July 22: Caribbean Cruise or Motorcycle Ride Through the Balkans?
Today’s ride south along the ocean and through the mountains from Montenegro to Albania was so darn scenic, it made me wonder – was I actually traveling by motorcycle through the Balkans? Or was a really on a Caribbean cruise? I also learned more about something I’ve decided to call “Google Maps Math.”
One of the things I love about traveling in different countries is seeing how other cultures and customs differ from my own. For instance, when checking into a hotel, it is not uncommon to park several blocks away from where you are staying or to walk up as many as seven flights of stairs to reach your room.
Because my bike was parked quite far from last night’s lodging, I arranged for a gentleman with a cart to help me with my luggage this morning. Although he couldn’t speak any English the genial fellow enthusiastically loaded up all my bags and proceeded towards my motorcycle, puffing on a cigarette the whole way.
I soon realized that my helper was also the trash collector. As we meandered through the cobblestone streets, he periodically picked up large trash bags left outside businesses and deposited them on top of my things. I sent up a little prayer that the plastic sacks didn’t have any leaks. After all, I smell bad enough from wearing the same sweat drenched jacket and pants for four weeks.
After loading up the bike, I headed south along the Adriatic coast, mesmerized by the stunning beauty below me. Dark brown craggy cliffs cascaded down to white rocky beaches highlighted by shimmering aquamarine-colored water at the shoreline and darker blue sea further out. Glorious islands full of lush evergreen trees sported beautiful beaches, with sunbathers gathered on their perimeters and boats underway all around.
Heading up into the mountains to avoid traffic, I could see a breathtaking view of the Dinaric Alps to the north, their limestone cliffs reaching up into the clouds and villages nestled at their bases.
After returning to the main road and passing through customs at the Albanian border, I proceeded through the countryside to the town of Lezhe.
Today’s ride, like most of the journeys I’ve been on this summer, was subject to something I’d like to coin “Google Maps Math.” As a math teacher by trade, I have been fascinated to learn recently that there is more than one type of legitimate counting system in our world today.
For example, according to “Girl Math,” if I forego a calorie dense dessert at dinner but then have a small scoop of ice cream afterwards, I have actually saved calories. By the same reasoning, if I cut a piece of pie in half and eat one half before starting the other half, the total calories are fewer.
According to Google Maps, my trip today was supposed to take three hours and eight minutes. However, after I had been traveling for two and a half hours, I still had two hours and six minutes left to my ride. Although I had only taken one ten-minute break to get gas and had vigorously handled the stop and go traffic situation by following the local custom of riding the wrong way in the opposite lane, I apparently had only traveled a fraction of the time I thought I had.
There have been several times this summer where my app has indicated that I have two hours and twenty-four minutes left to my ride and then kept that same estimate for over an hour. It got me to wondering, was I really riding my bike or just dreaming that I was? Or perhaps I was like Bill Murray in “Groundhog Day,” reenacting the same mile repeatedly until I got it right? Only time will tell.
