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A Chinese Wedding Story: Mark & Eliza

A Ten Minute Read

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When you meet that special person in your life there is nothing which can separate your worlds. Many years ago when I was working in Sanya, China I met the love of my life. Not long ago I returned from China with a small group of family and friends for our wedding. I am now married to my best friend and the girl who will help share the rest of my days. It is an incredible feeling as we embark on the new adventure in life together.

Only a few people I know were able to attend the wedding China, so I will share with you a little bit of what exactly it is like to get married in China. We wanted our wedding to be traditional Chinese, so many of the aspects may seem strange or foreign. The whole experience was a learning curve for me as well. Enjoy the beauty in the difference.

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I woke early on the day of my Chinese wedding. The last week had been a blur of meeting people, preparing for a wedding and getting to learn a little bit more about my new family. It was raining lightly outside. There I spent a quiet moment in my wedding room. Soon the wonderful chaos of the day would begin. It was a day I had been looking forward to for a long time. I knew it would not disappoint.

Not long after people started to arrive at my room. Family and friends from both sides. We shared a bit of a quick breakfast and tidied the room for the day. It had been decorated with nearly a hundred balloons, Chinese decorations and streamers. A new set of red silk sheets was put on my wedding bed, as is the tradition and I put on my special outfit for the day. Friends were given noise makers and we prepared to take the walk down to get Eliza.

As is the Chinese tradition, the groom must go pick up the bride at a separate location before the wedding day begins. Most weddings take place in hotels these days, so instead of picking her up at her parent’s house, I picked her up at room down the hall from me. However, it is not as easy as just knocking on the door and bringing her back. There was a laundry list of tasks laid before me.

With my cohort, I made my way down the hall at 9:30a.m. I arrive to a decorated door and a lot of noise on the other side. I brought with me a large amount of envelopes called ‘Hongbao’. These would serve essentially as bribes for the girls guarding the door to let me inside. I slipped a few under the door and then a few more and eventually had to push my way inside after being told to sing a Chinese song. When I came through the door I continued to be attacked for ‘Hongbao’ until I made my way to the centre of the room.

I stood at the foot of the bed before my beautiful fiancée. She looked gorgeous in her outfit wearing a variety of bright jewellery. In order to be allowed to take her from the room, I had to go through a few more challenges, that if I lost would cost me more Hongbao. First, I had to find two of her shoes hidden somewhere in the room. One was found by my brother in a pillow case and second was actually jammed inside the Majhong table. The next challenge was to eat a banana with the help of my friends. This was easily my most hated event, as the banana got closer and closer to the end. Then I was told to do twenty push-ups with one hand, which was surprisingly easier than I thought it would be in my insanely hot robe. Then I had three chances to find the correct end to a tangle of ribbons tied to her arm. The final challenge was to kneel on a bunch of Majhong playing pieces and put on her two shoes.

At the end of it all I picked her up and we bowed before her parents. I gave them my Hongbao, as is tradition, and Eliza got on my back in order for me to carry her back to my room. In Chinese tradition the bride is not allowed to touch the floor during this time as I took her from her bed to the bed in my room. As we left the room the hallway was filled with the loud sound of exploding noise makers bearing rose pedals and the bustle of getting back to my room. In my heavy robe, I was sweating like crazy as I carried her like a mule back to my room.

When we arrived it was time for pictures of multiple combinations. At one point I was launched into the air for a photo and nearly hit the ceiling. At this time Eliza was to change into another outfit, while myself along with family and friends were to head down to the wedding hall. It was my duty to greet the people attending the wedding.

As is typical of a Chinese wedding when people arrive at a wedding they give their hongbao to a central table. At our wedding they were returned a nice gift and each man received a cigar which I brought from Canada. Usually, all men receive a cigarette, but seeing is how I do not smoke, I thought this was a little better.

So there I stood, greeting the 150 guests in attendance while the final preparations were made for the ceremony. The people filed to their seats with rain drops on their shoulders from outside. In the corner of my eye I saw Eliza come down and remain hidden by the doorway as the ceremony was set to begin. The MC began the call for quiet and people to return to their seats.

The wedding started with two dancers along the catwalk of the stage. Eliza’s cousins, performing a beautiful dance as we approached the steps to the stage. It was my job to guide her for the first part of the wedding ceremony, as her head was covered in a traditional veil, which she could not see through. We climbed the stage and began to walk holding the red silk ribbon, a symbol of our bond. Over a wooden saddle I guided her, which would keep us safe year after year. Then finally we stepped over a fire pan as we walked to the centre stage of the catwalk.

Our parents came to the stage. We bowed three times and then once to our parents. At this time, I was able to remove the veil with a stick, in a three part fashion. The crowd applauded for the beautiful bride. Our parents were seated and we poured them tea in the traditional fashion. They accepted the tea and returned our Hongbao and went back to their seats.

I put a strand of Eliza’s hair in a box, to ensure we loved each other until our hair turns grey and exchanged a small gift. One of the final acts was to drink a traditional fermented beverage in a lover’s fashion with arms linked. After all was complete we bowed for our friends on the left, in the middle and our friends from Canada. The wedding ceremony was complete and we headed for our seats.

There was then a speech from my father, Eliza’s father, myself and Eliza. The speeches were translated into Chinese and English so everyone would understand how important this day was to all. Eliza’s speech moved the crowd and brought most to tears. It was a very emotional time as I could feel the words she spoke and a sense of pride at all of the planning coming together in the end of the day. We had done it and now we were together.

After the wonderful and moving speeches my brother on guitar, my mother on vocals, a talented neighbour also named Mark on piano and myself on the djembe played Ed Sheeran’s – Thinking Out Loud. The cameras went up and we played through to the crowd. The second song was done by my brother and our neighbour Mark. The amazing difference was that the song was in Chinese. A famous song entitled, ‘The Brightest Star in the Sky’ by Escape Plan. I was so proud of how hard they worked on this song and their dedication to learn a song in a completely new language.

They were followed by a very cool breakdance by the MC, where he did a backflip. The final performance was Eliza’s mother who sang a beautiful Chinese song in a captivating tone. By this time all of the food was on the table and the MC gave the cue to have all the chopsticks brought out. Dinner and drinks were served to all 150 guests. It was my duty to go with Eliza and cheers all of the tables at the wedding.

Not long after people started to pay their respects and say goodbye. By the time the wedding lunch was all over it was around 3pm. We returned to our rooms to rest and prepare for the small dinner with around 50 guests that night and the karaoke afterwards. A Chinese wedding is a full day event. I cannot thank everyone for all of the work that went into making our celebration a beautiful memory. It is one of those days that will live in my memory forever. Thank you to all of the friends near and far that made our day so special. Though a wedding may only be single day, it represents a beautiful union that my wife and I will share forever.

A Glimpse Into Our Wedding Day by Video (Photos Below)

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*Please stay tuned as I prepare to release a new series in the coming days. As I made my way around the world I got to meet a good number of amazing people along the way. Some I only spent a few minutes with, others a few days and weeks. It is here I would like to share their stories. For me, meeting the people along the way was the most inspiring part of the journey. The people that welcomed me into their homes or just stopped to have a chat will forever be etched in my mind. For that past few years, you have heard of my love for travel and the spinning world. Now, please welcome their love for life and peer into what makes them so special. I look forward to reading as much as you.

**I apologize that posts have been sparse recently. It has been quite busy since I returned from China. I started a new job, I moved and my father was ill. However, I have never settled into a different pace of life and a new exciting adventure. I still plan to continue on with my book and will be launching a new website in the coming weeks. Back on track towards new and exciting goals.

***To check out one of my current side projects, look up www.tinysbest.com for more information on how you can place on order or check out products for delicious and healthy Chicken Jerky.

****Look for an update from Free the Children (WE Charity) in the very near future on all five of our school projects. Thank you to everyone that has donated over the past few years. Together we have achieved a beautiful change. 🙂

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Escape Plan ~ The Brightest Star in the Sky (Wedding Song)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzuy63eCUKc

Ed Sheeran ~ Thinking Out Loud (Wedding Song)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lp-EO5I60KA

The Red Ribbon: Cycling Home in Canada

A Twenty-Two Minute Read

image“To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.” ~ Aldous Huxley, Writer

What constitutes as someone else’s regular? After spending two years rolling through the regular lives of forty different countries, my prior perceptions have been changed forever. I can tell you that the people I met along the way are just that, people. They are not all that different from you and I. We really all just want the same few things in life. We want a few people to hold close to us, a roof over our heads, food on the table and our health.

However, what is so interesting about these regular needs and wants are the cultures which make all regions of the world unique unto themselves. This is why we travel. Because, it is new and different. Along the way I experienced many societies in the way local people do. I got to see the daily grind, struggles and fascinations on the ground level. Stepping back from the things we consider normal, you would be surprised how easy it is to forget what makes our own home amazing. Quite often I would tell someone that a certain area is beautiful and they would stop, look, think and finally agree. Sometimes we forget. Sometimes we need those gentle reminders.

I was so long in someone else’s regular, that I was very excited to return to my regular. With Canada around the corner, I was beyond excited to experience old things in new ways. What is interesting about your regular?

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“Canada will be a strong country when Canadians of all provinces feel at home in all parts of the country, and when they feel that all Canada belongs to them.” ~ Pierre Trudeau, Canadian Prime Minister

With a friendly welcome from Canada’s border officials, and a picture down by the water in Windsor, Ontario, I was off riding. After nearly two years of cycling I was finally back in familiar territory. I took in a bit of the scenery and I honestly have to say it really felt like being home. Though Canada can be compared to the Northern United States, in many ways, it really is a different place. I felt a huge burst of energy and made my way towards London.

One thing I did miss immediately from the United States were the wide shoulders that are perfect for biking. People in Canada were respectful, but in a blowing side wind, I felt a little cramped on the side of the road. I pushed on, rolling down country roads alongside Hwy 401 through places like Lakeshore and Chatham. On my first night back in Canada I made camp near a little town outside the home of a farmhouse thanks to an old couple, Ed and Donna. They were happy to let me camp for the night. The sun was nearly set and I got to work cooking my pasta with garlic, onions and a can of beans I picked up earlier.

I set up my tent for the night and put everything in place. For nearly two years my things have all had a spot. The same tent with four bags and a bearded man. The routine of the nightly cook and preparation for bed was almost finished. While my pasta cooled, I wrote in my journal as I always did. Then I watched the sun set from my tent while slurping up some bean filled penne. I knew this would be one of the last times I could experience this type of moment. The peace and quiet of my tent after a long day of riding. The ache of my muscles and the final zip of the tent as I closed myself off from the world for a few hours. I lay back and let out a big breath, as usual. The strain of the road wafting into the corners of my tent.

The following morning, I was up early and headed for London. A 140km kind of day was ahead of me. The weather didn’t look that promising, so I started moving quickly after a few bites of peanut butter and bread. I was to stay with a cousin, Mary-Anne, and her family. I was excited to see a familiar face and have a warm bed to sleep in that night. Dark clouds were brewing behind me. For most of the day, I kept a strong pace while the clouds spit rain at my tail. However, this was not to last forever. The rain came in freezing cold buckets. The only thing keeping me warm was the movement of a bike. I was about forty kilometres from my destination. I decided to press onwards in the rain and worry about my soaked shoes and clothes later. Every time a car passed a freezing cold burst of wind would blow up my soaked rain jacket.

After about an hour of riding in the rain it cleared with the sun warming my body once again. Stopping to shake a bit of water off, I squished around in my old shoes bought way back in Peru. The heels were broken and had seen nearly six months of road. They owed me nothing. I jumped back on the bike and made it to my destination in the early afternoon. It was so wonderful to see someone I knew once again and get caught up. We all talked that evening over a beautiful steak dinner with Mary-Anne’s family and a close family friend named Christine. It was great to have people to share my evening with.

In the morning, we had a delicious brunch and I was full of energy for a much easier day of riding to Stratford. We took a few photos together and I thanked them for their hospitality. Being part of a large extended Italian family has many wonderful benefits. Along the way Christine took photos as I rode up along the undulating hills north of London. I waved as she snapped some shots and thanked her for all the support she gave during my journey. With the wind at my back once again, I zig-zagged down country roads towards Stratford.

I was staying at the house of a long-time friend who I had not seen in quite some time, Spencer. He was out of town when I arrived, so I stayed with his parents, John and Kim. They were beyond hospitable and very enthusiastic about my trip. When I arrived a family friend and cycling enthusiast named Brent was there to meet me. We talked about routes, our cycling trips and looked at some maps for my trip home. Recently, I heard that Brent had a stroke, and is currently on the road to recovery. Please keep this friendly man in your thoughts.

During my time in Stratford, I ate like a king and relaxed before making the push to Toronto. Kim, who is a professional massage therapist, helped me get out the months and years of strain in my muscles. I felt like I was a new man afterwards. I also visited ‘Ross’ Bike Shop’ to replace my tires that were balder than anything. This would explain my recent heroic spill in downtown Detroit a few days earlier. When I arrived he had already heard of my story through a friend, Scott, who I did an interview with a day earlier in the Stratford Herald. (READ THE ARTICLE HERE) He told me not only did he have new tires for me, but he was going to do a whole overhaul on my bicycle for free, along with brand new water bottles. I think he felt a connection to my story, the work I was achieving through Free the Children and my hopes for the future. I was blown away by his kindness and chatted with the guys around the bike shop. In no time at all my bicycle had a new heart put back into it. It was one of the most generous acts of kindness on my whole journey. I cycled back to Spencer’s place, feeling humbled once again by the beauty of humanity.

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“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” ~ Dr. Seuss, Writer

That night I got caught up with my old friend and made plans for seeing each other at the finish line of my journey back in Rideau Ferry. I shot off towards Toronto on a 160km day with rolling hills. There was traffic up to my teeth as I approached Toronto. Riding through Brampton was very busy as I cut along near the airport and headed for my cousin Marina’s house in Etobicoke. Marina was one of my biggest promoters and supporters of the journey. This was also a very special day, as the love of my life, Eliza, was flying in that night from China. I could not wait. It was going to be a very special day of familiar faces. Once I saw her come though those gates, my heart felt whole again.

Picking Eliza up at the airport with Marina late at night was an emotional time. Seeing my fiancée after eight months of separation was one of those moment you never forget. United Airlines annoyingly lost her bag though. We were too happy to be bothered much by it. The following day Marina had arranged a potluck dinner and an opportunity to talk about my ride. It was the first group of people I was able to share my ride with in a long while. The food was fantastic and I was even able to meet Alexas from Free the Children, who helped me coordinate the construction of all five of the schoolhouses. From Etobicoke, I made my way on a short ride downtown Toronto after saying goodbye to Marina. Eliza and I got settled downtown and prepared to meet up with Global News and visit the offices of Free the Children. This was also something I had looked forward to a long time.

The following day, I spoke at Free the Children and got to meet some of the amazing people behind the scenes. They even had a cycling cake prepared for me after the presentation. However, the table broke as we were about to eat the cake. It was not meant to be. Global News wrapped up their story and I was able to rest up in Toronto for the next few days before saying goodbye once again to Eliza. She went to be with my parents, and I rode onto Lindsay on route homeward. This would be the final leg of the journey home.

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“The fact that over 50 per cent of the residents of Toronto are not from Canada, that is always a good thing, creatively, and for food especially. That is easily a city’s biggest strength, and it is Toronto’s unique strength.” ~ Anthony Bourdain, TV Host/Chef

I made it to Lindsay after breaking through the traffic of Toronto. I stopped on the way to chat with an old friend from South Korea and swung by another friend’s house on Lake Scugog, Dale and Nikki. With so many people to greet me along the way home, my face hurt from permanently smiling. A great problem to have as I rolled into Lindsay to stay with Aunt Bev. I arrived at a familiar house, where I made many fond memories as a child. We drove over to her son Dave’s and we had a delicious dinner with their family. The following morning Aunt Bev and I had a bit of brunch at a diner (awesome) before I cycled off to Peterborough to stay at her other son John’s place in Peterborough.

Now I was really back in familiar territory. For five years I lived and even worked in Peterborough while I went to school at Trent University. I went by Trent and a few of the old places I lived just for the sake of nostalgia. After an interview with the local paper, I continued on cycling to a few old haunts with a big smile on my face. Not far to go now, I thought to myself as I rolled over to John’s place to stay with his family. All these extended relatives opening their homes to me and sharing their lives was so amazing. We dined on some delicious kabobs and I jumped into the hot tub with the kids before it was time for bed. I was gaining weight for the first time in weeks after being so well-fed everywhere I went.

In the morning, I met my Aunt Joanne, Uncle Scott and their daughter Christina for a diner style breakfast. How could I complain. A great way to meet close family and get my day underway. After a proper breakfast I was off riding. The weather started to turn while I rode on route to Sharbot Lake. During the day I got soaked three times along busy old Highway 7. Trucks splashed piles of water onto me and the sun would appear to tease me. The humidity would rise high, while the storm turned around and hit with another cold shot of rain. Even during all of the horrible rain there was a brief pause where I came over a hill and watched a beautiful rainbow form. Eventually, I made it to Sharbot Lake after 170 kilometres of hard riding damp and ready for sleep. During the day I had stopped for a quick poutine, just because I could. To see a recipe for a Canadian classic CLICK HERE.

The following day, I met up with Eliza and saw my mother for the first time since South Africa. It was a nice reunion before heading off to Granite Ridge and St. James Major Schools to share my story. I had whipped up a quick PowerPoint to share with the kids and answered a ton of questions. I thanked them for all they had done to help me achieve my goals with building schools in different parts of the world.

Sharbot Lake holds a great deal of memories from my childhood. I always remember visiting my Grandmother there and going to play at the beach. I rode by her house and thought about the old days. Grandma was a pretty big traveler herself and I often thought of her on my journey. From time to time, I wondered what she would think of the whole thing. We all had lunch with an old friend named Marg and my great Aunt Edith before I rode off to spend the night at my friend Josh’s about 30km on backroads away. More friends and friendly faces were to come.

It wasn’t far from Josh’s place to Perth. I made quick work of it and rolled into town ready for a talk at St. John Elementary on my ride. They were wonderful supporters throughout my journey, so it was so nice to share my story there. I had an interview with the local radio, Lake 88 and a final presentation at Queen Elizabeth School nearby. A few days early my best friend Dave & Tara McGlade had their first baby. That night I spent the evening with family having dinner then returned to Dave & Tara’s place to meet cute new baby Charles, before drifting off to sleep. It was a wonderful time to be back home.

From the other side of Perth, I made my way to Smiths Falls for three presentations on my ride to some of the supporting schools there. The speaking tour continued. Visiting St. Francis School where I went to as a young boy, was a very surreal experience. Returning to speak about my ride and encouraging young kids to follow their dreams seemed like it hit home for many of the listeners. As I wrapped up my day, I felt a huge sense of pride for all I had accomplished with my ride. Riding over to my uncle Joe’s I got caught up on a laundry list of e-mails and joined my family for dinner nearby at Aunt Fran’s with two friends from Trent. After a bit of celebrating it was time for bed. Tomorrow was a big day. My final day on the bicycle

After a good breakfast, I loaded up the bicycle one last time. I wheeled out into the driveway and thanked my everyone for their support. Global News was there to cover the last stretch of my ride. I pulled out on the road and began to ride as I always did. It was a cool and misty morning. The only difference between this and a regular day were the people cheering and signs posted welcoming me home. As I got closer to Rideau Ferry, I started breaking up on the bike. I had no idea it would be that hard. I saw a few more friends before I made my way towards the bridge to greet the group that would join me on bicycles to my home. Pushing over the bridge I saw the large crowd of people waiting with their bikes and signs. I was blown away. Tearing up as I roared down to the smiling faces I was overwhelmed and met with an endless supply of hugs. You can watch the whole story by Global News HERE.

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“Sometimes it’s the journey that teaches you a lot about your destination.” ~ Drake, Songwriter

After a quick bite to eat at Jimmy’s Snack Shack and a final interview, the group of riders kicked off to cycle the final seven kilometres to my family home from Rideau Ferry. From then on it was only smiles and laughs all the way home. All ages of people with a variety of bikes joined in riding together. Near the finish line a friend had set up a lemonade stand for everyone. A welcome break for those on route. In the final moments of my ride I took the lead at the front of the line. I was riding down the same old road I had cycled a thousand times. It was all too familiar. I rounded the corner to a group of family and friends. I picked up some speed on the bumpy dirt road and broke through the red tape at the finish line.

I was finally home.

Be careful following your dreams. One day they just might come true. 🙂

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*I would like to thank everyone that has made this entire journey a huge success. From all of the people along the way that helped me get a place to sleep, some food to eat and spent some time to chat. To all of the sponsors who have helped us raise over $47,500 to construct five schools in struggling countries around the world. With the help of many schools in Eastern Ontario and over 275 individual sponsors, we have helped give young children hope for a better future. To Free the Children for all of their encouragement and the opportunity to make a different. To all of my friends who rooted me on during the course of the trip and joined me for the final leg home. Thank you to everyone who went out of their way to make my final days on the bike a warm and welcoming memory that will last forever. To my parents, Vince & Dorothy, as well as my brother Luke for always being there. And of course, my rock, Eliza for being my support throughout the entire journey. I couldn’t have done it without all of you working together. Thank you all for making it the ride of a life-time.

**We are now so close to the final goal of $50,000 for the last schoolhouse in El Trapiche, Nicaragua. With less than $2,500 I know that we will soon achieve our goal there. You can read about the community of El Trapiche by clicking the link HERE and scrolling to the bottom for an overview of the work being done there. It is truly unbelievable how generous people have been and how near we are to the final goal. It is a wonderful feeling, with too many people to thank. PLEASE CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

***Now that I have finished my ride I am continuing to speak around Eastern Ontario. On July 11th at 6:30 pm at St. James School (5 Catherine St.) in Smiths Falls, Ontario, I will be giving a general talk to the community about my journey. I call my presentation, ‘Finding Your Bicycle Ride’. It is designed to encourage young people and adults alike to follow their dreams through the use of my bicycle ride as a jumping off point. I share the hardships of people around the world, beautiful pictures and stories from my trip. There will be a period afterwards for refreshments and socializing. For more info on booking a speaking engagement CLICK HERE.

****Though my journey is over, I will continue to maintain this website. I have a great deal still left to share and travel articles to write. Look for updates and changes to the site in the following months, as I start my transition to a new format. I am also in the beginning stages of writing a book on my experiences over the last two years. Stay tuned for updates on this and other events. Thank you for following along!

*****Watch the interview with CTV Morning Live HERE.

******Happy Canada Day! 🙂

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The Home Stretch: Cycling the States

A Seventeen Minute Readimage

On the road to success there are always obstacles that will stand in your way. Some will seem like they are impossible to overcome, while others will just be minor annoyances. Overcoming these roadblocks are all part of the larger struggle that leads to new avenues of personal development. Change in the face of opposition can be the hardest mountain to overcome. But, with determination, all good things will come to light.

After over twenty-three months on the road I have finally completed my journey around the world. However, it does not stop there. My trip continues on in my heart and my mind. There are a good many things I still have left to share and a message I want to make known to the world. The bicycle served as a guidance system to bring me through the challenges I needed to face. In many ways, the ride was more of a mental struggle than any other aspect. It was a daily obstacle course that involved split second decisions and chance encounters. I believe that the game of life is no different. We just do not see the consequences of our actions as quickly. The impact of our actions are in fact compounded over time.

In the quiet moments over the last few days, I have had periods to contemplate the ride. Sometimes I think I have a handle on all of the things that happened over the last two years and in other moments it seems to just be a cloudy dream. Images of people and places jump out like stalking lions. Some lay on in plain view. It will take some time to make sense of all that has happened. I have taken the messages from the road and know what obstacles I must overcome to move on. At the moment I am encouraging people to, ‘Find Your Bicycle Ride.’

You can check out the recent story on my completed ride and homecoming by Global News Canada by CLICKING HERE.

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“The great thing about the United States and the historically magnetic effect it has had on a lot of people like me is its generosity, to put it simply.” ~ Christopher Hitchens, English American Author

Our story picks up at the Mexican border post in Brownsville, Texas. Crossing over from Mexico was like stepping into another world. The affluence of the United States instantly blew me away. Throughout my journey stepping into a new country was always different. However, sometimes the changes were more apparent than others. Instantly people spoke English and I understood the world around me much better. In Southern United States there is still a heavy Spanish influence, but most people are able to speak English well. It really felt like I was coming home.

After a quick and relatively painless border check, I went to stay with some old friends who I hadn’t seen in five years, David and Diana. We had all taught English together in South Korea. During my break my good friends ensured I got a taste of American culture through some of the awesome food, sights and events in the area. It was a wonderful time catching up with them. Almost as if we had never been apart of one another. I even made the front page of the Brownsville Herald and was awarded a special honour from the Mexican consulate thanks to their help. It felt good to be with people who I had known from a different life. You can read the article in the Brownsville Herald HERE.

After a good rest and a hard goodbye, I was off cycling into a northern headwind. The landscape was flat and punctuated by massive ranches. On the first night I had rode all day and as the sun went down the wind began to pick up. I hid my bike and tent behind a wall of a ranch entrance, hoping no one would discover me in the night. Waking early the next morning I found that my water supply was running a bit low and no service stations were present at all. I saw a guy waiting in a rest area and asked him for water, to which he happily gave me a few bottles. Eventually I made it up to Corpus Christie and continued onwards through the beginnings of rolling hills. The views were quite pretty and the camping was fairly easy.

One evening in a small town the police said I was not allowed to camp in the local park. The sun was going down and I saw a man on his porch so I asked if I could camp. Mike said it would not be a problem as long as I didn’t cause any trouble. He made it be known that he had lots of guns and was not afraid to use them. Later that evening he came out to my tent with a huge venison steak, a couple sausages and tortillas for my morning breakfast. I was blown away and very thankful for his generosity. Throughout the United States I was taken in by people or the recipient of random acts of kindness just like this.

“A huge dollar bill is the most accurate way to teach children the real motto of the United States: In the Almighty Dollar We Trust… Until the average American realizes that capitalism damages her livelihood while augmenting the livelihoods of the wealthy, the Almighty Dollar will continue to rule. It certainly is not ruling in our favor.” ~ Kyrsten Sinema, American Politician

The following morning on I went north. Throughout my time in the United States I also spent a great deal of time getting caught up on my calories in the various gas stations. The excess and consumption was sometimes hard to handle after so long in countries where people struggle for the basic necessities. However, many people went far out of their way to help me through this section of my ride. It was humbling and endearing to witness. There are simply too many stories to share from this leg of the ride in a single post. I spent a great deal of time camping in trailer parks, where I met down to earth locals and people with genuinely curious smiles. I ate with rehabilitated criminals, chatted with remote farmers and shook hands with cycling enthusiasts from all over the United States.

On I went through Texas towards Arkansas. The hills continued to roll and the scenery was beautiful. I loved the roads through Arkansas with their wide shoulders and quiet swamps. One night I slept on the lawn of a family who brought me out beef stew and some ice cream bars. I was a happy camper as I passed my way through Arkansas experiencing the Southern hospitality. While resting outside a dollar store one afternoon, a man walked up to me and gave me a dollar. I tried to return it to him and explain that I did not need any charity, but he was not hearing it. When he came back from inside the store, he gave me a flashlight from his car and would not take no for an answer. What a guy.

Throughout the United States there were many people who walked up to me just to ask where I was coming from and where I might be going. Sometimes I did not want to get into the whole story, but if they were able to get it out of me, they usually did not believe it at first. I had gone to many countries on this trip that people are taught to fear. I continually tried to convey the message that even people in the ‘dangerous’ parts of the world are just that, people. Ninety-nine percent of people are not out to get you. Most would simply like to go about their business and be left alone to enjoy their lives. During the course of my journey I can say that people are not inherently bad. People become bad when they are pushed enough by internal and outside influences that cause them to rebel against certain factors. It is important to remember that the people throughout the world are not a statistic, but living breathing humans with similar wants, desires and dreams. We are all not that different.

Cruising along through Arkansas I eventually made it through a horrible crosswind along a flattened road to Memphis, Tennessee. I was in the house of Elvis and took my second day off since beginning my cycle across the United States towards Canada. With so many roads available, my route was continually changing. In most cases, the howling wind usually had a direct impact on where I ended up and who I met. Wherever I found myself at the end of the day, it always seemed right. It never felt as if I was lost or on the wrong track. There was always a new face to talk to or give me the motivation to continue onwards. Throughout the United States it was a mostly a mental battle I was waging against myself. I was trying to make it back to Canada in time to meet my lovely fiancee Eliza, who I had not seen in eight months. She was flying into Toronto and I needed to be there on time.

I rested up in Memphis and made my way onwards through spitting rain towards Kentucky. Very quickly the hills came rolling along with a ever increasing headwind. By the end of the day I got soaked in a cold rain. I was feeling low and miserable. Over the next few days this type of thing played on repeat with a cool northerly wind whipping across the landscape and hills that undulated for days. One evening I camped out in the yard of a retired Navy Veteran named Roy. He was a well travelled individual himself. We talked into the night about the history of Kentucky, shared travel tales and ate strawberries from his garden. I later found out he was a big fan of barbecued raccoon. Check out a few recipes for raccoon…HERE  😦

I left Roy’s house late in the morning after a second cup of coffee. I pushed onwards through roaring wind towards Indiana. As a made my way onwards I entertained myself with some FM radio after months of the same music on repeat. Biking through different regions allowed me to listen to a wide variety of music and genres. It was always entertaining as were the commercials. “Maybe your not fat, maybe you’re just bloated,” went the radio. “Take just one pill and see the results immediately.” I cracked a smile with the drone of the radio and advertisements in my ears.

“The United States gave me opportunities that my country of origin could not: freedom of the press and complete freedom of expression.” ~ Jorge Ramos, Mexican-American Author

Arriving in Indiana I pushed onwards towards Ohio and another friend’s home who I also taught with in South Korea. However, along the way I ran into a bit of bicycle trouble. My rear wheel seized one day on the side of a fairly busy highway. I pulled off the road and tried my best to fix the problem. I had been stubbornly fixing the same issue for months and it had finally given out. I was tired of repairing spokes and could not get the wheel to budge. I got the bike to the next service station and flagged down a ride to the nearest bike shop in the next town. I quickly got a new near rim, replacing the one that had rolled with me since Brazil. Truthfully, it owed me nothing at all. I continued on my way through Southern Indiana past a few ‘Donald Trump For President’ signs.

Later that same day, I got a flat. This was nothing new, as I was getting multiple flats almost every single day on my bald old tires purchased in Panama City. After patching the tube, that was now looking like swiss cheese, my bicycle pump broke. I was stuck on the side of the road again with no air and a very flat tire. As I was debating what to do, a man rolled up in a convertible. His name was Jim Jones and he offered to help me out. Stuck at the time, I welcomed his help. With the bike loaded up in his convertible we were off to get a new pump for my bike. Along the way, with the wind in our hair, he told me that he lost his leg on the very same highway when a transport truck hit him on the side of the road the previous year. His story of survival was amazing. As we drove he offered for me to join his family for a pizza, pasta and salad buffet. It was like a dream come true. We had dinner and shared some stories together.

After dinner we got the bicycle pump and he had originally planned to drop me off near where I left off. However, it was getting late. Jim suggested I come stay with him and his wife for the night. I was thrilled at the opportunity. When I arrived his wife was just getting home and she quickly welcomed me in as well. I was able to get a nice shower, wash my clothes and a soft bed for the night. I was blown away by this man. Even with his recent disabling accident, he had a lust for life and a genuine care for his fellow human. Saying goodbye the following morning was difficult, when he dropped me back off near where he found me the previous day. On I rolled towards Ohio with a heart full of hope and wonder for our world.

I had a good start on the day and had hoped to make it to my friend’s Zach and Bethany in two days. However, once I got rolling I decided to turn those two days into one. I arrived in Miamisburg, Ohio at 9pm after a huge 178km day over rolling hills and a crosswind. I was tuckered out and very excited to see some familiar faces once again. It was so nice to catch up with old friends and share some stories from old days working back in South Korea. I took two full days off to rest after my haul up from Memphis and was even treated to dinner at a Korean restaurant for old times sake.

From Zach and Bethany’s it was a long three day ride through the rest of Northern Ohio on into Michigan. I put in some big days and camped out along the side of the road. The wind was in my favour for once and pushed me forward through the final stretch of the United States. The terrain was almost entirely flat, so the long days were a little easier to handle. On the final few hours of my ride through the states I had to pass through the busy morning traffic of Detroit. At one point I ran into some construction, hit a patch of water and then a patch of gravel. Before I knew it, I had crashed and was rolling across the pavement. I was not impressed. I said I would replace my worn out tires as soon as possible back in Canada.

Finally, the Ambassador Bridge leading across the Detroit River to Windsor came into view. Even with my recent crash I was excited about my return back to Canadian soil. I wound around a loop of trucks and traffic as I made my way up the bridge. When I was nearing the halfway point of the bridge, a security lady jumped out of her truck, stopping both lanes of traffic. She yelled at me to get into the truck and put my bike in the back. The surly traffic police woman claimed I was not allowed to bike on the bridge. I had never had this problem my entire trip and was a bit annoyed. Especially, since her blocking both sides of traffic made the situation even more dangerous for everyone in the process. We got in the truck eventually and I asked her to just drive me the rest of the way across the bridge to Canada. She said, “no”, it wasn’t possible as I was on the American side of the bridge.

When I arrived back at customs no one was pleased to see me. I sat down in the group of other ‘randomly selected’ people and waited for the them to figure out what to do with me. I apologized for breaking the rules, I did not know existed, and was told to go down to the tunnel where I could get a shuttle to the other side. Apparently, biking back to Canada was not going to be a possibility. I came outside with all of my belongs gone through on a table. Begrudgingly, I put things back together and was off towards the tunnel. I asked if I could bike under the tunnel, but was told I had to wait for the shuttle. A bit annoyed once again, I waited for the shuttle and the ten minute ride over to Canada.

When I arrived back I was greeted by a few friendly border guards who asked a bit about my journey. They laughed when I told the story about the bridge. We all wondered why they just wouldn’t let me go. In total it was over 3,000km in twenty-two days of cycling through the states. I moved like the wind up from Mexico and had the massive expanse of beautiful country behind me. From customs I rode out into a sunny afternoon. I pointed my bike in the direction of home and let my pedals do the talking. It was good to be back. 🙂

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*I am proud to announce with the recent outpouring of support from schools all around the Eastern Ontario region we are less than $3,000 from the final goal for the fifth school in El Trapiche, Nicaragua with Free the Children. This is like a dream come true not only for myself but mostly importantly for the young people we are helping around the world. A few donations are still to be posted online. #BeTheChange PLEASE CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**After arriving home I have been busy speaking about my ride. If you would like to have me talk about my experiences in your area please contact myself at markquattrocchi@hotmail.com to arrange a date. I use my ride as a platform to help others, ‘Find Their Bicycle Ride.’

***To view the live interview I did last week with CTV Morning Live PLEASE CLICK HERE.

****Thank you to everyone near and far who have made my journey a wonderful success. To my family, fiancee, friends and online supporters who have made my trip an unforgettable experience, I cannot thank you enough. I will be sharing the final leg of the journey home through Canada in a post coming soon. Please stay tuned and thank you for following along! 🙂

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Waiting on Luck: Cycling Honduras, El Salvador & Guatemala

An Eighteen Minute Readimage

Success is no accident. It is hard work, perseverance, learning, studying, sacrifice and most of all, love of what you are doing or learning to do.” Pele, Soccer Player

There is a great distinction between luck and hard work. Recently, with cycling in the United States many people I meet have been saying how lucky I am. But, I don’t see it that way at all.

I don’t feel like I suddenly stumbled upon my bicycle ride and was able to see the world. Luck is something that happens by chance, like winning the lottery. You wouldn’t say to a person who worked for years at a job that they are so lucky when they got the promotion they’ve been working towards. You wouldn’t say to a doctor that they are so lucky. No, because they worked for it. It is something they cared enough about to put effort into for long enough to achieve their goal.

Years before I even began my bike ride, I was planning, researching and dreaming. Slowly, I was working towards something that was very important to me, just like those people working on the big promotion. I had a goal and I set my sights on it. I saved, I read and I cared.

In many ways I do not really believe in luck. I believe in hard work. Most of us have the power to change our present circumstance if we do not agree with it. The reason why I am able to do what I do is because I worked hard. I made my bicycle ride the number one priority in my life leading up to the departure date. I live cheap as possible and rely on the kindness of others, which has in turn enhanced my views of our world and helped me grow personally. I realized, for me, what is truly important in life. I will give you a hint, it is definitely not material.

In relation, my charity work with Free the Children is also very important to me. Not all people in the world have equal opportunity to sustainable and positive futures. The sheer fact that you are reading this means you already had a headstart somewhere in life. In Canada, for example, kids just go to school. It isn’t even a thought. In other places, it is a huge struggle for money, access and commitment of the family. This is especially difficult for girls in many parts of the world supported by Free the Children. By building schools in struggling communities, we do not hand them the keys to the future, but at least we show them the door. If nothing else we give them the childhood we all had growing up.

Just yesterday, with the help of schools across Eastern Ontario we surpassed the goal for the community in Shuid, Ecuador, for a total of over $41,000. I cannot express how wonderful this feels. The best part is that it was the youth of Canada helping the youth of Ecuador achieve their childhood. Truly inspiring! We will now begin our push to the final goal of $50,000 and the schoolhouse in Nicaragua. You can CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

So next time you feel like the world has been unfair. That you have somehow been cursed or unlucky. That you are a victim in a game you cannot control. Please try to think of it in a different light. Bad things happen, that is a fact of life. Moving forward to new levels of growth and learning from our experiences is how we can deal with the nasty curveballs of life. Being a victim of circumstance, never solved the heart of any issue.

Throughout my journey I have seen the good throughout the world, but I have also seen the heart wrenching bad. I have felt the hunger, thirst, pain and struggle of the road. Seen the overwhelming depth of poverty and despair of people caught in terrible systems of neglect and abuse. Sometimes it felt hopeless. I have wanted to quit. I have wanted to give it all up and return to a life of comfort. But, that is never what I intended to achieve. Sometimes I need to remind myself that this is never what I wanted.

I have seen the change that is possible in our world. I have seen the difference that motivation and hard work can achieve. The world is a kind place full of hope and opportunity. Don’t wait for luck to find you. While you wait, all that could have been will pass you by.


Honduras was the original ‘banana republic,’ and its poverty remains extreme.” ~ Elliott Abrams, Diplomat

I bumped on into Honduras across the Nicaraguan border. After receiving a massive stamp in my passport and changing a bit of money from a man on the road, I was off riding through scrubby Honduran landscape. Though Nicaragua is considered a fairly poor country, the frontier of Honduras felt more desolate and rough. The landscape resembled a part of Zimbabwe I rode through that hadn’t seen rain in some time. I felt excited about entering a country most people go out of their way to avoid.

The road was potholed and marked from neglect. Most frontier regions look this way. The road had been so nice through Nicaragua, that I was missing it a bit. No matter, I pushed on through the humid scorch of the day. Temperatures in the forties and endless sweat on my face. Life appeared much tougher here with many ox carts on the road and a lot less infrastructure.

I approached a city called Choluteca. As I pedaled through I saw a Wendy’s for the first time in I have no idea how long. I knew it would be cool inside and I passed the hottest part of the day drinking endless cold sprite until my head exploded. Everyone in Wendy’s was dressed really nicely, some people even in suits holding meetings. It was likely one of the higher establishments in town with Wi-Fi. I felt like a lost tramp in the corner holding on for dear life.

I pedaled out of the city and eventually looked for a place to camp that night. I pulled into a lone shop on the side of the road and bought a bag of water. Water seemed to be always sold this way for really cheap here. I bit the corner off the bag of water and I asked the lady if it would be possible for me to camp near her shop. She seemed amused and happy at the thought. She told me to set up near her home in the back. That night we shared stories about our lives while her family and neighbors enjoyed watching me cook dinner.

These are the types of things that make cycling the world so rewarding. Disproving misconceptions about whole countries and stereotypes ingrained by biased media. The only time you ever hear about Honduras is when something terrible happens. It is villified by the media as a dangerous place and that all people are violent. However, I never met anyone that wasn’t friendly or genuinely interested to meet me.

It was only going to be a short stretch through Honduras to El Salvador, so I took a short detour down a back road the following day. Here, I was able to get a better look into life in rural Honduras. The road ran along a pretty river and people waved from their modest homes. Near the El Salvador border my bike decided to fall apart with two broken spokes and a flat tire all at once. I saw a bike repair shop on the road nearby and had a man patch my tire while I fixed the spokes. With some teamwork I was back on the road in no time at all. Soon after I entered another one of the ‘danger zones’. El Salvador.

El Salvador is a democracy so it’s not surprising that there are many voices to be heard here. Yet in my conversations with Salvadorans… I have heard a single voice.” ~ Dan Quayle, American Politician

The mood shifted once again, with a friendly border guard greeting me with a tourist map of El Salvador. This is the first time that has ever happened on arrival in a country. He gave me a big smile, no stamp required and I was off. After years of civil war El Salvador is now trying to pick up the pieces and reinvent itself as a place people want to visit. They use the American dollar as their currency and it is relatively very cheap if you live like a local. A land of beautiful volcanoes and natural beauty awaits.

I started off pedaling into an annoying headwind uphill in the late afternoon. I found a cheap place to sleep that night as the heat was too much for another sweat soaked night in the tent. I also got my first taste of the famous pupusas that El Salvador is famous for. Delicious! Truly a cyclists carbohydrate bomb of a dream food. Basically a tortilla stuffed with hot cheese and refried beans, at the most basic. See the recipe for the delicious treasures HERE.

I put in two strong days and made it down to the sun struck coast. I avoided the inland route through the capital San Salvador, because at this point big cities are the last thing I enjoy riding through. I’ve lesrned my lesson. One thing I did notice on my way down to the coast were the abundance of security guards weilding shotguns. Every gas station or restaurant seemed to have a man in charge of security with a very menacing looking firearm. However, most of them were very friendly towards me and often opened the door as I came in to cool off inside or asked politely about my ride. With the civil war in recent history, I think this is a remnant of an uglier past.

The coast around El Tunco was some of the best I have seen on the trip. Stunning sunsets amid picturesque rivers leading to the ocean. I took a day to rest my legs and ate a lot of pupusas. Soon after I shoved off on a winding very steep road along the coast. It was very beautiful but quite tiring in the morning heat. By the evening I had made it to the Guatemalan border and stayed in a cheap lodging on the El Salvadoran side. You guessed it, I ate a pile more pupusas and laughed with locals. Though tourism has increased in El Salvador, it is not what you would call touristic. Therefore, foreigners passing through small towns are still treated with a lot of interest.

I woke early and shoved off towards Guatemala after a quick and painless border crossing. I had been to Guatemala years before on a side trip during an archaeology dig I was doing in Belize during my university undergrad. The most exciting credit of my education. During that time I had the opportunity to explore a bit of eastern Guatemala, such as the magnificent archaeological site of Tikal as well as beautiful Flores. I decided my route would continue along the Pacific coast instead, to see the other side of the country towards Mexico.

It was the beginning of the up and down pattern that is riding a bike in Guatemala. Though I chose one of the easiest routes through the country, it still had me sweating up some of the hills in the stifling humidity. The views of the countryside from the hilltops were beautiful and green through the haze of the morning sun.

Though the sights and archaeological history of Guatemala are stunning, the driving is not so wonderful. Typically it was the buses that roared passed out of control up a winding hill that had me fearing for my life the most. As they passed, black acrid smoke would cover me and the glorified decorated school bus would disappear over the top of the hill. It is the fastest and most dangerous driving I have ever seen performed by a school bus. Also, the people typically could be seen crowded into pickup trucks as a driver whizzed up another hill. Often I saw men sitting on the side of these trucks where a sudden stop could send them flying. There is also nothing worse than huffing up a big hill and a Guatemalan garbage truck passes you.

I made my way along the undulating road towards Mexico with a stop off at the archaeological site of Takalik Abaj. Getting there was the hard part. Up I went on a massive climb into the jungle. I camped out in much cooler climate after some nice men cleared a spot for me. It was already dark and I was exhausted. However, I was extremely excited to camp out right next to Takalik Abaj. It is one of those places where if you close your eyes and with a little imagination you can be transported back to a different age. I could feel the history screaming up from the ground. It was wonderful to reminisce on my five weeks spent digging up the history of the Maya while camped out in the jungle of Belize.

This type of archaeological site is my favourite. The buildings are uncovered and left as they are found. Fire hearths and stele are unwrapped from years hidden in the jungle just as they were. There is not massive reconstruction done and things essentially are left as they are found. Because of this, there are very few tourists who visit sites like this. If you don’t have a genuine interest in archaeology, then your photographs might disappoint. It is the story which interests me. I was the only one there, and got a free private tour included in the small entrance fee. As one of the oldest sites of Maya habitation dating back to the 9th century BC, it is very important for uncovering hidden secrets of their past. You can read about the history of the Maya and Olmec civilizations who inhabited the region once upon a time at https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Takalik_Abaj.

From the site I descended down a massive hill and was off towards the Mexican border. I spent my remaining Quetzals (Guatemalan money) on a filling meal of eggs, beans, fifteen tortillas and a coke before the heat of the day became too much. It was a much easier ride to the border. The landscape became slightly more dry and the riding much flatter as I approached Mexico. A new adventure lay ahead as one of the final countries on my round the world adventure appeared in the distance. I said ‘adios amigo’ to Central America and was on the road leading home through North America.

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*I am now cycling in the United States and on a cruising path towards Canada. With almost two years on the road I look forward to using what I have learned during my time on the road and putting it to use in future aspects of my life. I have crossed the state of Texas and now riding in Arkansas. Track my progress home on the location icon above.

**Please continue to support the school building projects with Free the Children. As I mentioned up top we have just surpassed the goal for the fourth school in Shuid, Ecuador. Details for the final schoolhouse and community in Nicaragua to come soon. This is a very exciting time. Thank you for the support one and all! CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

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If the World Were a Village of 100 People

The Beauty of El Salvador

Human Boundaries: Biking Nicaragua with Free the Children

A 14 Minute Readimage

To be doing good deeds is man’s most glorious task” ~ Sophocles, Greek Tragedian

The human experience. One of the greatest gifts one could ever be privileged to. We have the potential to break personal boundaries and share with the world our individual powers, strengths and failures. Being accepting of our weakest points only makes us stronger. Keeping up appearances is destined to end poorly. Unwrapped, this is who we are. Approaching our flaws and growing from them makes us allow us to be who we really are. Embrace those weak points, by making them strong.

I’ve had thousands of hours to contemplate the human experience. What does it mean to be human? With the media in our faces and online glamour profiles we have become closer connected but increasingly disconnected from ourselves. We want to create the best image of ourselves. Online we can represent ourselves in business, personal and social forms. This connection has sometimes made us shallow and vain. In the last few years, a new dream has been born without definition or shape. It is frustrating and the world is trying to keep up in a race with no finish line.

Before, the road to ‘happiness’ was more defined. Family, kids, house, car and job. At least there was a goal, however somewhat materialistic, to work towards. We are more free to choose now than ever. Life shouldn’t be lost to hours on your phone or a checklist of gains. It is a beautiful experience, you just need to look up and look around. That is the main issue. There is no guide book. And there never should be. There is no definitive right or wrong way. Each individual should have the power to be their own person. To live their own life. That is why I cycle for education. Because it gives hope to those who otherwise do not have the same choices or options as I did growing up.

This brings me back to the human experience. It is just that. Life should be about each other. Helping others achieve their goals. Sharing in the achievements and bettering the lives of our fellow people. Whether they be right next door or on the other side of the world. We are all players in a spinning, living, natural world. We have the power to make a difference in our personal and broader world. We should leave a legacy that is real. Choose bright human futures, over decaying plastic superficiality. Life is the book we are all destined to write.

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I was very excited to be in Nicaragua. The land of beautiful lakes and soaring volcanoes. It was the thirty-third country on my round the world tour. The terrain became instantly very flat, I had a pretty good tailwind and it was much cheaper than Costa Rica. I also had a lot to look forward to in the coming days. I would be meeting up with the people at the Free the Children community of El Trapiche as well as the Me to We team in Nicaragua. However, first I had to get there.

I got off to an early start from the hole in the wall where I slept the night before. The wind was generally on my side and I passed through a windmill farm along Lake Nicaragua. It is a massive lake that apparently has predicable winds year round blowing off of it. By the time I reached Rivas I was starving. I even met a French couple as well as a Slovenian cycle tourist on the way. I ate a massive and cheap breakfast. One of the best breakfasts I had in a while. Basically rice and beans mixed called Gallo Pinto, served with fresh salty cheese, eggs and tortillas. You can see the recipe for Gallo Pinto HERE.

I had only planned to make it to Rivas that day as I wanted to go see the volcano that sits within Lake Nicaragua. However, it was Good Friday and was told there were no boats running that day. While I thought about what to do I found a Burger King with internet and drank unlimited sprite. I decided to just make a break for the historical town of Granada where I was to meet my host, Camilo, the following day.

It was Holy Week so many people were on holiday, making the road extra busy. I hunkered down and made it into Granada at the end of a nice downhill. I found a cheap place on the outskirts of town and a got some dinner before bed. Exhausted after another long day, but feeling good about Nicaragua so far.

“I am still profoundly troubled by the war in Nicaragua. The United States launched a covert war against another nation in violation of international law, a war that was wrong and immoral.” ~ Bianca Jagger, Nicaraguan Human Rights Activist

The following afternoon I met Camilo for lunch and got settled in downtown Granada with his help. It was nice to see a friendly face and actually just do something normal for once, like meet someone for lunch. I was more excited than he knew about simply meeting for lunch. Almost all of my meals are alone or rushed at the end of a long day. It was nice to chat over good food with a friendly face. Not often is there someone waiting to meet me.

I explored around historical Granada for the rest of the day and the following morning. Camilo arranged for me to join a Me to We group from Winnipeg for a tour of the city and to visit ‘Café de las Sonrisas’. I met a nice guy named Joe, with the organization, and we headed to the café together. There we listened to Antonio’s inspirational story of how he came to Nicaragua and started a café where all of the employees are deaf. He also has a workshop that only employs people with handicaps to make hammocks for sale. He is an truly passionate and talented individual who is currently making a huge difference in the lives of people who would otherwise have few options for employment. Nicaragua would be a very hard place to live with any sort of disability and he gives people bright futures. Together they are making a massive hammock out of old plastic bags, which you can see below. He is also a huge Bruce Springsteen fan.

After lunch the group asked me to speak about my ride around the world. Antonio was a hard act to follow, but they were a great audience with a number of questions. The students had some time to do a bit of exploring around Granada at the end of the afternoon and then we said our goodbyes. I never know who I am going to meet on this trip. That’s what is always exciting.

The lake is known to have been controlled by pirates as early as 1665 when Henry Morgan led six shallow draft canoes up the San Juan for an attack on Granada.” You can also read more about piracy on Lake Nicaragua and the real Captain Morgan HERE.

The next day I took my time cycling to Managua, the capital of Nicaragua. On the way I took a break at the historical Masaya market and walked about for a while. When I reach the city ‘Where the streets have no name,’ I navigated my way to where Camilo had nicely arranged for me to stay. The streets actually have no names in Managua, making finding anything a bit difficult unless you live there. I went with Camilo that evening to meet another Me to We group and to hear him speak passionately about the history of Nicaragua and the work of Free the Children. You can read a brief account of the complex and interesting history of Nicaragua by CLICKING HERE.

Early the next morning was the big day. Up at 5:30am, I had a quick breakfast and set out towards the Free the Children community of El Trapiche. It was a direct 25 kilometre climb up to where I would meet a group of boys from the community. We would then cycle the rest of the way to El Trapiche together. I was very excited and spun my pedals in low gear all the way to the top of the pass. It took almost three hours of slow climbing, but I finally made it with the boys waiting to shoot down the dusty road to El Trapiche. There is a drought in Nicaragua at the time, so things were even more dry and dusty. This made for quite the fantastic downhill bike ride.

It was a dream come true to cycle with these kids to their school. We laughed together as we rode down the crazy road and talked about what music they liked. They were divided among their taste of Justin Beiber. I can understand the division. The youngest of the group was the strongest of us all it seemed. On a few very steep hills we all had to get off and push as he climbed on up. The one boy told me that they ride the road once a week to go to the highschool on the weekend. Two things that are a testament to the reality of life in rural Nicaragua.

We arrived thirsty, hungry and a little dusty. After a some food and a water break I shared my journey with the people in the community through the help of Camilo translating. It was so nice to hear their questions and reactions to what I have and hoped to accomplish with my trip. The one man said that to them I am a hero. I almost welled up when I heard this. In my day-to-day existence, my trip seems incredibly normal to me at this point. Navigating countries, finding places to sleep and embracing different cultures is essentially what I do. I have come to understand that I am good at what I do and am still able to have a lot of fun while doing it. An experience I wish all of the world could have.

Later that morning I helped with digging the new playground for the school with a Me to We group from Canada and the United States. It was fun getting to know the students, facilitators and teachers. After lunch I shared my journey to the group. We discussed my route, struggles I have faced, the change that they all can make in the world and following dreams. I call it ‘Finding Your Bike Ride’. In that very moment they were in the process of youth helping youth. For many young people, I think the experiences they have through Free the Children truly set in after they get home and return to the privileged reality of Canada. They see the reverse culture shock of the differences between societies. They see the power they have to actually make a change. To put a smile on a face and brighten the world for others is actually a very real possibly.

I was welcomed that night to meet Camilo’s lovely family and joined in for dinner after a full day. After the experiences we shared, I am proud to call him my friend. I am always blown away by the wonderful and passionate people Free the Children have on their team. I said my farewells and was off riding towards the colonial city of León the following morning.

I road past windy lakes and more stunning volcanoes. Nicaragua is one of those countries I would like to return to and explore more. The people are very friendly and are excited to share their home with the world. Arriving in León I found a hostel to park my bike and explored a bit of the city. At one of the focal points during the 1979 revolution, León represents more than just colonial fingerprints. People fought from street to street in a struggle to regain control of their freedoms. As you walk about you feel that there is more in the air than old churches and historic buildings. The revolution is in the eyes of the population. A lot has changed in Nicaragua in the last few years. I hope to return one day and see the continued progress and improvement of the daily lives of the people. Education, will be at the heart of this positive growth.

When I arrived at the border town of Somotillo some five kilometers away from Honduras, I checked into a rundown little guesthouse. As luck would have it I found a retired cycling couple from the United States there. Mike and Linda were headed south. We chatted that night over some dinner about our rides and routes ahead. Unexpectedly they even paid for my dinner. They said it was their contribution to my nice charity work. You can read about Linda and Mike’s journey at GONE 4 A Ride. Their trip is nearing the two year mark and they hope it will last another eight as they make their way around the world.

The following morning I was off fairly early and pedaled onto Honduras and the next chapter of my Central American adventure. After Nicaragua I was filled up with emotion and good vibes. I felt like I was really making a difference. That my ride was touching the lives of more people than I ever thought possible. The dream of changing the lives of individuals as I went and they changing mine in return, has been a continuous aspect of my journey. The power of the individual never ceases to amaze me. I felt like the wheels on my bike were rolling on more than just kilometres. I was being pushed by the hope and strength of the people. This is the human experience that drives me forward.

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*At the moment we are moving our way towards the goal for the schoolhouse in Shuid, Ecuador. Please keep the people of Ecuador in your thoughts as they recover from the most recent devasting earthquake. As far as I have heard everyone in the Free the Children communities are doing okay as well as staff and Me to We volunteers. Only $4,000 to go to reach our goal after a kind sponsorship from Tom & Pat Morell. PLEASE CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**It has now been a year since the passing of my cousin Jamie Quattrocchi. He was tragically swept away by a rogue wave while sightseeing with his girlfriend Brittany at Peggy’s Cove in Nova Scotia last April. Thanks to the hard work of my Aunt Caroline, Uncle Jim, Brittany and support of the community as a whole back home, improvements have been made to safety at Peggy’s Cove. We all miss you Jamie and think of you often. You can read the article on improvements by CLICKING HERE.

***I am making my way through the hills of Mexico at the moment. It is a beautiful country with great food and a lot to take in each day. This week I reached a huge milestone at over 30,000km cycled since starting my journey. With home on the horizon I will be moving more quickly than usual, but still stopping to take in that which surrounds me. Thanks for reading!

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Adopt-A-Village Initiative ~ Free the Children

A Video on the Beauty of Nicaragua ~ A Must Watch!

Bruce Springsteen ~ Streets of Philadephia (For Antonio)

Individual Days: Cycling Panama & Costa Rica

A Sixteen Minute Read

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Whenever I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the human race.” ~ HG Wells, English Author

Heaving myself over the crest of another hill I stop for a moment to take it all in. I take in the green view on the Panamanian horizon. The morning humidity rises in a haze of heat as if an oven element were sudden switched on. The sound of nature hums to great the day. With a new day the world is busy. Wildlife and modernity collide in a losing battle. A man motions me over for a cold cup of water. I feel the sweat and salt already beginning to form. I am in a new land, new continent and a new day.

The individuality of each unique day, person and experience is what makes life so interesting. It is what fuels the tank for travel. You can see all of the countries in the world, but each day and each person only happens once. It is the people that make travel interesting for me. The unpredictability of seeing or meeting someone new is very exciting. On the bicycle I am in the drivers seat of a daily ethnological experience.

By traveling to a new place you are seeing many things for the first time. That is always why it is so exciting and home may seem like the same old bore. But, no two days are ever exactly alike. Though some days may seem similar and mundane to the untrained eye, I assure you, they are not. To see the world as something that is new and exciting each day is a skill worth working on. To wake up and feel the thrill of the day open before you, is to live in the exact moment as it was meant to be. You, our people, the sun and wind, converging on a single moment. A single beautiful individual day.

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The story picks up as I safely arrived in Jaqué, Panama after an eight hour sun scorched foodless journey on a small fishing boat. After over a week of waiting and problems with immigration in Colombia I was ready for my adventure by bicycle to resume. However, I knew this meant at least one more boat.

When I arrived immigration was waiting on shore and I waded through the shallow water with my bike and all my gear towards land. I bit farewell to Justino and was glad to put that part of the trip behind me. I spoke with the immigration official and found there was a boat leaving in a few hours to Panama City. I was so happy. He said I could not be on it. At this point he already had my passport and said he had to ‘verify’ me. Most borders take ten minutes maximum to do this type of thing, so I was having a hard time understanding.

I pleaded with the guy to stamp me in, so I could leave on the cargo boat to the city. I explained I had already waited one week for the last boat, but he didn’t seem to care at all. I sat outside on the step of the immigration building as he said I couldn’t go inside. While I waited the boat left without me, again.

I watched him go in and out of the building and pretty much ignore me. I’d ask when I could have my stamp, but he would just tell me to wait fifteen minutes more. He just walked about the dusty jungle town texting and doing a whole lot of nothing. Five hours later as the sun went down he walked out and handed me my passport. I let him experience my discontent.

I was extremely hungry and frustrated at this point. There was even less in this town than Bahio Solano. I found the single rundown guesthouse and got some dinner into me. I had another bucket shower and dreamed of the day for running water. I then began asking around town and instantly knew my options were terrible. The police said the next cargo ship was the one that just left and would return again in one week. Devastation. There was the possibility of a boat that went to near where the Pan-American highway begins in Panama, but there were no boats going at this time. Even if I got to there it still meant three days of biking to Panama City. One man said he would take me, but for $500. He needed a boat load of people to make it worth his while and drop the price. People were generally helpful at this point though. I went to bed exhausted.

The next morning I set out again to annoy everyone in the little town until I got a ride out of there. The same answers from all new people. ‘One week. A lot of money. I don’t know.’ Until one nurse who actually spoke English had an idea. “Why don’t you take the plane that leaves tomorrow for Panama city?” He said. It was a 35 minute ride on a single propeller plane. It would in turn cost the same if I waited a week for the cargo boat. Time was money and sanity. The point of taking the Pacific route was to cross the Darién Gap by not flying, but I had seen enough and was excited to get going on my bike once again. This was my ticket out. I took it.

We convinced the lady who sold the tickets to book me a seat. She was worried about my bike though. I would have to take it apart and pack everything really small. This was no problem, but took a few tries for her to accept how compact I had my bike. One of my pedals was seized onto the bike and the were totally screws stripped. After an hour of smashing with the local bike mechanic, it wouldn’t move. He found a handsaw helped me saw it in half. For all of the work he wouldn’t take any money, but accepted a cold box of milk. Time to get new pedals in Panama City. I was a bit sad, as the pedals were one of the few parts that had made the entire journey so far. Everything was approved by the lady and I thanked my new friend Javier many times for negotiating and helping me make my escape back to civilization.

In the morning a man with a wheelbarrow arrived to take the pieces of my bicycle and bags to the airport. There are no roads in Jaqué, just walking paths and bike routes. I paid him a dollar and we walked towards the airstrip at the edge of the village. They weighed all my stuff on a scale as old as time itself and told me I should pay for everything including my ticket in Panama City. The first time I’ve ever boarded a plane and paid after. I guess there was incentive for us to arrive.

Once a week a tiny plane arrives in Jaqué. From what I gathered, it is a big event. After a bit of waiting a huge crowd had formed. All of these people surely couldn’t be going on the plane I thought. Then out of the distance it appeared, humming seemingly right out of the jungle. The children were all pointing as it roared up and cut the engine. It was tiny and I was excited. A few people got off and five people got on, myself included. In a few moments we were roaring down the runway. I was sitting right behind the pilot and could see all the little controls and switches. It was actually really cool and a unique experience for me.

The Panama Canal is like a wound that humans inflicted on the Earth – one that nature is trying to heal.” ~ Abdiel Perez, Locks Superintendent Panama Canal

In no time at all Panama City and the canal came into view. All of the ships waiting to go through the locks passed under our wings and I was taken from the jungle town with one restaurant to a massive city with everything you could imagine. I got all my gear sorted and set to putting my bike together at the airport. In no time at all the crazy man everyone would stop and stare at for a moment had put together his bike and was off riding with one pedal.

Cycling through roaring traffic I found a hostel with an empty bed after a few tries. It was in Casca Viejo, the old downtown. This was my second trip to Panama. I had come four years prior almost to the exact day with my brother Luke on a March break holiday. We went to the San Blas Islands, explored Panama City, visited the canal and walked up Ancon Hill. A completely different trip entirely. It was nice change though, because for the first time in almost two years I was somewhere I had actually been before. Though it had been a while since I was last in Panama City, a lot was still familiar. I enjoyed walking along the harbor and taking in the fish market. I grabbed some cheap fish ceviche and took in a bit of modern reality. One of my favourite cities on the trip and I would certainly return again. (For tips and tricks from the Huffington Post on making one of my favourite dishes, Ceviche, CLICK HERE)

The next day I dealt with my very worn out bike. I found a shop and had a complete tune up to start my final leg home. My tires had been rolling since South Africa and were completely done. I got new pedals and a whole bunch of little parts replaced. My bike had a beating heart again. The following morning I was off riding early. I was excited to be back on the road and see what the next adventure had in store. There was even a new bike path with beautiful flowers along the sides to guide me out of the city.

Cycling in Panama was a nice break from the massive climbs of South America. Though it is an undulating series of low hills I could actually find a rhythm and speed along pretty nicely. In the morning, I got caught up in a bicycle race with people on lightweight road bikes. Along the higheay every few kilometers there were stands with Gatorade, water, granola bars and bananas. They were more than happy to share their snacks and I was more than happy to take a few bottles of Gatorade for the road. Pretending to discover the stands each time was fun for me. On one of the hills I passed by a group of cyclists in the race with my fully loaded bike, I felt proud at how strong my legs had become over the course of the trip. That night I camped near the beach and cooked my simple pasta. Life was back to normal and I was in my happy place once again.

After taking in a beautiful morning ride I set down to pedal through heat. On my second night I camped at the house of a lady that saw me two days earlier near Panama City. Martha was her name. A very friendly women who owned a fresh juice shop. While I waited for my pasta to cook I drank fresh cold pineapple and mango juice. She had to leave early in the morning before the sun rose, but trusted me to let myself out. Moments like this really teach me a lot about the nature of humanity and the good will that exists. The propagated fear and disparity seen on the evening news is not what deserves attention. It is not even the norm of human society, but we choose to promote it and believe. I have seen the true nature of humanity from the seat of my bike. And it is beautiful.

The following days saw a continuation of the up and down slopes towards the border with Costa Rica. I camped at a police station one night. They even gave me a full dinner and a place to shower. The one officer friendly grilled me on my adventure while I ate another pile of fried plantains. As I cycled out the following day there was some serious construction happening along the road. The workers cheered me on and often offered ice cold water they had in big jugs along the road. I must have looked dead tired, because they always offered before I asked. In the scorching heat of over 40 degrees each day, ice cold water breaks were a dream come true. Sometimes I would even hide out in a McDonalds if it appeared, drink unlimited Sprite while using free Wi-Fi and enjoying the air-condition.

Witnessing Panama’s overnight transition from banana republic to middle-class retirement haven is like watching the Univision version of Extreme Makeover: it feels so tacky but you can’t change channels because you just have to find out what happens next.” Andrew Evans, Writer

The roads in Panama were generally very good and took me towards my thirty-second country, Costa Rica. I was excited about making good time through Panama and looking forward to cycling the beautiful Costa Rican coast. Overland travelers are supposed to have onwards tickets out of the country, however, the border lady looked the other way and let me pass through. I was becoming worried about my passport filling up as I had no new pages left and a few countries to still get through. I hoped the next few crossings would be understanding and welcoming. I realize that this is a really fortunate problem to have though.

In the first ten minutes of cycling Costa Rica I blew a spoke. I found some cover from the sun and fixed it up while a nice man bought me a Pepsi and watched me curiously. At this point some of the spokes were quite old and becoming rusted from days on the road. They break easily and I just get on with it, fix it up and try to get moving again as quick as possible. These little things which used to be a huge problem are now just daily annoyances which I have come to deal with.

As the eco- and adventure-tourism capital of Central America, Costa Rica has a worthy place in the cubicle daydreams of travelers around the world.” ~ Lonely Planet

Off rolling in Costa Rica showed a beautiful green scene in amongst the roaring traffic headed for the capital. I met a English cyclist at the end of the day and we decided to try and find somewhere to camp together. We rolled down a quiet road in Piedras Blancas National Park and found a man to ask to pitch our tents. He said he had a cabin we could sleep in not far away. It was actually only half finished surrounded by vegetation, but we climbed up top and threw out our mattresses. With a bit of bug spray there was no need for setting up the tent. We chatted into the night about our rides and said farewell early in the morning. The National Park was buzzing with birds and sounds of thousands of insects. A really memorable sleeping spot.

I rode off looking to escape the traffic. Finding the road towards the coast the highway improved greatly as well as my mood. The riding was nice, green and fairly easy for the most part. However, Costa Rica is much more expensive than anywhere I had been since Europe. When a coke costs four times what it did in Panama you have the feeling that moving quickly is the best option. There is a reason why people have come and will continue to come to Costa Rica, because it is stunningly beautiful and they have made a huge effort to preserve their natural ecosystems. However, all other touring cyclists I met were making a quick route through to return to cheaper territory. It is fine on a week long holiday, but extended travel and Costa Rica are a difficult combination for the budget traveler. I brought most of my food with me from Panama knowing this would be the case.

Over the next two days my bike decided it would just fall apart. In the span of one moment I broke two spokes. I fixed them both and immediately broke another. I gave up on that as night was coming and needed to find a place to sleep. In another moment I had a flat tire. I found a camp site luckily, then begrudgingly fixed the other broken spoke as well as the flat tire after I washed and ate dinner. I spent a sweaty night in my tent and got going early. Not long after my gears seized and my headstock started making awful noises and wobbling all over. I took it off to inspect and the ball bearings crumbled into dust. The original parts of the bike had lasted all the way here, so I couldn’t be too upset. At this point I had a severely crippled bike stuck in only one gear. It had been a while since I had a day off. I headed towards Quepos and got a bed at a hostel. It was Sunday so everything was closed. The next day I had all things set straight again on my bike when the shop eventually opened and felt good about things again for the moment. I relaxed a bit and swam around in the hostel pool.

I headed off for the border of Nicaragua. It wasn’t far from here and camping would be easy for the next few days as I left the allure of the coast behind. Early on the first day I cycled over a bridge that was full of huge crocodiles in the river below. Pretty awesome to see actually. After a sweaty day and one big climb, I was down on the coast again. I camped out on a beautiful beach almost completely to myself. I cooked my pasta and enjoyed the sunset. These moments are what it is all about. When I can soak in the beauty of nature, the quiet of the night and reflect on how far I have come.

Nicaragua was not far now and I had only two more days riding to get there. The terrain became more scrubby and rugged as I approached the frontier. I drank cold fresh coconut water during the hottest part of the day. Something I had missed for a while. A throwback to my beginning days of cycling back in Hainan China where my ride began. Natures’ Gatorade. It was a hot two days but I made it just in time for the border to close after breaking two more spokes. They rushed me through and the sun set as I hurried around looking for a place to sleep on the Nicaraguan side of the line.

I took a deep breath and knew that tomorrow would be another beautiful individual day. Full of victories, struggles, beauty and mystery.

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*We are now more than halfway towards the schoolhouse in Shuid, Ecuador. I would like to thank Lori Bryden as well as Annette & Derek Buffam for their recent donations. Please continue supporting the cause by CLICKING HERE TO DONATE.

**Check out a recent guest post of mine featured on Stephen Gollan’s site the ‘Uncharted Backpacker’. It gives insight into my opinions on bike travel and my motivation behind cycling the world. Follow the link to the article. http://www.unchartedbackpacker.com/freedom-bicycle-cycling-home-china/

***I am currently cycling in the rugged region of Chiapas, Mexico. I am now back in North America. Hooray! Keep following along for future posts on Central America. Home is on the horizon and I have been moving quickly. The next post with be on Nicaragua and my experiences visiting the community of El Trapiche with Free the Children and Me to We. There is always more to these stories than I have time to share, but I do my best. Thanks for reading! 🙂

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A Cool Time-Lapse of a Panama Canal Crossing

A Relavent Music Video on Modernity ~ Matt Good 21st Century Living

Crossing the Darién Gap: Colombia & The Pacific Frontier

An Eighteen Minute Read

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Every search begins with beginner’s luck. And every search ends with the victor’s being severely tested.” ~ Paul Coelho, The Alchemist

The pursuit of happiness. The eternal search and notion which we all strive for. We search high and low with no success. Where we go wrong is exactly within the search itself. Happiness is not a thing to be found. It is something to be earned.

We are told throughout our lives what will make us happy. From advertisements, to our parents and friends. We are conditioned in what to look for. We are taught how to search for this elusive green monster. Little clues are given throughout our lives. But, some of them are false. Some of them lead us down the wrong paths. From there we have to start over and go about things a different way.

We search for happiness because it makes life more interesting. It is the thrill of the hunt which makes things seem worth all the struggle. For many they believe happiness is linked to success. A good job equals money and therefore, happiness. Right? It is why people indirectly sacrifice their relationships for that big promotion. They think having money will make people respect them more. This will then in turn, make them happy. But, sadly the joke is on them. They have sacrificed the only real fountain of happiness available.

Some may think I am in search of some sort of happiness as I cycle about our Earth. But, I would be searching for answers where there are none. I am not on a quest to see what makes me happy. I already have realized many of these things. They are in the simple moments, with loved ones. Mountains and adventures are fleeting glimpses of happiness, but they wont sustain you. No amount of Facebook selfies will fill the void you are looking to fill. Working hard to cultivate relationships and moments that are meaningful and true are what will make you happy. Simple. Fill your short time here with people and moments that are important to you.

There are many reasons why I chose to cycle around the world. Staying true to your goals is the most rewarding part of the journey. Seeing what makes other people happy in far off places of the world is inspiring. It always seems to be in the simple things. Reflecting on long endless roads, I see the commonalities that exist between cultures. Happiness almost seems to play out in similar sequences throughout the world.

After all of this searching, wandering and wondering, I can tell you that happiness cannot be described, measured or seen. It is not found in money, things or fleeting excess. There is no search. You don’t just find it one day. It is procured throughout our lives. Happiness grows likes a cactus and blooms when the time is right. Quit searching and start harvesting. You have more than you know what to do with.
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Everything is amazing, and nobody is happy.” Louis CK, Comedian

Crossing into Colombia was an exciting moment. After getting stamped through immigration my friend Remy and I were off riding in the late morning of Colombia. We were hungry and looking for some lunch. In the small town near the border it seem everyone was only interested in barbecuing ‘Cuy’. Guinea Pigs. The classroom pet was for lunch. Everywhere we went they were being roasted rotisserie style outside for the lunchtime customers. I was actually pretty interested in having a whole Guinea Pig to myself, but it was more than I was willing to spend on lunch. We found a cheap place to eat and set off riding in new territory.

It rained soon after and we hid with some passersby until it ended. While we waited a cycling tourist named Juan from Spain came crawling up the hill. Juan was cycling for cancer awareness with a very unique story. He was cycling to Ushuaia at the end of South America from Nicaragua. However, he was doing it without a stomach, colon, rectum or gallbladder after a cancer operation he had. He is cycling to live life to the fullest and give others hope. Listening to his story was very inspiring to say the least. After the rain passed we said goodbye and flew down the hill our friend had just been struggling up for some 40 kilometers. As I flew onwards Juan gave a lot for me to think about. You can support Juan or follow his blog in Spanish at http://www.runnife.com/.

All good things must come to an end though and soon it was back up the mountain. The roads in Colombia are some of the steepest I have seen in a while. In Peru the climbs are much longer, but built in a way that is more conducive to climbing up. The steep grades of Colombia put all the your stamina to the test. I kept thinking the end would come soon, but with evening approaching we were only 17km into the climb and decided to finish the pass the following morning.

Tired and hungry we went down into a small village and found the local police. We were told we could camp out at the local cultural centre for the night. After cooking my typical pasta that night I was out like a light and up early to make my morning oatmeal. Packing up was some quick business and before long we were at the top of the hill. Racing down to Pasco we took the rest of the day off in a hostel. The first thing on my mind was food.

After a short rest it was back out to the road. The climbs were hard and the scenery beautiful. I felt extremely proud to have made it this far and could taste the end of the continent. One particular climb wound way up into the mountains after crossing a bridge guarded by the military. As I reached the top I could barely see the bridge I had crossed hours earlier. The sun was hot and my face covered in sweat. On the downhill I got a flat tire and swerved all over the road until I regained control, stopped and patched it up. I was still in search of some new tubes and more importantly, new tires. Mine were worn through with the whole of South America under their belt as well as part of Africa. They owed me nothing.

On route to Popayan Remy and I split up once again with dividing interests. I was set on heading to Panama via a Pacific route by boat and he was going to Medellin. After so long on the road on my own the company was nice for a change. However, when I am biking, I truly do prefer to go it solo. Knowing yourself is very important before setting out on a trip like this.

I arrived in Popayan after more steep climbs with lots of buses. I took a day off to rest and explore the markets. I found new tubes for my bike and was happy with how things were going once again. One of my favourite things about travel will always be the markets. I bought a fresh pineapple and had it cut for me in seconds by the vendor. I drank a delicious fruit juice with milk and ate a heap of empanadas. That night I ate Arepa with Chorizo from a vendor on the street and got to bed early. (See recipe HERE) My stomach is clearly encased in iron at this point.

Colombians might live in one of the best places in the world to grow coffee beans, yet their cups of coffee come from dehydrates granules in tiny plastic packages. This is the definition of tragedy.” ~ Bryanna Plog, Author

I left with the sun on the following day through an up and down landscape which eventually shot me out into the Cali Valley. I was making incredible time and for the first day in months the terrain was actually flat. I used all of my stored up energy and ploughed through towards Cali in a single day. On days where I end up riding 150 kilometers I always feel lighter than air. Maybe it is just exhaustion, dehydration or the burn of hundreds of calories, but it is always a euphoric moment in the end.

While in Cali, the salsa dancing capital of Colombia, I discovered there was a boat leaving for the frontier of Colombia in two days from Buenaventura. It was a good two days ride away, but I decided I would make it there. I felt bad about not meeting up with an old friend in Medellin, but sometimes you have to trust your gut. The Pacific route to Panama was known to be the wild west of border crossings. Corruption, apparent drug smuggling and almost no information for tourists made me excited about this adventure. I said yes to the challenge and turned left towards the Pacific coast.

There was a large climb over a final mountain pass before heading all the way down to the coast. Things got very humid and at one point I was even cycling in a mist of low clouds. Riding in clouds is wet business, but always a uniquely awesome experience. I found my way down to Buenaventura. Known for its lawlessness in comparison to the rest of modern Colombia. Largely now in control, Colombia is essentially a new country and very safe in most regions for tourism. I was happy I didn’t see the shady article about Buenaventura until after I reached Panama. However, throughout my time in Colombia with the exception of one person, (keep reading) everyone was nothing short of amazing. Some of the most friendly people in South America. You can read the ugly article about Buenaventura HERE.

The basic dream of many Colombians is to have a secure nation, without exclusions, with equity, and without hatred” ~ Alvaro Uribe, Colombian President

I arrived in the late morning just before the sky exploded with rain. I purchased my ticket on a cargo boat headed for Bahio Solano near the border of Panama. There are no roads leading through the Darién Gap. One must either take a plane, or cross by boat. People have been known to hike across to Panama, but it is still quite dangerous. This wild region of jungle generally where the last resistance of FARC hang out along with wild paramilitary groups and indigenous tribes. If you don’t run into one of these groups, the green wild of the Darién will likely set up other surprises for you. So, I chose the more adventurous boat route instead.

After seeing a bit of the city, the cargo ship left at 7pm. The lights of the Buenaventura and humongous freighters in the port of Buenaventura faded off in the distance as the roar of the motor carried me towards new horizons. I tucked myself into a bunk bed stacked 3 high and fell into a nice sleep.

The following day was filled with watching the beauty of the Darién float by and chatting with people on board. The food was actually really good and crew were quite friendly, as far a cargo crew goes. One crew member dropped his phone in the ocean and complained to me about his terrible misfortune. The salty air blew by comfortably as we rocked forward on low waves.

Arriving in Bahio Solano was where the chaos began. Getting my bike and bags off the boat was a challenge. I had to unload onto another boat and then onto a dock amid large groups of people looking on at the new arrivals. I quickly found the immigration and was told to find a man named Justino, who had the only authorized legal boat to make the journey to Panama. I found him riding his bike around town. His lip had a huge band aid over it as he had recently took a spill off his bike. His eyes were almost clouded over blindness. I felt bad for him, but desperately hoped he would not be driving the boat. We discussed a price that began outrageously high and he was not budging. As the only boat heading to Panama legally, the price was dictated as such. He wanted a large amount to take my bike as well. Claiming his boat was very fast and we would get there tomorrow afternoon. I was not so impressed, but knew that I had no choice and he wasn’t going to move.

I returned to immigration to get stamped out of the country, but the officer seemed uninterested in letting me leave. He told me to come back at five in the morning the following day. However, Justino’s boat was due to leave at five and another would not depart for a week. I was desperate but told him I would come back in the morning. After a restless night of wondering I turned up at just before 5am. He poked his head out of the door and just said no. I was not happy. He came back out and said to bring him Justino. Which made no sense. I brought him along soon after, but he wouldn’t come to the door. I could see him watching TV inside. With no stamp in my passport there was no way I could head to Panama. The boat left.

I went to the police to report the border official on a petty power trip. They were well aware of this type of action on his part. Many people also said that he was indeed a bad man. The police said there was a boat leaving that day to a small village closer to the frontier which had boats also going to Panama. I waited a few hours and was suddenly aboard a roaring speedboat with dual 150 horse power engines. Back on track I thought, as we raced across the ocean for three hours.

In Jurado I was met by a friendly border official named Michael. He was determined to help me out and appalled by his counterparts actions. However, he didn’t have good news for me. There was in fact no boat scheduled to leave for Jaque, Panama. Like Bahio Solano there was also only one man who legally had permission to make the trip. He was currently in Panama. I was told to wait and wait is what I did. Camping on the beach I passed my days reading and walking about the village. Everyone soon came to know me and were all friendly asking when I was going to Panama. I always asked in return if they knew of a boat heading there. No one had any idea, but would tell me that there might be one in a few days.

On the fourth day I was buying some bread for breakfast when I met a man named Jorge. He said he was returning to Bahio Solano on a speed boat soon and I could come back with him. I knew that Justino would be leaving in a day or so for the border so thought I would try my luck back there. I tore down my tent and was down at the boat launches in no time. We roared off back to where I started a few days back. I was back inside the realm of the horrible border guard again.

I stayed at Jorge’s house and we cooked dinner together. Fried plantains and rice was on the menu. There was a tiny airport there with infrequent flights which Jorge was in charge of picking people up at. Sometimes I joined him on these trips to the airport with little else going on in my life. I found them interesting and his van had air conditioning.

I arranged with Justino to leave the following morning but we made sure I would get my stamp this time. It took the majority of the day for him to get all the necessary stamps and papers together just to make the trip in his tiny boat. Once all of that was together we went to the immigration to meet the horrible border guard. He was sleeping when we arrived (surprise) and came to the door with his shirt off. During the whole process he never even acknowledged I was there and took his sweet time. I got the stamp and walked away. It was very hard to keep my mouth shut, given the things I wanted to say to him over the last week. But, I knew it wouldn’t help me at all. I was defeated at this point and just wanted to get out of there.

The following morning at 5:30am we met for the journey to Jaque, Panama. It was myself and big Colombian Mama making the trip. The boat was tiny. The size of a small fishing boat with a little 40 horsepower engine. It was going to be a long and slow trip. Already Justino and the driver were fighting about which way to go. Not a good sign. The driver gave me a smelly old lifejacket and we were off. I remember seeing Jurado pass by as we skirted along the side of the green Darién. I thought about myself hanging out on the beach and wondered if I would still be there if I hadn’t taken action. On this route if you don’t act then you will be stuck for weeks.

Near the frontier we were boarded by a very large and fast Panamanian police boat. Three massive motors rolled up to our tiny fishing boat. They asked a lot of questions and searched to boat for drugs. We had nothing illegal on board so there was no worry. One of the guards asked me if I had a license for bicycle. I just said it was not necessary with a bit of a laugh. I joked with the police and asked them if they would take me the rest of the way. Their boat was clearly much faster. Justino gave them a loaf of bread to remain on friendly terms and we were off. The gas for the boat was beginning to run low and we stopped to syphon some into the main barrel. Yes, it was a barrel. We finally reached the frontier of Panama not long afterwards. I was not through the journey yet though. In Jaque there are still no roads and one more boat was necessary to get to Panama City. However, I had finally made it to Central America. More on the last leg of the journey to come in the following post. Stay tuned and thank you for reading!

Caring about others, running the risk of feeling, and leaving an impact on people, brings happiness.” ~ Harold Kushner, Rabbi

I once thought as I spent more time on the road it would get easier. Though physically I am more fit than I have ever been in my life, the mental challenges are a daily occurrence. Sure I can fix almost anything on my bike now, but things break more often than ever it seems. After almost two years on the road with the same old TREK, this is to be expected. As I near the end of my journey, sometimes it seems I’m being challenged more than ever. There are still many hoops to jump through it seems. All I have learned about myself is being tested. However, my will to go on, to succeed in finishing what I have started, can never be diminished. The strength of mind will prevail in, as one cyclist put it, “Moods of Future Joy.”

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*I am now cycling in Nicaragua. It has been an incredible time in wonderful Central America so far. Tomorrow I will be visiting the village of El Trapiche with Free the Children. I am very excited about this opportunity. I will be cycling with some youth in the village to their community. It is truly a dream come true. Details of this and experiences leading up to here coming soon. A special thanks to Marina Quattrocchi for her generous and kind donation as well as Barb & Arnold Mahon. We are now halfway to the school in Ecuador. Please continue to help support giving children the gift of an education. CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**If you are interested in travelling to Colombia, a truly beautiful country of history and scenic beauty, check out my friend Stephen’s travel guide to Colombia by following here at http://www.unchartedbackpacker.com/colombia-travel-guide/

***Happy Easter to family and friends from all corners of the world.

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My Favourite Comedian: Louis CK Talking Sense

 

The Battle of Heart & Mind: Cycling Ecuador

A Fifteen Minute Read

In a conflict between the heart and the brain, follow your heart. ” ~ Swami Vivekananda, Indian Hindu Monk
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Sometimes we find ourselves at a crossroads. These moments make us look deep inside. We look towards the chorus of voices calling us. The voices of our heart. Thinking and contemplating aside. If you listen in between the beats, you will see your path.

At first it can be hard to accept the new or difficult. It makes the normal look like a big fluffy pillow. The unknown is daunting. It plays tricks on our minds. It creates problems and illusions of failure, trouble and danger. This is our mind. The heart put the thought there originally. The mind likes to be comfortable. The mind doesn’t like to work when it is not needed. That is why it likes television reruns. It knows what to expect. There are no surprises. There are few thoughts to compute and decisions to be made, other than a third scoop of ice cream perhaps.

The heart always has the harder task. But it is always ready. The mind sets up blockades while the heart pumps them away. Once the heart has convinced the mind to see things as they are, it becomes much easier for the mind to let go. To let the heart guide the body in the direction the mind knows is right. The first and last steps are the hardest.

At this point in my journey it is only the mind that stands in my way. My heart knows what it wants. The mind only has a few games left to play. Working together, they can make an awesome team. Follow your heart and your mind will come.
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The point of going somewhere like the Napo River in Ecuador is not to see the most spectacular anything. It is simply to see what is there.” ~ Annie Dillard, Author

I arrived in Coca via the Napo River in the Ecuadorian Amazon. It was the beginning of Carnaval. A national time of celebration where people let loose. People spray each other with coloured foams and throw water balloons. I found myself getting off a boat from the border in the middle of the chaos. The dancing and unexpected splashes of water, made going outside the eternal adventure.

On a cloudy morning I left Coca. It had been raining for the last few days. The rains lasted all day long and made moving difficult. I had seen enough rain and left determined to get going. I had planned to meet my hosts with Free the Children in just a few days back up in the Andes. I had a ways to go with massive climbs on the horizon. With a quick breakfast of Encebollada soup, I was off riding under dark skies.

(To see a recipe for Encebollada, one of my favorite dishes on the trip, CLICK HERE)

After about thirty minutes the rains made their appearance. It was hot and humid, so I didn’t mind riding in the cool rain. I rode for most of the day and took breaks under various shelters when it all became too much. Stopping in the late afternoon, I pulled my bike off at a small town with a police station. I asked where a safe place might be and the captain led me to a room behind the building. It was full of dead cockroaches scattered about the floor. But, it would do. I swept up the cockroaches and cleaned the room up a bit. I pitched my tent on the floor out of the rain and did my best to dry my things for the following day. That night I cooked the same old pasta, talked with the police and slept soundly in my tent. A typical day on the road. Nightmare for some, normal now for me.

Off early the next day, I ate a breakfast of boiled eggs and bread. My hunger these days has turned to an insatiable quality that I cannot describe. I am never satisfied. Unless I cook for myself, I am never full. Packing insane portions away into nowhere. When I eat out at the local ‘comedors’ I am always hungry immediately after. Sometimes I walk a block and eat the same typical meal of rice, beans, salad and meat again. The eggs and bread were nothing more than something to start the engine.

Over the next few days, I made my way towards Rio Bamba. On the way I stopped in touristic Banos, where it poured rain for all but a few minutes. Waterfalls fell off in the distance in a fairytale like setting. However, it is not the type of place I feel very at home. It has all of the amenities of tourist adventure travel and leaves out the realities of Ecuador. The people on the mountains in the next valley over don’t see the tourist dollars or pizza dinners. Separations are well defined on the brink of a smoking volcano.

From Rio Bamba I headed south and continued along the according box of deep hills towards the Free the Children community of Shuid. Stopping along the road I watched a soccer (football) game while eating some fresh clementines. I devoured them by the dozen. Little balls of cycling energy. Wherever I stopped there was always a friendly person to chat with it seemed.

That afternoon I pulled into a town named Gaumote, after a fairly relaxed morning of riding. I only got rained on once and had just sped down a huge hill. Climbing up the cobbled streets of the town I found a Carnaval parade in full swing. People in traditional outfits were heading through the streets and dancing up a storm. Sometimes I get lucky. Showing up with no knowledge into a fully local experience. At the end an old man rode on a horse with a staff, seemingly to be the chief at the end of the parade. I grabbed some of the good food being cooked along the street and found a place to sleep for the night.

I had two days to go and only a short distance to make before Shuid. I took my time exploring the town the following day and made the trip down the road to Alausi. A beautiful town set in the valley of large mountains. Clouds rolled through the town at night. I ate food from local vendors and stocked up on supplies at the market. The boy at my guesthouse was really interested, as I did some minor repairs on my bike. He shouted every question at me as if I was deaf, when he found I didn’t understand his rapid fire questions. I laughed and continued with my work under his watchful stare.

I spent the day before heading to Shuid resting in the garden of a nice family in Guasuntos. A town nit far from Shuid. The man who owned the house had lived in the New York for many years and we got along well. He was very proud of his beautiful flowers in the garden. I spent my day resting and preparing for the climb the following morning. At night they locked the garden for safety. In the morning, I had to throw small rocks at the window while shouting to remind them I needed out. They were already awake, but had forgotten about me down below. I ate three bananas and a loaf of bread and was off up the mountain to Shuid. A winding road with beautiful views and steep passes took me further up into the Andes, for another amazing adventure.

For a look at my time in Shuid check out ‘https://oneadventureplease.com/2016/02/22/the-edge-of-the-mountain-charity-update-ecuador/‘ for the previous post on my experiences at the site with Free the Children. You can also CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

When it came time to head back down below, my hosts Ryan and Luis offered me a ride back to Rio Bamba. Seeing no need to ride the same road twice, I took their generosity and headed back on track towards my northern route home. That night I slept in the Free the Children office after meeting some more nice staff. I was off riding towards Quito where Ryan had made arrangements that I could stay in his apartment, even though he would be off with another Me to We group in the Amazon. Super kind!

Ecuador is a country which defends the right to life.” ~ Rafael Correa, President of Ecuador

I climbed some rather large hills as I made my way to Quito over the next two days. On the first day there was a roaring wind at my back. I had a huge day of riding. I felt full of life as I climbed onwards to another big city. Quito came into view early in the second day. I was trying to beat an impending rain that bubbled off in the distance. Quito itself is built on a fairly flat surface but anywhere outside the centre and your either flying down a hill or struggling up another through traffic. The road eventually narrowed and I put on my buff to eliminate some of the black diesel spewing from buses and ‘collectivo’ vans. One last curve remained as I found my way to the beautiful centre. Surrounded by homes on rolling mountain hills, Quito is one of the more brilliant cities I have had the pleasure to see. I even found a cycling lane downtown. Something I haven’t seen in forever. I navigated my way to Ryan’s place and recovered during the following day. I cooked up a storm, ate all day long and admired the view of the city.

Leaving Quito was a bit more simple as there was a long downhill most of the way out. I was heavily loaded up on food and got a broken spoke on the edge of town. It took the wind out of my sails as I just got going. The sun was scorching and I made my way over the next two days up and down some beautiful scenery. At one point the wind was so strong that I had to even pedal downhill. A truly defeating feeling to say the least.

While I was taking a break at a roadside junction I noticed a familiar image coming my way. It was the French cyclist Remy. This was now the fourth time we had met. We carried on together and chatted about our individual trips in the Amazon and Ecuador. He was feeling a bit sick at the time and was struggling with the wind. Late in the afternoon I got a flat tire. All of my tubes had four or five patches on them. I had seen the day before that there was a 85km climb coming up. We talked about this for a moment and decided to hitch a ride up the monstrous pass that loomed before us. Within minutes we were picked up and saved almost two days of horribly difficult riding.

The following day we woke early to make it to the Colombian border. My tire had gone flat in the night. I changed the tube and after a few minutes it was also flat as we began riding. I patched the other tube and was getting quite frustrated. I felt bad for Remy waiting. This time the patch held, but I desperately needed new tubes. Before this mess I hadn’t had a flat in weeks, so new tubes were not on my mind. They were all garbage and I looked forward to the first city in Colombia. With my tires rolling we entered Colombia and my 30th country on my round the world tour. I was excited about the next adventure ahead.

My mind and heart were ready to work together once again. Thanks for reading!

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*After my visit to the community of Shuid in Ecuador, I am even more thrilled with the opportunity to help with the fundraising for the new schoolhouse. I am looking forward to working with Free the Children to meet my goal. It is very important to me to help give the kids in Shuid the dream of a proper education and memorable childhood. Please CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**I am currently riding in Panama. After a long and wild journey along the Pacific coast on a series of boats, I have finally made it. Update on Colombia and the Pacific journey to come soon.

***I am now on the homestretch towards Canada. I expect to arrive in early June. With just a few months to go, it is hard to believe. If you would like to have me speak in your area about my journey cycling home from China, please contact me at markquattrocchi@hotmail.com or consult the ‘Speaking’ section of my website above for more information. Thank you for all of the support and encouragement!

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Adopt-A-Village, Ecuador

My Favourite Life Advice Video

The Edge of the Mountain: Charity Update Ecuador

An 11 Minute Readimage
Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it.” ~ Dennis P. Kimbro, Author

I see the road where I am. I feel the power of the mountain pulling down towards our Earth. I hear the call of the birds and creaking of my wheels. I taste the morning dew and crisp lime in the food. I breath in a new day as if it was my last.

I ask questions because I do not know. I listen because it is more powerful than my speech. I wonder at all the small complexities that form the world. I think about how it is today and may be tomorrow. The past is gone and looking back should only be lessons. No longings or fated worries. In a world where no two days have ever been alike, we find ourselves at the point of the brush. It is up to us to give our lives colour. To feel the radiant Earth beneath our feet and give taste to the tasteless. To give shape where no shape was before. The power lies in us all. Hiding within different forms of clarity and vice.

We are makers of the future. We are players in the most dynamic drama to ever exist. We are not victims by circumstance, but have the power to change. The power to change our lives and those around us. To change lives for the better. To leave a small imprint that is timeless during our days. The history of our world is infinitely long and challenging to understand, when contemplating the sheer magnitude of existence. However, with careful thought we can squeeze out our own little story. Our own little drama. Players of the mind and creators of personal destiny. We are born to understand that meaning through the course of our days. Challenge, beauty, growth and all.
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Accept responsibility for your life. Know that it is you who will get you where you want to go, no one else.” ~ Les Brown, Author/Motivational Speaker

I arrived in Shuid, Ecuador late in the morning after a very steep 1,200 metre climb. Shuid is the village I am supporting to construct the fourth schoolhouse with Free the Children. The thirteen kilometres which brought me from the valley below to the village above, was one of those epic moments on the bike. The air slowly became thinner as I made my ascent in the early morning light. I removed the heavier layers of clothing as sweat began to peak on my back, face and chest. When stopping to take photos or catch my break, I would take in the scenery while the cool wind chilled my damp clothes.

I pushed onwards and upwards until I saw a sign that read, ‘Bienvenidos Comunidad de Shuid.’ Taking a photo of the sign, I felt extreme happiness for having made it here myself. I had been thinking about this moment for months. I wondered as I rode on aimless miles, how I would feel when I arrived. The mountain climb that would take me to my destination made me feel like there was actually a true goal for once. A destination with a purpose and message. I felt proud above all else.

Making my way to Shuid, the road forked upwards to the right, turning to loose gravel. I was not quite there yet. The views became more stunning as clouds built up steam and rolled over mountains in the distance. Grinding my way through a winding road with sheer drop offs, it reminded me of remote Bolivian roads not long behind. Shuid eventually came into view as I crested a corner. The mountain was dotted by little homes. I could see people walking their few cows along tiny paths. A radio echoed in the distance. I moved forward and entered the community.

I asked directions to the school from a timid lady and she pointed upwards. My climb was not over. I asked a second opinion and a man in a truck said the same thing. He on the other hand assured me I was close. I followed the road upwards as it got increasingly more steep. At two points I had to get off and push my bike. Even while pushing the loose gravel made it a tough task. Then I finally saw the cluster of buildings in the distance near a church. I hopped back on my bike and finished strong as I rolled up to the school.

When I arrived it was recess. Lucky me! There were many children running about playing games in the schoolyard. Kids being kids. It was an awesome sight to see. I found one of the teachers and we began talking about who I was and where I was from. He was very interested in my ride and gave me some porridge with crackers the kids were having for morning snack. I chugged it down happily, chatted a bit and returned to my bike, talking to kids as I went. When I got back to my bike, leaned against the fence on the side of the mountain, there was a group of kids busy dinging my bell. I made sure everyone had a chance to ding it at least twice. A few kids were even brave enough to try on my helmet. We all agreed my head was too big.

At that moment, my hosts Ryan and Luis arrived from Me to We. A group of High School students from New York also had made the journey with a facilitator named Carlos. It was amazing to see so many faces at once after days on the bike. As it turns out I had already met Ryan in Kenya briefly. While I was cycling through the rest of Africa and South America he had moved to Ecuador. It was nice to catch up with him and to see a familiar face for once. There are not too many of those on the open road.

(You can read about my experiences with Free the Children in Kenya by clicking https://oneadventureplease.com/2015/12/07/just-like-us-charity-update/ and in India at https://oneadventureplease.com/2015/08/19/from-distant-stars-charity-update/.

The alarm sounded for the kids to return to class and we did a tour of the school grounds. Set on the edge of the mountain the school is in the centre of the community. It is divided into upper and lower Shuid; with about 1000 people. If there are awards for picturesque locations for schools, this one would take the cake. Though it may be beautiful there, the people face many struggles on a daily basis. (See Shuid’s community profile below) Beautiful mountains do not put food on the table or children through school. My local guide Maria told me of the accomplishments and difficulties these people have seen recently. It was nice listening to her describe the community and see it in person for real.

Through positive encouragement families are beginning to understand the benefits of leaving their children in school. Many of the men do not work in the village itself, as there is very few jobs which would sustain a whole family. They travel to neighbouring towns to work and the women take care of the house along with the animals. This requires the children to grow up quite quickly and take on responsibilities they normally wouldn’t, in a place like Canada. With a typical family of eight children, there is a lot of pressure to leave school and begin working to help support the family.

Good actions give strength to ourselves and inspire good actions in others.” ~ Plato, Greek Philosopher

With the partnership of Free the Children, the village has begun to transform and overall enthusiasm has increased. It can be difficult, as most of the people still continue on with their traditional ways. But, through continued education of the whole village and the appearance of new physical structures, the morale has been boosted. In Ecuador, a Minga is called when something in the village needs to get done. It calls upon all able people to come help with a project on a certain day. At first in Shuid, people were somewhat reluctant to join and it was mostly children who showed up to help. However, now people are much more involved and take pride in their school on the mountain that is attended by over 300 children in two shifts each day.

In Shuid, older children go to school in the afternoon and young children in the morning. Currently, there is not enough room to accommodate them all at once. This is where we all come in. They are now digging the foundation of two new additional schoolhouses. One of the schoolhouses was the one I have been supporting with my ride. You can see photos of the current and future schoolhouses below. Most of the buildings have now been replaced in the main area of the school. They are expanding to give kids full day education with a growing population of enthusiastic learners. This will mean more teachers and a greater need for supplies.

One of the other projects on the go, was a nearly complete communal cafeteria for all the students. When I arrived that morning the children were all out in the schoolyard carrying around their hot cups of porridge. The cafeteria will be a comfortable place to eat and a sanitary place to cook the food as well. Looking in the busy classrooms and at the cafeteria, I could see that the transformation in process. The walls are coloured brightly and the children all looked sharp in their nice uniforms.

Change does not come overnight but involves hard work and dedication in all areas of development. Education is only one aspect of the challenge facing remote communities in struggling parts of the world. It is not about handouts. This does not solve the problem. It is the old story of the fisherman. If we teach children how to help themselves, they will forever hold the keys to success. It is about creating sustainable change. Change that lasts and is a beacon of hope. It is a chance. If I do nothing else but help give these children a proper childhood, that is enough.

In the afternoon, I joined the students from New York to help dig the foundation for the school I am fundraising for. It felt awesome to dig the holes where the foundation will soon be laid and a new building erected. The fact that it was the building I had been working towards was all the more special. However, the building does not belong to me, my sponsors or even Free the Children. It belongs to the people of Shuid and their community. It is their responsibility to ensure the upkeep and well-being of the building as well as their children. They are proud of these structures and the hope they symbolize for the future generations.

Before we all departed I was asked to do a short impromptu talk to the students from New York about my ride. They were an excellent audience as I discussed my motivations, my route and the difference we all can make. Earlier that day they had all helped dig the future school. Because of that they could see firsthand how important the school was to me as well as the people who lived in Shuid. They also had some excellent questions about my ride that I had never even thought of. Before they left Ryan discussed the topic of passion and what it means to all of us. We discussed the power of the individual and how all people can make a difference, in the way we talk, think and live.

Thinking is the best way to travel.~ The Moody Blues, The Best Way To Travel

As I meet people around the world and speak in front of future generations, I encourage them to follow their dreams. However, in a world where we are bombarded by Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and YouTube, finding our inner voice has become increasingly difficult. I realize not many people want to ride their bike around the world. But, with careful introspection and thought we all can find something we are truly passionate about. For me, I have found my passion it is education and experiencing our world on my own terms. This is not for everyone. This is what works for me. I cannot tell you what to do with your life. It is your job to find your bicycle ride.

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*Thank you everyone for supporting my ride to build schools with Free the Children. With over 200 donations from wonderful individuals, schools and organizations we are well on our way to reaching the goal for the school in Shuid. Powerful! Please CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

**Questions to contemplate: What does passion mean to you? What are you passionate about? How can you change your community and world? What problems do we face as a modern society? How can we solve them on a collective and individual scale?

***Full details and photos on my ride through Ecuador will be coming soon. It is a beautiful country, full of kind people and mountainous scenery. I will take you from the low reaches of the Amazon back up into the Andes in next instalment. Currently, I am cycling in Colombia on route to the end of South America. Please continue to follow along and share!

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Me to We, Ecuador

An Inspiring Speech

The Size of Our Universe

 

Up the Amazon River: Peru to Ecuador

A 20 Minute Readimage

Freedom means tremendous responsibility; you are on your own and alone.” ~ Osho, Freedom, Indian Mystic

To be free is an illusion of words and actions. I have learned that to be free for something is intrinsically different than to be free from something. Freedom, in the modern sense of the word, evokes the notion of free movement. Some would consider me free, because my movement for the last year and a half has been just that. But, it is not the freedom of movement that I look for. I search for another type of freedom, that makes all others seem like rusted chains. The purpose for freedom matters much more than what you are free from. I am free for a reason.

The Amazon. The very name conjures up a sense of wonder and images of adventure. People going into the unknown green madness with sweat stained backs as they endlessly swat mosquitos. They search of wild creatures, secluded tribes and medicinal herbs. It is the place where people go and never come back. They are taken hostage by the allure of rainforest. Some remain trapped mentally, others physically. I was certainly captivated by the majesty that is this massive piece of green flowing beauty.

To satisfy my hunger for adventure, I decided to step off the bicycle for some days and float down the Amazon on a series of boats to Ecuador. It is something I always wanted to do. The amazing vastness of the Amazon river and it’s tributaries cannot be full comprehended. It is huge; stretching across countries and landscapes. Here there are no more roads. The Amazon is the road and you must play by it’s rules. You give up all control to the river and the endless bends that lead the way home. This is where the adventure becomes real.

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We are the environment. The world is literally one biological process. The trees are our lungs. Look at the Amazon River system next to a human cardiovascular system, look at corals or trees and look at our lungs, you literally cannot tell the difference. They’re the same. So when we destroy our environment, we’re effectively destroying ourselves.” ~ Ian Somerhalder, Actor

My journey up the Amazon began in Pucallpa, Peru on the Ucayali River. I arrived at the loose sandy banks of the launches fairly early, after being told to get there to secure a comfortable spot on the boat. I had spent the previous day running around town getting extra food, water and a hammock. I boarded the boat and negotiated my way up to the third floor with my bike. It was almost empty at this point and I had my pick of places to string up my home for the next four (ended up being five) days to Iquitos. I had a great lookout alongside the window and settled in for the long haul north in my new hammock. This was to be my first and biggest boat of the trip, as well as the longest ride of my Amazon adventure.

My journey was off to a rocky start though. We departed to pick-up more cargo at a different dock and the boat caught on fire at the bow. It blazed up very quickly due to the dry wood crates surrounding the bellowing electrical fire. It is interesting to see the way people react in an emergency. A few rushed to save the boat from the blaze and others ran about, scared for their lives. Outside of mostly western countries, few people in our world learn to swim properly. I saw one man hoarding three of the very few life jackets around his neck and ready to jump. I will give him the benefit of the doubt that they were for his family, but I saw no family. I threw a few valuables into a waterproof bag and was confident with my hometown swimming lessons I could make it to shore if needed. The crew was busy tossing blazing cargo into the river and boats collected afterwards to scour the refuse like hungry vultures. Meanwhile, another firefighting ship arrived and saved the boat from the blaze. No one was hurt and we returned to shore. Pretty soon everyone was back to their laidback selves. It became clear very quickly we would not be leaving on time.

The loading continued for hours and into the night. Almost everything is loaded by hand. Hardened men sweat all day in the scorching sun, carrying loads that seem to be twice their weight. Men turned to mules. From my window, I watched the chaos as every imaginable item was loaded below and all around us. Chickens, potatoes, mattresses, dryers, refrigerators, sodas, snacks, tires, onions and the list goes on forever. In the distance I saw ships full of massive logs from the heart of the Amazon unloaded. They were sprayed with numbers and rumbled off ships with one last cry for help. The boat took on more passengers by the moment. My temporary oasis by the window was invaded by over two hundred people and their children. Hammocks were strung up like spider webs. Negotiating my way around immediately became difficult, between the crying babies and mess of people’s belongings.

Night came and went. In the morning we still hadn’t departed, when I woke up after a stagnant sweaty night. People were visibly agitated by the lack of knowledge about when we would leave and the rising heat of the day. I spoke to the laid back old salty captain, with a friendly demeanor, who assured me we would leave soon. He grinned a smile of capped gold teeth and also told me there would be no more fires. I don’t know if I could ever trust a man with gold teeth, but I had no real choice in this case. I returned to my hammock and sweat until the engine finally roared to life. I had already been on the boat for 28 hours before we even departed. The only thing that mattered was we were finally moving.

Once on route the mood of the ship picked up. I was happy to sit swinging by my windowsill and taking in the sights. Dinner was served as the typical meal of the voyage, rice and a tiny piece of chicken plucked from below the deck. We lined up like eager prisoners. The morning was usually some watery porridge gruel with bread. The rotation of food began. Luckily I brought some extra food with me and there were always people jumping onboard to sell fish, little snacks and drinks. On a cyclists appetite, the meals would not have been close to enough.

The first night I went up to the top deck and watched the stars light up the night sky. It was a beautiful showing with a full moon. As I looked off into space a shooting star blazed across the sky. I felt infinitely small at that moment, as the hum of the motor pulled us forward. I awoke the following morning in my hammock to the sun coming up over the canopy beyond the river. It was a stunning and welcome gift from mother nature. The days began early and finished the same with one lightbulb for the entire third floor. This was nice as the children would finally settle down to sleep in their hammocks or the floor that crawled with cockroaches.

There were many characters on my trip through to Iquitos. Some were more enjoyable than others. With only one other foreigner on board, everyone got to know me fairly quickly. I could focus on tons of people here, as I watched their personalities unfold during the course of the journey. But, because of time, I’ll just focus on one person: Angelo.

Angelo was a pouty little three year old boy that arrived with his baby brother, older sister and his Mom, just before departure. My arch-nemesis of the journey. They pitched up their hammocks next to mine and I knew we were in for a show immediately. Angelo was a very cute child, but it seemed that he and life in general did not agree throughout the journey. It was not ten minutes before he threw his first little tantrum over wanting some knock-off Peruvian Cola. Mom, of course, gave in to appease little Prince Angelo. As a Kindergarten teacher for two years, I found it hard not to step in at a few moments. It was hard to watch this poor overwhelmed mother deal with this child for five days of confinement. I often looked forward to Angelo’s naps and frowned deeply when I saw him guzzling piles of cola in between his sour poutings over nothing and river water baths. Looking back on the journey, it would not have been as memorable without him. Thank you Angelo.

On our second day we hummed along nicely all morning long. We were seemingly making great time until the ship came to a loud halt and everyone flung forward with the sudden stop. Angelo rolled to the floor like a bag of old potatoes. We had run aground on a hidden sandbar. No one was hurt. Though it is the rainy season in the Amazon, there has been a terrible drought this year. This has made the water incredible low and difficult to navigate. After some deliberation and a lot of coaxing the boat came unstuck. I could see in my mind the gold tooth captain grinning up at the helm when he got us free. It poured rain, thankfully, in the afternoon and we got stuck on another sandbar.

I spent most of my days window watching and writing in my journal. The view continued to show the wild side of the Amazon. At times the boat would stop and sometimes people would get off in the middle of a section of jungle with jeans and a sweater to walk inside. I presume that their homes are somewhere within the green reaches of the Amazon. I reflected back on my Grade 6 days, where a friend and I, used to write stories under the title of, ‘Adventures in the Amazon.’ We would present them every few weeks infront of the class. It was hard to believe I was actually here, though all the characters at play were much different than the ones my mind had created in my youth. There was always something to stay entertained with on the boat, as day dreams morphed into real-life.image

Ships are the nearest things to dreams that hands have ever made.” ~ Robert N. Rose, Poet/Writer

At night a storm rolled in again and we battened down the hatches as rain leaked in from all sides. At night you could hear the creaking of the old rusted ship as it carried us further up the river towards the larger mouth of the Amazon. In the quiet of the night after the storm died and all the little ones were gone to sleep, I listened to the sounds of the evening. Under the low hum of the motor I could hear the heart of the jungle beating in the veins of the river. It is the force of life that gives the jungle it’s energy. All things begin and return to the river.

During the fourth night, Angelo and his family departed at some unknown stop. In the morning my area was surprisingly barren and quiet in comparison to the last few days. It was as if I was now missing something. Angelo had a rather unfortunate time on his last day aboard though. He dropped his toy car down a set of stairs and it bounced into the river, never to be seen again. It took him a moment to understand the implications of his mistake, but when he realized that toy car wasn’t coming back, the waterworks exploded to new levels. I felt bad for him at this point. Mom quickly poured him a big cup of Peru Cola and bought him some candy from a toothless lady on board. Angelo soon forgot about the car as he wired himself for another night of his favourite game to play on his mom, “Where’s Angelo?”

The following day there were far few people on the boat. I went downstairs to get a final serving of prison gruel porridge from the ships cooks. The food on board, though included in the price of the ticket, left something to be desired. I was excited one afternoon when there was a bit of carrot in my rice. I brought cans of tuna, limes, onions and other snacks to spice things up along the way. I rationing my food like it may be the end of the world. We finally sailed into Iquitos, our destination, on the banks of the Amazon. Iquitos is the largest city in the world, that is not accessible by any roads. You either have to take a long adventure boat ride or a plane, as most tourists do.

Iquitos emerges out of the jungle like a temporary hallucination. Out of nothing comes a city bustling with activity and all of the amenities of any Peruvian city. On our way in, I saw pink river dolphins playing in the shallow water. In the distance, a beautiful cruise boat lumbered by with tourists dining in an open air hall, complete with riverside balconies to every room. I looked around at my squalor and wouldn’t have wanted it any other ay. While rolling up my hammock I looked at the space which I called home for the last five days and said farewell with a smile at the adventure that was the first leg of my Amazonian experience. When we docked the sky opened up and poured rain. Fitting. I disembarked the boat to struggle up the muddy garbage filled banks with my bicycle and gear. I arrived at a quiet hostel and fell asleep in a proper bed.

If man doesn’t learn to treat the oceans and the rainforest with respect, man will become extinct.” ~ Peter Benchley, Author

It was not all beautiful sunsets and flowing jungle water though. Maybe it is the sheer size of the Amazon Basin that causes people to mistreat it so willfully. The fact that it has always been there during their life, they think it will always be that way. Throughout my journey the garbage and destruction I saw was disheartening. People on the boat throwing styrofoam containers and plastics like it was their personal dumpster. All the waste not necessary, directly into the water. The same water they wash in moments later and expect to deliver them delicious fish. Out of sight and out of mind.

In the following days, I explored the hectic Belen market where I ate fried grubs and saw barbecue alligator and gutted armadillos for sale. I got a very overdue haircut and shave. The humidity of the jungle is not somewhere that a big beard is particularly enjoyable. What took four months to grow disappeared in a matter of seconds at the hands of a discontented barber. I left the moustache for a few days, just for a bit of fun. One night as I wandered around looking for a cheap meal I was hit by kids with water balloons and a lady poured a whole bucket of water on my head. I laughed a bit and was told they were getting ready for Carnival the following week.

In Iquitos, I went to the post office to mail some letters and a friendly security guard asked me where I was from. I told him Canada and he howled like a wolf and said, “Wolves!” I laughed, then replied there were big wolves and howled back at him. We fist pumped and I was on my way laughing. During this time I also prepared for the next stage of my riverboat experience that would take me to Ecuador. The plan, for those interested in such a backwater adventures, was to take a series of boats from Iquitos to Coca. This would be a completely different journey than my Henry boat float days before.

I packed up and made my way down to the docks. When I arrived, there was a massive and steep set of stairs to go down with my bike. It was crowded and busy. A man offered to help me for a small price and I agreed. We reached the bottom and loaded my bike on top of a junky boat that was headed for Mazan. After the man departed I realized I was missing something. My entire bag of bicycle tools, which I had carefully collected since the beginning of my trip, was gone. A new bottle of mosquito spray I had just bought, for the deep reaches of the jungle, was also stolen. I chased back up the stairs to try and find who had robbed me. I returned to the boat with no luck and wondered at the awful person who had my things. In twenty months on the road no one had taken anything from me or for that matter, ever during my travelling. Tools that are vital and difficult to replace, would serve little purpose in the life of a regular thief. I hoped he enjoyed the bit of money he procured from my tools as he munched on the stale bread he bought. I made a list of things that were stolen and have since slowly begun to recuperate what was lost.

Soon we were off down the river on a short two hour journey and I forgot about the days earlier events. I watched life on the Amazon float by. We arrived on the banks in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. I unloaded my bike and biked across a small isthmus to Mazan. In Mazan, I found a ‘fast boat’ that was to depart for Pantoja (Peruvian border) the following day.

There is no schedule in this part of the world, and no one really has any idea when things leave. If people in Iquitos tell you that you must hurry and a boat leaves soon, they are just making things up to hurry you onto their boat. No one really knows. I got lucky though on this one and the captain said every Wednesday he leaves from Mazan. I settled up the deal and cooked a pasta dinner on the banks of the river to a gathering crowd. I spent the night for free on the boat in my hammock. Once again I was clearly off the beat and track. At times it felt like the back end of the world as people returned with the bare essentials to the isolation of the jungle.

We left the following morning, as the captain had promised. Another adventure had begun. The boat was relatively empty for once. There seemed to be few people making the journey to the frontier of Peru. Along with one adventurous backpacker from Belgium, only one other man made the entire journey to Pantoja. He talked the entire time. He talked even if no one was listening. I called him the talking man. Even when I put my earplugs in at night, I could still hear the low hum of his voice continuing to talk to me as I watched him swat mosquitos in his hammock out of the corner of my eye.

Most people got off on the first day at different locations along the river. It seemed like we were abandoning them at times as they waved goodbye with their few belonging. There was usually a few people coming to meet them. I felt bad when we left the deaf man on his own with a massive sack of rice and bread. I watched as he approached his village to get someone to help him. I had a lot of time to contemplate the difficulties of his life as we motored onwards.

On one afternoon, we ate a ball of rice with meat inside called Juane. The rice is set inside leaves from the jungle and boiled in water. It was actually really good. Read about Juane and some other typical types of Amazonian food at http://authenticfoodquest.com/surprising-amazonian-food-from-peru/

The feeling in general was very peaceful and quiet. I had the Amazon to myself. These people must survive on the things they grow themselves or are able to find in the jungle. I had one fruit that grew on a tree and tasted exactly like a sweet potato. It was a very interesting life to ponder as the dual motors roared us along the Rio Napo. I saw boats that chugged along slowly like the one they used in the horribly awesome 90’s movie, Anaconda. Sadly, I didn’t see Ice Cube or Jennifer Lopez aboard any of the boats though.

We stopped at dusk on the banks of a tiny village. I put up my hammock once again and prepared for another night on the boat. We had some dinner and a storm rolled in as I went to sleep under the covered roof of the boat. Up early, we were off roaring just before 6am. The sunrise came over the horizon of endless greenery and little riverboats could be seen skirting along out for a morning fish. It was one of those travel moments you dream about and will cherish for as long as you live. The Amazon came to life as it shook off the cool of the night and a pink river dolphin jumped out of the water in the distance. Another day on my Amazon adventure had begun as our captain guided the driver down the shallow banks full of old trees stranded in the water. We sped by many whirlpools sucking debris down into the depths below.

During the day a storm came up and we lost some time docked on the edge of the river to wait it out. The boat got covered in water and everything was damp, but the air was much cooler. We pressed on after the storm passed. As night approached it became clear we would not make Pantoja. We docked near someone’s home. The captain arranged dinner for us to be cooked by the family living there. Hey loved isolated in the middle of the jungle. We were all welcomed into their simple home and made small talk as dinner was prepared. We had a basic Caldo de Gallina (chicken noodle soup, kind of) and I went into a sound sleep in my hammock. The next morning we were off roaring towards the border at first light.

We arrived at the Peruvian border frontier around 10am. The vibe in Pantoja was not very friendly at all. The border patrol was clearly bored and likely saw almost no tourists through here. They looked at every item in my four bags. I checked out of Peru and was off on a fast boat towards Ecuador. Arriving near dusk I was stamped in very quickly and let to go on my way. I found a cheap place to sleep. My last boat remained in the early morning to where the road began again in Coca. I woke at 4:30am to pouring rain and boarded an overloaded boat for eleven cramped hours of sleepy head-bobbing.

Finally arriving in Coca I had my first real taste of a new country and the end of my Amazon riverboat journey. It was a bittersweet moment at the port. It was some of the most introspective days I have ever had in my life. I don’t know if it was the beauty of the jungle or the life giving energy of river, but I felt alive. I felt like I had connected with a part of myself that I didn’t even know existed. I felt free of body and mind. I felt ready to get back on that bike and cycle the rest of the way home. I was ready.

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*If you are truly interested in this once in a lifetime, do it yourself Amazon adventure please send me an e-mail at markquattrocchi@hotmail.com. I will give direct details on prices paid, times of boats and what to expect. You wont find this trip in any guidebook and you will never regret it. It is one of the last great adventures of public transport available. Only necessity is patience and time. Time and patience.

**A big thank you goes out to Des & Judy McKenna, The Laidley Family, Edith Devlin, Shirley Kindellan and Queen Elizabeth School in Perth. They are all the recipients of personal thank you letters in the mail and have brought us up to 200 donors on my journey home. I am so blown away by this. Thank you to all the individual people, organizations and schools that have come together to help build a better future for kids around the world. I am currently heading towards Shuid, Ecuador and the site of the next schoolhouse. CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

***To read more about the amazing force that is the Amazon River CLICK HERE.

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