We don't need another hero

Alas, it's over. Saturday we cycled the last 60 somewhat miles (95 km) and finally we entered the Los Angeles arena. On the way to LA my legs once again gave in. All of sudden 10 miles seemed to last forever. Fortunately my friend and tentmate Jennifer and my brother Otto were around. Let's start with Jennifer.

In January 2006 I came to San Francisco because I wanted to know what kind of organization the San Francisco Aids Foundation (SFAF) was. Since I was going to ask a lot of money from my friends for a foundation that wasn't even based in the Netherlands I felt I needed to explain to them what their donations were used for. To be quite frank, I was flabbergasted by the efficiency, devotion and expertise of the SFAF staff. My second reason for coming to SF were training rides. As I mentioned earlier on Holland has got no hills and since I was going to do a 545 mile ride with tons of hills I wanted to find out how one conquers hills.

On one of these training rides I met Jennifer. I think during that ride I got lost in the Palo Alto woods. It was a rainy day and the only thing I could remember was a supermarket. However I didn’t know the name of the market, let alone the town it was in. Finally a man helped me out. When I arrived  at the supermarket with a victorious smile on my face I could tell the training ride leader looked a bit troubled. After all it’s not an everyday thing to loose a foreigner who doesn’t know his way around. Anyway, Jennifer and I didn’t meet again till the first day of ALC5. Ever since we have been friends. She even came to Amsterdam three months after the ride. This year we have been tentmates and on day 7 I think she and I were both rather tired and could do with some distraction. We’re quite good at that.

Secondly there’s my brother Otto. He moved to a very unique location last year, the Island of Kerrera [www.kerrerabunkhouse.co.uk]. It’s located just a few miles off the Scottish coast and has 35 inhabitants. You can reach Kerrera only by ferry. Furthermore the island hosts a Teagarden. And that’s where Otto works. He is the gardener and the cook - almost sounds like the title of a film, doesn’t it? A few weeks ago Otto called when I was at the office. Since it was rather tumultuous - nothing exceptional by the way - I understood only half of what he was telling me. It turned out I hadn’t even understood that particular half. After 5 minutes it became clear to me he had launched a fundraiser especially for me. In the Kerrera Teagarden and close to the ferry he placed a sign mentioning that his little brother was going to do a cycle ride for the San Francisco Aids Foundation, accompanied by a handmade money-box. The visitors and people of Kerrera have donated more than $400 to SFAF. Boy, do I have a sweet brother! PS Download my ALC newsletter, edition May. There you'll find pictures of my brother.

Download ALC_Chronicle_May_2007.pdf

Now I took my brother along with me. He was on the back of my cycle jersey. Two weeks before the ride Chris and Severine stayed up late (01:30 AM) while dipping there brushes into many a paint-pot. They created a modern image of Dutch farmer’s life, containing the faces of my friends, and printed it on a jersey. Since a lot of riders couldn’t quite get what was going on, here’s what happens: the top part is a farmer who is pulling a cow’s tail. The bottom part contains the cow’s utters pushing the poor farmers wife’s head down. She clearly is in agony. I admit it’s rather an awkard situation.

On day 7’s lunchstop I tried to explain this to one of the riders. I also told her I came from the Netherlands when all of a sudden another rider starts talking Dutch to me. It took me a moment to realize what was going on. Well it was Mel, a Dutch man who came to the USA when he was 19. We spent the afternoon on the patio of Peet’s Coffee in LA talking in Dutch and it felt good talking in my own language for a brief moment.

After closing ceremonies Mel took Jennifer and me to our hostel in Venice Beach … in a Hummer. In Holland we have this tv series called Try before you die. Riding in a Hummer surely must be one of those things you have to try.

The next morning we had coffee next door. It was 08:00 AM and Venice Beach was not yet awake. Early risers like us sat outside, drinking their coffee, reading the newspaper. On the other side of the road two cars were parked. The owners were talking to eachother through the window. Apparently it was more than your casual Sunday morning chat because at one point one owner yelled: “He’s threatening to kill me! He’s threatening to kill me!” I’m not used to these kinds of situations but I guess this was the cue for the other owner to start his engine and get the hell out of there. The he’s-threatening-to-kill-me owner did the same and with swift speed he followed the other car. Gone they were. A few minutes later police car number 1 passed by, 30 seconds later police car number 2. You know, on Dutch tv I regularly see these spectacular American car chases, filmed from a helicopter. When I sat there on this quiet Los Angeles morning I thought: Who needs helicopters? A Sunday morning coffee on Venice Beach is just as exciting.

In the meanwhile I returned to San Francisco. I just love this city. It’s small, it’s cosy, it’s liberal, it’s weird as well. It’s certainly not bustling with energy, the excitement is to be found in more subtle places and I like that. 

ALC6 has crossed my mind a lot of times the last few days. I am darn proud that I finished the ride completely this time albeit with a little help from my friend Vitamin I. Do I feel like a hero, a term often used by public speakers during the ride? No, not at all. I somehow don’t feel comfortable with this predicate. Yesterday I showed Jennifer an episode of the tv series I made a few years ago, called Shit Happens. This series showed young people with chronic diseases varying from asthma to Duchenne muscular dystrophy and from bipolar disorder to the fatal skin disease Epidermolysis Bullosa. The reason why I am so proud of this series is that it wasn’t either sensational let alone sentimental. Instead these young people talked freely and honestly about every aspect of their life: they go shopping, they go to school, they have sex, they laugh, they cry, they go to work etc. Although their disease seemed to restrict their lives, they themselves often didn’t think about it that way. Simply because they had found solutions to overcome their restrictions. None of these young people considered themselves to be heroes, nor did they feel the need to be one. They were who they were, people.
When I think of the ride I often wonder why the term hero is used so frequently. To me it seems that in America there's a bitter need to do something about the stigmatization of people with hiv/aids. Still a lot of people think they must be either gay or promiscuous, which is utter nonsense. But it’s easier to think about it this way, because it makes life simple. It’s easier and certainly safer to stay at the other end of the line. To overcome these prejudices I feel a big statement needs to made. The word hero is such a statement. But it makes all of us, both the people with and without hiv/aids more than we are. I wish this wouldn’t have to happen. I wish we could just be who we are. I know this is rather a naive thing to wish for, because politics, culture, social climate etc. need to change and it’s most likely a matter of decades. But coming from a country where after many years of activism and lobbying, gay marriage is now part of the constitution I know it is possible. Amen.

Finally I want to thank all my sponsors. Three weeks before the ride I had raised only $900 dollar. By now that is an astounding $3.609,41. On behalf of the San Francisco Aids Foundation and the people who are able to make use of their services a big big thank you.
I hope you enjoyed reading my blog. And who knows, perhaps I’ll be here next year for ALC7.

The difference between a bike path and a bike lane

Today, after the sixth day of the ride, I’d like to talk with you about three things: bike lanes, California Dreaming and physical exhaustion.

Let’s start with the last one. Sometimes your mind says yes, but your body says no. Today was such a day. Although we only rode 85 miles (135 km) my legs and I had a disagreement. They wanted to have a day off. I on the other hand wanted to finish this day’s ride, especially because last year I had to sag on Day 6. It cost me some perseverance to finally make them realize how important this day was for me, and finally they gave in. So now I am at camp, awfully tired but extremely happy me and my legs made it.

What was so harsh today? Perhaps I don’t want this ride to end. Tonight is the last night at camp and I was just getting used to this silly routine: arriving at camp, setting up the tent, showering, having dinner, blogging, talking to fellow riders, going to bed at 21:30, waking up at 04:45, rushing to the toilet (experiencing enormous relief), having breakfast, breaking down the tent and getting on my bike for the day’s ride. Well, after tomorrow that’s over and done with.
Perhaps it was the weather. Every few miles there was a fresh headwind, then I would find myself surrounded by the burning light of Mother Sun.
Or was it the bike lanes? I’m not sure but I do know they gave me a good scare. For my Dutch readers. A bike path is the exclusive domain of cyclists. No cars or motors are allowed to ride on it. I think in Holland the total amount of bike paths surmounts the total amount of highways, freeways etc. Come to think of it, I live in a cycle Mecca. A bike lane on the other hand is one strip of road, about 3 feet (1 metre) located next to the car lanes. And here’s the thing. You can find these bike lanes on a free- or highway. So while you’re cycling on this tiny piece of road cars pass on your lefthand with a speed up to 65 miles (105 km) an hour. Moreover the bike lanes have been marked with the words BIKE LANE. To grant you a happy cycle tour these markings consist  of a thick layer of paint. So when you cross BIKE LANE your bike and bum are offered some free seconds of shaking. Although I was scared to death I would slip over a pebble (or the words BIKE LANE), fall off my bike, get crushed by a truck, I kept wondering who this person might be who thought cycling on a highway was a brilliant idea. He or she probably is familiar with kamikaze.

But in the end. Does it really matter when the scenery is simply stunning. Cycling next to the Pacific Ocean, smelling the scent of fresh water, feeling that cool breeze, gazing at the palm trees, I was mesmerized. Yes, it was some real California Dreaming.

The devil and the angel

Let me share a secret with you. I do doping. During last year’s ride I had to sag on Day 6, meaning I was taken to camp by a bus just after the lunch stop. My right knee hurt so badly I couldn’t go on. It was a real emotional moment for me. There I was, coming all the way from Amsterdam, and not being able to do the whole ride. In the bus I cried and when I arrived at camp I still felt defeated, no matter what people told me. Until this woman came up to me, offered me her shoulder (actually it was her bosom) to cry on, and told me those 40 miles I couldn’t ride were not that important at all. The fact that I was here, cycling for a good cause was worthwhile in itself. I thought she was really sweet but arriving in LA by means of a bus was no option for me.
Fortunately there are veteran riders, and one of them, a 9 time rider, introduced me to Ibuprofen. The next day I cycled 80 miles to Los Angeles without a blink. This year, after the second day I felt the same nagging pain again, this time for some strange reason in my left knee. I was well prepaired this time. In Holland I bought the pink coloured – yes they look like sweets – 99 Eurocents 400 mg pills at our local Walgreens. Although I dislike pills, this time they did a great job.

So much for the doping. Today was a jolly day. It was Red Dress Day. Every participant is dressed in red to form a symbolic red ribbon. You can imagine what outrageous outfits people wear. Moreover this fifth day of the ride is the shortest one: 44 miles (70 km). Although it’s short there are some steep hills to climb. One of them is really spectacular since you can actually see where you’re heading for from the start. It looks like an insurmountable hill, but I was in good shape and I passed many a rider. I’m sorry guys, but that gave me a real kick.

Come to think of it, the day didn’t start that jolly at all. One of the riders fell and had some deep wounds. The blood wasn’t gushing from them but it looked dramatic anyhow.  Before I did last year’s ride a colleague of mine gave me a first aid kit, a tiny red box filled with bandages, bandaids, etc. Like last year I left it in my suitcase this time, until today. So when the guy in front of me, dressed as the devil, fell I got my kit out, let the Florence Nightingale in me take over and fulfilled my duty. Finally I could help someone else and that felt really good. A witty guy who gave emotional support looked at us and commented: ‘The devil is helped by and angel. How ironic is that?’

Also I’d like to add something to a topic I addressed the other day. I wrote that Americans didn’t go abroad that much. Either on this ride every single American that goes abroad is present or my assumptions are totally incorrect. You wouldn’t believe how many people I talked to the last week who have a connection with the Netherlands. One of the members of the Aids Lifecycle staff has been learning Dutch for two years now. Then I met this woman, Karin, who worked at a software company in Barneveld for a few years. Barneveld is a tiny town in our own Bible Belt. Yes you got that right, we’ve got one as well. It is called the Black Kneehighs community, because the women over there have to wear black skirts, black kneehighs and they are not allowed to watch, let alone to own a tv. So I presume you could compare them with the Amish. Karin told me she had to pray every day before lunch. Wow, if that is Bible Beltish, what is? And today I met this girl – indeed again I forgot a name – who was raised by a Dutch mother and an Indonesian father. It’s weird, but when she started talking to me in Dutch I couldn’t find the right words. If you speak English all day long you start thinking in English as well. So when I go back home my friends will most likely ask me what’s wrong with me. They did so last year. Apparently I spoke Dutch as if I were an American. Well you become part of the Melting Pot if you cycle all the way from San Francisco to Los Angeles I guess.

Poetic clouds

We’re halfway the ride. Today, after 25 miles (40 km) we crossed the halfway to LA signs, although my bike computer told me we have already cycled 295 miles (472 km). And I do believe my bike computer. So someone is actually lying. Fortunately I know why. The fake halfway point is located at the top of the so called Evil Twins, the highest  hills we climb during the ride. If the exact halfway point would be applied it would probably be somewhere at the foot or at one quarter of the Evil Twins and I think everybody agrees with me that would be a real bummer. What kind of a halfway point is that?

Today was a tough titties day. First of all the Evil Twins were to be conquered. Then there was the downhill and believe me, that’s a really nasty one. I remembered from last year’s ride this hill scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t quite remember why, but once I was there it suddenly hit me again. The downhill is so steep the average speed is probably (I didn’t dare to look at my bike computer) 37 miles (60 km) per hour. Besides there are unexpected and at times heavy side winds. Thank god I made it but because of the numerous shots of adrenaline that went through my body during the downhill ride I was exhausted once I reached the lunch stop. I seemed to be heading for a true Murphy’s Law day when exactly 2 minutes after the lunch stop I got a flat tire. Luckily my father is an amateur bike mechanic so he showed me the ropes. Hence changing a flat tire is a piece of cake for me. My pump wasn’t really helpful however. But there was Nathan, a fellow rider. He gave my tire a shot of oxygen and within seconds my tire was as hard as a rock. Moreover he put my wheel back in place with such grace and assuredness I like to think of him as my hero of the day.
Ok, where was I? Yes, after the flat tire things seemed to go smoothly until we arrived at that devilish turn heading for rest stop 3. Just for those of you who don’t know the ride. Every day there are four rest stops and a lunch stop. All stops are run by volunteers who do their utmost not only to feed and nourish us, they also provide entertainment. At one rest stop Sesame Street’s Yellow Bird hands you a banana, at the next rest stop Santa Clausina refills your water bottle. Anyway let’s return to the devilish turn. I think it is the most underestimated part of the ride. There are rolling hills which seem to go up when they actually go down. And when they seem to go down, they actually go up. In short, what you have to deal with here is a true tromp l’oeil.

The story isn’t quite finished yet. After the rolling hills an extremely heavy side wind kicked in. The riders who were in front of me were in a diagonal position, which looked rather silly since everything else – the trucks, the electricity poles – kept their vertical position. It was as if some unknown force changed the rules of gravity. The side wind was accompanied by clouds of dust. It made me look like a dirty pig. Nevertheless it was quite a pretty sight: on both sides of the road there were vast stretches of land, dominated by brown and green colors and as if fifty people were thoroughly wiping their floors a transparent cloud of light brown dust covered both the road and the land.
Conclusion: was it a bad day? No. Partly because I overcame my exhaustion, partly because I beat Murphy’s Law, and partly because of all the nice people I met today. There’s no day like a Nathan’s Day!

A conversation with the man who lives on D88

Doing Aids Lifecycle for the second time is even better than I expected. Except for an occasional change of route nothing is really different from last year’s ride. But the feverish expectations and the excitement of all things to come are more or less gone. I no longer have to think of things like: How much pedaling does 77 miles consist of? When is the climbing part over?  Why don’t I see the next reststop? Instead I experience more comfort (not on the physical level however because the ride still hurts my bum and my legs). I have thrown my expectations overboard and I can finally relax.

Today was a pleasant day. Most of the day it was cloudy which made the surrounding area look rather pale and at times even boring. But the Californian sun makes me go crazy at times. Sometimes I feel the heat burning into my flesh. I do cherish the sunblock, but it can’t prevent me from getting sunburn.

Moreover I had a lot of interesting conversations with people. For example with the kind man who lives on D88. Yes, I forgot his name. But I did remember his tentnumber (hence D88). The man who lives on D88 is a nurse. After working in a county ER for a while he became a nurse in psychiatric hospital. Our conversation hit off when I told him about an article in the Aids Lifecycle daily journal. In this article one of the riders mentioned he had almost died of aids because he became medically uninsured in 2005. Through the help of the L.A. Gay and Lesbian Center he got the help he needed. Today he can participate in Aids Lifecycle. Now, for me as a European this is not easy to understand. In a lot of European countries anybody who needs medical care can get it, whether you are insured or not. We pay tax to finance this care and I think most Europeans support this tax measure. In short, the government takes care of its citizens and I told the man who lives on D88 that I could not understand the American health situation. He told me he couldn’t either.
End of the discussion? No, because I also see the upside of this situation. The man asked me if we had fundraising events like Aids Lifecycle in Holland. I told him us Dutch folks can be quite altruistic if tsunamis or hurricanes wipe away entire parts of the world. And yes we do spend money on the aids foundation, the cancer fund etc. But when it comes down to it, these organizations are funded by the state. So the need to donate money to a good cause is felt. But it differs from the situation in the USA. Here money is seriously needed. If not, people might end up six feet under the ground.
It made me realize why Aids Lifecycle has such a tremendous effect on so many people: the riders, the communities we pass by, the people with hiv who benefit from this ride etc. Every day people stand alongside the road, waving and cheering at us. We visit elementary schools and the pupils show their respect for what we accomplish and  have accomplished. It’s rather unusual for me to feel this sense of community. It is very present, and let’s call that an understatement. 

No on A

Sometimes I forget what this ride is all about. This may sound rather odd, since a considerable amount of the riders is hiv positive and most of them are visible i.e. they have a little orange flag attached to their bike and they wear cycle jerseys stating ‘I am positive’. Cycling all day long and focusing on finishing each day’s ride makes Aids Lifecycle a sometimes solitary undertaking for me. Today was different however. When we left camp a guy with a funny wig was managing a somewhat chaotic traffic situation. I think he would do great as a traffic manager and he agreed. A few minutes later we had to stop again, this time because of a far less complicated situation. We were offered a free coffee by a local coffeeshop (no not the kind of coffeeshops you find in Amsterdam, mind you) in Santa Cruz. The funny thing about Americans is that they are outgoing. In short, they just start talking. In Holland most people are rather reserved. Public transport is a haven of serenity. I guess people like their privacy. Over here people are less uptight. Anyway, the man with the wig introduced himself and told me he was hiv positive. He also told me he had done 15 aids rides if I remember correctly. And he added that he was very proud of that fact. You see, showing some respect for what you have done is quite uncommon in my country I think. So I liked his honesty and his selfrespect. This conversation lasted no more than 5 minutes. He told me he had to take his medicine and he wandered off to the other side of the street. I presumed he wanted some privacy until I saw him smoking  what I assume was a joint. I’m not totally sure but yesterday someone mentioned to me that any patient who has chronic pain can get a prescription for joints. I was struck. Imagine, a country governed by conservatives that allows the use of softdrugs, even if it is for a specific kind of use. If this kind of liberalism continues I might become a conservative myself.

Today was also the longest ride of Aids Lifecycle: 105 miles (170 km). My bum hurts, I experienced moodswings, for the second day in a row I thought ‘Why the hell am I doing this?!’ and yet I arrived at camp, accompanied by a 6’5” (1.90 m) man whose name I forgot. Since I was wearing my CCCP jersey he gathered that I came from Russia. I could have played along and told him I was Vladimir – which I did a few times this day and I people were convinced – but I decided not to. He had been to Holland numerous times and sympathized with my lack of hill training. I just love this ride.

 

The scenery today was again stunning. We left the coast and headed for the countryside. Vineyards, artichoke and strawberry fields, hills with a golden touch to it, and a painful lack of wind. Painful because the sun was shining without shame. It was almost 90 degrees (30+ Celsius). You may know how appalling cyclists can look after  long rides in the sun. If not, think of a tanned body, and leave the upper half of the legs and the upper body blank. That’s how appalling.

Finally I was into politics today. Well I wasn’t actively involved in politics but the people in the area were. All day long I saw signs saying ‘No to A’. There were everywhere, in front of gardens of neatly mowed gardens, next to the highway, on a stretch of grass etc. It took quite some time to discover a ‘Yes to A’ sign, followed by the sentence ‘Let the voters decide’. There were actually two of those signs in a neighborhood filled with ‘No’s’. I guess social life as a Yesser isn’t what it used to be. Anyway, I wouldn’t state I’m a connoisseur of the USA but one thing I do know. Americans get really pissed off if local, state or national governments propose to use tax money for common purposes. My guess is that ‘A’ is just that. Hopefully someone can mail me what ‘A’ really is, because apparently this proposition affects people. And seeing so many signs on one day has made me rather curious about it.

SOMEWHERE OVER THE CALIFORNIAN RAINBOW

The summary of Day 1 is as easy as it is confusing. Here we go: hills, woods, windmills, the Wizard of Oz and Brian. Let’s start with the hills and the woods. The main feature of the today’s ride was a monstrous hill of 2.400 feet (more than 800 metres) and climbing this chunck of rock lasted about 15 miles (about 23 km). Being a Dutchman I do have a slight handicap. We don’t have serious hills in the Netherlands. Hence the name of my country nether (= low) lands. Luckily I long ago stopped being scared of monsters, so I just gave in and kept thinking: going up means going down. And somehow I managed to do this long climb at a considerable speed. The real funpart started once I reached the top. No Porsches or Maseratis for me. I prefer that oldfashioned feeling of going downhill on a steel horse, reaching a speed of 34 miles (50 km) an hour. Who needs an engine when the sheer force of your body and bike can do the trick?

In order to be fit for this ride I did 75 miles (125 km) rides with a couple of cycling friends of mine. We took the train, got out somewhere and cycled back to our hometown Amsterdam. It’s rather peculiar. Only recently have I discovered how beautiful my country is, especially when you cycle alongside a river. But cycling through California is an event in itself. My lord, have I enjoyed the scenery, ranging from woods with skyhigh trees and replenishing scents, to the Pacific coastline with its thundering waves. Although it was a real exotic scenery I had this one moment of feeling at home. In the middle of the woods I bumped into a real windmill.

After the long climb my body felt rather empty and when I was about to go into the ‘glass half empty’ modus, Brian showed up. He recently moved to Berkeley where he works as a lightning technician for the Berkeley University. Somehow my image of Americans is that they don’t travel abroad. After talking to Brian I know this is not true. He’s been traveling all over the world to do the lightning for a dance company. Anyway, it’s Brian’s first Aids Lifecycle and it was really charming to see how enthusiastic, curious and also slightly anxious he was. Although he told me he is an avid cyclist, doing 545 miles (900 km) is very demanding. So good luck to you Brian, and all the other first time riders.

Talking about fun and entertainment, today was a neat day. Just for the record, every day there are 4 reststops. Teams of volunteers supply all of us with food, sportsdrinks, ice cold water and a lot of (medical)care. Every reststop has its own theme and today’s highlight for me was The Wizard of Oz. Somehow this film always makes me feel a bit depressed. Perhaps because Dorothy is being bullied by her neighbour, Miss Elmira Gulch, perhaps because of the Technicolor colorscheme, perhaps because of the initial loneliness of her friends. Who knows. But at the Wizard of Oz reststop I felt none of this. In fact all characters seemed so real and so gay. And they even let me make a picture of them. Somewhere over the rainbow was definitely in California today. 

EARLY CASE OF BONKING

First of all, let me explain the concept of bonking. I must say I experienced this phenomenon quite a lot of times in my life without realizing there was actually a name for it. Here we go. Bonking is when you start to feel dizzy, your legs feel like there's not a bone inside of them, you start getting moody because of no apparent reason. In short you feel like shit. Now the reason you feel like this is because you didn't follow two very simple rules. Rules often repeated during Aids Lifecycle: eat before you're hungry and drink before you're thirsty.

Now why am I telling you this? Normally bonking happens to me during my training, so when I immerse myself in strenuous exercise. Standing in line to be registered for Aids Lifecycle isn't what I would call strenuous exercise. And still, today I suffered from a massive attack of bonking. So Day 0, as this day is called, was a bit of a bummer for me.

On the bright side I met a lot of nice people: Mike, my Russian comrade. I met him last year during ALC5 on day 2. I wore my bright red CCCP (=cyrillic for Russia) cycle jersey and out of the blue came Mike, calling me - in his best Russian accent: "Ghey you comrud (=comrade). Ghow are you doingk?" Of course coming from a foreign country and being a total ALC virgin, I felt completely happy. I had a new friend. The next day, when I wore a different cycle jersey I met Mike again. It took him some time to recognize me. I admit, I was undercover. Anyway, we started talking and for a brief moment our lives crossed. And you know, that's exactly what I like so much about doing this ride. You meet people you would normally never meet.

Ok, apart from Mike there was the bike mechanic who fit my bike last year. I presume he must have tons of customers throughout the year. Still when I gave him a phonecall a week ago to tell him I would be back he knew exactly who I was. He even remembered he put a longer stem on my steering wheel. How's that for an excellent memory.

Besides there were new people to be met on Day O e.g. Andrew. For a while now I have mailed with Andrew who works for the San Francisco Aids Foundation. Andrew is very internationally oriented. Moreover he can speak a dozen languages. Don't ask me why but for the last two years he's been learning Dutch. Considering only 25 million people on this planet speak Dutch I have wondered why on earth Andrew wants to learn my native language? I have forgotten to ask him, but I do admire his efforts. Moreover exchanging emails with him has been a lot of fun. Every week he learns new sentences. When he was writing his last email he was taught what to say when going to a Dutch shop. I remember he learned to be bitchy in case a Dutch employee would give him a Dutch Treat. Go get the bastards Andrew!

A PROBLEM CHILD

This is going to be a promising week. Earlier today the ALC webmaster called me about keeping this weblog. I had a nice talk with him. He wished me welcome, talked about Old Jenever (a Dutch drink with loads of alcohol in it) and his Dutch friend he drinks Old Jenever with, when all of a sudden he told me he expected me to be his ALC problem child. It's weird, because when I arrived in the USA yesterday I thought it was going to be exactly the opposite. Here's why.

My Dutch colleague lend me his American cellphone. Some of my ALC friends called me and left a message. So I dialed my voicemail number and this is what happens. A friendly woman tells me I have been granted a free music lesson for my child 'to test if he likes or has the ability to play a musical instrument'. To be honest, I wasn't even aware of the fact that I had a child. Still it was a nice gesture and it made me feel very welcome in the United States.

Come to think of it, the ALC webmaster might be right about my being a problem child. The guy at the airport Immigration Office probably thought the same. He had a rather blank expression on his face. And I think his eyes were rather reddish. He might have had a long night with his best pal. Anyway he asked me some questions.

• Officer: What are you going to do while you're here?
• Bart: I am going to do a sponsor cycle ride.
• Officer: Blank face.
• Officer: Who paid for your trip?
• Bart: I did.
• Officer: How long will you be staying in the USA?
• Bart: Two weeks.
• Officer: Who paid for your trip?
• Bart: I did.

It's true. I most certainly did. So what was the good man implying? That my planeticket was paid for by an entity that was not me, an entity with a criminal or even terrorist background? Or was he just suffering from a hangover, and struck by a sudden onset of Korsakov? Who knows. In the end, although he seemed to remain sceptical, he let me in. You see, even a problem child has its moments of luck.

About Bart

My parents decided to name me after the main character of a very popular Dutch TV series: Little Bart. He was an obnoxious little boy who loved getting attention. Apparently my parents could read the future.

The first 19 years of my life I spent in Lichtenvoorde, a small town in the East of Holland. My secondary school was about 4 miles up north in an equally small town, known throughout the whole world because of its replenishing yellowy elixir: Grolsch beer. In case you were considering to buy me a Heineken. I warn you, I might be insulted.

Since 1992 I live in the capital of the Netherlands: Amsterdam. I love my second hometown because of its liberal climate and its intimate scale - and intimately small apartments for that matter!

In 1999 I started working as a producer for Dutch television. Three years ago I had the privilege to make a highly acclaimed series on young people and diseases. The title: Shit Happens. And that’s exactly how these young people felt about their sometimes life-threatening afflictions: there’s more to life than my disease. Producing this series has given me a great sense of fulfillment and it inspired me to do ALC5, ALC6 and god knows how many more ALC’s. For me this ride is a positive way to create awareness of HIV/AIDS.