A brace of brommies - or Multi-modality commuting

You might be wondering what a brommie is, and why a 'brace' is the correct collective noun. So here is a brace of brommies .... explanation to follow.

A nice plump brace indeed

The major reason for our hasty trip to London was to hunt for brommies, and we scored ourselves a very nice brace, with nary a pellet remaining from the shot gun blast.

Note the wings poised for flight

Brommies is the term of endearment given to Brompton bicycles by people who fall in love with the intensely cute but eminently practical folding bike. We used to enjoy riding our mountain bikes when we were back in Oz, and it seemed an ideal solution to the problem of being on a boat. That is, the only way to get around off the boat is shank's pony. Normally, Megan and I will walk for hours, but this has been giving rise to a few problems: we can completely exhaust ourselves, but not get very far, and my knee has learned some new things and is now classed as a 'trick knee'. I've even started walking with a cane, which is a very scary development!

Old crockness meets new crockness

The brommies solve this problem, we can ride around for hours, but actually get where we need to go. The shopping is now easy as they have commodious baskets that swallow an amazing amount. The really good thing is that, unlike most folding bikes that ride like a hernia with hiccups, the brommie rides like a real bike.

A practical pouch - maybe a marsupial brommie

So, we became infatuated brommonians, or is that bromedaries? We love our new bikes, treat them tenderly, and go "Aww, shucks" when people admire the graceful folded wheel stance that a brommie takes to let you mount her.

A bromedary (hmm, one hump or two) with brommie, ready to roll.

Of course, if you've sneaked a look in Pavlov, you'd know that there's not a lot of room in there, so where can one stash a brace, or hoist a bromedary? Well, this was the selling point of the bikes. We have a small unoccupied space just on top of the generator. We measured it  up, and thought that the two bikes would just fit. And they did! With only 1mm to spare.

A brommie lair - that's two adult brommies in there!

Another view of their hide-away.

The other great thing about travel by bromedary is that in their folded state (cunningly disguised by black 'stealth shrouds'), they can ride with you on trains, buses and airplanes. This so extends the extent of our travel capabilites, that it deserves a title. And it has been given one, as we learned in the yuppier reaches of London. Its called 'multi-modal transportation'.

So there it is. 'Have Brommie, will travel!'

Life and Death

Our recent trip to London brought back memories of an earlier visit. In my late 20's, I'd been living in India and Europe, working in various jobs and backpacking. A need to renew my vanishing travelling fund prompted me to head for England and the promise of work.

Megan outside Charing Cross

After working some months in a psychiatric hospital in Aylesbury, I secured an interesting but very poorly paid job. Eugene Himmler was a psychoanalyst who was also a survivor of Hitler's extermination camps. He had died, and his followers wanted to continue his work post-humously. They wanted a psychologist who would listen to hours of taped interviews with Holocaust survivors and analyse their contents. (This was called 'protocol analysis').

Streets of Catford, picking up our new bikes

They could only offer GBP 300 to do this, but they sweetened the deal by offering me use of their Swiss Cottage cottage. I accepted, and in fulfilling the job, discovered that Anna Freud (Sigmund's daughter) lived around the corner, and the Tavistock clinic was just down the street. All these memories from my youth, coupled with our impending departure from our safe haven of Fethiye prompted me to re-consider some of Freud's basic idea's.

Meeting Sue, Megan's cousin in Trafalgar Square

Freud believed that there were two instinctual forces active in our psyche, the force driving us towards life, and the force impelling us towards death, dissolving and decaying us. He named the life force Eros, and it was our creative drive, impelling us to expand, grow and try new expressions of living. He named the death force Thanatos. It's the impulse to stay the same, to stay safe, to shrink within our known boundaries. The end result of Thanatos is literally 'rigour mortis', the inability to move or change.

Chris and Barb, two friends we caught up with

Now, let me try to get to the point of this meandering diatribe. Lots of people we know, and several of our good friends, have commented that they think we are 'brave' or 'courageous' to head off sailing half-way around the world. Using Freud's terms, we are full of Eros, the life force impelling us to expand our horizon's and grow to the maximum. This just doesn't feel right to me. I don't feel 'brave or courageous'. In fact, I feel both of Freud's impulses, and the point where they balance.

St. Martin's in the Field

We're currently planning our departure from Fethiye, our little home away from home in Turkey. Fethiye now represents safety and security for us, it's high in Thanatos. While planning our impending visit to Cypress, Lebanon, Israel and Egypt; reading the pilots and government risk warnings, I can feel an increased 'frisson' in the air, and well as higher levels of stress and anxiety. I'm clearly heading into Eros territory, the challenge of the new and unknown.

The cross built at Charing - nice Thanatos memorial

Each of us has a set-point where these instincts balance out, the desire for security versus the challenge of the new. We have a 'comfort point' where we can tolerate and integrate these opposing forces. When Chris (above photo) mentioned that he thought we were brave, I think my reply was 'No, I just focus on taking the next step'. This lets me assimilate a smaller chunk of the new, and doesn't threaten my sense of security and safety by too big a margin.

Megan on the Tube

Nevertheless, I can feel the winds of change a'blowing and there is a slight shiver in the air. What will it be like, not having a permanent home for Pavlov? When we leave Fethiye, we will be 'free agents', at least until we take out another marina contract. We'll be sailing in more challenging waters, with overnight sails, watch-keeping and hostile government officials to deal with. Lebanon might get a bit iffy, and Egypt, with all its corruption and horrors, may need to be visited if we are to avoid a 5 day passage to Crete. How will we manage and cope?

Well, maybe just 'One step at a time...'

The extraordinary region of Cappodocia

We travelled with friends to Cappodocia, to experience the strange geological formations that have become dwellings to a variety of peoples.

These sandstone formations are quite extraordinary, as is the general landscape.

Our hotel was carved into the rock.

On the way to the national park, even the modes of local transportation are unusual.

The national park, known as the 'outdoor museum' has many examples of early Christian churches and monastic compounds.

Here's an example of the fresco's still visible on the walls of the church. These date from about the 12th century.

Cappodocia is also the largest centre world-wide for hot air ballooning. Its dry climate, still air conditions and incredible sandstone formations make an ideal site for the sport.

We arose at 4.30 am to prepare for our flight.

There were 80 balloons all launching into the pre-dawn stillness.

Our pilot has such fine control over our halloon, that we could scrape over the ground, pick olives from a tree, and twist and turn down the narrow canyons of the Cappodocian landscape.

Sure put a smile on this dial.

The sky was just filled with balloons, it was just so visually beautiful and ecstatic!

We just couldn't stop grinning.... silly loons.

Then we decided to relive some Easy Rider fantasies. Not content to rent the normal little scooters and step-thru's, we went for some 'big bikes'. East German made MZ's in fact.

They were such beasts to ride. I still have bruises on my left big toe from the shifter, and permanent scars from the kick starter (which loved to bite back).

Megan and I managed to get lost, and ended up riding down an impossibly steep, cobbled goat track in the dark and spitting rain. Fun.... no, but definitely character forming.

Jennifer and Mattius

Another great adventure in the Turkish hinterland.