Cycling east goes on. A practicality that becomes apparent: the right part of your body gets significantly more sun (or 'sunburnt' in my case) than the left. I wonder if I'll look like the two-coloured chocolate sandwich spread 'Duo Penotti' by the time I return.
But going back to Dresden, where I posted my last entry: it was great. It's not called 'Florence of the East' for nothing. On both sides of the river Elbe you will find palaces, and the Altstadt has the famous line up of the Music Acedemy, Frauenkirche (recently rebuild, partly with the same stones that were used before), Hofkirche, Zwinger and Semperoper. Seen from the Brülsche Terrasse it looks like this:During the evening my host Matthias showed me the ZDF (the German BBC 2) production 'Dresden', about the destruction of the city at the end of WWII. This is done from two perspectives: a German nurse who's working in her father's hospital, and a British pilot, whose plane crashes after having carried out bombardments on Magdenburg. He's wounded and manages to find his way into Dresden, where he finds shelter in the cellar of the hospital. The nurse finds him and they fall in love (I admit, this part is predictable). Besides this 'micro' story line the film also shows how people tried to save themselves, sometimes at the expense of others (the hospital director is hiding all morphine for example, even though his hospital is flooded with badly wounded soldiers from the eastern front, because he struck a deal with the immigration office and a Swiss clinic), and the bigger geo-political picture. Because why was Dresden destroyed? Germany was already on its knees and there were no mayor military targets. According to the film, it was partly done out of revenge (the Germans had 'broken the code of war' to not bomb civilian sights earlier in the war, foremost in case of Coventry) and partly out of strategic interests (Churchill wanted to show Stalin that the 'Royal Air Force' was still capable of dealing out such a fatal blow). In any case, it was the people of Dresden who suffered, in what only can be described a hell on earth. The whole city was on fire.
Well, luckily much of what once was, has been rebuilt. So much so, that some Dresdners feel a bit uneasy with the fact that the old part of town 'has to be exactly the way it was'. They feel that it's mainly done for the tourists, and not so much for the people that live there. It does indeed create a bit of a doll house atmosphere , but I guess the Neustadt (at the northern shore of the river Elbe) provides many opportunities for modern architecture/living. (Picture shows the Volkspark 'Großer Garten')Well, back to the cycling. After Dresden I carried on to Görlitz, at the border with Poland. The route:
Grotere kaart weergeven
Some numbers:
Sadle pain: 2 (largely so because I was wearing long pants; if factor 55 fails, only textile can do the trick)
Wind: 3
Top speed: 38,1 km/h (downhill from one of the hills on the Dresdner Heide)
Other cyclebeasts: 3 (in the city of Bautzen, but I suspected them of travelling by campervan with a cycle carrier, they looked too fresh)
I stopped indicating rain: it's summer.
A very pleasant ride that started of with a nice cup of 'Milchcaffee' in the morning in the so-called Niedergasthof 'Böhmische Brauhaus' in Groß Röhrsdorf. This might seem futile to most of you (I can imagine some former colleagues saying "yes it does Koen", am I wrong Johan?), but being on this trip creates a fasciniation for some of the smallest details. This, what can best be described as a farmsted, was built by one M. Schöne in 1630. Over the course of 250 years it saw different owners, until another Schöne married the daughter of the family that owned the property at the time in 1870 ('Schöne' was a common name, so this Schöne decided to keep the family name of his wife). In the 20th century the place had many functions: it served as a garage of all sorts (for cars, bicycles), a fuel station (up until the fifties) and a eatery. Nowadays Frank Conrad still runs the restaurant/bar, hosts parties and has what looks like a bowling alley. I regret not having made a picture.
Continuing I came t
hroughthe Oberlausitz, land of the Sorbs (an ethnic minority that speaks a language similar to Polish and Czech), with its main city Bautzen. Beautiful, richly decorated, very Baroque-esque place, where even the Dutch retailer 'Zeeman', normally located in the crummiest of buildings, finds itself in a stately residential house with ornaments around each window. The street signs are bilingual, depicting German and Sorbish. On the picture a window that was very unlike the others, but that appealed to me because of its sense of infinity. The Karla Marxowa droha ofcourse heard a proudly sung 'Internationale'.
In Görlitz I received a warm welcome from my hosts Katharina and Yves. Entering town in what could be called the main shopping street, the Berliner Straße, a strange sensation came over me. The first ten or so buildings, on both sides of the street were empty. And not only empty, but empty and dilapidated! Like in some old western, where gangs rule 'Main Street'. A tumbleweed blo
wn in would have completed the picture. After a good meal, the three of us walked around town. We crossed the bridge into the Polish part and bought some beers in a store. When I was about to open it, Katharina quickly warned me not to do so. "In Poland you are not allowed to drink on the streets!" "And what about being drunk publicly?", I asked, because I had already seen some Poles that were everything but sober. That's up for discussion, but apparently has to do with the police still being able to mock you or not.
As soon as we crossed the bridge again, Katharina stopped and sighed out of relieve: "Ah, jetzt sind wir wieder in Deutschland..." Our caps popped open and we had a refreshing sip of Lech.
The German border is typical by the way. As you can see on the picture, it has a sign for the country, the border, the Bundesland, the city, and the traffic rules. Gründlich oder? It's not as open as it seems though. According to Yves the border control comes further into town, where there's a large police presence.
When I said goodbye to my couch hosts, one of the elastics on my luggage carrier broke. Without hesitation Katharina took hers from her bicycle and gave it to me. "For your travel." If you're reading this, thanks again!
From Görlitz I cycled to Legnica, the first real kilometers into Poland. At first sight it's less organised as Germany, as one would imagine, but I now have the impression that this was mainly so in the border area. Further into the country, the roads are really good (although they do not indicate holes in the road, as in Germany where you will find a sign saying 'Straßen - Schäden'). And of course there's the omnipresence of faith. Crosses and churches aplenty in every village! And also crosses on the road side, where car drivers were less fortunate. Also, I think it must have been Poland's national lawn mowing day, 'cause I've see at least 30 people mowing their lawns. Then again, there's quite a bit of grass here.
The route:
Grotere kaart weergeven
Sadle pain: 1
Wind: 1
Top speed: can't remember, nothing too impressive.
Cyclebeast: a cyclebeastfamily of 4 in Gorlitz!
Legnica, a medium-sized town with quite an intresting old centre, gave a ghostly first impression. Everywhere I looked there were trees cut down, or branches ripped of from those that were still standing. They must be short of timber, was my first thought, but lateron my host Joanna told me about the terrible storm that came over the city just over a week ago. (I remember checking the weather forecasts back then, and thinking, "hopefully it's better weather when I come across southern Poland", not knowing that it was this bad).
Another warm welcome in Legnica. A nice meal outside (we were not only having dinner, but were also being dinner for the musquito's), a breezy evening walk and a great breakfast. Paul, one of Joanna's brothers came back from a 24 hour (!) shift at a gaz station, after which he prepared a great omelette and lateron, when I was packing up the cycle, surprised me with a delicious lunchbox. Thanks Paul, that really hit the spot during the ride to Walbrzych!
To road to Walbrzych:
Wyświetl większą mapę
Sadle pain: 1
Wind: 2
Top speed: quite fast, as Walbrzych is located close to the border with the Czech Republic, where it gets hilly. Didn't see the exact number, 'cause my map was covering the board computer and I didn't feel like removing it to have a look, with two lanes of highway next to me and a scruffy didge to ride on.
Cyclebeasts: none, although Krystian, whom I've met in the town of Jawor, deserves a special nomination:
Entering Walbrzych I redefined the word 'grim', or let's say I discovered that there are actually many more shades of grey than I had known before. This was probably also because of my mood, since I had big troubles finding the house of my host, Joanna. When I finally got there, the greyness melted like snow in the sun. as Joanna's mother had prepared an excellent meal of borshch, potato puree, vegetables and deliciously homemade bread. At night Joanna showed me around the suburb of Szczawno that is famous for its natural spring and wellness centre. The next day I bought coffees and tea's from all over the world in her mother's store, as gifts for my future couch hosts, and I continued my trip to Wroclaw.
The road was more or less like this:
Wyświetl większą mapę
Just outside Walbrzych I bought some lunch in a small store in a small village. Walking in with the helmet still on my head, the girl behind the counter frowned at me, and after I had ordered in English, which she spoke as well, she asked: "Where are you going?" I tried to reply as casual as possible: "Oh, you know, Beijing...", which is such a funny jaw-dropper. "Nooo! Alone?! You are crazy!" Things I've heard one or two times before, and to be honest, I can't fully grasp the idea myself either. Than she asked me: "Do you know this road?" To which I answered: "Nope, I just want to get away from the big streets." "OK, there's big stone on road, I think you will have problem!" "Big stone, so you mean the road is blocked? Do you think I can walk around it?" "Yes, I think you can..." What she meant was that behind the village there is a mountain, with only a tiny, extremely rocky path. Which was indeed a problem.
Lateron that day I found a mobile phone on the road. I took it, in order to ask my host in Wroclaw, Krzysztof, if he could call the last number in the memory so that this person could inform the owner where to collect the phone. The first one and a half hour me and the phone were alright, but than Mama Orendz and Stoneczko started calling... At least nine times! And the phone had the most awful, tacky ringtones one can imagine! At one point I felt like throwing it in the river, but I kept on being a good samaritan until I arrived in Nowy Dwor, an outskirt of what once was Germany's third largest city. There Krzysztof answered the phone ('cause by then it was almost ringing constantly), and told this guy called 'Tato' that a Dutchman who's on his way to China by bicycle found the phone and brought it to him in Wroclaw. "Hmmm", Tato answered, "that's very unlikely..." Yes, I know that's very unlikely Tato, but you could at least say thanks for saving it and taking the effort to coordinate its safe return! It was too much for the imagination of Camila, who was apparently the owner of this horrible little jukebox.
In the village of Sobotka I came across a marriage in the 'Sanatuarium Sw. Anny Samotrzeciej w Soboice'. The bridesmaid handed the bride a tiny mirror and a lipstick at the moment that she and her soon to be husband were already inside the church, about to walk up to the isle.
Four cycling days have passed, and I am on Declan's 'seafood-diet' (see food, eat it). Tomorrow I will continue to Opole and afterwards to Katowice.
At the moment Wroclaw (or Breslau as it's called in German) organises a film festival, and one of my hosts happens to be a true connaisseur of cinema. Yesterday we have seen 'The band's visit' that tells the story of an Egyptian orchestra that travels to Israel for a concert. Highly recommendable. Tonight we will probably go to an open air screening of Charlie Chaplin's 'The Dictator'. Looking forward to it!
Cześć!
(I know this was quite a lenghty account... For those who made it: thanks! I'll try to have less to say next time : ) )
hroughthe Oberlausitz, land of the Sorbs (an ethnic minority that speaks a language similar to Polish and Czech), with its main city Bautzen. Beautiful, richly decorated, very Baroque-esque place, where even the Dutch retailer 'Zeeman', normally located in the crummiest of buildings, finds itself in a stately residential house with ornaments around each window. The street signs are bilingual, depicting German and Sorbish. On the picture a window that was very unlike the others, but that appealed to me because of its sense of infinity. The Karla Marxowa droha ofcourse heard a proudly sung 'Internationale'.In Görlitz I received a warm welcome from my hosts Katharina and Yves. Entering town in what could be called the main shopping street, the Berliner Straße, a strange sensation came over me. The first ten or so buildings, on both sides of the street were empty. And not only empty, but empty and dilapidated! Like in some old western, where gangs rule 'Main Street'. A tumbleweed blo
wn in would have completed the picture. After a good meal, the three of us walked around town. We crossed the bridge into the Polish part and bought some beers in a store. When I was about to open it, Katharina quickly warned me not to do so. "In Poland you are not allowed to drink on the streets!" "And what about being drunk publicly?", I asked, because I had already seen some Poles that were everything but sober. That's up for discussion, but apparently has to do with the police still being able to mock you or not.As soon as we crossed the bridge again, Katharina stopped and sighed out of relieve: "Ah, jetzt sind wir wieder in Deutschland..." Our caps popped open and we had a refreshing sip of Lech.
The German border is typical by the way. As you can see on the picture, it has a sign for the country, the border, the Bundesland, the city, and the traffic rules. Gründlich oder? It's not as open as it seems though. According to Yves the border control comes further into town, where there's a large police presence.
When I said goodbye to my couch hosts, one of the elastics on my luggage carrier broke. Without hesitation Katharina took hers from her bicycle and gave it to me. "For your travel." If you're reading this, thanks again!
From Görlitz I cycled to Legnica, the first real kilometers into Poland. At first sight it's less organised as Germany, as one would imagine, but I now have the impression that this was mainly so in the border area. Further into the country, the roads are really good (although they do not indicate holes in the road, as in Germany where you will find a sign saying 'Straßen - Schäden'). And of course there's the omnipresence of faith. Crosses and churches aplenty in every village! And also crosses on the road side, where car drivers were less fortunate. Also, I think it must have been Poland's national lawn mowing day, 'cause I've see at least 30 people mowing their lawns. Then again, there's quite a bit of grass here.
The route:
Grotere kaart weergeven
Sadle pain: 1
Wind: 1
Top speed: can't remember, nothing too impressive.
Cyclebeast: a cyclebeastfamily of 4 in Gorlitz!
Legnica, a medium-sized town with quite an intresting old centre, gave a ghostly first impression. Everywhere I looked there were trees cut down, or branches ripped of from those that were still standing. They must be short of timber, was my first thought, but lateron my host Joanna told me about the terrible storm that came over the city just over a week ago. (I remember checking the weather forecasts back then, and thinking, "hopefully it's better weather when I come across southern Poland", not knowing that it was this bad).
Another warm welcome in Legnica. A nice meal outside (we were not only having dinner, but were also being dinner for the musquito's), a breezy evening walk and a great breakfast. Paul, one of Joanna's brothers came back from a 24 hour (!) shift at a gaz station, after which he prepared a great omelette and lateron, when I was packing up the cycle, surprised me with a delicious lunchbox. Thanks Paul, that really hit the spot during the ride to Walbrzych!
To road to Walbrzych:
Wyświetl większą mapę
Sadle pain: 1
Wind: 2
Top speed: quite fast, as Walbrzych is located close to the border with the Czech Republic, where it gets hilly. Didn't see the exact number, 'cause my map was covering the board computer and I didn't feel like removing it to have a look, with two lanes of highway next to me and a scruffy didge to ride on.
Cyclebeasts: none, although Krystian, whom I've met in the town of Jawor, deserves a special nomination:
Entering Walbrzych I redefined the word 'grim', or let's say I discovered that there are actually many more shades of grey than I had known before. This was probably also because of my mood, since I had big troubles finding the house of my host, Joanna. When I finally got there, the greyness melted like snow in the sun. as Joanna's mother had prepared an excellent meal of borshch, potato puree, vegetables and deliciously homemade bread. At night Joanna showed me around the suburb of Szczawno that is famous for its natural spring and wellness centre. The next day I bought coffees and tea's from all over the world in her mother's store, as gifts for my future couch hosts, and I continued my trip to Wroclaw.
The road was more or less like this:
Wyświetl większą mapę
Just outside Walbrzych I bought some lunch in a small store in a small village. Walking in with the helmet still on my head, the girl behind the counter frowned at me, and after I had ordered in English, which she spoke as well, she asked: "Where are you going?" I tried to reply as casual as possible: "Oh, you know, Beijing...", which is such a funny jaw-dropper. "Nooo! Alone?! You are crazy!" Things I've heard one or two times before, and to be honest, I can't fully grasp the idea myself either. Than she asked me: "Do you know this road?" To which I answered: "Nope, I just want to get away from the big streets." "OK, there's big stone on road, I think you will have problem!" "Big stone, so you mean the road is blocked? Do you think I can walk around it?" "Yes, I think you can..." What she meant was that behind the village there is a mountain, with only a tiny, extremely rocky path. Which was indeed a problem.
Lateron that day I found a mobile phone on the road. I took it, in order to ask my host in Wroclaw, Krzysztof, if he could call the last number in the memory so that this person could inform the owner where to collect the phone. The first one and a half hour me and the phone were alright, but than Mama Orendz and Stoneczko started calling... At least nine times! And the phone had the most awful, tacky ringtones one can imagine! At one point I felt like throwing it in the river, but I kept on being a good samaritan until I arrived in Nowy Dwor, an outskirt of what once was Germany's third largest city. There Krzysztof answered the phone ('cause by then it was almost ringing constantly), and told this guy called 'Tato' that a Dutchman who's on his way to China by bicycle found the phone and brought it to him in Wroclaw. "Hmmm", Tato answered, "that's very unlikely..." Yes, I know that's very unlikely Tato, but you could at least say thanks for saving it and taking the effort to coordinate its safe return! It was too much for the imagination of Camila, who was apparently the owner of this horrible little jukebox.
In the village of Sobotka I came across a marriage in the 'Sanatuarium Sw. Anny Samotrzeciej w Soboice'. The bridesmaid handed the bride a tiny mirror and a lipstick at the moment that she and her soon to be husband were already inside the church, about to walk up to the isle.
Four cycling days have passed, and I am on Declan's 'seafood-diet' (see food, eat it). Tomorrow I will continue to Opole and afterwards to Katowice.
At the moment Wroclaw (or Breslau as it's called in German) organises a film festival, and one of my hosts happens to be a true connaisseur of cinema. Yesterday we have seen 'The band's visit' that tells the story of an Egyptian orchestra that travels to Israel for a concert. Highly recommendable. Tonight we will probably go to an open air screening of Charlie Chaplin's 'The Dictator'. Looking forward to it!
Cześć!
(I know this was quite a lenghty account... For those who made it: thanks! I'll try to have less to say next time : ) )
Hoi Koen, fijn weer wat van je te horen. Volgens mij krijg je de smaak te pakken. Alles goed hier. Tot gauw, succes Kus Ivon
ReplyDeleteRoovers, ouwe gelukszoeker! Wat een avontuur, wederom. Geniet van deze trip, dan doe ik dat van je verhaaltjes! Groeten vanuit een broeierig Utrecht (studentenkamertje van Jelle), Arie!
ReplyDeleteHey Koen,
ReplyDeleteAllereerst wil ik even zeggen dat ik geniet van je verhalen. Fijn om te lezen dat het zo voortvarend gaat en dat je interresante slaapplaatsen vindt.
Bedankt voor je telefoontje jammer dat ik je gemist heb, ik was aan t werken. Ik heb de afgelopen paar weken zo eens een extra dag gewerkt om voor de vakantie te sparen en ik ben bezig met het vernieuwen van mijn website zodat ik degelijke solicitaties de deur uit kan doen.
Nog heel veel plezier
Dikke kus Roos