Leon Logothetis's Blog, page 18

Kindness ONE® found it’s way to Nebraska

Magical day learning how to be a cowboy on the Johnson family Ranch

“What we need is an army of the Kind”

Cleveland Amory

Kindness One® has already faithfully transported me from Los Angeles to the Corn Fields of Nebraska. Although in truth, it is not Kindness One® that has been doing the heavy lifting. Its people like you. Along this journey I have been helped every single step of the way. People have been filling the bike up with Gas, feeding me and opening up their homes from Las Vegas to Colorado.

Kindness, compassion and connection continue to lift me across this great land. Today was no different. I arrived in the Nebraskan town of Lexington and crossed paths with some bona fide cowboys. I approached them and explained my trip across the globe. They wanted to be part of the chain of kindness and offered me to stay the night at their farm 18 miles away. I hopped onto Kindness ONE® and drove to what I was expecting to be an idyllic location. I was not to be disappointed. The beauty was scintillating. The sense of peace intoxicating.

What I wasn’t expecting was a crash course in the Art of becoming a cowboy. My training included being kitted up in full cowboy regalia. I wore my Stetson hat and Cowboy boots. Then it was off around the farm to learn how to ride a horse. Fire a 1927 antique gun at rattle snakes. Luckily for the snakes, I missed. Then I Preg tested a cow! Yes that means I put my whole hand where the sun does not shine. I learned how to lasso and was finally driven back to the farmhouse in an ATV by an 8-year-old girl, not something that happens everyday…

After eating a Slap up BBQ made just for me I spent the night in this slice of Americana and was once again blown away by the kind-hearted spirit of America. The trip continues and so do the memories…

*As the sun was setting I couldn’t help myself but to recreate the famous scene from the movie “Field of dreams”. I walked out of a picture perfect cornfield speaking the immortalized words “If you build it they will come”…

Kindness ONE® has launched

Leon with Dwight, the first Kindness ONE® donor... next stop Las Vegas

“To travel is to take a journey into yourself”

Danny Kaye

My dream of circumnavigating the Globe on a vintage motorcycle began after I watched the ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’. The film followed Che Guevara and his trusted friend Granado travelling across South America relying entirely on the kindness of strangers. It touched a spark in my heart. It lit the fuse that still burns today. It changed me. And in the process it spurred me on to inspire others to believe that anything was possible. You see, we can all change our circumstances. We can all live full and inspired lives. We can all embark on epic journeys: The Internal kind and the external kind.

As I write this I have completed my first day on Kindness ONE® a bike trip across the world relying entirely on the kindness of strangers. I have no money, no place to stay and no food. I also have no way to cross two oceans. All I have is my trusty bike and a firm belief in the generosity of the human spirit.

I have already received free gas from a young Angelino, who felt the urge to begin the journey and start this wave of kindness. Two young Las Vegas natives fed me and shared a story of hardship and violence that would have brought a tear to anybody’s eyes.  Yes, there have been many people who have chosen not to help, but that is part of the experience. I don’t expect anything. If magic happens, it happens. If magic doesn’t happen, I am sure it soon will…

I am currently staying at the house of a family who I met on the Famed Freemont Street in downtown Las Vegas. They have brought me into their lives without the slightest inkling of who I am. They have opened their home. Their fridge. And their hearts. The journey is just beginning my friends. Tomorrow it is upwards and onwards wherever the winds may blow. Hopefully those winds will take me east towards New York City where I will jump on a container ship to cross my first ocean…Free of charge.

Be careful what you wish for…

“Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors”.  African Proverb

During my days as a broker in the heart of the city of London I felt marginalized from life. Disconnected. Trapped behind a computer screen. Caught in a world created for me, by others. Then everything changed.  I stumbled across the epic movie ‘The Motorcycle Diaries’ and felt a glimmer of hope surge through my soul. I felt there was light at the end of the tunnel. Che Guevara’s trip across a bleak midcentury Latin America consumed my spirit with a sweet song of opportunity; An opportunity to reverse course and sail into a life of passion, adventure and above all connection.  For the first time, I felt hope. Hope that a soul crushing existence tethered to my old way of life was not eternal.

It was time to connect with the wider world. To shed myself of my personal demons. To dust myself off and embrace life. To do this, I devised what I thought was a rather brilliant plan. I would travel from Times Square to the Hollywood sign connecting with strangers. I would force myself to keep this spirit of connection alive by travelling with a pittance. I knew this would force me to connect. To come out of my shell. To experience the world. To experience myself. To live.

This was my plan. And on many levels it worked. I find myself living a life far removed from sitting behind my slab of wood (my desk). But with everything good comes struggle and pitfalls. Yes, I have found a way to travel and make a career out of it, but when you have no money people look at you funny! They also tend to ignore you. Reject you. Shun you. Often you become invisible.

So the proverbial yellow brick road towards enlightenment I was seeking, was in fact paved with potholes. Potholes that brought me face to face with the things I was trying desperately to flee. Disconnection. Fear. Rejection. Abandonment.

This is my story of how I found myself facing my worst fears on my trip across America. And how I overcame them.

The world we live in is in many ways the most connected it has ever been. I-phones. Wi-Fi. Facebook. Twitter. The list goes on. We live in an age of technological wonderment. Yet on some levels we are still supremely disconnected from each other. Ultimately, the sad truth is that we are disconnected from ourselves. We are unable to communicate from that unique human place: The heart.

We know how to ‘communicate’ via email. We know how to talk via Skype. We know how to friend someone on Facebook. But do we know how to talk and connect one on one. To understand. To empathize. To have compassion for each other. It seems that the language of the heart is being left by the wayside.

As a broker I experienced first hand the frenetic life that the Internet and all our gadgets have given us. As a traveller relying on the kindness of others I have seen how a simple smile between two people can shift a persons day. Bringing people closer together.

The most excruciating part of my trip across America was when I was faced with rejection. I put myself out there. I opened up my soul. Only to be crushed by rejection. Of course no one owed me anything, but putting myself in harms way emotionally meant that constant rejection was difficult to deal with. Inevitable, yes. But still a challenge. There were times I definitely wanted to give up. My mind tired. My soul weak. My self pity high.

Didn’t I do this to connect with people? Didn’t I do this to build bridges with the rest of humanity? What’s the point I whined? The point was simple it turned out. It was to find my way through this murky and dark place of disconnection and pain. It was about using the open road as a lesson in life. A schoolyard of sorts. I needed to face my fears of disconnection by putting myself into situations that would force me to connect.

Travel is so much more than an external journey. It is primarily an internal one. A journey to the center of our souls. A journey that is at times inspiring and at times depressing. A journey. Often we set off on that journey with one expectation and return with a totally new set of experiences. Experiences that shift our perception of the world.

My journey was supposed to teach me the joys of connection. In many ways the disconnection and rejection I experienced brought me closer to the magic I was seeking. For it was those moments of disconnection that magnified the magic when I did bond with others. A magic that in this fast paced world of ours, where no one has time to sit down and chat face to face is all the more important to embrace. A magic that you can find on the open road.

But beware what you ask for. It’s not all plain sailing out there…

Mongol Rally: The adventure wasn’t exactly by the book but for it

Steve Priovolos, left, and Leon Logothetis enjoy a cigar at the finish line of the Mongol Rally, a 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator. (From Leon Logothetis)

“As you grow older, you’ll find the only things you regret are the things you didn’t do.” –Zachary Scott

“Leon, please don’t do this.”

Those were the words my mother uttered as I prepared for my second attempt at the Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia.

The words went straight to my heart. She was scared for me, but then, so was I. Last year, my co-driver, Steve Priovolos, and I nearly died on a dusty Romanian road when a huge 4X4 T-boned us. (We were in a Nissan Micra; all the cars in the Mongol Rally are supposed to have engines of less than 1.3 liters, which means they’re tiny.)

I thought hard about whether to embrace her wisdom … or not. In the end, I chose not. Frankly, I was devastated (and thankfully, not badly hurt) after the crash that knocked us out of the rally, and I needed to exorcise those demons. I needed to find myself in this adventure.

So I ignored my  mother’s pleas and started a journey into the unknown. I hoped it would inspire people along the way: For each mile we drove in our Daihatsu Terios, we donated a book to an underprivileged child through First Book. 10,000 miles. 10,000 books. That was the goal.

At times during the rally, I wasn’t sure we were going to make it. Driving through rivers and navigating potholed roads didn’t do the car any favors. Belligerent policemen and the threat of foreign jail cells always seemed to follow us.

But the worse things got, the firmer our resolve. When the rear suspension of the car snapped, we figured out a way to keep on going. When the car overheated at Chernobyl (of nuclear meltdown fame), we found a way to keep on going. When authorities threatened to confine us at the border, we found a way to keep on going.

Something was different this year: We had a sense of purpose. Teaming up with First Book helped us focus. We had 10,000 reasons to reach the finish line. For us, books represent inspiration, hope and change. We were determined to deliver on our promise.

Along the way we were helped by the people we met. Some gave us actual assistance. Others inspired us. Some offered food, others offered shelter. They helped keep us on the road (sometimes literally) and our eyes on the prize.

When we crossed the finish line, we climbed atop the car to savor our success. There we sat on a dusty street in Ulan Bator, smoking cigars, a sense of elation washing over us and, more important, a sense of completion.

The finish line brought with it a feeling of reinvigoration. It showed us that if we put our mind to something and believed in our dream, we could make it.

The joy was real.

But the adventure over.

Next time I intend to listen to my mother.

But then again, maybe not.

Mongol Rally, Day 34: At road’s end, life is sweet, memory short

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Leon Logothetis, pictured, and co-driver Steve Priovolos arrived in Ulan Bator after the 10,000-mile road rally that began July 14 in Britain. (Steve Priovolos)

“If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn’t lead anywhere.” –Frank A. Clark

As Steve Priovolos and I started our final drive into Ulan Bator, Mongolia, I was again reminded why the Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip that began July 14 in Britain and ends here, is not for the faint of heart.

The terrain and the sheer magnitude of the task unfolded every day before our eyes. If it’s not corrupt policemen trying to hamper the journey, it’s the potholed roads. There was always something.

On Friday it was the overheating engine and a pesky river that stood in the way of our getting to Ulan Bator and finally a good night’s sleep.

The engine in our Daihatsu has been overheating the past 1,000 miles. It finally had enough and stopped. We were so close! Our trick of driving 20 minutes then resting for five had run its course.

But we were not going to fail, not now. We took out the cooking gas and made ourselves a bowl of pasta in the scorching heat. If we left the car for an hour to recalibrate all would work itself out, we were certain.

The pasta was good. That the car eventually restarted was better. The high was short-lived, though, because we were soon faced with the river crossing from hell. The river was at least 3 feet deep. We searched for another way. There was no other way.

We braced ourselves and we drove into the river. We thought we might end up downstream, but somehow we made it to the other side.

The path to our victory dance was wide open now. All we had to do was drive and hope for no more rivers, potholes, overheating troubles or stray asteroids.

Soon we came to a paved road. I know. I couldn’t believe it either. We asked a local, and this road was supposed to lead us all the way to the center of Ulan Bator. Unbelievably, it did.

We arrived in the capital without a hitch (several thousand of them now safely behind us). The emotional toll of the past five weeks was forgotten in an instant as we crossed the finish line.

Sweet.

Mongol Rally, Day 33: Where will it all end? In Ulan Bator or…?

 

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The Mongol Rally team nicknamed the Flying Dutchmen won't be arriving in Ulan Bator, Mongolia, in their own vehicles, says Leon Logothetis, second from right. (Leon Logothetis)

“Never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly.” –Author unknown

I am within spitting distance of the end of the Mongol Rally, this 10,000-mile road trip adventure that began July 14 in Britain and, with luck, will end in Ulan Bator, Mongolia. After five weeks of grueling driving I can taste the glory.

But before I start celebrating–even though we may be as close as 60 miles from the endpoint–I remind myself that many teams have not made it. Car troubles. Visa troubles. Lots of troubles. Today I bumped into a team of Dutch fellows I had met during the 47-hour Mongolia border debacle. The four friends have been nicknamed the “Flying Dutchmen” by the rest of the ralliers because of their need for speed. They are stuff of legend.

Their story did not end well. They will be reaching Ulan Bator. Their cars will not. The Mongolian roads did them in. They had two cars. The first one broke down yesterday, so they piled into the second. Then the second broke down.

They found themselves stranded in the middle of nowhere and were saved by a Mongolian nomad. I met up with them at the city of Baganuur. Their dream was  in tatters. They had hired a minivan to drive them to the capital. Their cars would be spending the rest of their days in the Mongol Rally graveyard.

You really never know what is going to happen next on this crazy adventure. Even though I am closer than I was last year (when my dream ended on Day 8, broadsided by a 4X4 in Romania) I have seen what happened to the Flying Dutchmen and others. Only when I arrive in Ulan Bator will I even contemplate that this journey may end successfully.

Heading back into the harshness of the Gobi desert, I know it takes only one pesky rock to end the dream.

To be continued. I hope.

Mongol Rally, Day 32: New members of our fan (belt) club

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A family stranded by the side of the road waves goodbye after their car is repaired.

“No one can whistle a symphony.” –H. E. Luccock

 

I’m usually the one stranded on the side of the road, but not this time.

We — Steve Priovolos, my co-driver, and I — were driving down a Mongolian dirt track that masquerades as a main road, and I was reminded that I am not the only chap who has a love-hate relationship with his car on this Mongol Rally, the 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia. As I’ve mentioned — numerous times — my knowledge of cars is limited to turning the engine on and turning the engine off. Yet on this day, I found myself coming to the rescue of a Mongolian family stranded in the scorching heat of the Gobi desert.

A toothless Mongolian man waved me down. He was in a bit of a panic, which isn’t unexpected in the Gobi desert, where there are very few cars. You are basically alone. Not very comforting if your car breaks down.

The toothless fellow started frantically drawing circles in the sand trying to explain what was wrong with his car. For some reason he got it into his head that I actually knew something about cars and kept on drawing circles. Big ones. I was lost as usual, and so was Steve.

Then he took me to his car and showed me that his fan belt (I think that’s what it was) had snapped. I asked Steve if we had a spare. We did — one.

We gave it to him. We waited in the desert heat for a few hours as he fixed his car. His family watched and drank the bottled water we had given them.

Once he had completed his task, we waved goodbye and headed on our way. Our good deed for the day was done. Now all we have to do is pray we don’t need that extra fan belt

Mongol Rally, Day 31: Having a cow over our bad luck

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We thought the skull would bring us good luck. We were terribly wrong. (Leon Logothetis / August 13, 2012)

 

Depend on the rabbit’s foot if you will, but remember, it didn’t work for the rabbit. –R.E. Shay

With my stolen iPhone probably already sold on the Mongolian black market, I felt as though I needed some extra luck to get me through the new day. Driving further towardUlan Bator, my ultimate goal in this 10,000-mile Mongol Rally started started July 14 in Britain, I picked up what I thought was going to be my lucky charm. I was going to be proved very wrong very quickly.

I had heard how other ralliers were picking up the skulls of cows that litter the roads leading into the Gobi desert. Once they picked them up they tied the skulls to their car for luck. Sounded odd to me, but I needed a pick-me-up so I jumped on the bandwagon. The first skull I came across was ceremoniously tied to the front of my car. Within 30 minutes things started to go horribly wrong.

The run of bad luck began when our tire blew up. Neither my co-driver, Steve Priovolos, nor I had ever changed a car tire. With a little bit of help from our trusty book “Mechanics for Dummies,” Steve pulled off a near-miracle, successfully changing his first tire.

Soon after the tire blew up the car started overheating. Again. This forced us to drive for 15 minutes and rest for five. This little dance lasted about two hours. Then we got stuck behind a bus that was stuck in some rather unsavory looking mud.

It quickly became evident that the poor cow we had taken from the side of the road was not a good luck charm after all. We untied it from the front of the car and buried it by the side of the road.

Our run of bad luck swiftly came to an end and we reached the Mongolian city of Altai. We are about 600 miles from Ulan Bator. Is it possible we’ll really make it?

Mongol Rally, Day 30: ‘Suspension on car is no!’

“Modern man is the missing link between apes and human beings.” – Anonymous

When you drive across one-third of the Earth’s surface, what could possibly go wrong? Well, it turns out, quite a lot, actually. The first mishap of the day happened as we tried to cross a river in the Mongolian desert. Crossing a river where there is no bridge is rather unwise. Unfortunately, we learned this the hard way. We misjudged the depth and the car started flooding with water.

This should have been the worst of it. But of course it wasn’t. A few miles down the road the car started overheating and stopped. Steve and I have no idea why things happen in cars so we were left by the side of the dirt road. Stranded. Luckily for us a Scottish man came by. Yes, he was Scottish. And no, he was not on the Mongol Rally. He explained how the water from the river had probably infiltrated the electrical circuits of the car and we were finished. Lovely.

Luckily for us he was wrong. We were not finished. But the car was still overheating when we started it. The Scotsman left. We stayed. An hour after the car seemingly gave in, we started the engine and it finally worked. Things were looking up. But not for long.

As we limped into the Mongolian town of Khovd we headed straight for a mechanic. The overheating problem seemed to have disappeared, but the noises of the past few weeks were back. With a vengeance. The mechanic diagnosed the problem as follows: “Suspension on car is no!” Lovely. Our back suspension is finished.

To cap it all off as we were waiting for the mechanic to diagnose and possibly kill off our car, my phone was stolen with all my pictures of the 10,000-mile rally. Not good news.

Mongol Rally, Day 29: Freed, then lost again

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After a miserable stay, Mongol Rally participants were allowed to pass through a border checkpoint. (Leon Legothetis / August 12, 2012)

 

“Every path hath a puddle.”  –George Herbert

Ice-cold temperatures. Frequent visits to the dreaded “pit” that masquerades as a toilet and nightmares about still being in the Mongolian border holding pen kept me awake all night. By morning I had been sitting at the border for 36 hours.

The border guards were now telling us that, unless money came in to pay for the import tax of the cars, we would have to wait another 48 hours due to the upcoming weekend. This was turning into a Mongol nightmare.

The head honchos at Mongol Rally headquarters assured us that the money had been sent. The head honchos at the Mongolian border assured us that the money had not been sent. There seemed to be some epic miscommunication.

A few of us decided to take things into our own hands and with some “Monglish” communication skills and expert assistance from the Adventurists team in Mongolia, the problem was finally resolved. All nine teams that had been waiting overnight were free to go. Jubilation ensued. No more pit. No more ice-cold nights in the pen. No more Mongolian border.

We were all free.

The good times didn’t last. My driving partner Steve and I ended up driving up a road that led nowhere. It literally ended at the side of a mountain. So did our sense of jubilation. We had finally entered Mongolia and Mongolia had already sucker-punched us with a left hook …