Three posts in one. Sorry in advance.

Hello again, fair readers. I apologize for my tardiness in posting this, but Berlin sucked Walker and I into its crazy, wonderful vortex the instant we arrived and we just haven’t been able to stop. Long days and longer nights have kept us occupied since the moment we stepped off the train in Alexanderplatz. But I’ll get there in a minute; for the sake of posterity, let’s back up a few days.

As you may have read, my birthday was basically canceled due to a Catholic holiday called the Feast of Ascension, so by birthday present from Walker (horseback riding through the apple orchards to the ocean and back) had to be delayed. We became determined to ride in Provence, and on Friday we finally spent the day on horseback. It took 7+ hours in the saddle, but we summited Mont Ventoux, which is part of the Alps chain and a UNESCO protected site due to the amazing diversity of its flora and fauna, some of which are only found in this one location. It’s a small mountain, as mountains go—only 6,273 feet—which explains how we were able to start on the plain below, summit, and return to camp in just over 9 hours. It is also featured in the Tour de France every couple of years.
My horse’s name was Nippy, and Walker’s was called Alaska. It didn’t take long to convince me that Walker’s horse should have been called Nippy, for obvious reasons. He called it Fat Albert. It wasn’t as mean as some horses I’ve known, but Alaska was obstinate to a fault on this journey. In a continued effort to lead the group, she kept trying to get in front of our guide (who was working off of a topo since there wasn’t much of a trail in places). This effort might involve walking on slippery shale or through a low pine tree, but Alaska continued to try. My horse, on the other hand, got tired of being harassed by Walker’s, and decided the back of the line was just fine. I swear the horse was watching and learning where not to put its feet by monitoring the other two in front of us. Being caboose gave me the freedom to practice my horseback acrobatics as I tried various positions to keep my knees from locking up, as well as the ability to fall back a ways so I could canter up again. We did get to canter for a mile or so at the start of the ride, but didn't want to lather up the horses too much.
We rode through ancient vineyards, where the grapevines had trunks as big as the nearby cherry trees, which were themselves flush with the fruit that you’ll see in the market in a week or two. We rode up the rocky soil, switchbacking through the trees, ducking under branch after branch. We probably spent an hour of the ride lying over our horses’ necks with various barks and beetles making their way down the backs of our shirts. We were headed for a restaurant at tree line called Chateau Reynard, a popular stop for cyclists on the way down the mountain after summiting. The restaurant is relatively cheap in order to appeal to the hundreds of cyclists who ride by it every day, but their chef is incredible. We ate the best meal we’d had our entire time in France: roasted Rosemary- and herb-encrusted lamb ribs, cheese-stuffed baked tomatoes, potatoes au gratin heavy on the garlic, and more. If they could have, my tastebuds would have handed in their notice, never wanting to taste anything again after the perfection of the crème brulée.
I could continue rhapsodizing on the view, the incredible diversity of the trees we rode through, the sweet birdsongs that accompanied us everywhere like something out of Bambi… but I’ll leave that for those of you who care to ask us about later.
Of course, the only day in Avignon that we absolutely had to walk several miles with fully-loaded packs was the day we woke up to a torrential downpour. As the locals were all celebrating the much-needed rain, Walker and I were collecting trash bags so that we could at least keep our packs dry. The bags were a success, but we arrived at the train station soaked and shivering.

After a train, a bus, a plane, two more trains, four shuttles, another plane, another two trains, and a stint on Santa’s sleigh, we arrived at Ingo’s house in Berlin. His mom is also in town and staying with him, a fact he didn’t mention, but which turned out to our advantage as she is a fantastic chef and a very interesting woman. We had no sooner arrived than we were invited to brunch with she, some of her old friends that happened to be in town, and several of Ingo’s friends and their traveling companions. It was a hodgepodge but very interesting group with conversations ranging from rock climbing to the pharmaceutical industry. That night, despite having woken up at 5am to catch our flight, we were persuaded to come out to the bars. Only the lure of Dr. Pong’s—the ping-pong bar that prompted me to learn to play two summer ago—could have kept us out as long as we were. I got 2nd place once, and Walker won twice. Ingo swept the floor with everybody, of course. I’m hoping to play him one-on-one today and see how well I do when tequila isn’t involved…

Yesterday we spent at Badeschiff, a bar built to mimic a beach—complete with sand and a sunken ship that has been converted into a swimming pool that floats in the river. What a brilliant idea! We laid on our towels playing cards and drinking grapefruit juice mixed with beer (very refreshing). Badeschiff is definitely the hip place to be on a sunny day, and you feel very exclusive heading through the warren of warehouses on the waterfront to where its entrance is hidden. The evening was much slower, and though we were out until past 3am (bars in Berlin close at 5 or 6, if they close at all) we spent the night just walking around town and eventually settling in at one comfy bar for scotch and conversation.

Not sure what the plan is for today, and that’s the way I want to keep it. It’s colder and windy today; no longer Badeschiff weather. Everyone is still asleep but me, and it’s after noon, but that is what has given me time to write. I’m going to go scrounge up some breakfast. We spend twelve hours traveling tomorrow, but I look forward to sleeping in my own bed!