I have been told that some would like to know what our living situation in Albania is, so I will try to describe that today. The description is pretty straight-forward, and may not be interesting to everyone, but I hope it answers some of the questions that people have.

When we first arrived in Albania, as a Fulbrighter Nancy had the luxury of the active support of the US embassy. This meant that the embassy had arranged for a realtor to show us some apartments that he felt would serve our needs. We only had two criteria, both of which were met by the first apartment he showed us. Those criteria were: location and sun. Knowing that our mode of transportation would be walking, we did not want Nancy to have to walk far to get to her classes at the University, and having heard about the cold, damp winter weather that lay ahead, sun was important.

We have now spent almost two months in our apartment, and are pleased with our choice. Regarding location, we look out of our bedroom window at the lawn of a dorm for high school students, while just across that lawn is the University. The walk for Nancy is about two minutes. Regarding sun, the morning sun shines full in our bedroom window, then moves around our apartment, shining through large windows, until it sets in the west in our full view.

We live in a corner apartment on the third floor of a 9 story building. Our windows and balcony overlook a busy street, the University and the US embassy. Our building has an elevator which works most of the time. Our apartment is furnished by IKEA, and probably recently. We have three rooms, each of which has a wall heater, plus a bathroom. All the floors are tile. Our bedroom furniture consists of one bed, a wardrobe and dresser, and one small bedside table. The middle room has one old table and an ironing board. Our kitchen has a table and 7 chairs, a couch and a TV table on which perches and old, and useless, TV. We have a refrigerator, a combination gas and electric stove, an oven, and a dishwasher. The bathroom has a sink, toilet (which fills so slowly that it always sounds like it is leaking), a tub, a clothes washing machine, and our electric hot water tank. The front door is a massive metal one, my guess is it is burglar-proof.

On the ground floor of our building are 6 café/clubs, one fast-food place, an internet site, a beauty parlor, a Western Union and money-exchange office, a defunct travel agency, and a small market. If we can not find what we want in the market, we go through an alley to a student-populated area full of internet sites, cafes, and small stores. Banks and ATM machines are just a couple minutes away. The walk to Tirana’s city center takes about 20 minutes, to the churches we attend about 10, and to the largest city park about 5. We have walked all around the city at all times and, except for traffic, have never felt at risk at all.

The down-sides (besides traffic)? Really not many. The water goes off once or twice a day, but predictably enough that you plan ahead. I’ve been told that the power will go off periodically in the winter, and if that happens the electric heaters will not work and it will get cold. The first several weeks here there were no lights in the outside corridors and the stairways were pretty dirty, but after a building-wide meeting things improved. We have no phone, but our cell phones work fine. Then there is the meager TV and no in-house internet, but for a price we could have either or both. Not having a car is an advantage as places are readily accessible on foot or cab, and who needs to deal with driving, parking, and gasoline, etc.

When we sold our house in Seattle we intentionally set about down-sizing. Here in Albania, although we have more than many in the world, we are living a down-sized life and it is good. We know that all that we have is given us by God, and we also know that we are accountable to him for how we use our things. When I see people living in large houses filled with things that are seldom used and with whole rooms that are almost never occuppied, I wonder. I think of the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19ff) and the awful fate of the one whose wealth was spent only on himself, and I think that we who have much need to heed this warning today. Maybe here in Albania Nancy and I are learning more about living simply and responsibly. Maybe that is one of the reasons we are here…

The Economist for October 28 contained a short but interesting article on Albania. It was titled, Albanian economy, Good times, at last. And it began with these words, It is not hard to find bad news in Albania…Yet over the past five years the country has undergone a little-noticed but remarkable transformation… As I travel around the city of Tirana what I see and the people I talk to echo the truth in this line. The State Department categorizes international civil service posts on a 1-5 scale. 1 means it is easy to live and work in a place while 5 labels the post the most difficult assignment—the only more difficult is a post labeled war zone. Albania today is a 5, but I think that classification may need to be revised. I hope the reasons for this will become clear as I continue this blog over the weeks ahead.

Moving on, the subject for today is trash. And the summary statement, if you do not care to read about trash, is—there are worse places and there are better places. Coming into the city you pass roadsides littered with trash of all kinds—from bottles to plastics to papers to furniture. Phone cards, cigarette packs, and anything else that is portable, once used, is thrown down, and it all gathers wherever it can. One day I saw a Mercedes slightly slow down, then the driver’s door opened and a glass bottle was thrown into the median of the road. Alleys and byways have piles of inorganic and, particularly by the markets, organic trash. But that is not unusual for many countries—in fact the only unusual thing about Albanian trash is that not a single piece bears the golden arches logo (which was clearly the most common litter in every one of the ten European countries I cycled through this fall). The simple reason is that Albania is one of the few countries in Europe that has no McDonalds. It has its counterfeit McDonalds called Kolonat that stands just across from the Sheraton and in the clear line of sight of Mother Teresa (her statue, that is—she was ethnic Albanian and is memorialized there in stone). Kolonat is complete with golden arches (though they are slightly pointed) and happy meals, but you search there in vain for a genuine BigMac or a hot fudge sundae or real American-style brewed coffee.

People do not seem to feel that littering is inappropriate, and it shows. However, that may be changing and there are encouraging signs. Household or restaurant trash, to be specific, is taken care of in a very reasonable way. Scattered around the city are large dumpsters.
They are accessible to everyone and everyone seems to carry their personal trash to them and deposit it there. They may not be sightly and in the summer may develop an odor, but at least that trash is concentrated and it is picked up very regularly. In fact it is picked up twice—first by Roma who dive in and gather glass and aluminum for recycling, then by the trash collectors who do a reasonably thorough job of cleaning up bins that have overflowed their borders. The trash is then taken to a main dump outside the city. Besides this there are some litter bins scattered about, and some people use them. And every day people appear early in the morning to clear dust and trash away from the front of their stores (something they will do several times during the day), while others greet the dawn by cleaning the common streets. I think there is a growing awareness on the part of some of the need to do more, and I think it is helping and will help even more in the years ahead.

Having said that, if I had one trashy suggestion to offer Albania it would be for them to follow the Irish. By this, I mean for them to ban plastic bags, particularly those that food purchases are put in. I once bought a loaf of bread (wrapped in plastic, of course), and motioned to the market clerk that she did not need it put in a second plastic bag. She was indignant and the best interpretation of her broken English that I could make was, when in Albania, do as the Albanians do—she would not allow me to leave her store without the bag in a bag. I find this everywhere. Store personnel are personally offended if you try to refuse a plastic bag, and they simply will not allow it. At the major shopping center of Tirana I purchased a CD, and when I indicated to the clerk that I would put it in the laptop computer bag I was carrying she was dismayed. Such a thing would never happen on her watch! And those bags account for a considerable amount of the total litter of the nation. The ban has made a huge difference in Ireland, I know it would in Albania. And I also know it would in America as well…

In writing pieces for this blog I try to put a bit of spiritual message in each time. Not because I feel obligated, but because I honestly see the message in the topic. Doing that for trash may be a bit of a stretch, but I don’t think so. I believe that when God gave humanity stewardship over the earth (…The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it…Genesis 2:15), he did so with the intent that we would tend to it with loving care, reflecting his care for us. God did not put us over the rest of creation with the understanding that we would abuse it by greed or ignorance. Environmental health ought to be the concern of every person, particularly believers and particularly those in the United States where we use so much of the world’s resources. And that means less trash and better management of the trash that must be…

Let me introduce you to a famous person. His name is Spartak Hamiti. He has been interviewed in the local papers many times, been on CNN twice, and been the subject of many other interviews and articles in papers around the world. But you probably do not recognize his name—despite his notoriety and his multiple citations in Guinness Book of World Records.
His fame comes because, in his own words, “In the feet-carrying of the football and tennis ball Spartak Hamiti has established these World Records:…Football (soccer ball to us)—18 km, 106 meters while walking…Tennis ball— 2km, 609 meters while walking…Tennis ball—1 hour 32 minutes while standing… In addition a Record (not World Record) with football of 6643 touches while standing.”

Nancy and I met Spartak while walking in the main park of Tirana the other day. He recognized that we were foreigners and initiated a conversation. Actually it is more accurate to say that he insisted on a conversation. That conversation, in pretty good English, quickly turned to his fame and its reasons, and the interview he was so eager to give, along with a demonstration of his skills, was scheduled for today.

To be more explicit—Spartak has walked over ten miles while keeping a soccer ball in motion and off the ground the entire time, using only his feet. And he has done the same with a tennis ball for nearly 1 ½ miles. And, while standing still, he has kept a tennis ball in motion and off the ground for 1 hour and 32 minutes, kicking it from foot to foot all the time. And, also while standing, he has kept a soccer ball off the ground with 6643 consecutive “kicks”. All of these records were done in front of three accredited judges so that the accomplishments would be verifiable and recorded by Guinness.

I know this is true because my new friend Spartak brought with him a copy of the certificate from Guinness and a copy of a newspaper article with his photo, both to give to me. And, when we met today he was insistent on giving me an example of his skills with both the soccer ball and tennis ball, although the example was short and to the point. Among his skills is the ability to kick the tennis ball 20 meters (60’) into the air and catch it with his foot on the way down, but he did not show this as the park is quite hilly and any mistake could put the ball in the lake.

Spartak is well known in Tirana. A local friend described him as a character, and he certainly is that. He also has a message with his unique skill. He said he worked many places without success, but in the end set a world record in kicking balls by working with passion and will. He told us that he began at the age of “two months short of 8 years”, when at a communist pioneer camp he was required to display some talent in front of everyone. He went on to say that these ingredients, passion and will, are the keys to reaching the top of anything… Pretty wise advice I would say. They remind me of Jesus’ call to commitment—passion and will being two important ingredients.

When we met today Spartak was not only eager to show me his accomplishments, but also eager to tell me about his life. He said that if you know my life you know Albania. That is a pretty lofty statement, but as he unfolded the part I heard today (the sun set and we had to stop, but we will resume) it makes sense. Today’s saga was about his father. A commander in the Army of Liberation (against the Nazis in 1944), he rose to a position of prominence under the former communist dictator. But that dictator had a paranoid fear of people with talent and strength, and under the guise of rumors of sabotage in the oil industry where his father worked, eliminated the skilled leadership in that field. Some were killed, some jailed, some exiled to villages, and others, like his father, demoted and disgraced. His father lived long enough to be a pensioner and died a natural death, and in his obituary it was written, he was not a reptile—a contrastive tribute to him as a man of decency and integrity during a very troubled time when the same could not be said of many.

Spartak and I parted today with assurances that we would meet again, and we will. He gave me his phone number so I could call him, but that will not be necessary because he is in the park every Tuesday and Thursday, and most Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. This is not completely unusual because many men his age are there regularly to meet, chat and play dominoes. But Spartak is there because he has a small group of boys from the outskirts of the city that he is teaching to kick the ball, that is to play soccer. They come from troubled homes and are poor, but they have a coach who cares for them and who has not just one but three world records. They have a coach who got them by working with a passion and a will, and a coach who hopes that just maybe he can help them learn the same values and accomplish something important with their lives…

As I reflected on my short time with Spartak, having learned about records and lives and history, I began to realize that while Guinness and CNN will take no note, and while he may not realize it, Spartak’s work in the park with a few boys may be the most significant accomplishment of his life. I am sure that this work is worth a lot more than what many people work all their lives to achieve and by which many measure success. And I wonder if this isn’t another lesson, and challenge, that Spartak has for us—a lesson not about kicking a ball (which is impressive!) but about what we do with the talents we have, and what it means to invest them in other people, and the kingdom of God…

The flyer reads kalendari i shfaqjeve Tetor-Dhjetor 2006. It is the fall program for the Operas Baletit, the Opera House of Tirana. We were told before we came to Albania that the performances in the opera house were very often, very good, and very cheap. So, for the first time in my 62 years I attended a ballet last night. Nancy, Susan and I sprung for the best seats in the Opera House, the $5 ones, and spent from 7 pm to 9 pm enjoying the music of Sheherezade by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and that of Sergei Rachmaninoff in Paganini. The first had a story line that was plainly presented in the ballet, while the dancing in the second seemed to be interpreting the music alone, with no story line.

The opera house itself was mid-size, slightly worn but not shabby. It occupies one part of the building in the accompanying photo. The musical presentation was by an excellent 60 piece orchestra, and the dancing was choreographed by Skender Selimi, obviously a well known artist. I must confess that my preconceptions of ballet were not completely positive. And I also confess that a few times I thought some of the movements were a little silly. But I also must confess that I thoroughly enjoyed both presentations, and that my preconceptions were wrong.

In any case, when I am asked what things I learned and experienced in Albania, I am not sure that many people would expect the answer to include Rachmaninoff and Rimsky-Korsakov. I am certain that before I arrived I would not have expected to give that answer. And this highlights something pretty important—that our preconceptions of things are often (usually??) unconnected to their reality. That is true of ballets and countries and places—and it is true of people as well. We form opinions based on little or no data, often on first impressions or misinformation coming from others, and those opinions become our realities—realities that do not change easily but that are often wrong.

I think that is why so many people in Jesus' time rejected him. They had their minds made up about the Messiah and his mission long before he came, and because of that when he came they did not recognize him. As the prophet anticipated, they had eyes to see, but did not see, and ears to hear, but did not hear (Isaiah 6:9-10).

I also think that this is the case for many today. When we read about the failure of first century Jewish leaders we are quick to criticize, but could that criticism itself be our stereotyping? Could it be that their attitude was much closer to what ours would have been given the same situation? Or could it even be that their attitude is closer to the attitude of many today, including some within the church? Could it be that many have their minds made up about Jesus not by an encounter with Jesus himself or his words, but by preconceptions or stereotypes or cultural expectations?

The point is obvious--Let's try not to be like that...Let's try not to form our opinions about people or places or Jesus in the wrong way. Let's go out of our way to listen to what people actually say and to get to know first hand what they are actually like. And let's do the same with Jesus...That is what his Word is for—and it is there for the looking!

Oh, and if you visit in the next two months I will be sure that we attend Ballo Me Maska (Verdi), Soiree Schumann , or Cosi Fan tutte (Mozart). All are coming soon and the price is right.

Oh, also, I hope to have a real treat for tomorrow's blog--a very interesting person who lays claim to a note in Guiness' Book of World Records...We'll see.

Every major city seems to have its “must-see” landmark. London has the Tower of London, Paris the Eifel Tower, Prague has the Charles Bridge, New York has the Empire State Building, and Seattle has Calvin Presbyterian Church…

Well, yesterday Nancy and I, along with Susan, who is another Fulbrighter, experienced what I would call the “must-see” of Tirana. We took a taxi from the center of town through a suburban area that is just being developed to a ski-like lift. We paid our 500 lek ($5), got on the lift and were transported to a stopping point slightly over 3,000 feet above us—on the upper slope of Mount Dajti (pronounced like tidy only with the t and d exchanged). The lift took us high over the valleys below and finally up a steep rise to its upper station. There we got out, looked around, and walked about ¾ of a mile to a restaurant and observation point.

I am certain that on a clear day the view of the city of Tirana far below would be breathtaking, but this day it was partially obscured by a combination of natural haze and smog. But the fall colors that surrounded us at our new elevation more than made up for the haze below. Susan is an archaeologist specializing in the flora that past civilizations lived on—not interesting to some, but it gave her a working knowledge of many of the trees and shrubs we were in the midst of. So we learned a bit about the names behind the colors.


But mostly we just wandered in awe. Last time I wrote in this blog I commented on the beauty that we as humans can add to our environment, both on a small and on a grand scale. This time I have to comment on the beauty that God adds—and on both a microscopic and a grand scale. I had seen some of this while cycling through Europe before coming to Albania, but I saw much more of it yesterday. The Balkan (bal = barrier) Mountains throughout Albania are imposing. But this time of year they are also beautiful… And we marveled at that beauty in the tall trees and the small fall blooming flowers.

Today we worshipped once again at an International Protestant Church near our apartment. During the service the pastor asked if we could sense the presence of God in that place. Yesterday, we were not in a building labeled a church, but we could certainly sense the presence and creative wonder of God—the God who created the heavens,who fashioned and made the earth.. (Isaiah 45:18), the God who made the trees that were pleasing to the eye…(Genesis 2:9).

If you look at the last photo for this entry you will notice a strange mushroom-shaped object in the lower right corner. I would label that photo The Beauty and The Beast, as that object is one of the 600,000 one-person concrete bunkers which the former dictator had built everywhere in the country. He was paranoid, certain that the invaders were at the door, and ordered these bunkers to be built everywhere. I will write more about them in the future, but alongside the glorious fall colors the ugliness of this bunker certainly stands out.


Oh, an aside. For 36 years I have paid careful attention to the changing of the clocks on those Sundays that daylight savings comes and goes. Each season I would be extra careful to change the clocks on Saturday night so that I would not arrive for worship at the wrong time. I would also wait to see who came early or late, and warn the ushers to be ready to explain to those who had forgotten to change their clocks. Well, today Nancy and I arrived for worship and we were the only ones there. Why? You guessed it. We learned the hard way that Albania has daylight savings just like the US…

The buildings of Tirana are interesting. There is a mixture of old and new, of crumbling communist-era blocks and modern office buildings. Across the street from our apartment is a school that is housed in an old, drab and boring building, and right next to it is what must have been a private house long before the road came out this way—it’s red tile roof still protects it from the rain and an old wall-fence separates it and a small, overgrown yard with a couple old trees, from the rest of the world. Behind them rise several large modern looking apartment buildings with satellite dishes and rounded balconies, some sporting a bit of greenery growing in pots. Mixture is the word.
I hope I will learn a bit about the architecture as the months go by, but I have learned one architectural fact that affects the entire feel of the city, and is unique. The present mayor is credited with a major clean-up job of the city. After the fall of communism small shacks and kiosks sprouted up everywhere, and the city was in danger of losing any architectural decency. The mayor embarked on a beautification and modernization program—the kiosks were removed from public parks and byways, the streets are being resurfaced, and an emphasis on color has been interjected—encouragement was given by the government for building owners and builders to use paint to make drab buildings interesting. The result is splashes of color-creativity everywhere. There are, of course, the obligatory glass-surfaced office and commercial buildings (the Twin Towers of Tirana), and there is the strange building with its unique history
(the Pyramid, designed by the daughter of a politician and now used by adults for expositions and by children as a massive slide), but everywhere you turn there are also ordinary buildings made unusual by being painted with pastels and vivid colors and fanciful designs. It makes for an interesting city, one where you can uniquely identify a meeting place by saying, “It is just past the orange and yellow striped building.” I like that…

Today was another sunny day, and I strolled a couple blocks around town. Photos of large buildings can not do them justice, but here are a few that make you stop when you turn a corner and see them. I have always believed that the story of creation in Genesis chapter 2, as it describes creation as pleasing to the eye, provides a strong endorsement of beauty and the creative arts. God could have created a completely functional, and boring, world--but he didn't. And we need to learn from him...

At Calvin I was always grateful for and appreciative of the wonderful art that Fran and Vir Harrison, and others, provided to give expression to that creativity on the walls, in the corners, and in the sanctuary of the church. In Tirana I think the mayor has done just a little to give that endorsement a shape for a city.

Oh, by the way, the last photo is our apartment building—we are behind the first railing up. Not as interesting as many others, but for four months we are calling it home…

Today Nancy and I made our first foray outside of the capital city of Tirana. Along with four other Fulbright connected people and four others we hired three taxis and drove one hour (25 miles) out of the city. Our destination was Kroje and the 16th century fortress from which Skanderbeg, the national hero of Albania, for 25 years successfully thwarted Ottoman attempts to control the Albanian people. Kroje also has a bazaar which is reputed to be one of the best places in the country for souvenir hunting.
The drive out took us through parts of Tirana we had not seen, and then into the countryside and on to Kroje. There we passed through the lower town and made our way to the upper town, where the fortress is located. The town and fortress are part way up some of the rugged mountains that help you understand how Albania could be such an isolated country for so long. Clearly impenetrable to any kind of direct travel, they loom large and imposing. From the vantage point of the fortress we could look up at the mountains above, down at the valley below and off to the Adriatic Sea. We could also enjoy clean air and no traffic.
Before coming to Albania I had never heard of Skanderbeg, but Albanians are filled with pride in his accomplishments. Taken by the Turks into the Ottoman army, he deserted and became a fierce and successful warrior-defender of Albanian freedom. Many countries have their legendary founders and fighters, and the people mix fact and fiction in telling their stories. Skanderbeg is that for Albania, but the historical stories seem to validate his reputation. Operating out of the fortree at Skoje, and against overwhelming odds, he kept the Ottoman armies at bay, and gave the people someone to be proud of for centuries. The central square of Tirana is dominated by his statue—he is in full battle array with beard flowing, riding on a strong horse. Very impressive!

While Nancy and I are pretty immune to souvenir purchasing, we did leave a few leks (Albanian money) behind by purchasing a traditional coffee grinder. This particular one was made during the communist era, but that, too is a part of the history of this country—and coming from Seattle what more appropriate item could we come away with than a hand-operated coffee grinder. And, for your information, the taxi out and back, plus 2 hours waiting for us, cost about $10 per person. Not bad I would say.

This past Monday I learned that British Airlines has closed all its offices in London. That seemed a bit strange to me, and was a bit disconcerting as well since I was planning on flying from London back to Albania that day, and needed to know if my ticket was arranged for—something I could only find out from a British Airlines office…
So, I made my way to Gatwick Airport (a 45 minute train trip), and there I found out that my ticket (despite what Expedia had said) was invalid since I had changed return dates, and that no reservation was on record (despite my having written confirmation of a reservation from the Albanian office of British Airlines). So I asked about buying a ticket on the next flight to Albania, and was informed that I could do so for only ₤999, which translates to just under $2,000. This was slightly higher than the advertised low rate to Albania of ₤80, so I balked. Looking around a little the agent found a flight the next day from Stansted Airport for ₤115. It was on Albania Airways and available, so I booked it, returned to London and spent the night in a small B&B.
The next day I went to Stansted Airport (1 hour trek), found the Albania Airways desk (shared with several other not-so-major airlines), and was told that no reservation was on file for me. Searching further the attendant saw that a reservation had been made for me but that it had been canceled. I said this was curious as the Gatwick agent had made it less than 24 hours earlier, I had written confirmation, and I had not canceled it. The explanation was that there was no ticket number associated with my reservation. I explained that the agent at Gatwick had told me that the only place a ticket number could be obtained was at the counter at Stansted and that my arrival there was only moments after that counter had opened for the day. That made no difference, rules are rules…But the good news for me was that since the flight was not full I was able to purchase a ticket on the spot, and for the announced ₤115. And that meant I could return to Tirana and rejoin Nancy. All so easy—the joys of travel.
This came at the end of part 2 of my fall cycling adventures in Europe. Part 1 had been early September, through eastern Europe with my friend from N. Ireland, Brian Magowin. This had ended September 15 when I flew to Tirana to be with Nancy to set up our Albanian life and see to the start of her Fulbright assignment. Part 2 began on September 29, when I flew back to Zurich to pick up my bike, which I had left there, and carry on alone for two weeks—this time in western Europe. During those two weeks I followed two paths—one was east towards the confluence of the Inn and Salzach rivers, which I have already described, the other was down the Neckar River Valley.
The second path started at the continental divide, the point on the northern apron of the Alps east of which the Danube coursed its way in all directions, eventually ending up south and east in the Black Sea while the Neckar flowed north into the Rhine and into the North Sea. At the point I cycled from the Danube to the Neckar they were less than ten miles apart, and the rise separating them only around 2,000 feet in elevation. The day was a Saturday and it began with rain and dark clouds, but soon settled nicely into a mixture of clouds and sun—a great day to be on the road!
The Neckartal-weg, as the path was labeled, follows the Neckar River closely, and over the course of the next several days I witnessed that river grow from a fair sized stream to a truly mighty waterway.
On that first day, Saturday, I passed several covered bridges, some old and some new, many small and picturesque towns, some castles on the hillside and apple orchards, sometimes with the owner or a neighbor gathering in the produce of the year. The day ended in the city of Tubingen, a city whose university and theological studies department I had heard of since beginning pastoral studies.
It is a truly amazing city, both for its historical value and traditional beauty, and I enjoyed walking in the old part of the city and then, on Sunday, worshipping in its grand old cathedral. The worship was entirely in German, so I did not understand a word, but I knew I was sharing a special hour with believers of today while basking in the shadows of great saints of the past.
After worship on Sunday I continued down the Neckar past Stutgart (which was mobbed with familes out enjoying a sunny fall Sunday) and into wine country. The banks of the Neckar, which now was truly a river, rose in tiers of grape vines, and the harvest was in full swing. Every bend in the river brought a vista of miles of vineyards, and the sounds of specially designed gas-powered collectors working their way up and down the hillsides. I learned that so much wine is being produced world-wide that the French government is offering cash payouts to vineyard owners if they will pull up their vines and get out of the business—and I am sure this region on the Neckar is a contributor to that surplus. But it makes for a wonderful sight and some very happy people!
The next day I continued down the Neckar, past the historic city of Heidelberg and through the heavily industrial city of Mannheim, where the Neckar joins the Rhine and I got completely lost—pedaling through shipyards, past no entry sites and into dead ends. I finally made it out of that mess and headed overland, through the historic city of Worms, missing an eastward turn in the Rhine. As darkness began to descend I found myself in a small village with the only accommodation being in the farmhouse of a vineyard which was fitted out both as a tasting/sales place for the owners’ product and as a Bed and Breakfast. There were no eating places in the village, but there was an “imbiss” (trailer turned into a pizza/hamburger stand), and I enjoyed a tasty meal while learning about the owner’s migration from his home in India to his current residence in Germany. As I have been traveling I have been asking about immigration issues, and learned some interesting things. I did not sense in Germany any antagonism towards immigrants, but did learn that the population of the nation is on a decline—more people are leaving Germany than are being added by birth and immigration combined. Some estimates are that the population in the area which was formerly East Germany, which was 20 million, will decline to 8 million by the year 2020… This raises lots of questions and issues!
The next day was another beautiful one, as I rode onto one of the most famous cycle paths in the world—the Rhineweg. A person can follow the Rhine on designated cycle paths from its headwaters in the Alps to where it joins the North Sea—quite a journey. And if they do, there is no more famous or beautiful portion of the route than the few miles I rode on, from Bingen towards Koblenz. This is castle country. The hillsides are dotted with fortresses of past centuries while the valley itself is a string of small, picturesque (over-used word, but what other word is appropriate?) villages. Barges go up and down the river with tons of goods, passing other ships loaded with tourists who come from all over the world to see and experience from the river what I was seeing and experiencing from the shore. Having been there before, I was still impressed by what I witnessed, but decided to cut overland from the Rhine to the Mosel. Doing so meant a long uphill out of the Rhine Valley then a plateau followed by a downhill into the Mosel Valley. This route gave me a picture of the area that remaining in the valleys does not provide, and it exposed me to several small farming villages, such as one named after a famous Bothel math teacher... Lutz.
This day ended in Cochem, on the Mosel, and I knew I was too far from the ferry at Calais to cycle there in time to cross the channel, train to London, and meet the plane I thought I had waiting for me. But trains in Europe are usually accommodating of bicycles, and they go almost everywhere, so the next morning I loaded self and cycle onto a train to Luxembourg and beyond that to France. With little difficulty I made my way to Lille, France, about 90 miles from Calais, and on Friday cycled those miles. My route followed the Avenue du Dunqurque, and as I went I could imagine the tragic, but history-shaping events that had happened on that route over the centuries. In my mind I could see columns of men trudging north or south, and I could not help but pondering the foolishness of nations in demanding the ultimate sacrifice from so many, while at the same time knowing that without such sacrifices
much of what we now take for granted would not be ours. That day ended at a place I had never heard of before, a place with an ominous name, Gravelines, France. Fifteen miles from Calais it is built around an old seaside fortress but now is a site for holiday-makers during the summer months. Most places were closed but I found a small hotel for the night, awoke the next morning (Saturday), cycled to the cross-channel ferry, arrived in Dover and took a train to London where I found a small B&B (which I just stumbled across but which I subsequently learned is the B&B Rick Steves uses when in London). In London I met up with my nephew Jeff Reeves (Allison’s son) and enjoyed the play The Producers at the West End. Sunday I attended worship at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, the church Charles Spurgeon had preached in many years ago and from which a great revival had spread. That evening Jeff and I had a wonderful dinner and visit with the Lapham family, friends from Seattle, and that brings me to where I started—the end of this journey and the beginning of the next.
But that is enough for today. On the road it is difficult to keep current with this blog, but I will try to update it nearly every day now that I am back in Albania, where Nancy and I will be until February 1, 2007. On the road there are adventures, but life here is turning out to be most interesting as well. I hope I can convey some of that interest to those who want to know… In all this God has been wonderful, guarding and guiding, and giving amazing adventures along the way. I thank all who pray for me, for Nancy, and for our family. I am humbled to know that some pray for us daily. I can only ask that I/we be faithful and grateful in response to those prayers…In His Adventures, Will Ackles

DONAU\DANUBE
Today I discovered something I had been looking for--fall... After writing for this blog in the morning, I got on the train I had been waiting for, one going to a town near the head of the Neckar River. My plan is to cycle that river route north, then head through France towards Calais and a ferry to England. As the train journey went on,however, the countryside became more and more picturesque and I realized that we were paralleling the Danube River, going up towards its source in the south-east of Germany. Mile after mile unfolded until I could not stand sitting in the train any longer, so I jumped off at the next stop.
DONAURADWEG
At that point I did not know where I was, but having heard of the Donauradweg (Donau = Danube, rad = cycle, weg = way or path) I knew I was on it. Signs identifying the route were everywhere and very clear, so I took it--and fall unfolded. The scattered clouds parted from time to time, and the trees are starting to turn colors. I have seen the Danube\Donau at Budapest and other cities, where it is a mighty river, but here it is a good size stream. And it is wending its way through pastures, canyons and incredible scenery. And the path for cycles is great... So I was introduced to fall in wonder and glory--so much that I could not keep the great song How Great Thou Art from filling my mind and I could not go fast or far(there is a time in cycling to make miles go by as quickly as possible, because there are places to go and people to meet and things to see...but there is another time for simply feeling the air and watching the world, and that was today. In that sense it is like life, with its times and seasons--and we can only pray that we would recognize which time is which...)

A SNACK STOP
As I hunted for a hotel I bumped into a couple a little older than myself. They were also cycling and were outfitted just like I am. As we chatted for a few minutes, the wife was quick to say, and proudly I am certain, that with their planned journey tomorrow, back to the town I started at today, they will have cycled the entire Danube from its origin to Budapest. It took several trips and several years, but they will have done it...
I have ended the day with relatively few miles on my computer, but with great visions in my mind. And tomorrow I will head towards the Neckar and see what it holds...And in the years ahead--???
In His Adventures, Will

On The Road Again...

This morning, Friday, October 6, began with a clanging of various sorts outside my hotel window. I assumed it was people collecting the trash, an assumption supported by the odor wafting through my window. But then the jackhammers began in earnest and I realized that construction of some major sort was my wake-up call.
I am in Ulm, a town in south-west Germany, near the Black Forest. I arrived here last night after a train ride from Simbach, Germany, a small town on the Inn River. I had never heard of Ulm, but when I arrived I was impressed by the l ong pedestrian mall, and then stunned by the lofty cathedral at its head. An amazing masterpiece that seems to pierce the heavens themselves. Unfortunately, photos of such grand edifices never convey their meaning--especially when taken by an amateur...Suffice it to say that as long as that cathedral has been in place I am sure that the eyes of countless onlookers have been moved heaven-ward, hopefully to the God who made the skies and seas!
Last Friday I began the completion of my planned cycle journey for the fall. I flew Malev Airlines from Tirana to Zurich, where I picked up my bicycle, which I had left at a hotel there, and on Saturday I began cycling eastward. My goal was the Alps to the confluence of the Inn and Salzach Rivers, about 30 miles north of Salzburg, Austria, and 30 miles south of Passau, Germany. I had heard of the cycle path along the River Inn, and wanted to try it, plus the Alps in the fall sounded fascinating.

SWISS COUNTRYSIDE
My first day was primarily through Switzerland, although it ended where the Alps really began, on the Rhine in Austria. The Swiss are noted for their organizational skills and their cycle-friendly roads and paths, but I had a bit of trouble. I think one needs a detailed map of the places traveling, as I found the signposts confusing, found myself lost at places, and ended up climbing some pretty long hills when a simple way around was at hand...Oh, well, of such things character is made--they tell me.
A HEFTY SWISS BARBEQUE


THE ALPS AWAIT

A SHELTER IN A STORM
The next day I climbed into the Austrian Alps proper. Up and up for a long time, and then, just as I crested the first pass, the rain came. And it came hard... Not being too much of a glutton for punishment, I ducked into the first inn I found, and enjoyed a leisurely light lunch. The inn had been serving since the 1600's, and had it down well--great ambiance and fine soup. When I had finished the rain had settled down, and I went on...Off and on getting wet, but in spectacular scenery, I ended up stopping in a wonderful Alpine Inn just short of the major pass I was to face. The view was spectacular, the food wonderful, and the room not very expensive--what else could you ask for??
A CHAPEL IN THE ALPS
The next day started with broken clouds and some sunshine. The climb up to the top of the pass was as expected--steep but not too long as I had done much of it the day before. Then the downhill...It went on and on and on--through beautiful Alpine forest...The Alps gave way to rolling hills and meadows of Bavaria, and the day ended in a Sports Hotel just a few miles shy of the German border...
ALPINE HEIGHTS
Tuesday was a day cycling through Bavarian rolling hills and farm lands. I passed through Bad Tolz, another of the many towns I had never heard of, but that many Germans (and others) obviously had. A spa resort with a beautiful river slicing through the middle--many pedestrian only streets, lined with flowers of all kinds. And the sun came out for a while, which always makes things seem a lot happier! That day ended in a town just short of the Inn River, where I found a nice hotel and where I could listen to the driving rain that hit just as I checked in...

BAVARIAN FARMLAND

INN RIVER
Wednesday was a day cycling along the Inn River. This river begins near St. Moritz, Switzerland, courses through much of Austria (Innsbruck is one of the many cities on the Inn), then crosses into Germany where it finally empties into the Danube at Passau, north of Vienna. One of the goals of this trip, as I mentioned, was to try this path, and while it was interesting at points, it was a bit of a disappointment. The surface was not smooth, and the miles (kilometers) jarring. Much of the time it was away from any towns, which sounds good but takes some of the interest out of a European cycling trip--you want to see people and towns, not just forest and a river. Also, at points the signage was lacking, and, again, as before, I ended up wandering...In the end I went back to the road, which was nearly empty, and ended the day in Markt--another town I had never heard of but which I quickly learned was the birthplace of the present Pope, and so is destined for some fame...
Thursday I finished this section of the trek at Simbach, and jumped on a train to retrace my steps and begin a route through Germany and France to the Channel and on to London, where I hope to end this journey. First Munich then here to Ulm, and on today to the headwaters of the Neckar River and a few days exploring it...
On the road it is difficult to keep the blog going daily. But I hope this gives you a quick flavor of what I am doing and where I am...All long the way I have met interesting people, seen fascinating places, and been kept safe in the arm of God...
In His Adventures, Will