The Cellphone

My Lithuanian house mate, Naglis, turns out to be a former world champion on the track for the Soviet Union. He no longer races; I think he's around for the cheap rent and to look after the unwitting foreigners to make sure we don't get in too much trouble. The last couple of nights he went out after work and left his cellphone home. Immediately after he leaves, somebody tries calling him repeatedly. I'm starting to hear the ring even when it's not ringing. Last night before he came home he missed 21 calls. It's ok; he's got a good sense of humor and so do we (that will be me and Jeremy, the Tasmanian rider here).

It's not as annoying as the roosters. They are up at 4am, well before the sun. It's really tough because there isn't much darkness here. Sunset is around 10pm and sunrise is before 6am. Perhaps I should say that's when the lights go on and off, because there really isn't much sun.

But I'm here to ride my bike. Yesterday was my first ride and we intended to just go to the border with Holland to the north. It is only about 30 miles round trip. We ended up in France, the complete opposite direction. The French border is over 30 miles away and we certainly didn't take the direct route. We did pass through places famous for their races: Kuurne, Wevelgem, France. It all looked the same. Riding here is half a step up from riding rollers; it's totally flat and the scenery doesn't really change. Maybe there's so much racing to keep things interesting.

I've also been trying to figure out Flemish a bit. It's the local language that's closely related to Dutch, which is kind of like German, which then has some crossover with Yiddish. I've been happy with my ability to understand written things but forget about understanding spoken Flemish. It sounds like somebody mumbling in German. I can't wait to have somebody mumble at me in the races.

And I still haven't taken any pictures.