The Grass is always greener in someone else's cracked pavement...

Even though I haven't lived in Toronto for nearly ten years, and have no intention whatsoever of returning to live in Canada, I still subscribe to "Cyclometer", the e-newsletter put out by the City of Toronto's municipal cycling department. Stacy, the coordinator, is a wealth of information about cycling and urban mobility policy, and it's inspiring to see the way cycling is taking off in Toronto and other North American cities....

Then, yesterday afternoon, I opened the latest version of "Cyclometer", and saw this:

There are a number of theories for why cycling in Europe is both safer and more popular than in North America. One theory relates to transportation infrastructure: European cities most often feature cycle paths separated from motorized traffic, while Canadian cyclists are more likely to be sharing the road with parked and moving cars. "The relative safety of these two styles of infrastructure has been the subject of much debate among cycling researchers and advocates, but little research," explains Teschke.

Now, to be fair, there is one mention, in the first part of the announcement, that both the University of Toronto and the University of British Columbia are going to conduct research into cycling safety in NORTHERN Europe, not Europe as a whole. It strikes me as facile to assume that things are better on this side of the ocean than they are in Vancouver or Toronto or wherever.

I'm not aware, for example, of any European city where cyclists don't have to rely on road riding to get around. In Madrid, we have a decent cyclepath that rings the city, but only two which take you east-west - and both of those are less than a kilometre long. Until the so-called Green Ring was built, Madrid had 60 km of bike trails, and 30 kilometres of those were to take you up out of the city, to the Sierra. Never mind the fact that you needed a car to get to the trailhead. And getting grannies, small dogs and kids off the bike trails? Yet I still get a chorus of "Oh, you live in Spain. What with Contador and Indurain, things must be great for cyclists there." Well, maybe. Contador lives in suburbia and Indurain's Basque. And neither of them use their Treks to get the morning paper, you wanna bet.

I know that things really aren't that better in other cities, either. Reading the CYCLOTHERAPY blog on The Independent's website, for example, doesn't give me the sense that things are much different in London. Julián Illara, the coordinator of Burgos en Bici, recently came back from a cycling conference in Rome and told me of being horrified at ending up on a six-lane motorway during Rome's Critical Mass late last month. Rome cyclists are so pissed off at being marginalized that they have no problem doing what they can to screw up traffic.

If the UN is so worried about climate change, I have an idea: start a Directorate of Alternate Transport. Instead of spending money on allowing the sons of third-world despots to live the high life in Manhattan, let's take some of that dosh and start a library/website/information office/whatever that allows cycling organizations, academic bodies, government organizations or whoever to share information, policy, research, whatever.

But don't let's make the mistake of assuming that eveything that's not where we are is brilliant and good. It's a common enough refrain here... "Oh, but everything is so much easier for cyclists in Amsterdam...in Northern Europe....in Denmark...in Chicago...whatever." It isn't.

It's the same mindgame that makes people assume that if they can't reach perfection, it's not worth the effort to even try in the first place. We all work with what we've got. We can learn from others, but we can't be them.

It's all right if it sucks.

One of the things that kept me riding (and sane) throughout the trip was my weekly chat with Roge Blasco.

Roge is the host of two renowned radio shows about travel, La Casa de las Palabras (The House of Words) and Levando Anclas (Hoisting Anchor) on Radio Euskadi, the Basque regional broacasting network. At the end of every week, after 9:30 in the evening, we'd talk for ten or fifteen minutes about how the trip was going. No one in Spain is as up on the movements of travellers as Roge is: you name the means of transport or the country, he knows someone who's been there and done that, but there's always a note of enthusiasm and jealousy when he interviews you. It's like at any moment you expect him to say, "Gimme a couple of hours, and I'll be there..." and for him to slam down the phone and show up at your hotel before sundown.

Yesterday we did a taping for an edition of Levando Anclas which will be broadcast in July, and Roge brought up the fact that a lot of the problems that we had on the trip were weather-related. And I thought about something that I read last week, which makes all the more sense now that I've got some space to reflect on the trip.

CNN correspondent Anderson Cooper is the cover story on this month's edition of OUTSIDE magazine and has been a reader of the magazine for decades. When he was 19, he was inspired by the article to take a trip across Africa, and from there went on to be one of the channel's best-travelled journalists. For copyright reasons I can't clip the particular question and answer that moved me, but if you click here(http://outside.away.com/outside/culture/200805/anderson-cooper-2.html) and do a search for "It's supposed to suck", you'll see which one I mean.

It was a great relief to read this. It was a relief to see someone else say that it was all right if the trip didn't go perfectly, if the weather sucked or you realized that you were generally a lot happier when your travel companion went off on his own and you didn't see him for three days. It was all right to be awake at night, normally at 12:03 AM, obsessing about whether someone was going to steal your bike and leave you stranded in some lost town in Soria. (Funny, I never obsessed about breaking my neck - but the thought that someone would nick Ruby gave me more than one sleepless night.)

And Mr. Cooper is right. You learn a lot more about your own limits and your own sense of possibilities when things don't go perfectly. If you don't have adversity, you don't learn how strong you actually are, how resourceful you are and that it's all right to be alone. A woman travelling alone is not an automatic target for all the evil and crime in the world. As women we receive messages, consciously or unconsciously, that if we go down into the woods today, we're going to end up dead in a ditch somewhere, that we're just asking to be raped or attacked or God knows what. (I should get my mother to fill this part in.)

That doesn't mean that we shouldn't take precautions. But fear has limited value when undertaking something like this. If you're too fearful, everything is going to seem like a threat, rather than just crap that happens to everyone.

You don't get bad weather because you're a woman travelling alone.

You don't get pelted by hail because you're a woman travelling alone.

Sometimes it is going to suck. You just can't take it personally.

You shrug it off, you learn, and you keep your head down and keep going.