Crossing back into the United States through Richford, Vermont was a piece of cake. The guard checking passports looked like he might give us a tough time, but thankfully looks can be deceiving and we easily passed through. We have had some interesting border crossing encounters, the most memorable was probably back in October 2010 when leaving the EU through Greece into Turkey. And by memorable, in no way do I mean the guards were tough or assholes, we were just doing wrong and got caught. At the time, we thought we were taking the easiest exit point from the EU, but instead ended up getting caught overstaying our visa by four months and receiving an obscene fine to re-enter the EU within five years. Looks like we will not be making any trips back to the Schengen Region until after October 2015! The officer gave us our fine and my jaw dropped. I asked if we had to pay on the spot and he apprehensively told us we could pay now or (pause) pay when re-entering Europe. I smiled, thanked him with a wave and told him we would see him in 2015 before scurrying toward the boat to catch our ride across to Turkey. We landed in Asia where the Turkish official then opened our passports to find our passports with no exit stamp from the EU! In our rush to leave the massive fine behind we neglected to double check our passports. We shrugged our shoulders for our lack of Turkish, played stupid and the guy waved off a hand with the gruff simple words, "Ah, the Greeks!" Like he was shoeing them off and gave our passports a hard 90 day stamp and let us through.
The other tough entry into a country was our own when we flew back into the US from Costa Rica to Minnesota, going through customs in Denver. The security officer was a younger woman, probably in the mid 30's and she drilled us with questions. "What were you doing out of the country? Where do you live? Do you have a job? How do you afford to travel without work?" I was a bit nervous being questioned but Ryan easily laughed it off knowing she had no choice but to allow us entry. Phew. Lastly, our other odd crossing was when we were leaving the United States and heading to Ontario. A border patrol made us open our bags and searched everything with gloves like he was looking for drugs. I mean, delivering by bicycle has to be one of the slowest methods of drug trafficking possible. Again, not a worry in the world, just another odd encounter and unexpected.
Nevertheless, we crossed back into the US without any problems and were greeted by a local and two fellow cycle tourers as we sat in the Richford park enjoying our ham and cheese sandwiches. Canada is quite expensive, especially their meats and cheeses, so of course we have not had a sandwich other than Subway since we left Maine a few months ago. It's extremely inexpensive to ride in the US! We love it. One local cyclist rode the next hour with us on yet another converted rail to trail sharing his stories of transitioning from childhood in NYC to moving in his early 20's to Vermont and has lived the past 40 years here. We can both see why. The pace of life is slow, the food is reasonable as is rent, people are extremely kind, it is safe and the landscape is absolutely gorgeous. If you can make a living in Vermont, I would say go for it. It is one of our states we will look into for future homes when the riding stops in just two weeks. Wow, two weeks. My stomach dropped. I will miss this lifestyle terribly.
We continued south on the bike path all the way through St. Albans and called another warmshowers host in hopes of backyard camping. I do not mind sleeping in the woods, but I definitely sleep more soundly knowing we are not camped on someones private land. Unbeknownst to them, this couple in their 60's had been signed up on warmshowers by their son who has since moved across county to Bellingham, WA. Too funny. Their son travelled for 20 months through South America on a solo bicycle trip sponsored by a University. After his travels he put together a book with photos and short entries. I got a kick out of one quote from his travels which went something like: "I met a family who I later became the godfather to their son. I spent one afternoon trying to explain the difference between peanuts and penis." I absolutely cracked up at this because we have been there. For example, in San Cristobal de las Casas in southern Mexico, we had a delicious pizza at a place named something like Punto Pizza. After dinner, I was talking to a local guy and referred to the place as Punta. Totally different meanings in Spanish. I can still imagine the look on his face as I made my slip and glossed over while I on the other hand did notice my slip and became instantly embarrassed and laughed hysterically. Language, such a beautiful and entertaining part of life.
We woke early to coffee and homemade oatmeal before riding the beautiful country back roads into Burlington, a place we have both been hearing about for years. The roads were hilly, with farms and old homes and barns on either side. Although the wind was in our face, the skies were blue, the temperatures in the mid 60's, a perfect day for a ride. Knowing we are ending our travels soon, my mind tends to drift to the future, curious where our feet will land and daydreaming of the time spent in Portland with my dad and Gina. I must make a conscience effort in these moments to break away from these thoughts of elaborate meals, job applications, house hunting, pillows, jogging, etc. and remember to enjoy these minutes and hours on the bike because in the future, this is what I will be dreaming about.
The other tough entry into a country was our own when we flew back into the US from Costa Rica to Minnesota, going through customs in Denver. The security officer was a younger woman, probably in the mid 30's and she drilled us with questions. "What were you doing out of the country? Where do you live? Do you have a job? How do you afford to travel without work?" I was a bit nervous being questioned but Ryan easily laughed it off knowing she had no choice but to allow us entry. Phew. Lastly, our other odd crossing was when we were leaving the United States and heading to Ontario. A border patrol made us open our bags and searched everything with gloves like he was looking for drugs. I mean, delivering by bicycle has to be one of the slowest methods of drug trafficking possible. Again, not a worry in the world, just another odd encounter and unexpected.
Nevertheless, we crossed back into the US without any problems and were greeted by a local and two fellow cycle tourers as we sat in the Richford park enjoying our ham and cheese sandwiches. Canada is quite expensive, especially their meats and cheeses, so of course we have not had a sandwich other than Subway since we left Maine a few months ago. It's extremely inexpensive to ride in the US! We love it. One local cyclist rode the next hour with us on yet another converted rail to trail sharing his stories of transitioning from childhood in NYC to moving in his early 20's to Vermont and has lived the past 40 years here. We can both see why. The pace of life is slow, the food is reasonable as is rent, people are extremely kind, it is safe and the landscape is absolutely gorgeous. If you can make a living in Vermont, I would say go for it. It is one of our states we will look into for future homes when the riding stops in just two weeks. Wow, two weeks. My stomach dropped. I will miss this lifestyle terribly.
We continued south on the bike path all the way through St. Albans and called another warmshowers host in hopes of backyard camping. I do not mind sleeping in the woods, but I definitely sleep more soundly knowing we are not camped on someones private land. Unbeknownst to them, this couple in their 60's had been signed up on warmshowers by their son who has since moved across county to Bellingham, WA. Too funny. Their son travelled for 20 months through South America on a solo bicycle trip sponsored by a University. After his travels he put together a book with photos and short entries. I got a kick out of one quote from his travels which went something like: "I met a family who I later became the godfather to their son. I spent one afternoon trying to explain the difference between peanuts and penis." I absolutely cracked up at this because we have been there. For example, in San Cristobal de las Casas in southern Mexico, we had a delicious pizza at a place named something like Punto Pizza. After dinner, I was talking to a local guy and referred to the place as Punta. Totally different meanings in Spanish. I can still imagine the look on his face as I made my slip and glossed over while I on the other hand did notice my slip and became instantly embarrassed and laughed hysterically. Language, such a beautiful and entertaining part of life.
We woke early to coffee and homemade oatmeal before riding the beautiful country back roads into Burlington, a place we have both been hearing about for years. The roads were hilly, with farms and old homes and barns on either side. Although the wind was in our face, the skies were blue, the temperatures in the mid 60's, a perfect day for a ride. Knowing we are ending our travels soon, my mind tends to drift to the future, curious where our feet will land and daydreaming of the time spent in Portland with my dad and Gina. I must make a conscience effort in these moments to break away from these thoughts of elaborate meals, job applications, house hunting, pillows, jogging, etc. and remember to enjoy these minutes and hours on the bike because in the future, this is what I will be dreaming about.
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