Tuesday, September 13, 2011


If there one thing Krogg learn about international travel, it that jetlag harder to recover from than saber-toothed tiger bite! Krogg arrive in France what feel like two week ago, but really two day ago. Krogg teammate also have trouble adjust to Franch time. Here Kai sleep in clothes:

And here Matt suffer unexpected nap:

Krogg sleep schedule very strange. Here normal caveman day:

10:00 PM Go to sleep like normal caveman.
12:30 AM Wake up, wide awake like after Krogg jump in frozen river. Try to go back to bed.
1:30 AM Krogg get tired of lie in bed, listen to Kai snore, and stare at top bunk of bunk bed (Krogg sleep in bottom bunk), so Krogg decide to get up and do something. Krogg peckish? Trip to kitchen to investigate options.
1:40 AM Baguette, burre, and jelly.
2:00 AM Krogg build bike in garage using headlamp until Krogg realize: garage have light. Headlamp redundant. Krogg simultaneously feel smug for being self sufficient, and stupid for assuming French garage no have light.
2:30 AM Krogg read Canadian Cyclist from cover to cover.
3:30 AM Canadian Cyclist make Krogg extremely sleepy. Krogg return to bed.

Krogg try to salvage day with bike ride. Krogg and Kai put on spandex, prepare TT bike, and go explore French countryside. Know what? Krogg LOVE EXPLORE FRENCH COUNTRYSIDE! So many little town! So many little road! So many cow, horse, and goat! So many old church and castle! Here some photo, but trust Krogg: this photographic cross-section vastly inadequate at sharing experience.

Believe it or not, right now it roughly 2AM. Again Krogg sleep a little, then wide awake like after jump in frozen river. This time at least Krogg have interesting dream. Krogg share (Krogg share dream from perspective of Mariwhether Lewis):

It is with heavy hart that I confess my dreams last night were of a most perplexing nateshure, and more than a trifle disturbing. I am alas unshure of what this dreame signifeys, or when the dreame began. Thusly I cannot give the particulars as to how I found myself in my rotten perdickament, so I shall simply start with what I remember: I found myself preparing for a bicycle race. At first, my situashion seemed completely ordinairie, with nothing out of place for a person with my skills and history of doing the very same. My teammates and director were all nearby, and were all equally engaged in the same task. It wasn't long however, that I found myself comparetivaly less prepared than my teammates, with some of the more hurried of us hop-ing on their bikesicles, and pedaling off to the starting line. I began to spur my preparations along, but found myself uncommonly forgetful, and snag after snag sloed my progress. I searched for Perpeteum drink mix high and low, but couldn't find it until the last racer had left camp. An incommonly shaped bottle refused to gain purchase in my bottle-cage. A right proper panick swept over me as I heard our great National Anthem blasted over the loudspeakers, and I still haddent secured a proper cap for my drinking bottle. As Scott drove off to join the caravaan, I was still unracking my racing bicycal. Not but halfway across the parking lot, as the last follow car lurched into forewerd motion (and with it my last hopes of joining the race), my trusty carbon racing machine morphed into a useless and infuryating scooter-contraption! It was a heavy, sloe and futile assembly, complete with large furry saddal, outlandish pokadots, rediculously heavy wooden paneling along the sides, and wheels no larger (and no rounder) than ostrich eggs. I lamely circled back, and with head hung low, asked my director for a replacement velocipede. I freshened my steed, but the race was long gone. In fact, I daresay I remember the National Anthem playd a second time, this time for the ladies race. Finally, my aching embaresment did abate: just before setting out to give the chase of my life, I mercifully awoke. While I am most relieved to have this boot-shaker of a dream come and gone, I cannot say it exsites me to think of the meanings it hides within.
Capt. Meriwether Lewis
Corps of Discovery, French Division
September 12th, 2011

Very good. Krogg think maybe it time to try sleep again. YAY JETLAG! YAY FRANCE!  


Tony Velasco (Cosmic Collider) said...

As always, an enlightening and fun read, Sam! Yeah, as a formal U.S. and world traveler, I can confirm, jetlag can crush the inner caveman!

IAN! said...

The emergence of Merriwether is most inspiring. If only you could get the lower case s to look like an f. I love that.
Maintenant tu doit manger un sandwich avec fromage e jambon a minuit pour dormire comme un enfant.

kennett Peterson said...

I have those horror bike-race-gone-wrong-before-they-start dreams every month or two. I take them as a sign that I need to clean my bike...or my flute before I go to bed so I dream of something better.