Donkey's day off
May 16
Near Milsbeek, on the Mass River, south of
Nijmegen.
Another weird day. Had to run with Anja to another
town to find a
bicycle shop that could repair my back wheel. Two spokes were shot.
That’s
what all the noise was yesterday. Figure I hit a hard bump to many
times. Shot out two right across the rim from one another. I’m damned
lucky Anja befriended me last night.
Their son wants to be my pen pal!
I gave him my email address.
Anja rode me to the highway and left me there. Was a
rather nerve
racking ride into Rhenen. Nice little town. I took a walk around. Got
put onto an apple mac store where they let me use their internet. Sent
out the last few days digital journal.
Had some difficulty with Wheels there. Broke the
seat, or at least
where
the seat fits on to the runners beneath it. Tried to pry it back in to
no avail. Finally cut the rubber slot open and rammed the thing back
in.
It worked until I got here and gave the seat a tug, dislodging it
again.
Gave it a good wallop and that seemed to work. Sooner than later I”m
probably going to have to get a new seat.
Then, as I was leaving Rhenen, the bolt holding the
left side of my
back
rack fell out and my whole load shifted to that side. Had some issues
getting the thing to line up again with the load on. Had to strip off
the upper rack then manhandle the rack up, until I could get the bolt
back in. Tightened it down hard. Must remember to tighten my bolts.
That’s part of the reason I got the BoB back home, it has no bolts to
shake loose. Will also have to pick up some bolts somewhere, just in
case. That’s easy to do.
Quebec has its old towns with one main street and a
church at the
center. Holland has the same town but the church is replaced by a
bicycle shop. Bicycles are the religion here. Everybody has at least
two, most more. They ride their cranked out old rattle traps to the
trains and around town, then pull out their good bikes on days off and
roll through the countryside.
The countryside is lush and green. Its a little
stinky though. Let me
tell ya, if ya have issues with manure, don’t come to Holland,
particularily if sheep, cow or horse dung, or a combination thereof,
gets to ya!
Its still blossom time here. The flowers, the famous
tulips, well, I
missed those. I am catching a lot of furit tree blooms tho’. Its all
quite lovely, once you learn to turn off your sense of smell.
Crossed a highway bridge and rode close to some
heavy traffic for a bit today. Its so nice you don’t have to go out on
the main highways.
I’m spoiled already. Even riding close to them is a bother. Mercifully
the design of the cycle lanes takes you well away most of the time. In
a
few places its like Canada, with nothing between you and the traffic
but
a white line, or a change in road texture, usually from tarmac to
cobblestone. They also use a fine sandy red-coloured packed stone. In
traffic circles, which they use a lot, to the great affect of slowing
everyone down, the red sandy stone marks the cycle lane.
Sadly, they do allow motorcyles on the bicycle lanes
in most places.
Mostly scooters and such, but you do get the odd yahoo on a sport bike
moving way over the speed limit. It can be dangerous and one cannot be
too much of a tourist. Felt like horking a few today, but I’m alone
now,
and I think I’ll hold off on the horking until I can speak the
language.
Sprecht uw Nederlander?
Doddled on the Rhindyck. Finally made it to the
Rhine just in time to
see a massive six lane highway bridge under which all sorts of river
barges and low rider boats were plying. There was also a casine boat, I
think from Germany. Met a couple about ten years my senior heading up
the Rhine. Ther’re hotelling it, claimed to have left Amsterdam this
morning but let it slip they’d started from the hostel in Bunnick. They
were Dutch, all decked out in the latest matching gear. Were nice
enough
to stop and talk, tho’ a lot of it was bravado.
"Why you carry all that stuff, you could do 200
kilometers a day," she said,
gawking
at my things.
Saw myself in a full length mirror today, I’m a
short scruffy fellow with a
very large head and Popeye thighs!
I dress funny too!
And, on Wheels, I'm a damn site shorter than everybody else. Had one
guy
go by me today, he was so big I swear he was the spawn of Paul Bunyan.
Raced through Nijmegen. Nice old part of town from
what I saw. Got lost
by the University just as classes were getting out. Did a circle.
Finally a guy saw me looking at maps and came up to talk to me. We had
a
nice chat. Turned out I was on the right road, just follow my nose.
Bought some potato and spinach salad, and a hunk of
cheese from a
butcher south of town. Had to stop and chill a moment there. I’d almost
run over a lovely young university girl becauce of my clip.
“Hey
darling, your bum is fun to look at but you’d better get it the hell
out
of the way because suddenly I’m a frieght train.”
Sat on a log in a wooded area and ate most of that
food. Then I carried
on in the woods, where the route signs led. This was a lovely ride
folks. I found Holland's hills, just north of its penis!
It was fun to be in hills. For a change I got to go
hard for a while,
then coast, then go hard for a while, then coast, the stuff that made
me
fall in love with bicycle riding in the first place. For about an hour
I steamed south
towards the Maas River through a forest that appeared to be at least 60
years old, and in places a lot older. It was a great spin that
bouyed my spirits, and lucky for me, the trail signs were clear.
Eventually I came down through the hills to a low
valley, the Maas Valley. A look at my map showed there were campsite
begining 10 K
futher
along. It was about 5pm so I decided to run the extra hour or so to get
there. The hills had boosted my spirits and the sight of the
river, and the long winding quiet road, made it all so natural.
Then, five K along, there it was, this place, the
Mini Camping Ground.
Acutally, its a very nice little farm campground. Room for about a
dozen
campers, there’s maybe six right now, and all of them are tucked safely
in their motorhomes. I’m the only mini-camper around, with my little
tarp near the trees, along a farm path, where, evey once in a while a
lonesome little burro appears, wanting my company. When he first saw me
he hee hawed and honked, until I went over and petted his nose. I think
he’s a little disappointed I’ve not given him an apple or a carrot.
Had a lovely hot shower and a shave. Its
disappointing I’ll be putting
on the same old clothes tomorrow, I’m so clean.
Paid five euros for the place. Told the woman at
that price I might
stay
two nights. She said that could be done. So we’ll see.
Today I discovered Hollands Hills, apparently there
is more to come. I
also met a lonesome jackass, besides the one in the mirror.
Its been a good day.
May 17
Milsbeek, Holland
Slept until after 10 this morning. Well, the donkey
woke me up about
seven, but I went back to sleep. It rained all night. The sound of ithe
rain
on
the tarp above me somehow soothing.
I finally got up, as the sun topped the shrubs to me east, made
coffee and wrote in my journal. I knew from the start this would be my
day off.
After London, where I barely got on the bike, I
hadn’t been off it
since
I touched down in Holland. It had been five days straight over 50 K
each, and a whole week in Zaandam and Amsterdam where I rode it
constantly. Wheels deserved the rest, and so did I.
Breakfast was leisurely. Wrote many pages in the
journal, and
appreciated every drop of coffee. The grass was still wet from the
rain,
so I used one of my packs as a seat and leaned against a post. I spent
a
good three hours there, scribbling, sipping, and finally chowing down
on
a massive bowl of museli.
Not wanting to get caught with no food, for later or
tomorrow, and not
wanting to get stiff by sitting still all day, about 1 o’clock I
decided
to head into the nearby village of Milsbeek, pronounced “Miles Beck”.
Wasn’t there five minutes when I caught hell from the grocer. He
accused
me of squeezing his mangoes. I was simply touching them to see how ripe
they were. I’d done the same to his avocados. When he growled at me in
Dutch I said, “Sprecht uw Angles?
“I speak English enough to get by,” he responded,
“don’t squeeze the
fruit. I will not be able to sell it tomorrow.”
I told him I’d merely touched it to see how ripe it
was and hadn’t
actually squeezed it.
He repeated himself.
I’m an old fruit picker. I can take a ripe golden
delicious off a tree,
put it in a bag, carry it down a ladder, roll it into a bin, and not so
much as give it a freckle, I thought to myself, but decided I didn’t
want to deal with translating so I held my tongue and simply assured
him
I’d not touch anymore fruit. Then I backed slowly away from the produce
section and got into the soybean division, and all around his grocery,
until I had everything I wanted.
Spending ten euros I got all I needed plus. So I
paid up, then wandered
back out on the quiet street and down a block to the town square. There
I pulled out my ibook and was delighted to discover a wireless
connection while sitting on a bench. I checked my email and tried to
look up the Stanley Cup situation. It was too bright out to read what
was going on. If anyone wants to send me an update on what’s going on
in
the NHL playoffs, I’d love to read it.
Had a note from Arno and Gerda, wondering if I’d
obsconded with
their Amesterdam Map, a later check of all I own for the third time
turned up nothing. Later I found a place in my journals where I
complained to myself that I’d gone into Amsterdam on my first day there
without a map. Last time I saw it was the morning I arrived. Hope they
find it because I don’t have it.
Kees and Marjon also sent a note. Turns out the late
night phone call
was a friend of there’s having a baby! Marjon’s reluctance to enter the
room while I was sleeping made her miss the big event. So sorry.
Responded to Arno and Gerda. Decided to let the rest
slide until my
next
travelog.
Realized today I haven’t checked to see if my money
came in last month.
If its not there I may have problems. Really have to stay on top of
things like that!
Closed up the ibook and wandered down to the local
war cemetary. Its
simple tombstones, a couple hundred, mostly Irish and Scottish boys
aged
18 to 20, with a few in their mid 20s and 30s. Wars are fought by
children, that’s what I took from it. I also thought to myself that
we’re lucky we don’t have such places in Canada, but I think we would
benefit from such poignant reminders. We don’t know what its like to
watch people get killed all around us. I hope we never do, but I worry
that we don’t have any strong daily symbols to keep the idea of it
fresh
in our collective consciences. War No More!
Wandered up a side road afterwards. Pretended I was
lost again, then
turned back and found my way to where I started. Came back here and
spent the remainder of the afternoon down by the backwater, watching a
swan, the sky and other watery life. When I was tired of that I tried
to
take a nap while one of my ibook batteries charged. That didn’t work
so
I got up and made my second giant avocado, tomato, spinach and cheese
sandwich of the day, which I chased with some pistachios and a 100
grams of good Dutch chocolate. The stuff is so cheap, its one of the
things I’ve grown to like here.
I’m also begining to understand the language a bit.
My host was
teaching
me some today. She asked, “all is okay?” I said yes. Then I asked, how
do you say that in Dutch. She said, “all is okay.”
I then tried to clarify myself.. I explained, "I’m
trying to find out
how
to say that in Dutch."
“Say what in Dutch?” she asked.
“All is okay” I replied.
“All is okay” she replied.
“No, no, no. I want you to tell me how to say it in
Dutch.” I
said.
“All is okay, that’s how you say it.” she responded.
Suddenly Abbot and Costello came to mind, or their
ghosts took a walk
across my concsiousness. I got the message!
“All is okay” is Dutch for “All is okay” It can be
asked as a question
of provided as a response. All is okay, I don’t have to ask, Sprecht uw
Angles?!
I’ve also figured out something else. If there say,
two ‘e’ s together,
or any two vowels. then the sound of the vowel is soft. If the vowel is
alone between two consonants, then it has the hard sound. For example,
the village where I’m staying is written "Milsbeek," but is pronounced
"Miles Beck." I think it means “miles back over there somewhere.”
The ‘g’ s and ‘j’ are also soft. So words containing
those consonants
give me issues. Nijmegen I was calling “Nijj Mei Gen” but it is
pronounced “nee may jenn”. Its all turned around from English, and
there’s way more consonants slung together. No phonetics here, its all
syllabics. Give me some months, I think I can figure this out. At very
least I’ll be able to read it properly, though I won’t likely have much
of an idea what I’m saying.
Feel pretty good this evening. I’m glad I took the
day off. Think I
needed to slow down. A lot of my lost boy routine the past few days was
me getting worked up and panicking. I needed to slow down. Last week I
was all off about staying here longer, today, with a little r&r, I
realized in all my commotion I haven’t even checked to see if my
cheques
are still rolling back home. If they’re not, then all my speculation
and
future concerns are mute. I’ll have no choice but to catch the June 20
plane from Heathrow.
Next bank machine I see I’m checking. Next telephone I’m using the
phone
card I bought the other day.
The burro has come by to see me several times today,
both the actual
donkey and the joker in the mirror. I’ll have to remember this, a day
off once in a while helps one keep track of oneself. Can only see
myself
when I’m standing still. Maybe that’s why I don’t like standing still!
Ha.
Seeing myself also helps to keep me from taking
myself too seriously!
How do you say EgoCentric in Dutch?
Anyway, I was plugging my computer in when I noticed
a queen bee come
and crawl in under a little hole in the pavillion door. It was just
below a little eye glass fitting and led to the inside of the frame
door. A little while later I noticed a couple worker bees head in the
same hole. This door is right where the campers do dishes and leads to
the showers and common area. I thought my host should know the bees
were
building a hive there. She was quite impressed I would notice, so I
told
her about my days in the orchards and how one of my jobs was to find
the
bee hives in the trees before the pickers got to them.
She said she would come with spray later. I
suggested it would be a
better idea to simply close the hole. That way there would never be a
danger of them building their hive there again, and she could avoid
using the poison. That also impressed her.
A while later I noticed a bunch of real confused
worker bees. They’ve
given it up now.
The little burro, I’ve discovered, will eat bread
out of my hand. I’ve
fed him a couple times today. He’s a cool little guy. Got himself a
honey in a nearby barn. Goes over there once in a while, I hear a lot
of
pounding and banging, then he shows up again at the fence, heehawing
for
some more bread. I swear, that dam burro is getting lucky and that’s
what’s making him so hungry. We’ve a lot in common that burro and me,
we
both get hungry after, have big heads, small bodies, and voices that
overwhelm a space. I wonder if he breaks out once in a while and goes
for a wander?
Anyway, its getting dark. I’m just babbling on
trying to kill my
battery
so I can get it recharged before I go to sleep.
Plan an early day tomorrow. If all goes well I may
even send out this
journal entry and the one before it. Some of my Dutch pals are
concerned
I may actually get lost in Holland and never be found again. I could,
but I’d be a willing loster, wandering in circles until I found someone
to take me home again. Its worked before! Half the fun in getting found
is getting lost in the first place.
Sending you all some pictures.. See if you can
figure out what they
are.
May 18 Lottom Holland
The sun is down its nearly dark. I've just come from
the shower.
There's
a cup of licorice and milkthistle tea beside me and I've put on my silk
coat to keep warm. My back is to a tree.
Seconds ago a flock of geese did a fly by squawking.
In the distance I
big trucks rumbling, the hiss of cars, the low baritone of rubber on
tar
rolling, rolling.
I've had another absolutely wonderful day.
Leaving the mini camp both the burro and the woman
who owns the place
came by to say farewell. I was a little sad leaving both of them. But
it
was time to roll.
It rained all bloody night, wind too! I fared quite
well. Put
everything
in under the tarp with me. Propped the computer up inside its pannier
on
top of another pack, with air between it and the tarp. Bundled all the
loose stuff up in my airport bag and tucked it on one side. The
clothing
panniers and the computer on the other, so I had decent wind
protection.
Slept well actually. Had to wait until nearly 1 am for the ibook to
recharge. Takes four hours I think.
Was going to detour through Milsbeek and send this
travelog but at the
time I left, shortly after 11, the sky was still unsettled and the wind
was in a fury. I thought better of exposing the ibook to it and rode on
thinking I'd find a connection somewhere else. The one place I probably
could have connected came up too quick, only a half hour into my ride.
I
blew through that nice little town.
The towns have changed now. The canals are gone.
There's a lot more
stone and brick. The ones on the Maas River (check that spelling, I've
been spelling it Canadian) have a touch of the canal flavour, but more
and more they're like towns everywhere, main streets, churches,
cemetaries, grocery stores, the odd cafe or bakery.
After the town the trail took me along mud roads
through thick forest
past farmers fields and eventually out along the river, once placing me
on a ferry, near the village of Bergen, and then trough some more
forest
and fields. There was a lot of wind, and the sky sometimes threatened,
but it was a lovely ride, mostly flat, and always quiet.
Later on I was forced to cross a large highway
bridge. I was off to one
side of the bridge, on lanes for slower traffic and bicycles, but with
the wind whipping and big transport trucks chewing up the sand on the
bridge, it made for the worst part of my day.
However, on the far side of the bridge the trail
dipped back into the
farmland and forests and remained there for most of the day. I figure
my
ride was somewhere between 50 and 60 K. It took six hours, and I made
about six short stops, nothing over a half hour, and mostly just ten
minuters. I felt good all day.
Met a few other cyclists. There were a couple guys
early on going the
same place as me. We talked a minute on the road, they were Belgians,
and we passed one another a couple times. At the speed they were going
I
suspect they are camped near here somewhere.
Later on in the day I met a Swiss couple at a
grocery store in a town
with a name like "House is Broken. We chatted for a few moments. They
were heading for Flanders, in Belgium.
Saw a family of Polish people travelling in a horse
drawn carriage.
Also
noticed a new language around, its Polish. They come to this area to
pick fruit and work the farms. Some are young and others old. In the
field next to where I’m camped they worked until sunset.
I’m camped in an over priced, 8 euros, campground,
where they charged
me
a 91 eurocent “tourist tax” and charged me an additional half euro for
a
shower that lost pressure when someone flushed the toilet. I feel like
telling the guy I represent a consortium of independent Canadian travel
companies who are planning to set up cycles tours in Holland and that
his tourist taxes and stingy water services cost him a mint. I really
should have gone to the farm camp I saw on the way in, and not let the
gruff look of the woman working in the garden detur me.
High rent rendevouz aside, I have a lot of space
here, a whole field, and was able to cook myself a fine dinner of
beans, veggies and cheese
with spinach, grain bread and Dutch chocolate for dessert.
Found some more tobacco today, on a bench! I wish
these people would start leaving
their Euros around.
Checked my bank account, can’t tell for sure, but
there appears to be
money there. Yahoo! Wanted to call home tonight but there’s no phone
hereabouts.
Just had my first mosquito bite of the season. Just
like home it is.
Actually, it can be worse. They haven’t been biting but there’s
millions
of them.
I’m also noticing there’s no ravens or crows. There are some grey and
black birds that resemble crows, but they, unlike crows, fly away when
you approach. Crows just stand there and let you take their picture.
There’s a couple, cyclists, here. We’ve waved at one
another and said
hi. Didn’t get chance to talk to them before they went to bed. I was
busy making dinner when I got here.
Sky cleared off just at sunset. There was some actual colour in the
set.
Stars are out now and the wind has died down. Felt
to me like it was
actually going to be a nice night and a good day tomorrow, so I wrung
out some clothes and hung them on Wheels to dry. So for sure I’ll have
to jump out of my bivy in the middle of the night and rescue them all
from the rain!
I’m less than five K from the German border here.
Tomorrow I’ll be on
the Belgium border, which is no more than 10 K the opposite direction.
I’m just 90 to 100 K north of Maastricht and should
make it there by
Saturday.
May 19
Maastricht, Holland
Its after midnight. I'm in Maastritcht. Its a sudden
move.
Had a real tough day, fighting 30 K headwinds and
rain. My prediction
of
last night came true, and I found myself reaching out of my bivy to
pull
down the clothing I wrung out to dry while lightning flashed around me,
thunder rattled the ground, and the wind blew limbs from the trees. I
wondered for a few minutes if there wasn't going to be a tornado. It
was
like last year all over again.
Finally got going about 10 am. If I hadn't been so
foolish leaving
clothes out to dry I'd have got away a little damp. I did well, but was
carrying some very wet clothing.
First little while was sheltered, but windy and a
little difficult.
Pulled into Venlo about noon and wandered around for a while in the
busy
streets that were like a big mall set in old architecture. Found what I
thought was a little cafe and ordered a coffee, then checked my email.
Thought I sent this message out, but realize tonight I didn't succeed.
The people that owned the cafe sent the waitress, a
lovely robust
blonde
with a sensitive smile, out to tell me the coffee was free for a people
who ride their bikes in wind storms. I ordered another, then went to
use
their john. On the way past the kitchen I got a wiff of something I
hadn't smelled in quite some time, real Russian borscht! I ordered a
bowl of that. Cost me six euros it did, but it made me feel like I was
back home with the Doukabours.
An hour later I set out again, grinding, fighting
rain, wind and
myself.
I was not having a nice time although the country was gorgeous. No sign
of the promised hills, but beautiful nontheless.
About 4 pm I crossed a busy little ferry near
Beesel. On the otherside
I
waited while the wind really came up and a huge black cloud rolled in
from the south. While I was there two kids about 13 showed up with
swastikas all over their jackets and started smoking drum tobacco and
hashish in a nearby pagoda. I stepped away from there and chatted with
a
middle-aged Polish fellow who was waiting for his wife. An hour later I
moved on again.
I was having trouble with the little bit of traffic
there was, mostly
speeders using the Maas River dyke as a bypass for the free way.
Then it happened!
I knew what it was as soon as I heard it. Another
spoke broke on my back wheel. I was miles from a campground, and none
of
the local towns had an open bike shop.
Someone I asked directions from told me there was a
rail station within
a few k. I walked to it only to find it totally abandoned. In its place
was a machine, a machine that wasn't working. I pushed all the buttons,
hoping somehow I'd be able to buy a ticket to Maastricht. It seemed to
me I may as well just train ahead to a city and find me a bike shop in
the morning. I stood there feeling totally in trouble. I couldn't read
what the machine said, I was sure it was broken, but I had no way of
telling for certain, perhaps I was just using it wrong.
While I was standing there dumfounded two young guys
in a station wagon
drove up, part way onto the train platform. They looked at me curiously
then one got out, took a key, opened up the machine that had been
messing with my mind, and started pushing all sorts of internal
buttons. The machine began to wir and spit, choked a couple of times,
then started into an even electronic hum.
When the guy had closed up the machine I asked,
first if he spoke
"Aingleesh" then if I could get a ticket to Maastrich from there. He
said sure, and offered to show me how to do it. Then his buddy, a
fellow
of about 25 years and seven feet tall, showed me what to do. I did as
suggested and put my bank card in because there was no slot for bills.
The machine rejected my card!
We both stood there a moment, then the fellow said
he'd buy it for me
with his card if I had the 7.90 E in cash. I went for that deal.
These guys, it turned out, have the contract to keep
the train ticket
machines operating. I asked if I needed a ticket for my bike. The guy
told me there was no way to buy such a ticket from a machine.
Half an hour later I was on the train chugging
towards Maastricht when
along came the conductor asking for tickets. When I couldn't produce a
ticket for my bike he said, "Tickets are cheap at the station for a
bike, six euros. If you buy it on the train it costs 35 euros. Next
time, buy a ticket for your bike!" Then he walked away.
Just over an hour later I landed in Maastricht, and
with the help of a
fellow cyclist I met onboard, got directions to the center of town. He
cautioned me the cheapest I'd find a room would be 65 euros and there
were no hostels. Once downtown I got downtown I found out he was right,
until I met up with a guitar man talking English. He told me there was
a
place called the Botel where I could get a closet for 30E. I wandered
around for a while looking for it to no avail. Then I scared some poor
young woman out walking her dog by asking if she'd heard of it. First
she ignored me, then, when I pesisted, she finally figured out what I
was
trying to say, and pointed across the parkway to the river.
"The Botel is a boat hotel," she said. The guitar
man failed to mention
that fact! So here I was wandering around looking for a sign that said
"Botel" but I should have been looking for a boat. It was easy to
find, there was only one boat on that part of the river.
I checked in, then went for a walk into the old
city, which was first
contructed in Roman times. There's still walls left from those days.
Its
a neat old town, more like France I would think than Holland. Its
upscale in places. Actually, its where all the Germans, Belgians,
Nederlanders and wealthier eastern Europeans go to be cool. Its a party
town, with music of some sort in all the bars, busy cafes, thousands of
eateries and such. I'll write you more about it soon, I'll have to
spend
a couple days here.
Remember I mentioned that British Airways had put a
gaping hole in my
bike box? Remember also I said my friend Peelee had noticed loose
spokes? Remember I said my two previous derelict spokes had broke free
right at the axle? Well, here's my theories.
First, there were spoke
problems to start with the rear wheel. I'd had trouble
keeping it
trued from the start. Then British Airways put the barrell end of a
howitzer through
it! Now I have a bunch of spokes that are fractured where they bend to
fit
into the outside of the axle. I just did a count, there are at least
three that I can pluck like guitar strings and sound like Jimi Hendrix,
wawa! One is broken right off.
Did I mention that when the spoke broke I decided to
bond it to another
spoke so I could at least walk the bike without bending the wheel too
much. And did I not also mention that when I cutting the twist tie I
used to do the bonding I put my Swiss Army knife blade right into the
pinky finger of my left hand. OUCH!!!
So, while I was trying to get the bike so I could
walk it, and the
yahoos were using the cycle route as a warm up for the Indy, I was also
doing myself grevious harm with a knife!
It was not my day.
Anyway, tomorrow I either have to buy a bunch of
spokes and fix the
wheel, which with my mechanical ability could take a week, or I have to
pay someone to fix it, or I have to buy a whole new wheel. Methinks the
latter may be the wiser, and likely the most expensive, although me
fixing it could lead to the emergency ward and even more expense.
Once I manage that I'll have to get me and my gear
out of town to a
campsite or somewhere cheaper, unless of course I'm up to spending a
week's food budget on one or two nights in a hotel.
The Botel is
apparently full up tomorrow, so I have to go somewhere else.
Really folks, I felt quite hopeless today. I'm
really sorry I missed
the
hill country, and I probably could have found the bike stuff I need in
another town, but I'm here now, one day's ride from Germany!
It's after one in the morning now. I'm totally beat,
and beat up.
Perhaps I should do myself up in a hotel and have a couple nights of
high living. Then I could say I did it like the Europeans do, instead
of
hiding out under a tarp hoping the elements don't blow me away.
Anyway, while I was in Velno the woman brought my
borscht with a tiny
glass of clear fluid in it. When I asked what it was she told me vodka!
Earlier she'd brought me whipped cream for my
coffee, and had placed a
few grams of liqueur in the bottom of it. I explained I'm allergic and
she took it all away.
Later on I was thinking, seems like the elements
were out to get me
today, first with the weather then with the booze. I escaped their
clutches both times.
Now I'd like to think there's some big syncronistic reason why I had to
be in Maastricht a day earlier than planned. I'll find out soon enough
and so will you.
Hope your May 19 was better than mine.
May 21
The sun has finally emerged after a couple days of
torrential
downpours. I have just paid one last night at the Botel, totally
blowing my budget. Put out over 200 euros yesterday replacing my back
wheel and getting everything fixed up. Also got shortchanged by 30
euros, somewhere in my day. Oh well, that's the way things go
sometimes. Have decided to spend a last night in Maastricht so I can
actually see and photograph the town and medieval ruins. I may never
get the chance again.
Yesterday was awful in many ways. The weather was
pure crap and I got
soaked to the bone running from bike shop to bike shop and around in
circles looking for a money exchange, which I eventually found near
where I'd started looking.
Met a man whose grandad started the very first ever
bike shop in
Maastricht way back in the early 1930s. He took a liking to me and gave
me a bit of a break on my repairs. He also showed me some old bikes he
had around, made of wood! Quite the craftsmanship, had carved fenders,
wheels and spokes of pure wood. He also had an old cash register that
was two feet across, two high, and weighs a couple hundred pounds. One
of its more interesting features was a button for half cents. He let me
try to push one of the buttons, it was difficult to do, which explains
why most of the cashiers were men. In those days, ringing out a fare
was heavy labour.
Also met a nice woman who was born and raised here.
She told me tails
about going to the bike shop with her grandma when she was a kid. Three
generations of her family have bought and repaired their bikes in the
same shop, which has recently moved from its original location to a
small shop on a side street. Its original location was in the local
market square, which is now being redeveloped. Sad, its quite a place
with buildings datng back to the 17th century and a statue of a man
with a flaming torch in his hands.
Think I'm recovering from my bout with culture
shock. It was really
perplexing to find myself in trouble in a place where I could not read
any signs or talk to anyone. I was very lucky to find my way out,
although it has cost me all the dough I saved staying for free with
Arno and Gerda and Kees and Marjon. Good thing its payday this week,
although I found out yesterday the euro-canadian dollar exchange is
about 2 to 1. It means I have less money than I'd hoped. Oh well
again.
Caught up on my sleep yesterday and was up at 6 am
this morning. Not
nearly as many birds here as there have been in other places. But it
was a lovely morning with the clouds clearing and the sky opening up.
I plan to wander around, find an internet portal and
send out this
message. Also hope to call home later, if I can find a phone booth,
they are rare here.
Tomorrow I'll push on part way to Germany, find a
place to camp, then
head for Bonn the next day. If all goes well I'll be back on the Rhine
within a couple days, learning yet another language, and dealing with a
whole new culture, perhaps a little more tense one. I figure it will
take a about a week or so to make it up to my pal Angela's in Tubingen,
unless I hop another train, which I will do if things get difficult or
the monsoon returns.
Found myself a bit panciked the past few days. Its
been difficult but
people have been fairly nice to me, except for when I got short
changed. Actually, the people in this part of Holland seem a little
more amicable then those in other areas I've visited. They definitely
take an interest when you let them know what you're doing, and they're
much more willing to speak in English. Here, most people speak four
languages, Dutch, German, French and English. Some of the kids can go
on in Russian, Polish, Swedish and Norweigan as well. We think we have
multiculturalism in Canada, but here it is a way of life.
Anyway, on with the day and the adventure.
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