Guest Blog: Bike-packing Across Scandinavia at 64

Palmerola Airport: Comayagua, Honduras

2 June 2024

I splurged. I paid $35 for get access to the VIP lounge to have a little bit of privacy. A little security, access to WiFi and charging stations, soft chairs, and a meal. I had the tiniest chicken Caesar Salad I have ever had, a tiny glass of Diet Pepsi, and a bottle of water. I am now sitting at a long desk and typing. Naturally, I feel a little guilty for spending the money, as I do for this trip. A nagging part of my brain is telling me that I should be saving every cent in case of an emergency—same reasons my grandparents scrimped and saved—the next depression, lose my job, civil war, Russian invasion, or whatever. 

As shameful as it is to admit, I was woefully out of shape for my last trip in Arizona. I had just had an MRI, holiday meals and snacks, and ridden a train to Arizona, and damned near died on the first 61-mile leg. I questioned the sanity in continuing to ride like this. At least Day One was no fun. And the day I crashed was not fun. So, I did some soul-searching and decided for this trip, I would get in much better shape. Despite a number of challenges—a biopsy, broken tooth, oral surgery and complications, sudden death of my brother—I still managed some modest improvements in my preparation.

-Stepped up exercise to an average of about 7 miles a day walking 

-Some modest upper body weight-lifting

-Better diet

-Lost 12 pounds. 

I know, I know. You are asking yourself, why this is the first you are ever hearing of exercise and diet can make you healthier. Not sure I have a good answer. Doctors don’t like to share that information. 

I also cut 3 pounds from my backpack

-Packed fewer wires

-Fewer excess items from shaving kit (Soap, cream, pills, shampoo, scissors, clippers)

-Fewer shirts and socks

In the end, I added 2-3 pounds for a better battery pack, so I may not have saved much.

However, instead of riding 61 miles the first day, my first planned leg is 40 miles. I also did something that I haven’t done in a while. I packed lighter. I always think I pack light. But this time, I removed a bunch of junk from my two bags so I can carry it all on. I don’t have to wait on luggage at the carousel in Houston or Stockholm. Just my backpack and overhead bag. This morning, Milthon arrived 10 minutes early to pick me up, so I got to the airport 30 minutes early. The check-in desk was not open. I got some coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Not very good. I was in line early, and a kind man put me at the front of one of the lines. A friendly security lady seemed amused when I responded to the question of why I was traveling to Sweden by saying, “I will ride my bike,” using my hands to indicate the peddling motion. I am sure I came across as a lune. 

The three immigration people were nice. I was randomly selected as for a second baggage check. A very nice, young man checked my belongings carefully, asking me how long I had lived in Honduras, what I did, similar questions to that of the security lady earlier. I told him I had been here six years, worked on a USAID project, could speak enough Spanish to defend myself (a Spanish expression.)

Frankfurt Airport: Frankfurt, Germany

3 June 2024

As I sit here at Gate B1, a German lady in her 50s sits beside me speaking German into a mobile phone. Two men about my age sit across from me also speaking German. I can’t help but think that 80 years ago, Germany was embroiled in a world war that they instigated, leading to the death of an estimated 75 million people. We cannot even begin to appreciate that figure. Maybe 40,000 have died in Gaza recently since the war started. Perhaps 250,000 in the Ukrainian war in the past two years.

Today, this nation is one of the most peaceful in the world. Number 15 out of 163 countries on the Institute for Economics and Peace’s Global Peace Index. The US is ranked 131, right behind Haiti and South Africa, but that is a discussion for another blog. What a difference 80 years can make!

On the plane, I sat beside a young Muslim woman in a hijab. She was sitting behind her husband or brother. Her English was native, and her Arabic seemed just as good. She was maybe 18 or 19. Spent a lot of time on her phone. Watched a Japanese or Korean talk show on the United Airlines monitor or played videos games when she wasn’t sleeping with her head on the fold-down tray. She dropped her phone. Became exasperated with herself. Seemed like an ordinary shy teenager, only she wore a hijab. The African American woman across the aisle dropped her pillow on the floor no less than a dozen times while she was trying to retrieve items from her backpack under the seat only to put them back in. The process of retrieving, dropping, and putting back lasted no less than ten minutes before takeoff. It was a miserable 9 hour and 50 minutes flight from Houston to Frankfurt. 

I slept maybe 1 1/2 or 2 hours. I just can’t get my feet into a comfortable position on a plane anymore. And I fly economy, so there is no room to stretch out. The plane was full. But I tried to go with the flow. Anxiety doesn’t make it go faster or smoother. What does make it go easier is trying to make the best of it. 

I have a used bike waiting for me at Christian’s house in Odeshog, Sweden. A few hours southwest of Stockholm. He bought it off FB Market.

I met Christian in Erbil, Iraq in 2003, when I was a US Department of Labor advisor to the Iraq Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs in Baghdad. 

Christian drove down from Duhuk, where he worked for SIDA (Swedish International Development Cooperation Agency) overseeing a home for street children and another home for victims of gender-based violence: Honor Killings. In many Muslim countries, families kill their daughters, sisters, and wives for perceived or real pre-marital sex, extra-marital affairs, or even falling victim to rape or incest in order to cleanse the family’s honor. SIDA’s home was a refuge for these women and girls. And sometimes family members, Christian explained, would fire randomly at the house. 

The Department of Labor wanted to give SIDA a grant to reduce child labor in Iraq. I was in the process of writing a report on that status of child labor, and my boss in DC wanted me to meet and learn about SIDA’s programming. I spent a few days with him, visiting the homes in Duhuk. Christian ended up writing a proposal for $5 million (I think), we approved it, but SIDA ended up not accepting the grant because they didn’t want to accept funds from the American invaders of Iraq. Christian almost quit over it. 

A couple nights after the attack at the Al-Rashid Hotel in Baghdad, where I was injured, Christian met me in Amman, Jordan as I was on my way back to the US. We had dinner before I flew back through Frankfurt (this very airport) and to my family in Maryland. Christian and I remained friends ever since. 

Based on Christian’s model, we succeeded in establishing a home for women accused of sex outside of marriage inside the Green Zone in Baghdad in 2004, fully funded it for one year ($75,000), and took in a handful of women. But a corrupt Iraqi official kicked the women out and took the home for himself. This was a few days after I was back in DC, and I complained about it, but no US official wanted to raise a fuss about a few prostitutes. In fact, most of our Iraqi staff couldn’t see the value in protecting these women. I mention it in an article I published many years ago “Honor Crimes,” Encyclopedia of Sex and Gender (Macmillan, 2007).

Christian is as well-read in English as just about anyone I know, but his native tongue is Swedish, of course. He is an intellectual without a college degree. His empathy and reasoning is second to none. He is the type of friend that you don’t see for years, then when you meet, you pick up where you left off. 

In 2006 or 2007, when I was running the Civil Society Division of IREX, I recruited him for my deputy. He flew into DC, spent a few nights with me, interviewed for the position, was accepted, but after discussing it with his wife, he declined the offer. He visited us in Florida in our condo in 2011 or so, and then again in Nairobi, Kenya in 2015 or thereabouts. Mirna and I planned to come to Sweden a couple times in the past decade, but ended up cancelling for one reason or another. So, this a long-awaited visit, a bucket list item. I have always wanted to see Scandinavia, and to bike across it is a definite pleasure. I am more than ready.