Mount Desert Island.

Hope everybody had a fantastic Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day! If you don’t know what that is, don’t worry: neither do I. I just know that it means I get a three-day weekend, and get paid for not working on Sunday. This year, I decided to distance myself from the francophone revellers by not just leaving the province of Québec, but the dang country too.

Yann and I spent 1100km riding under our bicycles while they were strapped to the roof of the car to get to Maine. There, we did 101km on our bikes.

“Does it still count as a century ride if it’s done in the USA, where they don’t use metric?” I asked Yann, who responded with a glare.

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It’s quiet everywhere: Travelling as a Deaf person.

I’m a lightly seasoned traveller: I’ve swum with sharks in Mexico, walked the Great Wall of China, zoomed around mainland Japan on a Shinkansen, slept among giant spiders in the Australian rainforest, and I’m on a first name basis with western Europe. For those whose curiosity runs deep, the list of places I’ve presented myself can be found here.

Last month, I read an insightful post by Stacey of Deafinitely Wanderlust about the barriers she faces travelling as a Deaf person and wanted to share my perspective.

Continue reading “It’s quiet everywhere: Travelling as a Deaf person.”

Prelude to Toulouse.

I don’t know how we did it, but Yann and I have decided on a destination for our August vacation: Toulouse, France. As we will be taking our bicycles, we now need to decide on our sub-destinations.

Assuming we train hard for the next two months, remain injury-free, and in perfect health, we aim to cover between 800-1000km in the 12 days we’ll have to explore the Pyrénées.

Admittedly, this is ambitious. I haven’t been as fortunate as some when it comes to completing a trip in perfect health: I suffered a sunstroke in Beijing, China (2010), and caught a terrible cold at the end of my Japan trip (2014). Yann and I were even supposed to do our first overnight cycling trip on Friday but this was cancelled as I woke up feeling unwell.

My dodgy wellness has taught me to never expect trips to go according to plan. For our France trip, we’re going to have a plan B, as well as a plan C, D, E, E.1, E.2i, E.2ii, and so on.

We did have a plan B for the weekend, and this backup plan involved Ruth, and the hillbilly town of Grenville, QC.

Continue reading “Prelude to Toulouse.”