North Island - Time traveller's life

Watching Lord of the Rings - The Two Towers - a fitting backdrop to be typing this blog because
a) it is set against the beautiful landscapes of New Zealand
b) the première of the Hobbit is tomorrow in Wellington, at the Embassy Theatre - where I saw the new James Bond film this week
c) I can happily multi task whilst watching talking trees and fantastical ghouls. Not hugely my thing.
Every so often James calls out 'been there' which is simply not true but perhaps impresses or maybe annoys the various Europeans (Swiss, Dutch, Slovenian) in the TV lounge of this hostel in Picton, at the very north of South Island.

The last two weeks have certainly been an adventure in a way I was not expecting. After recovering from illness in Te Arora we headed west via the gold mining town of Waihi. There is a huge hole in the centre of town. A massive open cast gold mine which closed in the 50s and reopened in the 80s. A tonne of rock yields about 4 grams of gold but the gold is soon expected to run out and be changed into some kind of golden theme park probably including hobbits. We headed to the east coast with the warning that Lonely Planet had dubbed this section of road 'suicide highway'. Big lorries, no shoulder and blind corners were certainly a potentially dangerous combination. Many people had said that New Zealand was being perfect biking country though New Zealand drivers have yet to be informed of this.

We made it in one piece to a small town called Katikati, or as the Welsh might say Caci caci. We stopped at the only hostel in town. We should have known when we walked in and could hardly hear the voice of the young German guy because of loud Euro techno pop, that this was not the ideal place for a good night's sleep. Shortly after checking in the manager mentioned that there would be a sushi party that evening.

The hostel was teaming with 20 year old Germans. They had come to New Zealand on working visas for the year, many straight from school. They were all looking for work on nearby kiwi plantations which was hard to come by, particularly as the kiwi crops are being hit by a kiwi disease - PSA which has now spread to over half of New Zealand's kiwi orchards. It did make me wonder and worry a little about these young people. Someone in Germany has definitely worked hard to glamourise the fruit industry.

I had a shower. The door did not lock. No matter. Just as I was washing my hair the fire alarm went off. Choosing between my life and my dignity I obviously chose the latter. Coupled with my recent decision to buy a handkerchief sized travel towel there was little option. I decided to get fully dressed before evacuating anywhere. It was not a fire, just someone smoking in the wrong place.

All seemed well at the start of the evening. The Euro techno music was contained down stairs, we had a few beers, chatted to more blonde Germans and made a relatively early exit for a good night's sleep. I should have known that young people with their first chance of freedom, relaxed rules, large quantities of cheap beer was not the ideal combination. All was well until the speakers were moved. The volume was now similar to that in a night club. The lyrics of every song pounded through my pillow. 'Tonight's gonna be a good night..' It was so surreal I found myself giggling with inappropriate jokes about German sleep torture. It went on and on through til four something the next morning.

James kindly volunteered to negotiate our money back. Given that the manager was partying with the best of them I was not convinced but we did secure a small refund.

On to the hot and steamy town that is Rotorua. It was a tough 60 mile uphill to get there. Famous for its sulphurous pong, hot springs, geysers and bubbling mud pools, Rotorua is steeped in Maori legend. It was from here that my journey took an unexpected turn. An unlikely band of five of us all staying at the same hostel headed out on the town. Daniella, a Chilean born Swede, Lucy a Chinese girl from Hong Kong, Tef an Ethiopian New Yorker, James and me. A memorable night.

And so the journey continued. In Lake Taupo we arrived in the pouring rain and I was delighted to be greeted by a distinctly Welsh accent. The manager was from north Wales and her first language was Welsh. I did my best to practise the native tongue. The other chap on the desk was French speaking and I remarked how exciting it was that the two languages I spoke were spoken there. I added 'Though Welsh is a bit of a niche language'.

'Never' said the man sternly. 'Never refer to our language as niche. I am happier speaking Alsatian than I am any other language'.

I stood corrected. The history of the Maori language reminds me how right he was. Te Reo - the Maori language, though an official language of New Zealand it is not compulsory in schools unlike the Welsh language in Wales. In the 19th century English missionaries set up schools teaching the reading and writing of the Maori language which was essential to trade. However after an act of 1867 the government began funding only English schools and from the 1880s the language was banned in schools in line with an attempt to assimilate all Maori. This policy continued so that by 1960 only a quarter of the native people spoke Te Reo as their first language. This has now dwindled to 16% of people being fluent though more can understand it. An 1980s revival saw the launch of Maori radio and TV channels and increasing numbers of Maori schools. Unsurprisingly the Maori Language Act of 1987 drew on international precedence including the Welsh language Act of 1967 and recently teachers from New Zealand have visited Welsh schools to see bilingual education in action.

James and I cycled on. We crossed through Togariro National Park, skirting the volcano that would eject molten ash just a few days later. Timing is everything. It started to rain - heavily. We stopped after just 20 miles in a town at the bottom of Ruapehu, another volcano. Although it was so grey for our stay here we could never see it - even when we drove up to the snow line. We were looked after by Miriam and Dan. From the small village of Keithly in Yorkshire they were looking after the place in the owner's absence. Miriam had grown attached to the chickens and found 24 eggs hidden under a bush.

It was here my path changed. Tef, an American doctor working in New Zealand was flying south to explore the south of South Island for a few days. Taking an opportunity to discuss American health care policy with a democrat, I joined him wishing I had a few more tops in my pannier. I squished my bike into the back of the Toyota and left James to cycle the last 180 miles to Wellington unaided or rather without handicap.

Tef and I flew from Wellington to Dunedin with the snowy mountains of the south island visible from the small plane. Dunedin is a cross between San Fran and Edinburgh, boasting the steepest street in the world, Princes Street and cosy whisky serving pubs. We found a beach house on the sweeping sands of Curio Bay with the ocean on our door step. We saw dolphins playing in the surf, watched penguins shuffling down a nearby rocky beach, drove along spectacular coastline and drank local Pinot Noir with perfectly cooked steak and leeks. I had to get the leeks in. There are few times, probably no times, when I have felt more like Carrie Bradshaw or even Bridget Jones. You know the bit in the second book/film 'The Edge of Reason'? Now I understand the title.

It was in Rotorua that I also started reading Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. A fantastic book rippled with great examples of psychological experiments that illustrate his idea that we as humans have two systems of thinking. The first system one is intuitive, the second, system two is more rational. He argues that we tend not to recognise our intuitive thinking but are more willing to recognise it in other people. Other people are the crazy ones. There was a certain irony to reading this book whilst I made seemingly rational decisions about ditching my bike (albeit briefly) and jumping on a plane. It was certainly this kind of thought that led me to cycling round then world.

I rejoined my cycling buddy James in Wellington. He had had some bad news about his mum who is ill. James will go home for Christmas and hopefully be able to rejoin me in February in Thailand. Love to him and his family.

We stayed with my friend Andy and his family in Wellington. I know Andy from my London swimming club - Cally Masters. He moved here almost two years ago and loves the outdoor opportunities that Welly offers but misses London friends. His children learn Te Reo at school and his sone Fin has developed an obsession with whales. Welly is a beautiful city with tree clad hills around a stunning bay. We enjoyed cycling round the coast, swimming in the sea, drinking too many flat whites in some great cafes with fantastic company.

There can be more connections on counter sides of the globe than with our own neighbours. Place and culture are not the only connection that makes people feel home. Time and timing are also important.

This all made me think about the importance of time in defining life. Or as science fiction writer Ray Cummings wrote in 1922, "Time is what keeps everything from happening at once". Now wouldnt that be interesting. As a history teacher time provides a structure to explain events and changes. So much is defined by a combination of place and time. As I go from hostel to hostel sometimes age feels important -like in KatiKati - and sometimes less so. There is no predestination in life, everything does not happen for a reason though after the event we can make stories fit the outcome - like the Maori legends. So many choices and random events collide to make life and yet as human beings we find it a more comforting explanation of our lives if we believe in the story. Part of the excitement of this year is its timing. Who knows how life might have been different had I not opted to begin this journey. I will never know. And who knows what is yet around the corner.

And so, as I continue south having said another goodbye, a small part of me still believes the idea that 'Everything happens for a reason' even though my rational thought knows damn well it doesn't.

It is just what it is.

Time to move on. Or as the Welsh would say - amser i symud mlan.

New Old Zealand

I started writing this blog whilst listening to 'Leo Sayer's Greatest Hits' - one of the 80 cassettes in the listening library at the Te Aroha hostel. 'Thunder in my heart' - a great song from 1977 (revived in 2006 by Meck) and 'You make me feel like dancing' were both slightly unusual but uplifting choices for a Sunday morning.

Te Aroha means 'The place of love'. We are paused here for two days as we have both been sick, James is bed-ridden.

Te Aroha made it to the tourist map because the railway stopped here. It has hot, soda springs and a beautiful setting. Once the railway went further however it was eclipsed by Rotorua and was suspended in time. Now of course this is part of its charm. A good place to have been forced to stop - even if it is by sickness.

The hostel was set up in the 1963. Literally 'set up' because the house was at the bottom of town and was relocated by the Youth Hostel Association to its position just under the impressive Te Aroha mountain. It is managed by Danny and Helen who live nearby and pour a lot of love into the place. There are books, leaflets, board games, cooking equipment, a spice rack - meticulously labelled, a guitar and no television or Wifi. It reminds me of Ystumtuen youth hostel close to Aberystwyth in mid-Wales where I spent a few days adventuring with my school friend Zoe some 18 years ago. It is the kind of place I didn't think existed any more. It is always unlocked and holds within it the memories of thousands of travellers who have captured their observations in the Guest Book.

We arrived in Aukland almost a week ago now. We were very lucky to stay in my friend Sally's apartment though unfortunately she was overseas. It was a good way to settle in. I put my bike together for the first time and changed a puncture. Putting tyres on is much harder than people claim - especially if you have very tough tyres. It requires great physical strength and looks easier with big manly fingers. I don't have very manly fingers.

In Aukland, we met up with Simon who we had met in Hawaii. Aukland is his home town but like many young New Zealanders he has decided to move to Australia. Similarly Heather who we stayed with in Hamilton and had cycled in Lau and all over New Zealand - both her children have moved to Australia. Ken and Tricia whose beautiful vineyard we stayed on and who have been on several long bike trips in Europe including from London to Rome - their daughter has moved to Australia. The man in the bike shop's daughter is in Stratford Upon Avon and the hard working folk who manage the youth hostel their daughter is in England. A pattern perhaps?

New Zealand population is still growing but at a slower rate than ever. 53,900 New Zealanders emigrated this year and with only 14,000 returning . New Zealand has always relied on immigration. Calling itself the youngest country on earth, New Zealand was late to be settled by Polynesians in the 1200s. European settlement began in the 18th century. People of European decent now make up 62% of the population (interestingly down from 92% in 1962). 15% of people are Maori and 9% Chinese. Half the population of New Zealand lives in Aukland. You can see why so many people came from the UK. The place really does look like home.

We stopped for a chicken sandwich (possibly the cause of the sickness) in Rangiriri. Here was the site of the battle in 1863 where united Maori tribes lost to the British. This marked the colonial domination of New Zealand. These land wars were also the reason that many Maoris from the Waikato region in particular, refused to fight in the First World War - a white man's war. In 1995 Queen Elizabeth signed the bill apologising for taking Maori land. New Zealand however has the feel of a country that is closer to being at ease with its complex colonial, difficult past - more so than America. The Maori tradition is strong and pervasive - on the surface at least.

The main draw to Australia and overseas for New Zealanders seems to be wages and opportunities. The recession has hit New Zealand harder than Australia. In fact the government asked people to give suggestions to kick start the economy and one suggestion that was accepted was a long distance cycle path from north to south. Great idea when it finally takes shape. Young people are also looking for more going on. Whatever 'going on' means. Simon described it well. 'It's busy on a weekend but if you want to go out on a Wednesday there just aren't many options.' New Zealand's population is also ageing with the biggest increase in the over 80s.

This emigration problem is also an interesting contrast to those who fear there are too many of us in the world. People want to live near people. Humans are natural group seekers. Cities, despite their grit, draw people - especially young people. As a world we just need to make sure that this growth is not at the expense of the environment or people in poorer parts of the world.

Oddly enough Leo Sayer was also drawn to Australia becoming a naturalised citizen in 2009. On reasons for emigrating Sayer said '"I'm 60 and I feel like a 20-year-old in my life here because everybody is so encouraging to keep working." Those in the UK reading this may feel they can live without Leo Sayer feeling 20.

The grass is always greener. Is it? Does home look more like eternal happiness when you are away? Does the warmer climate of Australia, the better job prospects and the cultural mix make for a happier life? Do the bright sands of Hawaii look more like paradise from the dark mornings of November? I know that when I am home and back into the routines of school, washing, weekends, wine and coffee I will look back on this year with a smile. The trick surely has to be then to be content in the present. It is also good to appreciate your own green grass and to know that it is either just as green or that it couldn't be green without the rain.

I have noticed there are more quotes around than there used to be. You know the kind I mean, the posters made just of a sentence. Perhaps it is a void left by religion. As human beings we need meaning and optimism.

Two examples that have recently caught my eye..

'Life is easy when you look back at it. Even easier when you look forward to it.'

And from then film The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, 'It will all be alright in the end. And if it's not alright, it's not the end'.

Time to head for a swim in the hot pools that made Te Aroha so famous. Today being well, giving the legs a break is more than enough to be content in the now.

A day lost in paradise

'By the skillful and sustained use of propaganda, one can make a people see even heaven as hell or an extremely wretched life as paradise.'
Can you guess who said it?

Hawaii does have the feeling of paradise. A combination of breezy tropical climate, stunning beaches and turquoise ocean would hit many people's paradise criteria . Certainly my love of swimming gives Hawaii an incredible appeal. Paradise is a concept that appears in many religions and cultures. However paradise is often contrasted and therefore defined by the juxtaposition with hell. And in many ways it is difficult to appreciate paradise if you have not known anything else. Hawaii in November was sweeter knowing that every other November I have spent fighting the clocks going back, the nights drawing in and wearing thicker cycling gloves.

I decided I wanted to go to Hawaii when I saw the holiday photographs of my fellow teacher Russell Jones. I was teaching about American entry into World War Two and he took a lesson using holiday snaps from his visit to Pearl Harbour to explain what had happened. It was only through teaching the topic that I realised where Hawaii was - bang smack in the middle of the Pacific - and it all made sense.

The Americans were expecting an attack and had just begun to use an early radar system to scan the skies. The Japanese aim was to deliver a knock out blow that would leave America powerless to stop its plans to dominate the Pacific. The Japanese planes were detected by a radar station but a Lieutenant made a fateful decision to not worry about it as they were expecting some planes to arrive from the main land. The two hour attack was a significant defeat for the United States. 2,402 people were killed and 1,282 wounded, including 68 civilians. However despite this initial defeat the attack on Pearl Harbour ultimately brought the US population behind the decision to enter the war. Roosevelt declared war on Japan the next day ultimately resulting in the collapse of the Japanese empire. That statement of course leaves out the millions of deaths, war atrocities and the dropping of two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki that happened in between.

The Pearl Harbour memorial is built above the still submerged hulk of the US Arizona where 1117 men lost their lives. You have to take a boat across the harbour to get there . You are asked to remain in silence for the journey. There was a certain irony that there were so many Japanese tourists in Hawaii. We stayed with Rita and Cam in the pretty little town of Kailua. They noted how busy the beach had become since it had become a Japanese tourist hot spot. A different kind of Japanese invasion. Unlike the Brits, the Japanese aim for pale skin. Some people wear hoodies to surf and one woman covered herself with newspaper on the beach to keep off the sun. Whilst us Europeans knowing everything we know about skin cancer soldier on for the caramel tan. Whereas many of the Australians and New Zealanders I have met are liberal with sun screen. I just can't shake my notion of tan looks better.

More and more Americans came to Hawaii particularly because of the military base. However the Polynesian islanders were not the first. They arrived in two waves around the year 1000. It is thought there were other people on Hawaii before this but nobody knows exactly what happened to these apparently little people. They appear in traditional Hawaiin folk tales.

Hawaii has higher taxes than much of the US but much of this comes from tourist taxes in hotels and restaurants. Employers are obligated to provide health insurance for employees who work over 20 hours a week. As a result 90% of Hawaiians are covered, there is more preventative care, less hospital treatment and Hawaiians spend proportionately less on healthcare than other US states. Despite the wealth on the island Hawaii has voted for the Democrats in 10 of the last 12 presidential elections. With their own Obama up for election today, this election is likely to be no exception.

Another thing I did not realise before I came, was that Hawaii is made up of eight different islands that were united by King Kamehameha the Great in 1810. Christian missionaries arrived ten years later bringing the usual heady mix of opposition to human sacrifice and new European diseases.

We spent two weeks on the island of Oahu. The first we got back on our bikes and cycled up the east coast and the second we separated. James' girlfriend Helen flew out and they spent 5 days on the north shore swimming with turtles and kayaking. People make a place and I was also lucky to spend my time on Hawaii with some great people.

I stayed in Waikiki in a hostel with my cousin Jess and friend Becci where we formed a team of fellow fun seekers. When we (James and I) first met Paul and Jonnie they had had a few drinks and were in our dorm listening to Euro Pop and ready to hit Waikiki's night life. I felt like I had walked into my life in 1994 in a youth hostel. As always however first impressions are not always fair. The lads were from Northern Ireland and a good laugh. On holiday for two weeks and happy to hang out with us partly because they were keen to show that they were not a honey mooning couple. The other girls we met Chantal, Lily and Kate, three blonde Brighton lasses. 'Good odds lads' was the comment from one of Paul and Jonnie's friends on the photo of all of us posted on Facebook.

Also in the gang was Barry - from Cork who we had met on tsunami night and who, like Jess had a morbid fascination with serial killers and like me loved cheesy jokes:

'Are you from Jamaica?'
'No, why?'
'Because Jamaican me crazy'

He gave me a top name for a quiz team - Anguillerra. 'Quiz team Aguilerra' - get it?

David - from Portugal. David was a football coach and boy could he charm the ladies. He had some great lines. We were on the beach and he went for a walk saying:
'I'm going for a walk in paradise. Life is for living you know.'

We hired two cars and spent a couple of days on the north shore and back in Kailua. Jonny who works for Nike and is their representative on earth was my co-pilot and was very patient. I insisted that he should talk me through how to turn on his speaker so I would know how to do it next time even though there would not be a next time. He and our passengers were also understanding when my directions started to become a bit unclear:
'Go left. Or right. In fact you could go straight on, I don't mind'
You know you've made good friends when they can pull your leg with good intention and they think your faults endearing.

We had a great few days including two home cooked meals for 10 and an incredible Halloween night out. The streets of Honolulu were packed with people with everyone in fancy dress. Costumes ranged from Michellin Man to Captain America. Our efforts involved an orange team T shirt individually designed. Great idea Becci.

My experience in Hawaii also made me think about the backpacker scene. I have always been pretty snobbish about travelling the world, following the same route of thousands before me. I thought that this was a Western indulgence and gets no where close to the experience of living in one of these countries. But as I contemplate part of my journey by myself then these routes have an appeal. And are these well trodden paths really that different from the routes medieval pilgrims took to Santiago del Compostela? The road more travelled may include more people and more adventures.

Whilst in Hawaii and in stark contrast to paradise I read a horrid account from a friend who witnessed two young men being vilified on a bus in London for holding hands. The boys were shouting 'perverts' and 'die' saying it was against their religion. The people on the top deck did nothing. The two boys got off the bus and my friend spoke up and said 'Why did you do that?'. The response of the group was to attack and spit on him. This reminded me how crucial it is that each of us tolerates no remarks that degrade or poke fun at anyone because of their identity. Even when you know that the person making those remarks is not racist or homophobic or means any harm. It's so important to challenge the little things. This means the role that schools play is crucial especially when some parts of some religions and cultures do not tolerate being gay.

Hawaii is one of the most expensive places to live in the states. So spending two weeks in paradise made me think about how much environment affects your quality of life. Some of my favourite spots across the states were beautiful as well as progressive like Fort Collins and San Francisco. Lovely places are often homes for the wealthy. One morning after a swim along Waikiki with Rosie from the local swim club we changed in the restrooms. A woman with a southern American accent sitting in rather glamorous underwear started chatting to us. She was asking about why Hawaii had a British flag and how come it was American. Good questions and the one about the flag is not simple. She said she was homeless but liked to make the most of her appearance even if she was homeless and was planning on heading to the mall for a free makeover. She had a pair of ridiculous heels and her chatter suggested she probably found life overwhelming. There are many homeless people in paradise and the state has gone to great effort to make sure they cannot sleep on the beach and deter Hawaii's tourists - it's economic life blood.

Hawaiian paradise has more to it than beaches and sun. Aloha is used as hello but means 'affection, peace, passion and mercy'. Paradise has got to be in there somewhere.

And who said the quote I began with? 'By the skillful and sustained use of propaganda, one can make a people see even heaven as hell or an extremely wretched life as paradise.' Adolf Hitler. Paradise has surely got to be paradise for everyone otherwise it just ain't paradise.

Flying round the world west means we have just crossed the international date line so I have just skipped Monday 5th and jumped to Tuesday. A day I will never get back. Think about it. Enough to blow the mind.

A day lost in paradise.

I'm loving Angels instead

It is not every day you find yourself on a remote Pacific island discussing an evacuation of your hostel due to a tsunami warning. The earthquake in British Columbia had tsunami sirens sounding signalling a need to move to higher ground on the Hawaiian islands. It reminded me of many other crises I have faced through work like when we had a mad man on the roof. Usual rules apply - keep calm, make a decision based on the best information available and communicate clearly. There were 20 of us who evacuated en masse to the lobby of the Holiday Inn. There are worse places to hang out and they were - in fairness - very tolerant of our beer drinking. Thankfully the waves didn't amount to much and today island life continues as normal.

James and I are here on a break from cycling meeting up with friends and loved ones who have flown out to see us. It is wonderful to be around familiar faces as it can be hard to make connections in a new place.

Los Angeles is a massive sprawling city. I knew I was only there for a short time and was unsure of how to make the most of my visit. Like London, LA can be overwhelming. What does it mean to 'do' a city? Having driven down from San Francisco I did not want to experience LA by car. Reunited with cycling buddy James, we were lucky enough to stay in a friend's apartment near the marina. Thanks Mari Davies.

Santa Monica and Venice Beach are neighbouring and merging communities on the coast of LA. They reminded me of Islington and Camden by the sea. Santa Monica is upscale and Venice Beach has medical marijuana on sale with people dressed in green giving out cards. Most people do drive but they also cycle and walk along the beach which go to make these communities feel friendly and safe.

I was lucky to be invited to join a morning ocean swim with a friend Michael who has run 13 marathons, the last in 2 hours and 39 minutes.

I got to the car lot at 645am as planned. I scrambled around in my spare change to fine money for a parking ticket. Another guy politely asked the homeless guy who was sleeping by the meter to move out of the way.

So there I was in my bikini, in a dark LA car park.

I started talking to people in the lot who were putting on wet suits (triathletes love a wet suit) and soon identified the swimmers.

The sun was just rising. The ocean looked calm and as soon as I put my feet in the water I was relieved that it was relatively (relative to San Francisco Bay and any British water) warm. Through the break waters and out to a buoy. These guys could swim. We swam along the beach toward the candy coloured lights of Santa Monica pier.

There is something about the feeling of swimming that feels incredibly primitive, especially swimming with others. You have company and solitude all in one. Humans were designed for group survival. Swimming in 'pods' gives you courage to swim harder and safer. Sharks like lions pick off the weakest.

Just over a mile we regrouped and turned back. It was hard to sight the others when swimming into the sun. One minute you are in a watery valley and next on the peak of a swell. Back to the buoy and then in - easy. I relaxed and swam back in. I glanced to where I thought the swimmers were but I had lost them. I was metres from the beach but felt disorientated. I had hit the break waters. I tried to stand up but there was no sand. I swam further in and saw a woman (Alison) and her yellow cap. I stood up and saw her pointing behind me. I looked around and saw a smallish wave as it crashed around me. The power of the sea in that tiny wave was incredible. It pushed my goggles off my face and soon I had lost them in the surf. I had to concentrate hard to keep my balance. I was glad to get my feet back on the beach.

Delia, one of the swimmers, kindly invited me for coffee and it felt good to make swimming connections 1000s of miles from home. I was given a Santa Monica Bathing society swim hat and felt like I had lived like a Santa Monican. This is what visiting a city should be.

America is a huge diverse country and yet it is through these connections that I have understood its rich collage. Statistics give a frame work but it is these nuances in society that fascinate me. Trends, changing habits and ideas give clues to how the future might look. My personal prediction for fashion: Wide legged jeans have got to be back. I have see them on Venice Beach and I am sure I have been wearing skinny for too long. Remember you read it here first. Or maybe you didn't and I'm already behind the curve.

Another example of understanding a place through local connections was when I headed north with my parents to visit family friends in Redding. Proper rest and relaxation. One day stands out in our visit. Mary Lou had very kindly done her research and found the local folk group for my dad who plays the fiddle. The standing joke throughout the week was that Mary Lou had invited an orchestra sized group and they were probably going to be moving in. Sunday came and I accompanied my dad and Meurig (confusingly the same name as my dad) to the Sunday practice.

And there I was. In the middle of a place most people have never heard of - (Redding California) in a circle of people and my dad is teaching them a Welsh folk tune. After the practice four of the lads joined us at Meurig and Mary Lou's for more playing, singing and musical exchange. Mary-Lou had cooked me a cake that said 'Way to go Mari' and showed our route across the states. I felt very lucky and loved - and like I belonged.

Be it cycling, swimming, politics or whatever floats your boat, (Did I really just say that?) modern cities are full of these sub groups which give all of us belonging beyond ourselves. Newspapers and blogs add to this feeling of belonging so that you can still feel that in a city.

Starting making those connections can be hard and I found it very difficult when I first moved to London but now, even miles away from friends family I feel still part of communities in London and increasingly with friends in different places across the states.

Connections are complex but technology means connections can be world wide and borders are less significant. In Hawaii I followed the same logic. I found the Waikiki Swim Club on line and signed up for a stoke improvemen at the university and was welcomed to the swimming fold. Tomorrow I will be joining some of these swimmers to start my day with an ocean swim.

Technology offers an opportunity to challenge the tendency for us as humans to be unafraid of the unknown. Technology however also can take us away from the moment. I went into Starbucks in Waikiki and saw rows of people on lap tops and phone plugged into to a virtual world. The room was silent. Perhaps no different from everyone reading the newspaper or perhaps many lost opportunities. When we were cycling across America we went to so many local cafes with a group of over 60s all starting their day with coffee and a good gossip. To live in the moment rather than the virtual moment has got to be important. I will try to take the advice myself given how much I can be addicted to Facebook.

We can only experience life by moments and learning to enjoy and appreciate the now is one of my challenges for this year.

Californian Dreams and Reality

The end of a 3600 mile bike ride is a bit like the end of a school term. You think it is never going to arrive and then, bang, you're in Vallejo just outside San Fran and you have 10 minutes before you have to get on the ferry. We had time to rush a photo and sat inside the boat ordered a beer and a packet of crisps. Well done us. It was not the iconic cycle across the Golden Gate bridge I had imagined. But we had still done it. Quite an accomplishment. Something I had never even thought of doing, let alone aspired to do. Yet in the days that followed I have found many ways to celebrate the end of the first leg of our journey.

The final few weeks across California were good fun. The desert had given me some understanding of those early pioneers. 300,O00 people people made the journey between 1846 and 1860 - mainly men. 13,000 Chinese immigrants also came to California, 7 of these were women. Over the same period the Native American population in the state is estimated to have reduced from 150,000 to 3000. They did not emigrate. Food supply, disease and violence was the cause of the wipe out.

The Sierra Nevada mountains are the last mountain range before California. It was these mountains where the infamous Donner Party perished. Of 87 men, women and children who set out with wagons from Illinois only 46 survived. They took longer to cross the desert than they had hoped and got caught by the onset of winter. They sheltered in deserted log cabins and resorted to eating each other.

Our journey over the Sierras was more straightforward. We passed a final 'bears crossing' sign and descended into South Tahoe. The first part of the town has lots of casinos and then a tiny little sign and you're in California. 12% of Americans live in California compared with 0.2% who live in Wyoming. There are more people living in California than all the people from all the states we have cycled through put together. The last few days promised days of down hill. After a month at over 4000 feet we were heading into the warm sunshine state.

In our final week we were very lucky to benefit from the hospitality of folks from a site called Warm Showers. Cyclists willing to host fellow cyclists.

Just outside Sacramento, the state capital we were hosted by Matthew and Cathie. I was attracted to their profile not just because they were teachers but because they promised food, wine and a swimming pool. Not surprisingly however the best part of staying with them was the conversation and finding kindred spirits.

Matthew and Cathie were 7 weeks into term when we arrived on a Tuesday night. Their next break would be Christmas vacation. Cathie's passion for her job - a primary school teacher - making learning interesting for children reminded me of what is inspiring about great teachers . She said whenever she travels she always thinks of what she can bring back for her students. And that is after 30 years of teaching. Matthew is an art teacher but has chosen to teach drawing and painting. 'You cannot teach art' he said. But I can teach them a skill.

'When I went to art college I could only copy. For ages I hid the fact I could not draw. I wish someone had taught me'. He also introduced me to the philosopher Joseph Campbell.

Joseph Campbell was an American philosopher who explored how as human beings we use common myths to explain our lives.

He said ''Life is without meaning. You bring the meaning to it. The meaning of life is whatever you ascribe it to be. Being alive is the meaning.''

He was fascinated by the stories used by Native Americans and different religions. Different cultures uses heroes and quests often as a way of coping and understanding life and he noted common threads across the globe.

Being on the road has given me a lot of time to think and to think beyond the classroom. The story that I wrote for myself growing up is not quite how my life is turning out. As Campbell suggested 'We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us'

It has really made me feel both very tiny in the universe and also made me consider how big and important some things are.

Meeting Matthew and Cathie reminded me of the joys of teaching and how important it is that teachers are looked after. I recently read an interview with Kathryn Lovewell (what a great surname) about her book 'Every Teacher Matters'. She talks about not being a martyr. She said:

'As a teacher, you are trained to focus entirely on the needs of your pupils and, since the teaching profession attracts people who give their time generously, teachers can easily forget their own needs. Ironically, this self-sacrificing approach does not necessarily help pupils and instead provides a poor example for the young people you teach.'

Until I chose to take a year out of the classroom I didn't really think Teacher Support Network was much of a worthy cause. My mum convinced me it was. Teachers are now paid relatively well, it's a stable job and it's supposed to be hard work, plus you get plenty of holiday and a good pension even if some of us will have to work until 68. Being out of the classroom however has made me reflect on how much of my life has been focused on my job. That's a good thing because it's great to have made a significant contribution to young people's education but teaching should be a job that can be done well without exhaustion or burn out. It should not be only for missionaries. Neither should it be a macho contest about who can work the hardest, latest or sacrifice the most. School leaders have a particularly important role in setting this culture and I am determined when I return to London schools to remember how important that is. I want teachers in my school to enjoy their work and be energised and inspired by their lives outside the classroom.

As we pedalled closer to San Francisco so we saw more cyclists. At Davis we hit biking hippie culture. There were microbreweries, a cycling museum and the first ever painted bike lane in the US. We stayed with John and Kathy members of the Davis cycling club and enjoyed the luxuries of a gas pit fire and an outdoor shower. 'Just don't look' was the rule.

So back to our final destination as a cycling duo - San Fran. We landed on the dock at dusk and found our way to the train to San Mateo where I was met by old friends. A splendid group of ladies who swim for a Masters Club in San Mateo. Truly swimming is my first love. If I could have swum round the world - and not frozen to death or eaten be eaten by sharks - I would have done. Two years ago I went on a swimming holiday in Greece and met this wonderful bunch.

Patt and Regina met us at the station and we were whisked away to Patt's gorgeous apartment for food, wine, showers and general rest and relaxation. Regina kept accidentally doing a British accent and then apologising. The following day Patt had planned a wonderful night of Moussaka and drinks for the whole gang. Patt also told us what we should do in case of an earthquake. A reminder that a city is no protection from nature's will.

Patt took us across to Half Moon Bay for our official 'we just cycled across America' photograph and fish and chips. Though because it's American fish and chips, it is fish with either fries, salad or coleslaw. Patt also gave James advice about cycling down to Los Angeles on Highway 1. I have headed north with my parents to Redding to stay with our incredibly hospitable family friends Meurig and Mary-Lou. Meurig comes from the same place as my dad - Cwmavan near Port Talbot and they have a daughter called Mari Sian. Well I never. It has been great to be in one place for a few days.

Soon after my arrival in San Fran, my parents (who have taken some time to come round to the 'So mum and dad I am quitting my job and cycling round the world with a maths teacher' idea. How unexpected.) arrived. They had brought me an 'I loves the 'diff' (Cardiff) T shirt.

One morning in the city I left our hotel at 6am and walked across the city to meet my friend Suzie for an early morning swim in The Bay. We met at her swimming club on the harbour. With my bikini, hat and nose clip we swum out to the harbour wall and watched the sun rise light Alcatraz and the Golden Gate. She and many others start every day like this. Wow.

San Francisco thrives in its reputation as a welcoming, liberal and lively city. Inhabitants are fiercely proud of this heritage and rightly so. The Castro area became the gay area of town because a group of gay men who were ridiculously discharged from the United States army because of their homosexuality settled there. By 1980 an estimated 17% of the city's population was gay.

One of the things I have noticed - that everyone notices about San Fran is the number of what Americans call panhandlers. Beggars. We were first told about these people in Cold Springs. A tiny place in the middle of the Nevada desert. Our breakfast server told us - 'Do you know they earn $100,000 dollars a day?' James feigned surprise and questioned whether that was documented.
'Oh yes' came the well evidenced reply.
On the bike trail on the way in to Sacramento we were told the same. 'there was this one guy that had $250,00 in the bank'.

I was still genuinely surprised by how visible homelessness is in the city. London has changed dramatically since the 1980s when cardboard city was a well known place on the South Bank. When people come right up to you and ask for money it poses a dilemma. I want to help you but I'm not sure if giving you money does help and I'd also prefer that you weren't in front of me exacerbating my middle class guilt. As always with any kind of complex problem, the solutions are not easy. The cause factors, as I understand are:
a mild enough climate.
a lot of people who became homeless in the 1980s are still here.
a liberal population that will not support harsh anti social policies that merely move people out of the eye of tourists.

The city has numerous organisations that are dedicated to try and help the chronic homeless. One initiative recently gave dogs to homeless people to train them and in return they had to not beg.

Mitt Romney was recently caught saying that he wasn't interested in the 47% that depend on the state. What has been good about the debate that followed is that it has made Americans talk about who gets what and who gives in. Healthcare is one of the biggest issues and language is powerful in the campaign. Socialist and liberal are dirty words in America. If you want socialist medicine it is assumed you want a Soviet style state.

So this is how it works. You work, your company pays for your insurance. You get ill. You go to the doctor. You get a bill and you send it to the insurance company and they pay.

If you live on the street, you get ill, you go to the hospital and Medicare will pick up the bill. One San Fran journalist estimated that one guy on the streets of the City had clocked up a million dollar medical bill over his life time.

If you can afford health care but you haven't been able to afford insurance and you are ill you have to pay. For example in one man Patt told us about went to the hospital and was told to go to a doctor on the Monday to have his broken arm put in a cast. He went and because he couldn't afford it the doctor would not set it. A one night hospital stay is likely to set you back $15,000 dollars. Of course your insurance pays after you pay around 20% excess depending on your policy. These high costs already pay for those who cannot afford it so why not make the system more fair?

Toby in Kansas told me about her brother who because he had leukaemia the insurance company refused to fund a bone marrow transplant until a stem cell implant had been tried. The doctors said it would not work but the insurance companies insisted. It didn't. He had the transplant but then died shortly afterward.

Obama's plan is to make insurance compulsory - like it is compulsory to have car insurance in the UK or California. And if you don't have insurance you'd pay a fine. Romney liked the idea so much he introduced a universal healthcare system when he was state governor of Massachusetts but now he's apparently changed his mind.

When I have been surrounded by Republicans it is hard to imagine that Obama stands a chance but the reality of the electoral system is that it will come down to the swing states.

And finally, back to Joseph Campbell ..

“Follow your bliss.
If you do follow your bliss,
you put yourself on a kind of track
that has been there all the while waiting for you,
and the life you ought to be living
is the one you are living.
When you can see that,
you begin to meet people
who are in the field of your bliss,
and they open the doors to you.
I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid,
and doors will open
where you didn't know they were going to be.
If you follow your bliss,
doors will open for you that wouldn't have opened for anyone else.”

So the cycle across America is over. Next stop is Los Angeles then Hawaii then New Zealand. So we'll see if Campbell has a point.


http://www.teachersupport.info/blogs/01-october-2012/kathryn-lovewell-s-ten-top-tips-teachers#.UHjtThB5mSN

http://www.shmoop.com/california-gold-rush/statistics.html

http://www.teachersupport.info/twoteachers - Thanks to Teacher Support Network for creating this great interactive map of our journey