Jolly Olde London

I was much better today.

What's that? Oh, I didn't tell you about yesterday? Well, let me remedy that for you fine people.

After some stellar peameal bacon sandwiches and chocolate pecan tarts at the market in Toronto, Canada and I said our farewells and I got on the plane to London.

The aforementioned delicious Chocolate Pecan Tarts.

I found Dennis and Stacey with ease, and perhaps became overconfident with my navigation skills having so expertly found my way around using the London Underground.

Then I picked up my motorcycle...

I don't know how I even debated whether a GPS (or Sat Nav as those crazy Brits call it) would be necessary or not. In fact, I almost hesitate to share the following with you for fear of embarassment. But I'm sure it won't be the only shame I suffer along the way, so basically, and keep in mind this is with a GPS, it took me 4.5 hours and 80km to find my way back to the hostel that was 14.5 km away. Granted, in my defence, I forgot the GPS craddle in my car back home, so I have no way of mounting it to my handlebars, and can only really check it once I pull to the side of the road having accepted the fact that I have once more gone in the wrong direction. But still... 4.5 hours. I was starting to wonder if perhaps I had made a horrible, horrible mistake.

The GPS doesn't just give directions... it also keeps track of everwhere I got lost

The bike itself is great, mind you. I've only ever heard great things about the SV650 and I can see why. The upright riding position alone is enough to make me question my sanity when I think about what I ride normally. The engine figures on paper aren't terribly impressive, but once you get the bike on the street it's another story. It has more than enough get up and go. Err... I mean plenty of safe get up and go... sorry, mom.

A well-earned meal after finally making it back to the hostel.

Which brings us to today: after a morning stroll to all the touristy stuff around London, it was time to make my way to Paris - which meant navigating not only London once more, but also Paris and everything in between. And, I can safely say without exageration or overconfidence that I am, once again, the greatest navigator that has ever walked God's green Earth. Not once did I get lost, or even take a wrong road. Read that again. Twice, if you have to.

Data from the flawless ride to Paris. Drink it in.

Aside from that, there's not a lot to say. I took to the left side of the road with ease, and there wasn't a whole lot to mention of the drive. The channel tunnel was pretty cool, albeit a touch pricey, and the French countryside kind of reminded me of rural Alberta - with farmers dumping pig 'fertilizer' on their fields, which, as you can imagine on a motorcycle, was a real treat.

Tomorrow = Louvre and other Paris sights.

Day 1

It has begun.

Without a hitch, without a worry, without so much as a hiccup, the trip has begun. Granted without having the day off on Sunday (big ups to Tom for not only generously giving me the day off, but also the entire span of 5 weeks to do the trip) I might still be in my apartment trying to get shit ready. But as it stands, the stars aligned for me, and I now find myself in the most American city that Canada has to offer, having enjoyed a heck of a day with my favorite sister.


But it's not all smiles and sunshine so far... I'm not too proud to admit that the midnight red eye out of Edmonton might not have been the best idea. All the sleep I promised myself that I'd get on the plane was lost in a wave of excitement and nervousness as my gears wouldn't stop turning long enough for me to catch more than an hour of sweet, sexy slumber.

Granted, the whole idea behind the early flight was to be able to spend as much time with the Bonster as I could before slinking off to Europe. But even she might admit that spending 5 less hours with me might have been worth it if I had gotten more than no sleep. That said, once cranky, anti-morning Travis was put to pasture, we ended up having a pretty damn fine time. Of course, I owe it all to my sister's excellent day planning and restaurant selecting that saw us petting string rays at the Toronto Zoo and sucking back 2-for-1 Mango Lassies at one of the finest Indian restaurants that I've been to.

So far, so good. Now we'll see how I on after getting a decent night's sleep...

The Biggest Shout Out... EVER!!!

I know that I predicted that my last post would likely be just that: my last post (before leaving). But I would be remiss in my duties as an expert blogger if - a mere 24 hours later, no less - I didn't put my pride on the shelf and contradict that statement to write a post that has been long overdue. For you see, since day one, there has been one man that has supported this blog without fail. One man that has accepted it into his life and nestled it lovingly against his mighty man-bosom. One man for whom we are all better people for simply having stood in the shadow of his greatness.

I speak of course, about Randy 'Charley' Sneep.

This golden Adonis of a man has honoured this page with his presence from the very first post. The mere fact that he continues to sacrifice his valuable time to not only read it, but also provide insight and wit in the comments section, speaks volumes of his insurmountable character. Without him there would be no Gorillapod. No Lonely Planet's Guide to Europe. No carrying case for the helmet cam. In fact, I think it's pretty safe to say that there would be no trip at all.

This is a guy that men want to be and women want to be with - and sometimes even the other way around. Endlessly charming, devilishly handsome, and strength that would make an ox look like an asthmatic, 12 year old girl by comparison.

He is Randy Sneep, and I am proud to say that he reads my blog.

9 Days...

So... how was your day? Really? Well, that's good. No kidding? That's so fascinating...

Sorry, I had to get that out of the way. It just felt like I was doing all the talking, and I didn't want you thinking I was so self-absorbed that I wasn't interested in your life too. But with that out of the way... we can get back to talking about me.

ME!

So, with just over a week until I fly off this berg, I thought I'd catch you guys up on a few things. Firstly, I caved and bought a GPS unit. It's a Garmin Nüvi 500 for anyone that knows or cares about such things. There's not a whole lot exciting to say about it (waterproof, 8 hour, removable, rechargeable battery, blah, blah, blah), I really only mention it because I like putting the two little dots above the ü. It's almost as cool as the little 5 that you put under a 'c' in Français. Or that 'a' connected to an 'e' thing (æ) that they do in a couple of the Scandinavian languages.

Let's see, what else? I got a Joby Gorillapod so that I can more easily take pictures without having to hold the camera up like a 17 year old girl doing a self portrait for her MySpace page.



Also, inspired by Russ from my last post, I have been given a few more challenges: My sister wants me to try an unusual local food in each country and Steph wants me to meet, seduce and marry a friend of hers in France in hopes that she will then have to move with me to Canada. You know... little things like that.

What the Bonnie Challenge might look like if my trip was in America...

What Steph hopes her challenge will look like...

So... I'm not sure if I'll have a lot left to say before leaving, and as such this could be my last entry from the colonies. Just remember, if I crash doing 230 km/h on the autobahn, don't feel too bad... I died doing what I loved.

Oh, and don't touch my stuff. 'Cause I'll totally haunt your ass...

The Russ Challenge

So here's the deal, one Russell Tiberius Anderson has charged me with the following quest: for each country in which I travel, I am required to take a photo of myself with a local lady. I'm assuming that the lady is supposed to be aware that she will be in a picture with me, and I'm sure the younger and more nubile the better (although getting my picture with a bunch of grannies would be a funny way to stick it to him...) Well, Mr. Anderson, I accept your challenge.

I think I can check 'Canada' off the list...

I'll pause a moment to allow my parents a collective cheer, as I'm sure they are nothing but thrilled that this challenge is a step in the right direction for them ever having any sort hope for a grandchild. Although I still maintain that only time will tell whether my strategy of not talking to women is a success or not.

So, here's a list of countries which I plan to travel through, and therefore you should expect to see this many pictures of me and a lady along the way...

-England
-France
-Spain
-Andorra
-Monaco
-Italy
-Switzerland
-Germany
-Czech Republic
-Denmark
-Holland
-Belgium
-Luxembourg

I mention it because hopefully it will keep me honest, knowing that I face heaps of ridicule in the comments section should I not hold up my end of the deal. Also, holy crap am I going through a lot of countries. You don't really realize it until you type them out like that...

And, before you go thinking, 'What's the big deal? You just have to talk to some ladies and get a picture with them, you pussy.' I first must inform you that such language will not be tolerated on this family-friendly blog, and secondly that it must be kept in mind that some of the countries in which I will pass through will be barely grazed, thus making the challenge all the more difficult. Plus, when it comes to the ladies... well, I am kind of a pussy.

The great GPS debate

GPS (or Global Positioning System for those of you born in a barn) is awesome. There's no question about it. I'm not claiming otherwise or debating the issue. But I have been struggling with whether or not I should bother with one. I'm sure this post is deliciously ironic if you're re-reading it a month from now having just discovered that I got lost in the back woods in the deep south of France and was made to squeal like a pig by some insane French hillbillies, all because I chose not to buy a GPS. Wait... does France have hillbillies? I might be confusing France with Deliverance. Damn, that movie was messed up.

So here's the thing: although GPS is undeniably awesome, is it $300 awesome? Sure, GPS would be nice, but I'll bet $300 can also get you a pretty nice prostitute in Amsterdam. Err... I mean... a really nice... dammit, what else is Amsterdam known for? No, besides that... I need something I can still talk about in a blog that my parent's are reading. Windmills? Can you get a nice windmill for $300? Wooden shoes? Why didn't I just use Belgium in this analogy? Ahem. As I was saying, I'm sure $300 would go a long way in nice, family-friendly Belgium.

I guess the thing that's really keeping GPS in the back of my mind - besides the possibility of being 100km away from my hostel when the sun has already set an hour prior - is that it would probably do a pretty sweet job of spicing up the old blog along the way. I mean, adding the track log to not only show you where I traveled, but also the changes in elevation, as well as my average and maximum speed along the way would be pretty slick. Not just for all you Traviologists following along at home, but even as a sweet in-depth record of the trip for my own sake. I mean, it's not every day that I spend 5 weeks motorcycling around Europe, so in that regard, is $300 worth it for an awesome record of this trip? Yes, yes it is.

B-ah, I'm just going in circles here. I want it... I don't want it... just make up your damn mind, woman. Ok, I want it. Yes... I'm sure I do.

I think.

(I'm open to suggestions and recommendations and discussions on the matter... you know where to find the comments section, right?)