13 December 2009

Changing Tides.

Our Santa Cruz crew. These people are some of the most generous and friendly people we have ever met. Keep doing it my peeps!

The Beautiful and awe inspiring sunset in Santa Cruz.

The Boardwalk at Santa Cruz.

We met this guy at the top of of a pretty good hill climb in the middle of the Big Sur Coast. He proceeded to give us everything he had to eat in his car and tell us stories from the time he road his bike from Vancouver Island to Key West. This guy seriously made our day. Notice there is another new guy in this picture, that is Dale, he is a badass.

Tyler, Dale and I pose on just one of the many majestic cliff-sides in Big Sur. The other rider with us is Malcolm. Malcolm is from Mt. Vernon, WA, and has been on the road for three months. He said he's never going home. None of us could blame him.

Strawberry fields began showing up in the Salinas valley and have been present along the way ever since. Dale took this picture just before Monterrey, the day he met us.

The smell was so powerful that our hungry stomachs could no longer resist. We picked more berries than we should have, eating both ripe and sour. Our bodies did not thank us the next day.

Tyler rests and gazes into the agricultural abyss.

The Beautiful Big Sur Coast inspired and empowered us just about every time we looked up. There is a God after all.

Bicycle cemetery. I know it's bad for the environment, but there needed to be a memorial for that tire and tube. They treated me well.

Big Sur. Yeah.

It was impossible not to stop every three or four miles to gather ourselves. Tyler humbles himself in the sight of the world.

A Condor hangs out next to the highway. This bird is absolutely humongous. Notice the tag on its wing. It reads "68". We don't know what that number means, but we do know that these birds are highly endangered. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity to see this bird up close. The pictures don't really show how big the bird really was, or how incredibly ugly it was, either.

Not the type of fellow you would want to bring home to mom.

After a long day of riding, there's nothing like lounging on a tractor.

Cold weather in Lompoc made for an interesting and quite delectable breakfast. Macaroni, Top Ramen, and Mushrooms.

We miss Stephen.

Damn that's good!

This is our one candid photo of Tony O. You'll read about him in the story below. He wasn't very friendly to the camera.

As Dale and I entered a busy Los Angeles, A beautiful rainbow shown overhead. It was about the only beautiful thing we saw there. We stayed with Dale's cousin Monty. He was a mega cool dude in the midst of probably the worst place I have ever been.

Here I show a bus driver the beautiful sky above his bus. He was cool. I'm going to take this time to plug the Watson family. The Watsons took us in several different times, once during Thanksgiving, and then a second time when we rode back through Santa Barbara. They opened up their home and even took us sailing! Sean and Mary, you people are good people. Your incredible hospitality and kindred spirits truly inspired and encouraged us. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.


He lives along the beaches of the North Santa Barbara coast, no house to speak of, no job to complain of. If you ever find yourself meandering these parts, look for him. His name is Tony O and he would love to chat with you. He is a small man, no more than five feet and seven inches tall, and frail as a branch that blows wildly in the wind. He has stringy, long, white hair that is so pigment-less that it is impossible to tell whether it is pure blonde or white from fade. His skin is worn, the battles in his life evident at first glance.

We first came across Tony O at a rest area just north of the City of Santa Barbara. He and his dog were sitting in his car listening to top 40 radio and staring at the ocean. I was the first to roll into the vantage point and for some odd reason, without even thinking about it, I set my bike down next his car. It was finally warm outside, the hot Southern-California sun poured through the thickening clouds as we rode out of the hills and into coastal territory. It’s always sunny in Santa Barbara. We sat and relaxed and felt the warm sun pierce our clothes and heat our tired bodies. Sun bath. We sat silently, reflecting on all our travels the days before ultimately leading to this point.

We re-road the whole trail in our minds as we gazed into the most beautiful blue eyes this planet has ever known; the mighty Pacific Ocean. My mind went straight back to Monterrey. The night Stephen left, we were all afraid. I laid in my tent, sleepless and scared, hoping that my friend would be OK. I went back to the conversation Tyler and I had the next day when we decided that we had to keep going. I saw the moment we met Dale, our new riding companion and fast friend. I looked over, he was still there, glowing for the same reason I was. I fixed my eyes back on the ocean. In the rays of sun bursting off the water, I swear I saw the Big Sur Coast, the power and beauty of it all. I saw our night ride by moonlight, fast down the hills of a deserted coastal highway, the wind, the air, the life, and finally, the view. Miles and miles of wild coastal ocean, glowing brilliantly from a combination of phosphorescents in the water and the impossibly bright full moon above. We yipped and yelled as we felt pure life. Pure life.

A whistle. I stopped. Another whistle. I looked. Behind me in a green Ford Taurus was a man and his dog. It was Tony O and he had a smile on his face. He knew why we were there, he had been there for the same reason since before he could remember. These waters were magical. These waters saved lives the same way they took them, in an instant and without any hesitation or remorse.

“You guys speak English?” he asked in a tiny voice.

“Yeah,” I replied, and from there we started to talk.

He started telling us the best of the best places to camp and hike and fish and drink beer and start campfires and see shells and sea creatures and ride bikes and sleep peacefully and get away from people and meet good people and meet bad people and get free shit and see burnt mountain sides and everything else he or we could possibly think of. We liked Tony O. He was a good soul and wanted the best for everything he cared about. He was real.

He went on to tell us about his tattered and interesting past. He was absolutely fascinating. He had lived in Santa Barbara since he was three years old, and when he was 16 he dropped out of high school to start living. He started shaping shells and making jewelry to sell at the local markets. When he was 18, he joined the military where he was in the Special Forces, and manned a tank with the biggest gun. He never saw combat but he said he was trained to endure pretty much anything. He equated his training to Rambo, saying he could do all sorts of crazy shit. He went on to tell us about how he was a firefighter for a while and retired from that to start living. His attitude reminded me of a guy we rode with for a couple of days in the Big Sur Coast named Malcolm. Malcolm was an absolute gem of a person, who reminded us constantly to slow down and see the beauty of the world. He was from Mt. Vernon, WA, just 13 miles from where we reside in Anacortes. He had been riding since early September, and he had maps to go all the way to Florida. He said he was never going home. He was looking for a new one. Right now, his home was Big Sur, and we were his brothers. It was Malcolm who said to us, “I just keep reminding myself of what I’m doing; I’m LIVING for a living.” I don’t know if I’ll ever see Malcolm again, or if he’ll ever read this blog, but the kid truly changed me and the way I go about every single mile that I pedal. I think we can all agree that we think about him often.

Tony O went on to tell us about his battle with cancer and his close encounter with death. The doctors gave him six months to live. That was two years ago and he’s getting stronger every single day.

He told us how to best get to where we were going, to Sean and Mary’s house on the hill in Santa Barbara where we were going to stay for yet another night and he sent us on our way. It wasn’t but an hour and a half later when we saw him again and he invited us to hang out around his Volkswagen bus that was parked just a mile down the road on a side street. Almost all of his worldly belongings were in there, although he said that a lot of his stuff was scattered around the area at friends’ houses. He showed us pictures of the Santa Barbara fires, and offered us just about everything he had, and enlightened us with his odd ball wisdom. We hung out and talked with him for about three hours. He gave us all sorts of nuggets of advice. I wish I could remember all of them, but there was so much gold there and I could only take as much as I could carry in one load.

He said that relationships are circles. The circle only stays round if everyone involved gives what they can. The second one person keeps things for themselves selfishly, the circle is destroyed, and once you are a destroyer, there is no looking back. He said the problem with a lot of street people these days is that they are destroyers and they don’t even realize it. Tony O wanted to give everything he possessed, but the wisdom that he offered was by far the most valuable thing he gave us. As we parted ways, he raised his hands to the sky and yelled, “Fish tacos, every day!” None of us will ever forget that guy.

In the past week, almost everything has changed; the lineup of our crew, the scenery of our ride, and the goals of this trip. We no longer plan to make it to Peru. It would be impossible with the amount of money we have in our pockets and the time we would have to spend to get there. But we have realized that it is not about the distance that we end up going in miles on a road, but instead what we learn along the way. I can say that in this past month alone, I have learned more valuable and meaningful lessons than in the previous 5 years combined. This place is real, these people are true, these stories are lessons, and this ride has sparked hope. I will never, ever forget any of the words that have been spoken by the world to me on this trip, and I see that as an epic success!

The Costa Rican people have a saying that they use whenever they see somebody is down or they are generally excited about life. I sort of compare it to our sayings like “Chill out” or “Rad” except I think of it as one, all inclusive statement that sums up a general way to see life. “Pura Vida,” they say. It means “Pure Life.” I find myself saying this under my breath at least a few times a day. It helps me to forget about all the bad things that may happen, and focus on the good. I am now a believer that there is unfathomable amounts of good in this world, we just need to pedal out and find it. So next time you feel stressed out about whatever hardships are going on in your life or you just want to get away, I would suggest focusing on one beautiful thing, anything at all, taking a deep breath, and saying “Pura Vida.” Pure life.

11 December 2009

Stand By, Old Sport!!

Everyone! It's been eight days since my "farewell" post, and I, possibly like you, have gotten a little tired of periodically checking this blog and reading the first sentence of my last post over and over. Plus, I'd like to pop in one more time to say this:

If you've been faithfully checking the blog each day, a.) thank you for your support, you are awesome!, and b.) sorry it's been awhile! Without giving too much away, I just want everybody to know that Mike and Tyler have still been having a great time on their journey. It's just the not-having-the(my)-computer-anymore thing that has prevented them from relaying their specific experiences to you thus far.

So of course, I feel quite responsible for the lack of exciting news that could be gushing forth right now... but isn't. I'm sorry, really!

So please, consider the following:
  • Mike and Tyler = warm/safe/still livin' the dream
  • I have detected unconfirmed rumors of pending news for all you faithfuls out there, straight from the horses' mouths
And since this blog isn't exactly mine to post on anymore, I will thank you for reading this much. I just thought you might want a bit of an update, or reassurance, or whatever it is you may be looking for in this humble little publication.

Peace be with you, friends, and happy beginning-of-the holidays!

03 December 2009

New News

Hi everyone. This is Stephen. Don't be sad when you read this, but I've come home, back to the Northwest.

It's okay though! I know we talked about all making it to Peru together, but I have things to worry about at home that I decided needed my attention, plus I was dangerously close to running out of money.

Please don't misunderstand me - it would make me very sad for anyone to see this trip as anything less than a triumph. The last month has been the best of my life! And Tyler and Mike have proven themselves to be without a doubt the best, most adventurous and supportive friends I could ever ask for.

Good luck guys, I love you both. I'm sorry you don't have a computer anymore.

I'll leave you with a good old-fashioned list of bottom lines, then a short video.
  • I am fine! Don't worry about me.
  • After one month, I am already addicted to blogging. I'll likely start my own soon, and you will be invited to read it
  • To everyone who has given us anything on this trip, be it couches, floor space, meals, an audience, hugs, money, directions, coffee, bike parts, advice, friendship, time, or anything else - you've all changed my life.
  • This is not my last adventure.
  • This video is not serious:

26 November 2009

Mike: "I am impossibly tired, and also impossibly restless."

Meet the Johansens. We stayed at their house while we were in the bay area and had the BEST time. Allen, Rosa Lee, and Big Mike kept us well-fed and entertained for three days while we took the time to skate, surf, and explore the city.

I took a day in Oakland to visit Sara, Felicia, and my newest nephew Armoni! To all the family and friends who haven't met this little guy yet, BE JEALOUS. Armoni is one cool little kid. He loves roughhousing, music, triangles, and of course, his Mommy and Mama. I had a great time catching up with the Steenhouse family. Thanks for everything, Sara and Felicia!

The next day, we caught the Caltrain down to San Jose, where we Couchsurfed with Greg and his dog Buddy - thanks Greg, you rule!

And then, from San Jose, we caught a bus to Santa Cruz. The best part? A bike rack that fits THREE bikes! Finally, no need to convince the driver to let us bring a bicycle onto a crowded metro bus. Yessss. Plus we made a friend, Hannah, who gave us her phone number in case we needed anything while we were still in town. When we were dropped off at the station in downtown Santa Cruz, we said goodbye to Hannah and went to Trader Joes to buy food, then ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the boardwalk, in the abandoned amusement park.

Mike and I played in the waves, then spent some time messing around on the beach, soaking up that California heat we've been craving.

Later in the afternoon, we met up with Hannah and she walked us to Younglove Avenue, where some of her friends lived together in a house. There, we met Maria, Caity, Paige, Jen, Devan, Kevin, and Sean, who graciously agreed to let us stay in there home. Some of us went downtown for $3 dollar burritos and a few margarita pitchers, then went back to the house and spent some wholesome time hanging out and playing Parcheesi and stuff.

Next thing we knew, we were hitch-hiking down to Santa Barbara to spend Thanksgiving with Caity.

First we were picked up by Will Smith and Chantal, who were able to get us to Salinas. Then there was Micah, who picked us up in Salinas and drove us all the way to Santa Barbara, stopping to buy us a round of In-N-Out on the way, animal style. This guy is freaking awesome.

He dropped us off at the Santa Barbara courthouse, and we loitered about town for a bit, until Caity picked us up and took her to her parents' house, where we would be spending the next three nights. The next morning, it was coffee...


...and a little bit of food prep.

We spent most of the day lounging in the sun (as usual, at this point), and we met Caity's eight-year-old cousin Matthew. We talked of Nerf guns, hiking, soccer, and video games.

This is the group we ate Thanksgiving dinner with, potluck style. We didn't know any of them. Well, at first we didn't. It didn't take long, though.

Incidentally, people are awesome.

Next morning, we called Micah to see if he wanted to do something while we were all still hanging out in Santa Barbara. He and his boyfriend Kevin picked us up at noon on State Street in their Land Cruiser, and took us on a hike to Inspiration Point.

Then we took a quick dip in the ocean and gobbled up a mountain of Thanksgiving leftovers before taking another trip into the hills. First, we stopped and checked out some 350-year-old cave paintings.

Then, the Big Caliente Hot Springs.

Micah, Kevin: you guys are awesome. Seriously.

On Saturday, we drove "home" to Santa Cruz with Caity, and played some more Parcheesi with friends new and (relatively) old.

I think that more-or-less catches everyone up, right? Oh, and we saw a movie today. Fantastic Mister Fox. Wes Anderson did it again, everybody. Go see it!

Our Santa Cruz friends taught us to play a game we call "Rose/Thorn/Bud," in which you take turns telling your friends one thing your thankful/happy/stoked for, one thing that may be bothering you or holding you back, and one thing you're looking forward to.

Let's play. I'll go first, but feel free to leave a comment with your own Roses/Thorns/Buds.

My Rose: the warm, clear, mighty, California Pacific, and all the recreational oppurtunities it has offered us so far.

My thorn: a semi-mysterious raised bruise on my lower back, most likely caused by one of three wrestling sessions with my new friend and rival, Kayla. Touché, Kayla. Touché.

My bud: Campin'.

20 November 2009

Us + Joe

On the Caltrain

Pier 39

The power of the machines as we left the city was incredible. For the first time, being on a bicycle made me feel powerless, small, almost incompetent. City traffic rushed by us without the slightest regard for our livelihood. California.

We came into the city early the previous morning, not used to the metropolitan vibe or the thunderous roar of commercialism. It felt like we no longer had any imprint. Suddenly everything we were doing seemed unreasonably unimportant.

We rode through the city blocks, not looking for anything in particular, hoping that something great would fall into our hands like it did so easily in the weeks before. Nobody seemed approachable, everybody had more important things to do. We were lost, terribly lost. So we reverted to the one thing we do know about; the internet. We found refuge in the free wi-fi outside of the Sacramento Public Library, where we sat and tried to make sense of our suddenly meaningless lives. We Googled the nearest McDonald's to our location, and decided to look for comfort in a sausage McMuffin with egg and cheese; soulfood. The nearest one to our location was about a mile away, we didn't mind. So we saddled up, and headed out on our way. But it wasn't long before our weary hearts were turned upside down by two kindred spirits called Jazzy and Juan.

The first thing I noticed was the eyepatch. It was exactly the type of thing you would expect to see in a bad community theater production of The Count of Monte Cristo. A big, black, pirateous eye patch. I didn't know what to think.

"Hey where you all going?" he inquired.

"Down the Baja Coast," I recall somebody (probably Steve-o) answering.

"Holy Shit!" he exclaimed, "and where'd you come from?" he asked in disbelief.

"Washington" the anonymous "us" replied.

Cut action. This is where we realized that Juan and Jazzy wanted to talk to us for a while. So we all stopped riding to answer any sort of questions that they might have had.

"Yeah but we kinda cheated," Stephen said with a slight tone of dismay. "We took a train from Salem, OR to here, we just got in this morning,"

That was the first time Jazzy spoke up. "Oh I just rode the train in from Spokane a few weeks ago!" She seemed excited to have a connection.

"Cool," we said, and from there the conversation flourished. We ended up hanging out with them for the better part of a half an hour, listening to them and telling them everything strangers would ever want to know about each other. We found out that Jazzy was a girl who had been traveling for the past ten years, and hadn't really been in one place for too long. Her older brother was a traveler too, and had custody of her since she was a young kid, and he had been taking her around from city to city. Her home was the road, and it was amazingly self-evident when she spoke that she was a kind and warm vessel. Underneath her tattered eyes and worn out clothes, you could see a beautiful woman; independent and intolerant to the indecencies of humankind. Truly inspirational because of her blatant disregard for social norms.

And then there was Juan.

Juan embodied the essence of strange, but in a completely normal sort of way. Talking to Juan was like talking to your good acquaintance's dad for the first time on a car ride home from a basketball game. He asked all the right questions and offered all the right nuggets of advice and made us feel comfortable through several really uncomfortable moments. But for God's sake, he was wearing that ridiculous eye-patch, and disappearing for extended lengths of time at a time, and walking around the streets with Jazzy and their adopted street puppy, and living in a warehouse in downtown Sacramento. He was truly a character in some sort of quirky short story. But he left his mark on us and we will never forget what he said to us as we parted. He looked each of us individually in the eye and with his raspy and worn down voice said this:

"Remember, there's a lot of beautiful people in this world...but there's also some ugly ones. Just watch out for the ugly ones."

We all froze for a second. Processed it. Took it in.

"Yeah," I thought. Coming from him it sounded real, like he had really experienced the beautiful people, and the ugly ones. It sounded as if he truly lived by those words. Now we would live differently, too.

Juan's words were not only important for our trip because of the content of the statement, but also because it started a new project for us. It was his advice that made us realize that just about everyone we have come in contact with so far on this trip has given us some sort of "nugget," we just weren't listening enough. So we decided to write all the bits of advice that we receive from people for the rest of the trip down so that we are being consciously and directly influenced by each and every person who is interested in us. Juan implied that there is a lot to learn from the people in this world. We will see more people on this trip than we could ever imagine, each individual person living their life in a different way, regarding different truths, learning from different sources, finding meaning in different places, and each and every one of these people can help us in our mission to find ourselves. But there is one golden rule: there must be no judging people by their lifestyles. We must respect everyone equally and never scoff at anyone's advice. Whether it's the words of a crazed homeless man walking up the street, or a successful business woman living in the most expensive home on the California coast, we will respect and take in the words from all.

Since Juan, we have received good advice from many people. But this project doesn't end here. We plan to milk this for all it's worth, getting advice from as many people as we possibly can.
We have all seen inspirational quotes from reputable and influential people posted on the walls of our classrooms and written in books. But the idea behind this project is that all people have something to contribute to how we live our lives. On an earlier blog post, I wrote that on this trip I have learned to listen to nature, taking the advices of the Earth to heart, but now I challenge myself and everyone who reads this blog, to listen to the people in this world as well. Everyone is crying out in some way or another, we should listen to their cries and try our best to learn from them.

Later that day and on into the night, we collected advice from everyone we could. Here are some of the words of wisdom that were given to us. Some people we asked for advice, some people we just listened and they spoke. All of these words will certainly help us in our quest. We hope they will help you, too:

"Life is mandatory, misery is optional."
-Street Chuck

Chuck came up to us as we were headed toward downtown Sacramento at around 7:30 p.m. on Thursday evening. He asked us for some spare change so that he could buy a blanket. He told us that he had recently lost his job and his family and he was not on drugs or drinking and he was going to be homeless for about a month. He seemed so real. Tyler gave him five bucks. He thanked us, and upon departure, gave us his bit of advice. We left the situation feeling very good, especially since we didn't even have to ask him for his advice, he just gave it to us.

When we got into downtown Sacramento, we decided to go into a dive-bar and get a drink. So we walked into the crappiest bar we could find and had a two dollar bottle of Pabst each. Inside the bar were about six people, all of which seemed to me at first glance to be the "town drunk" types. Bob, the most vivacious of the bunch, overheard us talking about our ride the next day. "Sixty miles you're gonna ride on a bicycle tomorrow! Holy shit!"

Suddenly everyone in the bar was interested in us. We talked for a good bit and had a few drinks with them and told them about our trip and listened to them talk about things, and before we knew it we had four new friends, connected by a string that was attached to each of our souls. These people were good people, living the way that they decided suited them best. It was at this point that I realized that people don't respect each other enough these days. Most would look at this bunch of guys in a dive bar in downtown Sacramento and think, "that's sad" or "look at those drunks!" But those thoughts are absolute fallacies. These people had interesting pasts, important ideas, and most of all, hearts of gold.

Bob, a mid-fifty-year-old veteran and car mechanic, was born in Duluth, MN and moved to downtown Los Angeles before high school, where he attended an inner-city school and graduated with a more diverse high school education than I could ever imagine. David (pronounced dah-VEED) was a refugee from Eritrea that fled from the tyrannical Eritrean communist rule when he was sixteen, walking for two weeks on foot to get into Sudan. From Sudan, he acquired a fake passport and saved enough money to fly into Beirut, where he acquired yet another fake passport and fled to Italy where he admitted to the Italian government that he was a refugee from Eritrea. Four years later, the Italian government gave him several options of the places he could go. The United States was one of them. He chose to be sent to America and ended up in Las Vegas, Nevada and eventually migrated west to Sacramento. He now owns his own custodial service in Sacramento and comes to the bar twice a week to quench his social thirst. He said that he had worked with some of his coworkers for sixteen years, and has never told his story to anyone he has worked with. The injustice of it all! Listening to Bob and David talk about their past changed me significantly. I will never forget that night in the bar with my two best buds and four strangers who took us in and poured out some of the most introspective and intelligent words I have heard in a long time. They've been places. They've seen things. They're out there, I mean really out there trying to make sense of this unsolvable puzzle known as life. At the end of the night, we asked everyone in the bar for their advice. Here's what they said:

"Be nice, get along, and if you respect others, they will respect you. God bless all, and absolutely love all."

"Life is pretty short, so STEP ON THE FUCKING GAS!"

"Stay out of the [San Bernadino] valley!"
(I didn't say anything about Ryan but he was a really nice guy that was absolutely adamant about us staying away from the valley. He said it's the ugliest place on Earth and if we rode our bikes through there it could possibly suck our souls from our bodies. It's not the first bad thing we have heard about the valley. Our best bud and fourth member of our group of connected-at-the-hip-azoids lives in the San Bernadino Valley. He doesn't have many nice things to say about it either.)

"Enjoy the path you are taking, and cherish it, always cherish it."

(Victor walked into the bar while I was talking to David. Tyler and Steve-o talked to him more than I did. His voice sounded like Popeye's voice and he knew a couple fisherman from our area. That's about all I know about him, besides the fact that he gave us some pretty darn good advice.)

Since that night in the bar we've received advice from many others. Here's a few of the things that we learned:

"Anonymity only leads to contempt."
-Allen Johansen, Big Mike's dad

"Money is at its best use when it supports adventures like these."
-Patrick, a friend in Aberdeen we met through Stephen P.

"All you need in life are two can-openers and a hole-punch for your beer can and a pocket knife with a saw, not a Swiss Army knife, but one of those ones from China. Here, I'll show you mine!"
-Crazy Sacramento Sam

"I wish in my life to be significant, not successful."
-Big Mike (along with the catch phrase he coined while freestyle rapping "Put that in your book!" Good stuff.)

"You're not living unless you are risking your life."
-Joe the Couchsurfer.

(Joe was probably one of the most generous people we have stayed with. He offered us pretty much everything he had, and ordered us massive amounts of pizza. We played video games all night and got pretty darn good as a band on "Beatle's Rock Band" the x-box version. That game is AMAZING. I don't think we really thanked Joe as much as we should of. So this is an official shoutout to Joe, the most badass dude in Pittsburgh, CA. We love you, Joe!)

If not anything else, this trip has taught me that every single place we go, and every single person we meet, has value in our lives and must not be ignored. We have learned from the people and we have learned from the land and we have discovered that so many things matter beyond just our own small lives. Like Juan once said, there's a lot of beauty, there's a whole lot of beauty. And it's all here for us to enjoy and learn from.


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