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Goodbye Facebook

So here it finally is.
I’m breaking up with Facebook.

Maybe I should change my relationship-status (regarding Facebook) to «It’s complicated»,- because it is..
So many funny videos of animals, or «drunk guy falling down ladder in Hillbilly-country».
So easy to stay connected and keep up to date on what my friends and distant family are doing at any one time.
And at the same time it is all so mind numbing. Pictures of food, pets, glasses of wine and more pets.

We don’t make regular plans or send invitations on paper anymore. Most events are arranged via Facebook. Both for work and social get-togethers, birthday parties and the like. Any time now Facebook will be the go-to medium for wedding invitations as well as funeral arrangements. I’m sure of it, and I find the idea scary and creepy and a little bit tantalizing. As I said, it’s complicated.

I like the convenience, but there seems to be no limit with regards to data-sharing between sites like Facebook and Amazon and many others. Yes, I buy all of my books and a lot of other stuff via Amazon, and then my Facebook is drowned in commercials of items similar to what I just bought. Convenient, scary, very annoying, and a bit worrying.

The amount of time I spend on Facebook seems waaay to high. I’m probably no worse or better than anyone I know. Most of my Facebook friends will agree on any given day,- right after taking a test to find your inner spirit animal, favourite color, and apparent age… It just seems like a lot of time wasted on nothing. Time that could have been better spent reading a book or working out (without checking in to let everyone know I’m working out), or maybe chasing a hobby, honing a skill, or just actually talking face to face with the people that matter in my life.
Nope,- Facebook-chat does not count! Body language should not equal words-per-minute on a QWERTY! But sadly I feel that’s the case today.

Am I moving into a cave and going full-on Amish? Of course not! I just want to change the way I interact with friends and family. I still have this blog if I feel I need to share something with «everyone». My friends already follow me on Instagram, have my phone number and email address, and they  know where I live, because we actually hang out from time to time.

Focusing on my friends and family in real life, my hobbies, my reading and working out (in secret because Facebook won’t know about it) will most likely bring a new level of quality to,- well,-  everything..

There is a good chance I will miss the mindless entertainment and keeping updated on current events as sorted, prioritized and presented by Facebook but that in it self is just another reason for me to shut down my account. Cold turkey seems the only solution.

It’s complicated. There are many valid reasons for why I should stay on Facebook, and there are at least an equal amount of arguments for why I should just log out, and carefully back away.Funny enough I feel I have to post this on Facebook in order to quit Facebook. And who knows? Maybe I’m not a quitter? Maybe my life has no meaning without Facebook? Time will tell I guess..

But, for now it’s over. I’m breaking up with you, Facebook. I’d like to say «it’s not you, it’s me», but I feel we need to be honest to each other at this point. It’s not me. It’s you! It was fun in the beginning,- but you changed and it all turned to shit.

I am free

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When can I…?

Visiting family in southern Spain, and meeting up with my sister and her family from Dallas, Texas, I got another rare glimps of family life and I keep thinking about the choises that set us apart, or draws us nearer.

Walking around in Mijas, a little village high above the city of Fungirola, my little nephew, aka «Monkey» came up to me. Falling in step he directed my attention to one of many tourist-souvenier-shop-traps that sold very authentic swords. Very..
Anyways, Monkey points them out, looks up at me, and asks

«Uncle Christer, did you see that sword?»
«Um, yeah shure»
Then he was quiet a long time, roughly 5 seconds.
«When can I get one?»
«When your 30?»
«How about now?»
«How about never?»

We heckled back and forth and I think we decided on somewhere between 18 and 27..

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The day after while laying on the beach sipping vino blanco, making like a lizard just absorbing the heat,- the talk from the night before got me thinking… (I was on vacation, and only give myself a little thinking-alowance each day) …that we always wait. We always wait.

Whenever you want something – anything – bigger than a can of coke,- it’s almost always not now,- but later. Some of the most often used words when dealing with dreams and wants are (I may or may not make this up as I go along)

Soon
Later
When you’re older
Next year
After (enter event as you see fit)

Being adult about it, this makes all kinds of sense. But maybe that is the problem? The adult part?

Take me as an example. I want a boat. But I’ve got to buy a house first. I want to start diving again. But I need the house first. 
During the day I want to do or buy many things but a stern voice always (most of the time) says «later», «next year» etc.
So I wait and postpone because that is the smart choice, and I am all about smart choices. The stern voice is backed by the chours of belivers who strongly believe they know better how I should live my life.
The verse of their higher learning is thundering in it’s wellmeaning arrogance
«You should…»
«You must…»
«You should…»
«You must…»
Like seaguls you can almost tune it out. Almost.

Asking myself the question so clearly spoken by Monkey; «when can I?»,- I realized a few things;

1) Demanding or asking sets us apart in two goups with a very different mindset, just like closeminded and openminded people. Feel free to draw any paralels here
2) Enjoy every day, even if some things must be postponed, still make sure that every day is a win
3) Don’t give a real sword to a nine-year old.

When can I? 
Whenever I want to. All choices have consequences, but I need them to be my consequences, following my coices. Not the wellmeaning arrogance of others..

Live for the moment. There’s plenty of time to be an adult later.

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Gorilladays.com

"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple" Pondering Dr Seuss

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple”
Pondering Dr Seuss

Hey,- what now?!
What is this? New blogname, Old blog name. New design.
Is this some kinda Dr. Seuss-crazy?
Changes happen. You may plan for it or not. You may pay attention to it or not. It really makes no difference. They still happen. As my steady readers would know, our grand travelplans where cut short after about 3 months. Now we’re back home in Norway, figuring out our next step(s).
Part of this process is accepting that the title “LostBiker” is a huge misnomer.

Read More…

HELP! TRANSPORT!?!

HELP

That’s what we need.

HELP.

Christer & Tonje. Happy travelers in Toscana, Italy.

Christer & Tonje. Happy travelers in Toscana, Italy.

Our world trip is safely underway, but we have encountered something of an obstacle.

We’re having trouble securing one very important thing: TRANSPORT from Spain to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Transport for the car that is. We want to ship it in a Container (standard 20 ft)

The car in question, a Mitsubishi Pajero Dakar. Yes, the angle of the image is correct! Steep narrow alpine roads in southern Austria

The car in question, a Mitsubishi Pajero Dakar.
Yes, the angle of the image is correct! Steep narrow alpine roads in southern Austria

Problem is that most of the big companies (Schenker, Maersk etc) will not ship unless it’s for a company. As a private party we’re a little out of luck. We had something ordered, but it may now fall through, sadly.

So, does anyone out there know of a shipping agent or company that can help us ship the car in a standard 20 ft container from Spain (Malaga, or any other port) to Argentina (Buenos Aires)? We want to ship early to mid november 2014.

If you know of someone, or have tips to this regard, please contact me

Email christer.berentsen@gmail.com

Phone 004740607088

We are currently in Benalmádena, Spain.

Also, please share this post to anyone and everyone that you think could help or have info.

Best regards

Christer & Tonje

www.lostbiker.net

Austria, Italy, added and removed equipment

Our first week was a blur of passing kilometers, bad diner-coffee and trying to find parts and equipment.

The second week we finally saw our new rooftent from Gordigear installed. Ofcource, nothing is ever straight forward. There is always some thing that goes wrong or is delayed. Since our would be norwegian 4×4 equipment supplier (who shall not be mentioned by name) could not deliver, we had to find an alternative. I reached out to Franz at Gordigear, Germany, – hoping that he would know where I could get what I needed. True enough, Franz delivered. He helped us locate a nearby 4×4 equipment dealership, Taubenreuther, across the border to Austria. All good so far. But it is never that easy. The parts could be ordered, but would not arrive until friday, 3 days later. So we spent a few days in Salzburg before showing up at Taubenreuther very early in the morning.

These guys helped us mount new rails on the roof, but also talked us out of buying quite a few nice-to-have items from their shop. Then to top it all they then pointed us to a different caravan/camping store for some other bits and pieces we still needed. Great help, great service and very nice coffee. What, the bullbar? With some knowhow, a quick discussion on the merits of the law in all of EU regarding how very illegal the large bullbar is (since 2006) and how complex the propper fitting would be, we decided to get rid of it. At 0755 in the morning…

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Breaking out the toolbox at 07:55 in the morning

Bullbar. Gone!

Bullbar. Gone!

Tonje; the mechanic. Her hands fit to tie up loose wires where the gorilla-paws could not..

Tonje; the mechanic. Her hands fit to tie up loose wires where the gorilla-paws could not..

After our session at Taubenreuther we drove over to this new caravan store, then back to Euopark, a big shopping senter to buy a camera and som other electronics, and then back to Laufen to get our new tent installed. It turns out that my masterly navigational planning had us crossing the German/Austrian border about 4 times. It also turns out that outside Salzburg there is always rushour. We know this from experience…

Coming late to Gordigear (thanx for waiting), we finally fitted the last big piece of the camping puzzle. Our new tent is called Gordigear Explorer Plus, and is a marvel both to use, pack and unpack. I admit I felt a little uneasy sitting on the ledge in the beginning, considering that it seems to float unsupported a good 120 cm over the cide of the car. But wow! This is a lot of tent for the euros spent! In unexperienced hands it takes maybe 5 minutes to pitch, and maybe 15 minutes to pack up. And the best part is being a good 185 cm off the ground. You can imagine Tonje being very exited on the prospect of NOT sleeping on the ground in South and Central america later this year and in the beginning of next. For those of you who have read my earlier posts, Tonje has a total of 7 camping nights under her belt. All of them with me on our shake down trip summer of ’13. Now, the experience is more luxurious by several degrees. This is going to be fantastic! For us, this is a brave new world..

Franz mounted the very large tent on the very large car (using a fork lift!), explained how everything worked, stoically shouldered all our repeted questions, explained again (like I was five years old, much because I asked him to) and then sent us on our way.

Easy does it..

Easy does it..

Tadaaa! New tent properly installed!

Tadaaa! New tent properly installed!

We had allready decided against testing the tent the first night, knowing that we would probably get ourselfs lost again and find a campsite very late… Instead we booked a very cheap room in a alpine, well Hostell seems a bit too nice.. a nice alpine dump. To be fair, it was very cheap. And the innkeeper, not speaking any english or german (in austria) was very charming. It was an experience and an eye-opener. The room was so filthy that we really didn’t want to tak off our shooes before going to bed. Tonje took a shower, and later professed that she positively could not wait to go camping! The room had been cleaned, probably just after WW2.. The dinner, I don’t even know where to start. We put all our money on schnaps killing all germs in the food.

The next day I plotted a fun fun fun backcountry treck all over the tiniest roads over the alps. As the roads got steeper and steeper, and the lane narrowed more and more, I knew I had gotten what I bargened for. The car got a proper test and we got som spectacular scenery. Then followed our first night in the new Gordigear tent. Morning came and we looked at the looming rainclouds and quickly decided to pack up everything and head south. Driving by GPS, you have to understand that it’s like having a tempered teen giving you directions. It can be fine at one moment, and the next (after you change your mind and ask it to please please please recalculate to the new destination), you have to be punished by taking the very much longer trip through the places of hillbilly Italy that will never ever make it to an tourist information brouchoure.. My current favorite is the intersection that was so narrow that it felt like a parkingspace two sizes too small. However, after promising the GPS that I would buy it some new map-upgrades, we finally arrived at a very nice camping site in Toscana, wine country! We stayed for 2 nights, before heading to Genova.

Head for the hills!

Head for the hills!

Check out the GPS image lower right corner. A lot of winding roads to crawl down into the next valley

Check out the GPS image lower right corner. A lot of winding roads to crawl down into the next valley

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Tonje persuading the local alpine horsie to stay out of the passenger-seat. Close call..

Tonje persuading the local alpine horsie to stay out of the passenger-seat. Close call..

Navigator strikes again

Navigator strikes again

Our first night in our brand new Gordigear tent..

Our first night in our brand new Gordigear tent..

...followed by the first field-strip of the MSR burner to get the morning coffee going..

…followed by the first field-strip of the MSR burner to get the morning coffee going..

Toscana

Toscana

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Toscana, doing the tourist-thing

Toscana, doing the tourist-thing

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Lunch, Toscana-style. Well worth the traffic (!) to get here..

Lunch, Toscana-style. Well worth the traffic (!) to get here..

Oh what a mistake that was. Genova is one of those places that I will most likely never come back too. It’s not a ghetto per say, – that would probably be offensive to other ghettos all over the world. We ate at McDonalds and stayed in our hotel room..

I would like to just ad one thing about Italy. The traffic is rediculous. Maps, signs, intersection-lights and even directions from police are very much a good indication, but not really any rule. Two lane streets will be filled by five lanes of cars and wespas. Everyone is honking so you honk back, just because it seems like the right thing to do. And all this in the behemoth of a Pajero. I may or may not have ran ove a few Fiat Pandas down here. We’ll probably never know..

Every father is somebodys Hero!

Any grand undertaking is grand only if there are certain risks involved. Or there is a fairly good chance it will fail. Maybe if the challenge is so complex or so difficult that the vast majority of people would never concider it.

When concidering if a undertaking is grand, one must also take into concideration the ability and resources at the disposal for the one undertaking the grand undertaking. Because, clearly, if you are a pilot, landing a plane is like driving to work. However landing the a plane with no training and no assistance is huge. Attempting to drive a motorcycle around half the world, through most of Europe and all of the Americas from the very bottom in Southern Chile, to the very top in Northern Canada, is in my eyes a a worthy undertaking. Many people have done it before. Many more will do it after us. The idea is to live life. Experience the experience. Test resolve, solutions and most of all look for the beauty of adventure that gets drowned in the worry of everyday life.

Writer and philosopher Paulo Choelo said: “If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It’s leathal”.

So what is worse? The hardship, sweat, and tears that inevitably is the price for following your dream? Or the safety of routine, work, rushhour, 3 weeks vacation, work, routine, rushour.. Slowly seeing your years rushing into oblivion..? My dream have evolved into a burning desire to see the world, always moving, always beeing free. To be honest, I do not fear hardship and sweat, discomfort and tears. However I am terrified of knowing that the world is out there, feeling the yearning of the horizon,- and then choosing it away.

Whatever that dream may be, it always has a price. Be it financial investment, securty, comfort, or just facing the unknown. And always the question arises: will it be worth it? Is the risk to great, or is it managable? Will the price be too high, or merely an aceptable means to an end? Which aspect will win; the fear of failiure, or the need to conquer fear and then succeed in the undertaking in question?

Everyone needs a rolemodel, someone that has walked the path, and thereby letting you believe that it is possible for you to find your own. This is what my dad is to me. Always hardworking, always striving to make the best of any situation. A few years ago, together with my stepmom Vigdis and a few others, he sailed across the Atlantic from Europe to the Carabien. His tenacity and drive made it possible for him and all his co-sailers to enjoy a fantastic journey. Granted he had a lot of sailing experience, but nothing like this.

Concidering this, it was the final foundation for me believing that I could make my own adventure a reality, given enoungh drive, guts and tenacity.

This is the same man that once told me that «as long as you do your best, no one can fault you, regardless of success or failiure». Ever since this has been my major guiding principle.

Dad; all your projects, dreams and adventures have shown me that I can do pretty much anything I want to in this life. This, combined with all the love and support along the years, gives weight and credibility to the saying: “Every father is somebodys hero”.

You, old man, are my hero.

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Happy birthday! May you have many many more!

Proudly presenting; our very first sponsorship!

Early on when I was planning my, now our, great adventure, I made a good new friend at a wedding (not my wedding, but a wedding none the less). Tom Møller Christensen and I soon found common ground in our interest in motorcycles, the urge to ride far and wide, and to be free.

Tom has always been very supportive of our project, always focusing on all the reasons why it could work. One day not long ago he invited me and my wife into his shop, Urmaker Thorbjørnsen. He smiled and proudly presented what was to be our very first sponsorship.

Toghether with Tissot, Tom Møller and Urmaker Thorbjørnsen has sponsored our adventure with matching Tissot T-Race sports watches. Everyday it will serve as a reminder of great support and trust, but also of the fact that time waits for no man. The adventure is right there, you just have to go get it. Tom even arranged a photoshoot for the occation, and the result you can see below. It was a lot of fun.

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It’s always very easy to compile a long list, a very long list, as to why an undertaking will not, can not, succeed. Many have done just that.

It is much more difficult to create a list over why it could work out, why it can be done, why you should not give up. Adapt yes, but never give up. It is a choice, and I choose to believe.

Tom has been a valuable supporter and believer, urging us on, when the voice of many where urging us to stay. We’re grateful for it!

 

 

GS-fueled equilibrium..

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Taking the long way home from work. Enough tight corners and back country streches, and I feel like me again after a long day at the office..

This is from Vigdel beach, Norway.