Day 4

I was full of trepidation when I woke up this morning – the big question, how was the knee going to survive? I had ibuprofen for breakfast and managed to scrounge a tensor bandage. From the get-go I decided to make it an active rest day, a short day to keep my knee on the read to recovery. 50km was the plan – to the town of Espanola. The riding was beautiful – I’ve transitioned into the Canadian Shield – hilly, rocky terrain, filled with overgrown bush and brimming with wildlife. The weather was shit. It was half raining and gusty headwinds – it was going to happen eventually, why not now.

Every turn of the pedals was filled with grim expectation. I was waiting for the pain to erupt and thankfully it never really eventuated. Sure it hurt like hell, but not like yesterday, not even close.

50km fell in just over two hours – the town of Espanola is a bit of a hole to be honest. Gone are the charming lakeside towns – this is a Northern Ontario pulp mill town. The rotten fart smell of the mill lingers through the scruffy streets. It feels like the whole community is on life support, just waiting for the powers that be to pull the plug. There is a heavy heart here. There’s no joy in the faces of the local’s just an underlying sense of impending doom.

I’ve spent the afternoon relaxing and recovering – the knee feels alright and I’m looking forward to getting back to work tomorrow. Oh and one more thing – long time readers of this blog will be familiar with my traditional meal that I have at some point in every country I visit. Well today was the day to visit The Coronal and it was awesome…

Recap:
Distance - 50km
Location - Espanola
Accommodation – hotel
Meal of the day – 3 piece original recipe with fries
Beard status – looks on purpose now
Song of the day – no music today, it was raining
Photo of the day – Vitamin I

Oprah, KFC and me...

Ok it’s no secret I have a soft spot for KFC. Yes I know the wonderful irony that I am a vegetarian, but on occasion I eat KFC. Long ago I decided to eat the chicken of doom in every country that I visit, or at least every country that has a franchise. Perhaps it all stems from a very funny question a friend asked me years ago, “What do you call a vegetarian that eats chicken?” I thought it was the start of a joke, but it turns out she was honestly curious. I was dumbstruck and had nothing to offer.

I’ve been a veggie for years for a variety of reasons – heath and land-use ethics are the main ones – but another reason is discipline. I like the idea of facing a craving every day and saying no, not because of an ideological subscription, but by a conscious choice I make every day. To me this is a very powerful decision to make - a much harder one than simply saying that, 'I’m not allowed' and turning away. I say no to KFC (most of the time) because I choose not to and for no other reason.

So why am I babbling about KFC today? Well Oprah, yes that Oprah (she’s so entrenched into the cultural zeitgeist that ‘Oprah’ is pre-loaded into the Word spell-check – with Obama, iPod, and Facebook all getting the underline treatment) has decided to give everyone in America a meal at KFC. Go to her website and print out a coupon for a free meal at the grease pit. Apparently it is to promote some sort of healthy meal they are introducing.

What the fuck?

You don’t have to be a nutritionist to know that smelling KFC let alone eating it will take tangible amounts of time off your life expectancy. And not only is the most influential woman in America, no, the World saying it’s ok to eat it, she’s giving the shit away? I say again, what the fuck is up with that? I could go on for hours on the inevitable corporate kickbacks and dietary ramifications of such a credible celebrity (sorry does that sound like an oxy-moron to anyone else?) endorsing what is likely the most unhealthy meal on the planet but I’ll save you from that. I guess it’s just another strange turn of events in an already strange world…

I am still waiting for my free Dr. Pepper because Chinese Democracy hit the shelves before China became a democratic nation…

For more on my history with KFC click HERE. For more on celebrities selling out to fast food click HERE.

Scott Vs. Wild?

Solo travel is an interesting beast, full of constants and variables. Some things change every day and some things seem to always be the same. The funny thing is, you can never guess what those variables are going to be…

Travelling in the Caribbean isn’t exactly the realm of the backpacker – not many honeymooners like to share a bunk room with a coupe of other dirtbags. So the standard of living that I’m encountering dictates that I’m logging my fair share of nights in hotel rooms. Now when I was a kid, a hotel room was this great adventure – I’d race around and see what was up for free in the bathroom, jump on the bed and search for the pop machine. But things are a bit deferent now – after logging more then my fare share of nights in hotels, plus spending most of my days poking my head into rooms, the novelty of the hotel room has worn off a bit

So back to constants – every hotel room has a bed, a bathroom and in this part of the world a TV. When I spend the whole day out on my feet – dawn till dusk researching, taking notes and writing – the last thing I honestly want to do is read – the TV reigns supreme. Luckily there are a fair few channels to watch – beyond the five, yes 5 religious stations it would seem that The Discovery Channel is a constant. So I’ve been watching allot of shows like Mythbusters and a show called Man Vs. Wild. It’s a pretty cool show hosted by a guy called Bear Grylls who is this former SAS guy who skydives into some wilderness area like Patagonia and has to find a way to survive. Inevitably he ends up eating some nasty, nasty stuff to survive. You know live snakes, raw zebra and squeezing the water out of camel shit – standard sort of stuff!

I’m not sure if some of that thinking, that will to survive at any cost, has started to sink in – but perhaps so…

So I arrived in St Vincent a few days ago, on a Sunday and after a big day of travel I was starving. Now here in the Caribbean, things grind to an almighty halt on Sundays. Things go quick-quiet and the streets vacate and all of a sudden you feel like you’re the omega man. So there I was wandering the streets about 8hrs since breakfast and the dinner options were shrinking - and fast. And then I came around the corner and saw to my horror the only place open.

KFC.

Now, for some folks that would be a welcomed sight, for some it would be a means to an end – but not for me. Thing is, for the last decade I’ve been a vegetarian. And KFC doesn’t exactly ‘do’ vegi, I eat fish but there wasn’t even a fish option. So there I was standing at the counter and said something I haven’t uttered since 1999, “could I have a 3 piece meal, original recipe, with fries and a coke.”

I thought of Bear and dug in. a thigh, a leg, a breast and more trans fat then I’ve consumed since the 1990’s… I’d like to say that it was like eating raw zebra, but actually it was ok. I thought it was going to be a once a decade sort of thing, till the next day which was new years eve. Well that was pretty much a holiday, so at 7pm I walked up to the counter and said, “could I have a 3 piece meal, original recipe, with fries and a coke.” And then as if to add insult to injury, today is new year day, again a holiday, so…. Wait for it… “could I have a 3 piece meal, original recipe, with fries and a coke.”

I think I’m still a vegetarian? It was a survival situation, like eating the pilot after the plane crash – there’s nothing all that wrong with that is there?

You gotta love travelling, where you get to experience new and strange things – like chicken.
Have fun out there,
~Scott