are not... well... nice. Many fit the term "clunker" well. Making a clunking sound as they go by. Dry chains chatter. Bike locks, fenders, racks, the rider and everything else rattles over cobbles. My hotel room looked out at the canal and the street, I could always hear the bike orchestra rolling by. The daily stream of commuters, the late night riders, and the folks on their way to work in the morning. It's a lovely sound and there's hardly a car. From time to time the ringing of a bell is added in as a brief warning to pedestrians walking in the street or another rider being over taken. Maybe even some chatter as a group of friends pass. It's how every city should sound. And there's nothing pretentious about the Amsterdam cyclist, their bikes as evidence. The man in a suit, the fashionable young lady, and the "cool" kids all ride clunkers. I never saw a carbon bike and only once saw lycra. The bike is more of a car, a mode of transportation, than it is a way to stay in shape. But it's far better than a car.

There are a few places my bike took me that a car never could. Or, it'd be really frowned upon for a car to take you there. For instance down a one way street the wrong way. No big deal on a bike, just stick to the right. Vondels Park is another place, where I saw the only lycra'd cyclist. It's a wonderful park filled with joggers, boxers, water fowl, and of course bikes. But possibly my favorite exclusive spot was the tunnel under the Rijks Museum. Here cyclists are free to pass under a building filled with hundreds of years of history. Ever since reading about this path in "In The City of Bikes" I knew it was something I wanted to do. And now I've done it! A few times, just for good measure. Another joy of the bike is the ability to start, stop, and park just about anywhere. Many lights were hung around the city and at night it was beautiful. I'd hop on my bike and check it all out, free to stop and take pictures as I pleased. Bikes themselves add aesthetic appeal to the city. Someone seeing a canal might not automatically think Amsterdam. But a canal lined with parked bikes?

Unfortunately it all came to an end. On the morning of the 3rd I went out for one last spin. By this time I was very comfortable riding in most, if not all, situations. Maybe not as comfortable as the woman I saw reading and riding though. In fact, she made me a bit uncomfortable. I could navigate with some ease, able to find my way about with a few landmarks. I'd re-visit some of my favorite places before heading back to the rental place and returning the bike at the last minute. Stripped of my wings I walked back to the hotel to gather my things and head to the airport with my Mom. She was headed back to the US and I was off to Scotland, where I am now. But I know sometime soon in the future I'll once again be on a bike in the city of bikes. Maybe not a step-through though.

Sincerely,
Zeb

P.S.
Everyone should go to Amsterdam and ride a bike! Even if you're not an avid cyclist. It really does change your perspective of the city, and it's so much fun! If you're interested I highly recommend Pete Jordan's book. I can't wait to re-read it with having had this experience. He also gives tours of the city by bike, I found out too late to do that though.

I'm now up in the highlands of Scotland working at The Lazy Duck. I already love it. The beauty and people here are helping me forget the sadness of leaving Amsterdam behind.

Dear Sidmouth,

Sidmouth. England's Florida, if Florida was a state that I loved. Really Sidmouth only has a few things in common with Florida. Sidmouth is at the south of its country, has a fantastic coast, and boasts a large number of retired folks. Two of those folks are June and David. For three days and two nights June and David took me in and treated me like one of their own. And so this post is dedicated to them and their lovely part of the world. But before I talk about my stay I first need to talk about a friend back home.

Hello Emily.
Let's hope you read this, or it'd be a bit embarassing wouldn't it? Do you rememer Dr. Katz's class? That is the first class we had together right? I don't think we ever talked in it. And I'm sure that when you saw me you didn't think "One day that guy will go to Sidmouth and see my Grandma." But, that did happen. Isn't life odd. You see, June is Emily's Grandma. Emily and I became friends while attending an entry level physics class. If you go by what Facebook says (doesn't everyone?) we became friends in September 2013. Over the course of that year we'd build a strong friendship primarily made of pizza boxes, the strongest building material known to man. A special bond is formed during the ritual sharing of a Capone's Bonnie & Clyde. Of course things like giving a lift to work and helping with a move help a lot too. But mostly pizza. Once I made it to England Emily gave my contact info to her Gran. And the rest is now recent history. So thank you too Emily for being the tomato sauce on the pizza. You might be a bit out of the picture, but you form a vital link between the cheese and the crust. And I appreciate that greatly. More so after having eaten Hungary's sauceless pizza.

And so this past Sunday I found myself on platform 3 at the Taunton station waiting on the train to Exeter. David and I had been in touch and he'd be at the other end waiting on my arrival with a "Z E B !" sign. In less than an hour I'd be hopping in his car and cruising along to Sidmouth where I'd meet June. I'll never think of June as just another month. Certainly I'll now always be reminded of the south coast of England. And what a coast it is! After watching a Formula 1 race with David we'd set out on a walk. The word "walk" doesn't seem to do it justice. There should be a special term for when you go on a walk and see so much. On our journey we'd meander down hedge lined lanes, up and over a hill, and by pretty old houses. As the sun was setting we'd find ourselves standing above Jacob's Ladder at the shore. The sun had dipped behind a hill and its light had painted the sky with warm colors. There weren't many clouds but the ones present reminded me of the kind my Mom claims to mean it will snow. Down below us you could hear, and see, waves gently rolling on to the beach. The air felt clean and crisp. Along the coast you see the dramatic cliffs rising out of the sea. It's a bit obvious why people would want to retire here. Any day of the week you can walk into a painting. Or one of a number of paintings. We'd continue on through a well organized and beautiful garden area to a view of Sidmouth. Here you could see the town's waterfront with its shops, restaurant, and walkway. Soon we'd be down there. Stopping in at the Mocha for some tea and cake before heading away from the water, down beautiful streets, and back to June and David's. We'd return to a lovely roast dinner, June is quite the cook.

Monday brought more blue sky and crisp air. On the day's schedule was a walk from Branscombe to Beer along the Jurassic Coast. Fortunately free of dinosaurs. After breakfast we'd pile into the car and head for Branscombe, a town built up a valley. It was a pretty place and one day I'd like to return and look around. We'd head down along the valley until meeting the sea. Once again I was on the footpaths that I like so much. The walk over to Beer was filled with sun, views, and the sound of waves. We'd take our time and stop often to look at the scenery. Beer itself is a great destination. Lots of cool buildings and a nice atmosphere. Just make sure you get there before two if it's late in the year. Most of it is shut down or with limited hours during the off season. And if you're like David, a fish n' chip purist, you may be dissapointed by being offered huss instead of cod. But at least it's caught locally. You can walk down to the shore and see the boats. We'd eventually head back the way we came, this time on the high road. Along the way we came across many "kissing gates". The story being that a man would charge his lady with a kiss to be let through. Unfortunately I was a bit of a third wheel in this as I had no lady to tax and I couldn't wait around all day for one to arrive. Most we saw were already with their own member of the IRS anyway. Another highlight of this walk was recreating a photo or two from Emily's youth. It was fun to hear a few stories about her, nothing embarassing I promise Emily. As we continued and the sun set temperatures would drop quickly but soon enough we were back in Sidmouth enjoying a steak and kidney pie. For dessert I was even treated with a cream tea. Scones with clotted cream and jam, of course tea too. An issue in some households is whether you put your cream or your jam on first. I'm not sure what it says about me but for the record, I put the cream on first.

Tuesday would unfortunately be my last day in the company of June and David. We'd head into Exeter where they'd show me some of the history. A peak at the guildhall, a bit of the castle, and mostly the cathedral. The Exeter Cathedral really is quite a thing to see. After exploring it for a while we'd head to an old restaurant allegedly where Francis Drake used to go. I wonder what he'd think if he showed up there today. Too soon after leaving the restaurant I was at the train station saying my farewells. But it isn't a permanent goodbye. One day we may see each other again in North Carolina. There's also a walk close to the length of the Westweg that follows the coast, I think I'd like to do that. Either way Southwest England is somewhere I'd like to return to. I can't thank June and David enough for the hospitality that they've shown me, which included flying the NC flag. I wish them the best!

Sincerely,
Zeb

P.S.
Phew, sorry about this late update. Since Sidmouth I've returned to and left Wivey. I went back for a final dinner with Craig and Lis (and a pint in the bear along with a pickled egg). Two more folks, along with other Wivey locals, I'd like to see again. The next morning I caught a coach to London where I met up with my Mom! We've been exploring the city together along with her friend Sandi. It's really a treat. I'm sure I'll have something to say about all of that. We head to Amsterdam for a few days on the 30th and then Dec. 3rd I'm off to Scotland! I'll try to keep things more up to date.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving back in the US! As always I'm thanful for friends and family, the kindness of strangers, my health, and so much more!

Dear Public Footpaths,

What a great idea you are. Many adventures I've been on have happened because of my access to public footpaths. I owe a lot to whoever came up with the scheme to create them and to the local landowners that let me stroll around on their land. A day hasn't gone by that I've not been on one of these paths.

This post includes a few shocking secrets about my life abroad so hold on tight. The first is that I'm now somewhat of a dedicated runner. I know I've mentioned my new hobby a bit before but now it's really a problem. Since I've been here in Wivey I've started my day off with a run of at least fourty-five minutes, at most sixty. Running has crept into my daily routine. I have an alarm set for 6:30, plenty of time to wake up and argue with myself over why running is stupid and I should sleep instead. Eventually I'll find myself dressed in my blue running attire and slipping on my (usually) soggy shoes. As I lace them up brown water trickles out of the shoestrings. My shoes are a bright red with a good covering of grass and mud. I think of myself as Superman. Before setting off I select some music, usually the Gorillaz, Will's playlist, or some soothing electronic music. Some may be horrified to know I'm a Zune guy. Always a trendsetter I bypassed the IPods and went with Microsoft's version. Folks are generally surprised by this exclaiming "They still make those?!" "I've never known anyone with one!" Aside from it starting with the best letter of the alphabet I like the Zune because: 1. It doesn't use ITunes 2. More storage space, less money. So, music situated, off I go down the track from the caravan. At the end I have a decision to make, am I going left or right? If I go left I'm headed up the hill, right takes me down towards the river. Either way I'll see the massive pheasant cage. This is where the birds are fed and raised from a young age. Seeing it always reminds me of Jurassic Park and the fencing used for the dinosaurs. This of course makes me think of the pheasants as little velociraptors strutting around. Thankfully they're not as clever or ferocious. Often on my runs a herd of these birds skitters along in front of me, some emitting a funny noise and flapping to freedom. At times I feel a bit like a T-Rex chasing after prey. Rawr. At the top of the hill, if I've gone left, I'll come to a gate with a field on the other side. Every now and then I'll just jog in circles around this field only accompanied by the odd pheasant, deer, or flock of gulls. The view from here across the valley is fantastic. Just watch out for the bottom left corner, it's sloppy down there.

If I'm feeling adventurous I'll jog straight through the field and make a left just past the next gate. Don't go straight or you'll end up with the sheep. Oops. Left keeps you on the public footpath headed down into Wivey. Don't forget to shut the gate. There's a sign letting you know that forgetting to do so causes more work for the farmer, and that he has enough work as it is. Following this path is tricky as it's very muddy and filled with puddles, but it's still nice. You run between hedges with herds of sheep on the other side. Eventually coming out of the fields into Wivey by the gas station. I've been told if you come down to the gas station around closing time you'll see the owner moonwalking to Michael Jackson as he cleans. He's an elderly man, and has owned the starion for many years. I'd like to see his performance one day. Once in town there are plenty of sidewalks and places to run, but I feel like I'm on display. Most often I'll make a right after leaving the caravan and go to the river. I love running along next to it, hopping over potholes and puddles in the track. Eventually I'll come to a paved road which is the start of a long hill, getting steeper and steeper towards the too. It's close to three quarters of a mile. On the other side I descend to the intersection, turn around and head back. Rarely do I see a car or other people out and about on this route. What might be most folks least favorite part, the hill, is my favorite. I feel vaguely as if I'm back in Boone, pedalling my way up a climb. Up and up and up until finally reaching the top. I love that feeling, reaching the top.

One day while heading up this hill I found my mind on the most peculiar subject, running in a race. I imagined myself catching a fellow runner on the final hill, reaching the top to cheers. Little did I know I'd find myself running in a local 5k a few days after. This past Friday, after a run, I walked down to Wivey. Walking on the footpath was nice, but I seemed to have more trouble with the puddles. How did I always avoid them while running? In town I stopped by the convenience store to grab a candy bar and sports drink. This is where I ran into Frank, a man from an earlier post and the sawmill. Frank invited me to go to Taunton with him on Saturday to take part in a 5k. I now know that it's very British, or Somerset, to understate everything. After a full English breakfast nearly did me in, I had recovered enough to run the next day. So Frank picked me up and off we went. Along the way we talked about how we both discovered how important staying in shape is. Endurance sports will always play a vital role in my life. Of course I'm a fan of the physical benefits. I sleep better, breathe easier, and eat a few extra digestives without worry of caloric content. But also the mental benefits. Exercise really is a form of therapy. It turned my life around. But, on to the 5k. Upon arrival I discovered that this is no casual group run in the park. Every Saturday close to 300 people meet in Taunton to take part in a ParkRun. These are free events, started in London, that offer a bit of competition and fun. They have barcodes printed off from the ParkRun website that they have scanned at the end of the race. Results are posted online. So there I was, running in the first running event I've ever taken part in. Along with Frank there was also Godfrey and Sam, Godfrey's kid that is really fast. With no idea how to pace myself for a 5k I just took off, passing by folks and trying to settle in. I'd find my place and try to survive while running thru puddles and mud. I didn't start my watch and had no concept of time. Upon finishing the first lap I discovered there was a second lap. Oops. And so I went on. Eventually I finished up 36th out of 240 some folks with a time of 22:41. Sam would finish 6th, under 20 minutes. It was all really something special. I'm not ready to admit that I'll make it a habit to run in events like this... but who knows.

Coincidentally that afternoon would be Craig and I's planned Skrumpy plus fish and chip night. Which is my second secret. I have been eating meat since travelling. After nearly five years of a vegetarian diet I returned to eating critters. Why? Well, for one sometimes it was hard to tell on a menu what did or didn't have meat. I've also been staying with folks, like Craig and Lis, and didn't want to impose my diet on them. And, well, I didn't want to miss out on things. Like this fish and chip night. And so, almost to celebrate, off we went with kids in tow to the fish and chip shop. Lis was out for the weekend at a spa with friends. When we returned we'd settle down in front of the television with paper packets of fried delight, vinegar, ketchup, and skrumpy. Skrumpy is a bit like alcoholic apple juice (skrumping is the act of stealing apples off trees). It's not like cider as it doesn't have the bubbles. Ours came from Sheppy's, an orchard Craig's grandpa worked at. Somerset is cider country so I couldn't miss out. As we sat there drinking, eating, and watching Watership Down I felt properly British.

Today I woke up feeling a bit like a fried fish. Skipping breakfast wasn't an issue as I was still stuffed from the previous night. I had ordered a large portion of chips and nearly finished it. Chips by the way are french fries. And crisps are chips. After knocking out some dishes and getting a fire lit I'd take a nap and then head off down to the river on a run. Attempting to sweat out some vinegar and skrumpy. I'd move a bit slower than usual but that's to be expected. Tomorrow I'll be up early to run again before splitting wood and heading to the sawmill. I might even be looking forward to it. And definitely needing it. Now I feel a bit like a cake as today Craig and Lis had friends over for tea and cake. I sat at the table eating different cakes while a parade of children swept around the room. Every person present was either about to have a kid or already had one, or two. Well, except for me. Thankfully.

Sincerely,
Zeb