A Ride In The Basin

Yesterday, as predicted, was the hottest day of the year--so far.  Therefore, as I've been doing, I took a morning ride fueled by coffee and a bagel with a piece of Saint Nectaire cheese.

My ride skirted the waterfront, from my neighborhood down to Erie Basin, the old cluster of ship docks in Red Hook that's now a park.  

I still can't get over an irony I've pointed out in other posts:  People, including relatives of mine, did hard physical work on this waterfront where I ride for fun and fitness.  Such laborers rarely, if ever, did anything that involves physical exertion during their off-hours:  They were too tired for such things.

 What would they make of my pedaling my fixed-gear bike up and down the docks--or that there are now cycling and pedestrian paths along the waterfront?

To them, wheels were for hoisting and moving objects larger than themselves--or for transporting themselves to and from places where they used those wheels, and other tools.  Those wheels were not attached to vehicles propelled by people in late middle age who were on the waterfront for exercise and the views.

The views?  I suppose that some of those workers--including one of my uncles--had some sort of artistic talent and inclination.  Still, I doubt that he, or they, were looking at the docks, boats, machinery and water for their lines and colors.

I am certainly not rich. And I have experienced bigotry.  But I am privileged--to ride where people once worked very hard, or anyplace.

I'll Be Back, Really!

It's a human thing. You'll never understand.

Marlee may not know that today's weather is predicted to be even hotter than the past five, with a high temperature around 38C (100F). But, surely, she doesn't understand why I would go out--for a ride, or any other reason--when she cuddles up and falls asleep on me.  She knows that I'll be gone--for how long, she may not know.  I promised her that today's ride, like those I've taken on each of the past few days, won't be more than a couple of hours.  Still, she's doing everything she can to keep me from going.

I think that, deep down, she knows that her efforts might delay me for a few moments but won't stop me.  I belive that she also knows I'll be back.  Still, she insists on using her superpowers--her cuddliness and that she's ridiculously cute--to persuade me.

Cats may not have a sense of guilt. But I think they know that humans have it--especially if we come from certain religious or ethnic traditions, including the ones in which I was raised.

Don't go!

I'll be back! (No, I didn't say it in my Arnold Schwarznegger* accent!) 

*--Just as there isn't one "French" or "Italian" accent, there isn't just one "German" inflection on English.  The Governator, however, has an accent all his own!

Early Spring....To Early Summer?

 Over the weekend, I put in fewer miles (kilometers) than I'd planned.  But I got more Vitamin D.

So how are they related?

Friday was like much of this Snpring, to date:  cloudy and chilly.  I went for a late-afternoo ride and in Bensonhurst, near my old stomping grounds, was "stomped" by a sudden, violent storm.  I don't mind riding in the rain, but I draw the line when I can't see to the next block.  The rain--and, I believe, some hail--came down in a cascade that rivals anything you'll see on this side of Niagara.  

Some time during the wee hours of morning, the sky cleared--and the temperature climbed, it seeemed, even faster than the rain fell.  By mid-afternoon, the temperature reached 33C (92F) in Katonah.  I'd swallowed the contents of my water bottle and bought another in the town--and another in Morris Bronx, Bronx, even though I was less than 45 minutes' ride from home.  

Yesterday was just as hot, and the sun just as intense, as it had been on Saturday.  But I'd stayed close to bodies of water:  the East River, Jamaica Bay and the ocean.   Of course, plenty of other people, on foot or bikes or scooters, did the same.  While riding along the shore wasn't quite as sweaty as Saturday's ride, I still felt the effects of the heat and sun because, I realized, I hadn't acclimated to either.  

Not my leg, but close enough.

In a "normal" year, the temperature and sun's intensity increase gradually, so my body--especially my skin--has a chance to adjust.  But literally overnight, from Friday to Saturday, the season changed directly from early-spring to early-summer, or so it seemed.  The past weekend reminds me of rhe time, a few years ago, I "bonked" on routine ride: Cold gray air had turned incandescent within a day and burnished my flesh with the hue of a heritage tomato.

At least I didn't burn quite as badly this weekend: I remembered to use sunscreen.  Even so, I could feel the effect of the sun and heat:  I was tired, more tired than I would normally be after riding at this time of year.

But I probably took in as much Vitamin D durng my rides as I got from the cheese I ate afterward.  I enjoyed both.

Would Hadrian Build Bike Lanes?

Almost three years ago, the first phase--all 3.2 kilometers (2 miles)-- of the Second Avenue subway opened, nearly a century after it was first proposed. The second phase, roughly two-thirds of the distance, is expected to open some time during 2027-2029. After that, yet another extension is planned. 

Whenever it's finished, it's still running ahead of the schedule on which the Temple of Olympian Zeus was built.  To be fair, no one planned on taking more than seven centuries to finish it.  Begun in the 6th Century BCE by Peristratos, it was abandoned for lack of funds.  It finally got finished in 131 CE under the Roman Emperor Hadrian, who had a large statue of Zeus built in it, along with an equally large statue of itself.

If the Acropolis is the #1 "can't-and-shouldn't-miss-it" sight of Athens, the Temple, only a five-minute bike ride (if that) away is easily #2.  For one thing, it's easily the largest and one of the most magnificent temples you'll ever encounter.   

Just outside the Temple's grounds is another impressive structure:  Hadrian's Arch, completed a year later both to commemorate the consecration of the Temple and demarcate the boundary between the ancient and Roman cities.  The northwest frieze reads "This is Athens, the Ancient city of Theseus," while the southeast frieze says, "This is the city of Hadrian, and not of Theseus."

This Hadrian character had an ego.  But he sure knew how to build a city.  While he destroyed some other cities in Greece, he loved Athens and wanted it to be the artistic and intellectual center of the Roman Empire, as it was for its Greek counterpart. Evidence of his magnanimity and megalomania are found in another stop on my bike tour of Athens:  Hadrian's Library.  There's not much left of the actual library, which was set next to a courtyard bordered by 100 columns with a pool at its center!  The library, in addition to the estimated 75,000 volumes it held (by far the largest collection of its time), also contained music and lecture rooms.  

In between Hadrian's gate and library, I made another stop at the Roman Agora, right around the corner from the library.  While the most impressive remains are near the entrance, the real "show-stopper" on this site is the so-called Tower of the Winds, which has served as an astrological observatory and Orthodox chapel.  If you step inside on a hot day, as I did, you will understand why even with such summer heat, air conditioning was so rare until recently, here and in most of Europe:  It seems like all of the winds are blowing through it!

Plus, I'll admit, I wouldn't mind having a skylight like that in my apartment!

Now, if I were an Athenian or in any way sensible, I probably would have stopped at least for something to drink, if not a full-on Greek lunch, somewhere between one of those destinations.  But since I'm not Greek (and I will let you decide whether or not I'm sensible), I wanted to ride and see more.  You might say I was getting addicted to cycling my way through history.

Oh, and I wanted to pack as much into my day before I had to return my rental to Athens by Bike.  I would have kept it another day if I hadn't had other plans.

So another ten-minute bike ride through a narrow, cafe-lined lane, an only-slightly-wider path rimmed by flea-market stalls and a cobblestone walkway that led to the path I rode to the sea, I came to Kerameikos, which you might say is an early "potter's field" because it takes its name from the clay-workers who settled there, along the banks of clay-rich banks of the Eridanos, a stream that was covered over in ancient times and re-discovered during construction of the Athens Metro.  

Kerameikos is practically a diorama of Athenian history.  In it, you can see the Sacred Way, which pilgrims entered through the Sacred Gate for the annual  Elusinian Procession, which commemorated the abduction of Persephone from her mother Demeter by Hades, the king of the underworld, and her rescue.  A little further along is the Diplyon Gate, at that time the city's gate and the starting point for the parade.  It's also where prostitutes gathered to offer themselves to travelers.  Oh, and right by that gate, Pericles gave a speech extolling the virtues of Athenians and honoring those who died in the Peloponnesian Wars.

Oh, and right by that is a cemetery used by the Romans until the time of Justinian (6th Century BCE) and uncovered during street construction in the 1860's.  And there's the path to Plato's Academy.

I thought my head was spinning from taking all of that in.  But, in reality, between my biking and all of the sites I'd visited, I'd been out in direct sunlight for close to eight hours.  Even with all of the sunscreen I slathered on myself, I was feeling the burn.  

After returning the bike, I stopped for some yogurt with cherries and an iced coffee.  Then, in walking by down the pedestrian mall that passes the Acropolis Museum and the base of the Acropolis hill, I saw an entrance to the park that includes the Hills and Pynx, which in turn connects to Filopappu Hill, named for a prominent Roman consul and administrator.  It is on these hills that, according to Plutarch, Thesus and the Amazons did battle.  The west side of Filopappu, as it turns out, is right across the street from the apartment where I'm staying.

Like most hilltops in Athens, it offers a nice view of the Acropolis.  But, if you get tired of that (as if that's possible!), you can turn and see this:

 I wanted to visit all of the sites I mentioned because the pass I bought for 30 Euros at the Acropolis included entrance to all of them (except Filopappu, which is free) and lasts for three days. (It's 20 Euros for the Acropolis alone.)  That 30-Euro pass is, as the Athens cultural office explains, for "archaeological" sites, all of which are outdoors.  There's another 15-Euro pass, also for three days, that includes the Acropolis Museum and the Archaelology Museum, as well as others.  As each of those museums has a 10-Euro admission fee, this pass is also well worth the money.

Today, though, I travelled outside of Athens. More about that later.

Seven Hills--And There Are More!

You have no doubt heard that Rome is built on seven hills.  Trust me:  It isn't hype.  You become very, very aware of that fact when you cycle in this city!

I can now honestly claim that I've climbed all seven by bicyce.  Yesterday I climbed the  with Roberto:  the Aventine, Capitoline, Caelian and Esquiline.  I climbed them all again today, on a bike I rented from Bici & Baci.  I also pedaled up the Palatine, which I have to ascend, at least most of the way, to reach my hotel:  Today I scaled it on a bike. And I got to the Quirinal and Viminal.  

A view from Janiculum Hill.  Yes, I pedaled to see it!

Oh--the hills on which the Vatican is located, as well as the Janiculum and Pincium hills, are not counted among the seven because they are on the right bank of the Tiber, which, at the time Rome was founded, was inhabited by the Etruscans .  The "seven hills" all lie within the area that was surrounded by the Servian Wall, which enclosed the original settlement founded, according to tradition, by Romulus.

Anyway, today I rode mainly for the sake of riding and seeing more of Rome's streets and alleyways close-up. I did stop at the Castel Sant'Angelo and the Vatican, though I didn't wait on the long line to go into the museum.  I will do that later this week, when the weekday crowds--I assume--should be at least somewhat smaller than they were today.

I have to admit that the hills aren't the only challenge of cycling in Rome.  (There are other, smaller, ones in addition to the famous ones I've mentioned.)  Everything you've heard about Roman drivers is true though, to be fair, a few stopped or slowed down to let me go by.  And Roman traffic circles make their Parisian counterparts seem like elements of a Mondrian painting.  

And then there is the heat and sun.  The former, at least, is not accompanied by humidity.  So, by the end of the day, the T-shirt I wore looked like it was covered with white tie-dye swirls from the sweat that evaporated from it.  When I returned my bike, I saw Roberto again.  He, who rides in Rome every day, told me that on days like today, he can "drink five liters of water, easy."  I probably drank at least as much--at least some of it "like a Roman", as he taught me yesterday.  

But I didn't expect the sun to be as intense as it was, given that Rome lies at roughly the same latitude as New York.  (The part of Florida where my parents live lies about a dozen degrees closer to the Equator.)  Perhaps the dry air made it feel so.  Whatever the cause, I don't think I ever before used as much sunscreen as I used today!

I'll be taking a side trip tomorrow and will be back in Rome on Tuesday night.  Then I'll rent the bike again and check out the Pantheon as well as a few other places.

The Heat Wave I Escaped; What I Couldn't

The day I got to Paris, it was hot and humid.  At least, it was hot by Paris standards--or it seemed so because I wasn't expecting it.  But for the rest of my trip, the weather was mild to pleasantly warm.  The rain waited until I wasn't riding because, well, I made it wait.  (You didn't know I had such powers, did you?  I can do all sorts of things just by twitching my nose! ;-)) Thus, I had lots of nice weather for cycling, walking and picnicking along the Seine when I wasn't visiting museums and friends.

When I got back, my friend Millie--who takes care of my cats--told me I'd "dodged a bullet", if you will.  "You missed the worst heat wave," she informed me.  So, in addition to reveling in the good time I had during my trip, I counted my blessings:  I was glad not to experience temperatures high enough to melt lycra.  

I got to thinking about the first trip I took across the Atlantic:  the one in which I rode for three months in England, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany and back into France before deciding to stay there.  I took that trip during the summer of 1980, which was said to be the coolest and rainiest for at least a generation in most of Europe. (The weather aggravated the tendinitis in Bernard Hinault's knee and caused him to withdraw from that year's Tour de France after the twelfth stage.)  I didn't mind:  the cycling was pleasant; so were a lot of other things.  On the other hand, that summer was one of the hottest on record in much of North America, including New York and New Jersey.  And, from what I heard and read, the heat and humidity continued until October that year.

Two decades later, I spent a month cycling in France and Spain.  Once again, I "dodged" an extended heat wave in New York.  To be sure, I experienced a couple of hot days during my trip, but none like the ones that were baking the Big Apple that year.  When I returned, people told me how they sweltered on the city's concrete and asphalt; I have to admit that I felt a kind of guilty pleasure, as if I were a kid who'd just had ice cream when she wasn't supposed to.

When I got home from that tour, about a month of summer remained.  As I recall, we didn't have any really hot weather--or much rain-- for the rest of that year.  I rode a lot, long and fast and often, as far as I could from what I'd escaped--or, perhaps, merely avoided.  I was "safe"-- at least for another year, until my next trip, which would be the last I'd take in the life I'd led up to that time.  Of course, I didn't know--couldn't have known--that.

This year, going away allowed me to "dodge" one "bullet", if you will. But not another:  today the temperature reached 33C (92F) and, according to weather forecasts, will increase by a degree or two every day until Sunday.  And, as the temperature is rising, so is the humidity.

I have to admit:  I punked out today.  I didn't go for a ride, except to the college where I teach, about 10 kilometers from my apartment.  OK, I got on my bike and pedaled, but it doesn't count as a real ride, does it?  

Was my old self asking that question?  Who says every ride has to be an escape or a dodge--or that it has to be ridden at the speed, or with the intensity, of one that will never be done again?

Seeing The Coming Heat Wave

Every few years, it seems, we get the sort of summer we've been having this year:  Not exceptionally warm through most of June, July and August--until a heat wave comes right around Labor Day. 

Officially, today wasn't part of a "heat wave". But tomorrow is supposed to be the beginning of one.  Today, the temperature reached 33C and the air grew more humid:  a  marked contrast to the dry, almost crisp conditions we'd had for a few days.

I went for a ride anyway, out to the middle of Long Island and back.  I sweated, but no more than I have on other rides, and I wasn't really tired after 120 km.  But tomorrow will be toasty, the forecasters say:  about 35C.  And the two days after that will be hotter, and more humid.

I'll be working, so I'll probably ride late in the day, or the evening, when--at least in theory--it should be a touch cooler, if not less humid.


Even if I hadn't heard the forecast, I think I would have known the heat wave was coming.  I believe I saw it in the slightly reddish hue of the full moon that loomed over the Amtrak trestle that transverses Randall's Island when I was riding home last night:

 

It's So Hot....

How hot is it today?

From Terrapics

It's so hot that carbon fiber frames are melting into pools of chain lube.

La Mise en Abîme .  Installation by Romain Crelier.

It's so hot that lycra jerseys are turning into all of the colors of Gatorade.

I don't know about you, but I choose my Gatorade by color:  They all taste the same to me.

Can the weather get hot enough to make everything taste like Gatorade?  Hmm...I'm not so sure I'd want to find out.


 

You Know It's Hot When...

Today the temperature is expected to reach 100F (38C).

Whether or not we reach that meteorological milestone, I know it's hot, and that it's been hot since Sunday.

I know it's hot when I'm riding the streets of this city and hope to see a bunch of kids (or grown-ups) cavorting around an open fire hydrant.  I pretend that I'm Charlton Heston--I mean, Moses--at the Red Sea except, of course, that the plume of water doesn't part to me.  Of course, I don't want it to.

It's hot when I don't mind some teenager aiming the spray at me--although I have to wonder about any teenager who wants to see an old lady like me in a wet T-shirt!

If I were this woman, I don't know that I would merely stand in front of the fountain on a day like today:

Diane Randall.  Image from VeloJoy.