around the world Archives - Wander Cyclist | A Bicycle Adventure in Asia

03 Aug 2014

Sticky Post By WanderCyclist Posted in China, Featured Blog Posts, Inner Ramblings, Landscape Photography, Tibet With 1 Comment Permalink

Mercy

Sticky Post By WanderCyclist On August 3, 2014 With 1 Comment

Hours spent sitting along the banks of Namucuo, the highest alpine lake on Earth, watching the current bring the most crystal clear water to my feet. Complete silence except for a single heartbeat, the pulsing of my own blood, and the water gently rolling and crashing to accompany the beat of my own rhythm. No one around for as far as eyes could see, small schools of fish coming to the surface, massive black ravens along the bank tending to themselves, and thousands of insects silently skimming across the lake. The waters and skies merging into one along the horizon, unable to differentiate between earth and the heavens. We are one and at the mercy of it all.

Lake Namu in Tibet Autonomous Region

05 Mar 2014

Sticky Post By WanderCyclist Posted in Brooks Saddle, Publication With 2 Comments Permalink

The Brooks Bugle 2014

Sticky Post By WanderCyclist On March 5, 2014 With 2 Comments

I have a bit of exciting news for all of you.

During the first week in Dhaka, as I was preparing for the adventure over the next 3 weeks, Brooks England requested I write an essay for their annual publication The Brooks Bugle. At a coffee shop, under a dupatta and snuggled into a bright batik shalwar kameez, I pecked out a piece that felt as if I released a part of my soul into the universe. It felt good to write, like this, again. It felt great to relive those experiences but at the same time reminding myself who I am and what I stand for.

The Brooks Bugle is a publication of 150,000 and distributed through shops, subscribers, and each saddle and bag sold throughout 2014 will include one. I’m so humbled by the response to this piece. It was almost 4 years ago I embarked on this physical journey, and it’s been an emotional one since.

I am not sponsored by Brooks and it was a delight and honor to be asked because of my previous accomplishments. I’ve added the text below this blog post to make it easier to read.

Currently going through these files from last month, I have a couple of stories that I feel are just incomplete. This is why I’m not sharing them publicly. Sitting here in awe of the people I shared life with in one of the most horrible conditions I’ve ever seen. I’m using all my possible resources to try and find funding to continue this very important work. I’ll be privately emailing folks soon, with a few limited edition prints available in hopes to raise funds to continue this work. This really gives me a punch in the pride, but I have limited options right now. There were so many of you that donated generously to my Kickstarter because you believed in the work I was doing, and this current body of work is equally important. There were so many of you that didn’t want a reward, you just wanted to see me succeed, you wanted to see the faces that meant something to me. My eye and technique has developed so much over the past few years and I feel like that the stories I am trying to tell need to be told. Humbly yours, forever – Moseman.

(Now we read the news about supposed terrorists looming through Xinjiang. There is no proof yet that Uyghurs were responsible but it’s already been publicized that they are at fault. You can bet I won’t be wearing headscarves around China any time soon.)

Meet Shabana. She’s an adolescent living in the slums of Dhaka. I went with her to her home where she showed me a photo of her future husband. When leaving Dhaka, I did not get to say goodbye to her because she now works in the garment industry. Her mother was a cook and cleaner where I was staying, so the message has been passed along that I will return and hopefully get to see her again. Shabana was my Bengali teacher for the first week in Bangladesh.

When talking to with young women, and recent brides, it’s not the arranged marriage that sits wrong with me. It’s not my place as a white Western woman to try and change the culture and tradition. What saddens me is that there is no support or therapy for these young women when they fall into depression and confusion after being put into a strange household, a young husband, and strange parent in laws.

There are nearly 3999 other images I want to share, but I chose this one because she’s a young lady I saw over a course of a few days and I have a bit of an emotional attachment to. She braided/plaited my hair horribly a few times, with me nearly falling asleep in her sweet arms when combing her fingers through my dry, ratty hair.

If you’d like to be taken off the mailing list as well, please don’t hesitate to email me at [email protected]. I’m a thick skinned gal and can handle it. Also I know how these days we are bombarded with emails.

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Text from The Brooks Bugle:

A horizon of 360 degrees, the most vivid and rich blue skies you only dream of and at times standing on my tippy toes thinking I might actually be able to pluck a cloud from the heavens. Days would pass with seeing exactly 2 buses and if I were lucky a few lorries and a half a dozen motorbikes pimped out with neon colors and a speaker loaded on the back pumping American hip hop. Washboard roads and sometimes jeep tracks that cut through the plateau in the general direction I think I want to traverse. Locals have lined stones along the edge of the roads in hopes to prevent the tourism industry loaded into Land Rovers from ruining this desolate, dry, arid, and vacant space.

My feet sore from walking, inspecting the soles being worn down in the heels and at times catching my feet dragging. The sun is boiling my skin and I have every millimeter covered except my face and the two top knuckles of my fingers. If I get out of the sun I freeze.

I have no detailed maps, just some crap tourist map of China, as I never had intent of crossing into the Tibetan Autonomous Region. My riding partner of six weeks, that I had randomly met in Litang, and I had a very heated, abrupt, and emotional break up in a the middle of a yak field days after crossing over. Along with the absence of maps there was also no fuel for my alcohol stove as we had come to rely on his gas burner. I would NEVER find myself to not be self sufficient again.

Every night in my camp, marking the weeks since I had a shower, I would examine my feet noticing they are turning more and more blueish. My fingernails are pulling away from the bed, my ears are constantly ringing along with the constant “thud” of my heartbeat felt within my ear canal and all over my head. Lying down in my tent with the inability to sleep, hungry, I wonder if this is what it feels to be buried alive. At times I genuinely feel like I am going insane and even avoid nomads because I do not want to alert them of the mad woman on a bicycle.

This was the time of my life. These weeks and the months leading up to it would mark a major transformation of who I was and who I am today. Realizing how damn insignificant I am in this world, as Eleanor, as a human, and how we all are at the complete mercy of nature. There is no fresh water on the plateau, hail storms can give you a twenty minute warning and beat the hell out of you. Snapping tent poles because of the cold wind blasting at you and there is no wind shield at 5400 meters. Pouring cold water into your instant noodles while you set up your bed for the night hoping they will be soft for consumption in a few minutes. I had to eat as my 6′ frame was already down to 53 kgs a few weeks before and I know it was probably much lower at this point. Looking at my hands I could see the veins, tendons, and bones protruding more than ever before. Catching a glimpse of my hip bones in the tent at night, sometimes I wondered how I even had any strength to carry on during the days. There was NO option.

I have never felt so free in my entire life. People ask if I was lonely these days and I honestly can say the fullness I carried in my heart kept me company every second. If I looked hard enough along the horizon I could spot a nomad and a young child…or a shepherd woman perched on a cliff watching over her flock of sheep. Finding a nomad gypsy camp and witnessing an outrageous Shaman ritual or spending the morning helping a family of 10 children prepare for a journey to a local market. Life is full of richness and fleeting moments of pure bliss, but you have to keep moving forward, keep taking risks, keep placing yourself out of your comfort zone to encounter these seconds that make up an entire journey…of life.

With no maps, fear of water supply, I must trust myself because I have no one to help me through this. When you stand on a slight rolling hill on the plateau and you can see hundreds of kilometers ahead with no site of human life, you have to convince yourself there is no other option but to go forward. I’m not going to lie. It was tough. It was one of the most emotionally demanding experiences of my life but I managed to enjoy every second of it too.

This part of my tour of 26,000 kilometers is one of a few where it was more than just cycling. It was about self discovery, learning lessons of life, and becoming an emotionally and mentally stronger person. Moments that are brought to mind to get me through the days, where I find myself back in society a little over a year after pausing my tour. I say “pause” because I will never feel that it has concluded.

I watch our society want, and at times, expect immediate gratification and results. Summiting passes sometimes takes days and a whole lot of patience. One reason I cycle alone is because I really enjoy the ride up. I probably take a lot more breaks on the roadside than most and where I can stare out into the beauty of the world and time seems to lose all meaning. There is nowhere to be, no one to meet, no agenda. I’ll get to the top when I’m ready…there is no rush for me and the hours spent on the side of the road thinking and having revelations about life that I will not remember to the next day is what a lot of my tour was about.

Now it’s very evident this is also how I approach life. At 34 my photography career is just beginning to be something I can call a profession and rely on it completely for income. I received my first camera at 14 and was accepted into a program at 19. As you can see, I’m not a kind of person that gives up and I remind myself it’s about developing a stable and reliable grounding. What person can summit a 5040meter pass without weeks of training leading up to it?

There are too often times we can’t foresee or predict the outcome from our actions. We must have faith that something ahead will peak out and our hopes and dreams will be exceeded. Holding a steady pace and carrying on while remaining to have hope will take us far. Expectations? I carry none. Adding that to a load varying between 60-80kgs at time could be very very hefty. I’d prefer to be surprised when I summit that mountain that lies distant within my site.

When I feel like life is just spiraling out of hand and the switchbacks never seem to cease I put myself back on the saddle and return to the mindset that got me through those years navigating around Asia. I continue to take risks, while trusting myself and knowing there are also millions of people in this world that would be more than happy to help you if they can. Reminding myself I am at the mercy of nature but it will be left up to my own strength and will power to survive, or rather, excel.

Life sure is like a very very long bicycle ride. I have no idea what the destination is but I sure am enjoying the journey…wherever it leads.

09 May 2013

Sticky Post By WanderCyclist Posted in Uncategorized With 32 Comments Permalink

Feeling Lesser Than A Woman (Does that mean I’m a man?)

Sticky Post By WanderCyclist On May 9, 2013 With 32 Comments

Oh dear God, Allah, Buddha…it’s been ages since I’ve sat down and pecked out my thoughts to share with you and you and you and you and you.

Here I am, sitting in Dayton, Ohio listening to some modern folk, alt-country rock and sipping my herbal tea with soy milk…my stress at an all time high (unable to sleep and eat) and my back in constant pain. Okay…okay…okay…here we go. Are you ready?

Like I’ve stated here before, “I’m more woman than you could handle.” I know this simple fact about me, but here in the other “real world” when I’m sitting here alone in my room behind a flickering computer screen hoping for a loving transmission from anyone…the doubt creeps in faster than the cold into my feet on the Tibetan plateau.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to go on a date. I have no desire to have to do all that relationship stuff because I just don’t have time or the energy for it. Everything in my life, I have made or chosen, is difficult and love is one thing I feel like I shouldn’t have to work so hard at. Frankly, because, well I deserve it…damn it! (To be quite honest, I’m not yet over something of the past.)

Okay, I’m trying to keep this cohesive and lucid, before I run off the rails.

I do NOT have “balls”. –edit- Perhaps this just comes with being in a territory that is predominately men. My hair has come up in conversation close to a dozen times and I really doubt men have these types of comments made to them. For the record, I do not shave my armpits or leg hair…so men make comments about this and sometimes it goes further. I’m realizing that the people who make these comments to me are making cheap shots because I threaten their masculinity. Such a pity. Such a pity that a human life form that has a frailer bone structure, less muscle mass (generally), can conceive and birth life form, has a higher thresh hold for pain, and generally better at endurance challenge your XY chromosome. -edit-

This is not to be a men bashing post at all because some of the worst bullying I’ve received in my life was from female peers. Also, I want to state that all the men I’ve traveled with were always decent. Most of the men I’ve crossed paths with on two wheels have been, there are a few rotten ones I have encountered…or maybe it was over inflated egos.

I was a “tomboy”. The only girl in a neighborhood of boys. The baseball was hit further, the tree was climbed higher, and the punches thrown harder. When I got tired of being the “nurse” when playing “war” or having to tend to the fort while the boys were out hunting and gathering…I would retreat to my room and play Barbie’s – ALONE. Once a week I would attend Girl Scouts and my dance classes that went on for about eight years – the one thing in my life I regret giving up. I wasn’t all boy, I was still a girl…with long stringy tangly brown hair.

There is a memory of getting ready for my First Communion and I remember looking at my knees. They looked horrible…scabs, cuts, bruises continuing all the way down the calves. Of course I couldn’t remember how I got them, of course outside having fun as any normal child would. My mom told me it was nothing but I remember looking at other girl’s legs and they didn’t look like mine. I knew I was different from a very young age, and it’s been a battle every day.

The internet personality, the Wander Cyclist, probably appears cute and confident. You may think that I was a pretty popular girl growing up. “Popular” if you mean teased and gossiped about. If you mean not getting invited to slumber parties, and later on “make out” parties. I always had the pretty friend (or “easy”), where I was left in the shadow. Ellen of yesteryear was terribly awkward and “different”. A very small southern town in Virginia, I always knew I didn’t belong with the masses. With the gangs. With the others.

Maybe the reason I’m so “tough” now, why I can handle what I’ve put myself through is because growing up was far from “easy” and “comfortable”.

Gender roles. This is what I’m trying to get to. Defining attributes, physical, mental, and emotional.

It’s 2013 and I’ve been reading articles on the internet and following some popular culture. What is with all this women bashing.? I’m also talking about women bashing other women, i.e. a woman stating that a cheerleader was too chunky to be cheering. What is wrong with us, WOMEN?! Damn it, you and I have it hard enough and then we go around criticizing one another for their body type and what we’ve chosen to cover it with.

Why is that the only thing a woman has to offer society is her looks?

Just go take a gander at any modern man’s magazine and look at the imagery of women. That is not real! Real women do not look like that. Real women have something so much more to offer. Real women are mother’s taking care of their children, with extra weight and perhaps stretch marks. Real women are the ones in politics fighting for justice, using their brains. Real women are those that are on the front lines in our military. Real women are the ones that live for themselves, that better themselves, that have something more to offer this world than a good pair of perky tits and a slim waist.

I recently watched the first two minutes from a comedian, Miss Marbles, and she was ranting about the people she hates at the airport. She spent two whole minutes explaining how she doesn’t trust girls who can travel with only a backpack. “What kind of girl are YOU?” I’m watching her overly made up face, and coiffed hair to have a “messy” look ramble on about how her makeup takes up a certain amount of space. I don’t know Miss Marbles, what kind of girl AM I? Yes, I do wear makeup…stick of eyeliner, mascara, one eye shadow, and maybe a lipstick or two. Simple. Yes. Hey, and get this…I love wearing dresses too. One major reason is because I have difficulty with pants because of my cycling legs. What kind of girl AM I? I’m a girl that wears sports bras all the time because wires jabbing into my rib cage are uncomfortable and only to give perky breasts for the benefit of WHO?

Am I a woman?

Well, I’m beginning to think I’m not by the standards that are sent through the media. That I may never be. I honestly should quit spending time on this question because I know something most people will never know. I know me. I know who I am, what I stand for…I can spend days and days with only myself. No fear of what I may learn or realize. Comfort with who I am.

This isn’t so cycling and tour related, or even photography related but I really felt like some things needed to be stated.

I do think my tour took some characteristics away from me that are usually deemed “female”. OR…or…MAYBE, JUST MAYBE…I never had them to begin with and my struggles pre-tour was more about trying to fit into what was expected of an XX human.

Maybe we are all a blank slate and we become conditioned by media, friends, and family to fit into a certain gender mold. I know that straight men who may be seen to have female characteristics have it much more difficult than us straight females. So, to conclude this post I’d like to ask all of you to do a simple challenge is to drop the definitions, to quit being a “man” or a “woman” and just be you.

With these conclusions, I do know that when I’m ready for love it will not be a man and a woman, a boyfriend and a girlfriend, but two completely equal human beings. Undefined. The other will not define the other. The relationship will not define anyone’s worthiness. Each will be a protector. Each will be a provider. Each our own. The most important, the respect of each other’s solitude.

Well folks, I’m not sure how this went but I hope you can take something from it. Mostly, I hope some little odd ball girl stumbles across this post and realizes she is far from alone. That the whole wide world is out there, waiting for her. That she has the courage to do it alone…and it’s best that way.

Men make comments about how there are few women like me out there in the world. Well, I’ll tell you this, by the amount of private emails and notes I know for a fact a lot more of us exist. But, it’s a fact we are more difficult to find and even more difficult to catch. You’ll find us tucked away in bookstores, on a lonely trail, in a tent on a plateau, in an NGO office in some far off country, or as simple as standing alone in the grocery with a frozen pizza under one arm and debating over which micro brew to indulge in for the evening.

Don’t forget about the Etsy store. I’m trying to raise funds for my big move back to Shanghai and unfortunately things aren’t going so smooth. I ACTUALLY cried last night. I thought I couldn’t do that anymore…I’m trying to soften up. The life on a road has toughened me up, perhaps too much. A boy nicknamed me “Ice Princess” in my early twenties…and I guess it’s just gotten colder since then. But we all know that usually the people with that thick and cold exterior are often the softest, warmest, and most loving under it all.

http://www.etsy.com/shop/MosemanPhotography

Also, my website is under construction, 4 portfolios up now. Go check it if you’d like to kill some time today. Ah, yes, and the book for the Kickstarter rewards is in progress, and additional will be for sale.

I’d love to write more, but maybe I should save some stuff for that book I’m supposed to write someday.