Season 6. Episode 1. The Goldschmieds.

September 23, 2026. Land in Venice, shuttle to Trieste. 

The moment we landed, and I had cell service, I checked the location of my air tags. The tag in my pannier showed it was with me - that made sense as our panniers were in the plane cabin as carry on bags. But my air tag on my bike showed it was still in Newark airport back home. Yikes. I figured it needed time “to register” but 15 minutes later as I stood in the passport line, it still showed Newark and Heather’s tag showed Venice. Yikes again. 

This past May, when flying home from abroad with our bikes, the bikes did not make the connecting flight and we only got them three days later. That experience has weighed on my mind and it’s one of the reasons we strive to only fly direct on our outbound flight. It’s one of the reasons we started this adventure where we did. 

When speaking with Lenny (friend who we dedicate ride in his honor) last week, I said I feel a lot of pressure of trip planning on my shoulders, but once I get there and our bikes make it and are in one piece, rideable, that’s when I will feel relief and can start to relax somewhat. 

When we got to the baggage area and found both bike boxes in the oversized baggage area, it was a huge sigh of relief. 

And today it immediately hit me that on a certain level (and respectful of the significant differences), I had a similar apprehension that my friends who use wheelchairs have when they travel by plane. Their apprehension takes the form of wondering will the wheelchair arrive in the next city? Will it be damaged? Will it be usable? Without that chair which they are depending on, they have no way of getting around. The horror stories of airlines losing wheelchairs or damaging them are alarming.  Although I’ve thought about this issue and have even advocated about the exact topic in efforts I’ve made as part of the Reeve Advocacy Team (shout out to Gerard!), I’d never connected to it in this personal way. My apprehension allowed me to relate to my friends who use wheelchairs with new empathy. In our own way, without our two wheels arriving, we wouldn’t have a way to complete our trip. 

Once shuttled to Trieste, I assembled both bikes within an hour, and happily, they were both rideable. Though Heather’s front rotor (part of the disc brake) was rubbing against the brake pads. I wasn’t sure if this was an issue with the way I put the wheel back on or if her rotor got bent. We made a quick trip to a bike shop that I already researched was nearby, but their mechanic was already gone for the day. We went to the second bike shop that I had researched (I wasn’t a Boy Scout, but believe in planning to be prepared) and there we met the mechanic named Jesus. I’d say and hope it doesn’t sound disrespectful, Jesus saved the day with a quick repair to the brake pads position that got disrupted in transit, and we were set.  

We rode a few miles between bike shops and our Bed and Breakfast to make sure all was good. 

We  “officially” launched our Adriatic Odyssey from the James Joyce statue in Trieste. Joyce lived here for many years where he developed much of his celebrated work Ulysses. Ulysses is the Latin name for Odysseus and used in Joyce’s modern Irish take on the wandering Greek hero.

James Joyce statue, a perfectly fitting send-off for our own Odyssey on 2 wheels around the Adriatic.

Jesus, the mechanic who saves lives.

In addition to Joyce, many famous writers spent time in Trieste cafes. Cafe life here was known to be on par with Vienna. Trieste was merely the launch spot for us. While we got a superficial visit, we didn’t really see Trieste. I’d recommend the city and to give it a few days. It’s rich with history due to the influences of the Venetians, Austrian Hungarians, Romans, Slavs and others as it sits at a key location. It has an especially interesting modern 20th century history. For seven years after World War II, before the city was returned to Italy from Yugoslavia, it was administered as a free zone by the British and the Americans.

Our driver from the airport, a Slovenian, (born when it was Yugoslavia) told us many say Trieste’s better days were when it was a free zone overseen by UK and USA and from the sign, some long for that again.

Plaza Unita being prepped for special events leading up to one of the world’s largest sailing regatta, the Barcolana, aka the Autumn Cup held annually on the Gulf of Trieste.

If ever an ice cream was calling my name, literally! I guess there are Sirens on our Odyssey. But rather than sweet seductive voices, it’s the seduction of sweets. I was able to resist “their voice” as we had dinner reserved in an hour.

It always stands out to me when seeing laundry air drying in Europe with far fewer dryers due to cultural, environmental and financial differences. Even in an apartment building.

Canal Grande, that’s Grand Canal, is actually not so grand. And ironically, it’s not from the time of the Venetians, but rather from the Austrian Hungarian empire.

One very unexpected and out of the ordinary experience that we had in Trieste (that a few days later still feels haunting) is as follows. 

As we finished setting up our bikes at our B&B building, a random gentleman walking out of the building said to us “Look at the six shiny bricks on the ground, outside the door”. 

See 6 shiny bricks in the ground.

Zoom in for troubling explanation. I’ve learned the Goldschmieds owned the building, and a few of them lived on the 3rd floor. Our B&B was on the first floor.

I’d just recently learned Trieste had a significant Jewish history and one time population. That may have been why it was where Mussolini announced restrictions on Jewish citizens. It was also the city with the only Nazi extermination camp on Italian soil, set up after Germany occupied Italy in the later war years. 

The Goldschmieds deportation to Auschwitz and their death there, and us staying in their building, felt very unsettling. The building was in the Jewish Ghetto. 

The city has installed small brass cobblestones in the pavement in front of the last recognized homes of many such victims. Known as “Stumbling Stones”, they’re a decentralized monument throughout the streets of Trieste.

With this jarring information, we headed out to dinner to carb load with pasta in preparation for our riding debut. Any of our challenges and problems now seemed petty and insignificant. 

© Copyright Mark Segal 2026.