The Home Stretch (Day 119 - 127)

Day 119 - 127 (9th - 17th Dec)
12,717 miles
Vienna – Berlin – Wettingen – Amsterdam – Rotterdam – Home

The next morning was pretty overcast with a persistent drizzle across the city, I had one more day in Vienna to explore but as it was cold and wet I found a café at Karlsplatz to sit in for a few hours, have breakfast and catch up on writing my blog surrounded by friends meeting for coffee, a homeless man taking refuge from the cold, and a few people working remotely. After a few hours I set off to buy a new lens cap for my camera which disappeared somewhere on a walk a couple of weeks ago, then made my way to the Weiner Christkindlmarket at Rathausplatz for glühwein, bratwurst and a wander round the craft stalls. The markets I’ve been to in the UK have varied quite a bit but largely contain the same sort of mass produced generic festive junk. Its been a few years since I’ve been to one in the UK so maybe they’ve improved, and there are more craft/genuine Christmas markets there too, but the one here in Vienna seemed to have more local businesses making and selling their own designs, trinkets and hardware. Some of it is still inevitably crap, but there was a nice variety of (overpriced) stuff to look at. I spent a few hours packing my stuff up and was in bed early after meeting a new Icelandic room-mate transiting through Vienna to start his ski season in the hills a few hours away.

I was up and loading my bike at 06:30 outside the hostel as my Icelandic room-mate emerged from a taxi on his way to bed from an impressively late night partying. I rode for a few hours out of Austria through a 2deg calm overcast grey world and filled up at the fuel station I found in Czechia, assuming that it would be cheaper because Czechia aren’t in the Euro (and it was). After another hour or so of riding, I had gained a fair bit of altitude heading north through the country, and needed to stop to thaw out as the fields and hills turned white around me - my heated grips with homemade wind deflectors reached their effective capacity.

Close to the border with Germany I had to stop again when my visor became almost entirely obscured from condensation having worked its way into the pinlock glazing and misted up on the inside such that having it cracked open slightly stopped working, and the constant snow and road-spray obscuring the outside were making me borderline dangerously blind on the road. It sounds dramatic but cold and rain are big problems for a bikers visibility, in a car you spray some wiper fluid and you’re back to crystal clear vision, but on a bike you gradually accept less and less visibility until you realise you’re holding your head in an obscure position to gain a few millimetres of visor you can see through.

Everything is an event on a bike, you are much more affected by the smells, temperature, sounds and weather around you which has huge benefits and occasionally negatives, but is one of the reasons why riding is so much more connecting to the world around you as a method of travel.

After 420 miles (680km), I arrived in Berlin at Dan and Wiebke’s, with my fingers and toes numb and useless. I had a quick shower, a few warming cups of tea and some very welcome food then was ready to head for a Christmas market which was tucked away amongst some repurposed builds in the city (I can’t remember what they were previously, something industrial). When the barmaid asked if we wanted an extra shot in our glühwein, I will admit it was me that encouraged it the first time, and the rest of them accidentally followed suit until the market begun to close and we had to leave, having realised we had spent hours stood by the bar making sure they didn’t waste any of their stock. We dashed around the craft stalls casting an eye over a few of the more artisan collections and learned from one homeopathic lady the damage that scented candles do to your body (apparently). The good news is that we found a bar on the way back to Dan's which was still open so we continued the British tradition when catching up with old friends, by drinking to excess some more as I demonstrated how impressively awful I am at playing pool.

The next morning felt a little heavy on the grey matter, but eventually we were up and out for a tour around the Reichstag that Wiebke had been able to arrange for us which was fantastic, to learn a little about the history of German Government, its politics and the interconnected government buildings in that district. We spent the afternoon running a few errands in the suburbs of Berlin travelling around by train and tram, as we discussed the way Germany works, its political structure, policies, benefits, taxes, amongst many other topics. When you go to other countries, you rarely get to dig into how those countries work and understand them enough to compare with your own country unless you meet someone who has either been there a long time or has had to learn it themselves. It makes for very rich conversation and discussions to talk with people who do actually know the overarching mechanics of how their country works, what’s permitted, why & the history of how it came to be – it was a privilege to have the opportunity to learn about Berlin and Germany from Dan and Wiebke, comparing and contrasting their experiences to my own of the UK.

We went out for some food that evening at a traditional beer house that served really good German food. We had spoiled our appetite for drink after the previous nights escapades so headed back and concluded the evening with tea on the sofa. The next morning we had breakfast then I started to load the bike and said my farewells, grateful for the hospitality and chance to spend some time with Dan and his family.

The next stop for me was to do the 300 miles (480km) west to see Peter the cyclist I met in Copenhagen 118 days previously, who had kindly offered for me to stay with his family on my way home. The riding across Germany wasn't as cold as it had been the previous day but it never really reached beyond 4 degrees. Something Dan mentioned was that Berlin had famously cold winters which had reached as low as -15 deg in the past, but it had been a few years since those extremes, which would have be prohibatively cold on a bike with my current set up. Droning along the autobahn through mist and calm but cold wintery day was a fairly uneventful journey - the travelling aspect of the trip had become more of a necessity now rather than part of the adventure (a bus or train would serve the same purpose as I no longer utilised the freedom the bike could offer, nor most of the kit I was carrying).

I was greeted by Peter moments before his father arrived home, stowed my bike in the garage then had a quick shower to warm up. It was really indearing to be greeted so warmly by his parents and sister who made me feel very welcomed into their lives. We spent some time catching up on the rest of his bike-packing tour through Sweden and Norway, had sauerkraut for dinner to complete the traditional Germanic experience then nipped out to a neighbouring village for a few drinks. On our way out I was amused by the cultural adherence of waiting at the road crossing for the light to turn green despite there being no cars, houses or people visible in any direction. As I've travelled I've seen a fairly broad spectrum of ways different nationalities comply with guidance, rules and law. In Albania you're lucky if you're given a portion of your own lane to exist in from oncoming traffic, in contrast to Germany where you do the right thing even though you know there is rarely enforcement of consequence for not doing so. For my part I'll always aim to do whats safe and not at the expense of another, which generally will line up with the law, but not always.

The next morning we went for a walk beside a local resevoir and some woodland candidly discussing the why's and therefores of life, then got back for some lunch as his family returned from their various real-world commitments. It was mid-afternoon as I suited up to set off for the next stop, inching closer to home with a full send-off from their driveway to see me go - it was a pleasure to meet such kind and interesting people and I hope to see them again. One of the things we discussed was the serendipitous nature of how we got to sitting in a pub in west Germany together, all because I had 3 spare tyres strapped to my bike at a campsite in Denmark, which drew Peter over with curiosity.

The ride to Amsterdam was only 2 hours but it was fairly dreary, a little damp, and still fiercely cold. I was in need of fuel but only saw it on offer for more than 2EUR/litre so I figured it was premium rate on the main roads and I'd find a cheaper solution as I leave in a few days. My hostel was just outside De Wallen, the red light district in the centre of the city, I parked up on the broad pavement and checked in to the 20 bed dorm, the largest multi-occupancy I'd stayed in during the 4 months of travelling, but I was one of 3 people there. Two weeks before Christmas doesn't seem to be a popular time for backpackers to be doing a lap of Wester Europe it seems.

The hostel was pretty basic, I haven't really described many of the places I've been because this isn't TripAdvisor - where its been notably good I have generally written about enjoying the place and the communal atmosphere, hubbub, good people, and the feeling the place gives. The facilities aren't usually knocking it out the park but that doesn't matter so much in my view (providing you aren't getting bedbugs!). Somewhere to sleep, space to keep my stuff, Wi-Fi and a shower with warm water is pretty much all it must have, an equipped kitchen or kitchenette is very useful to keep costs down and eat cleaner, clothes washing facilities also handy, but not necessary every time just every now and then. I've realised a communal space is definitely a make or break with a hostel though because when you arrive to a new place and don't know the city or any people, if you have a communal space to be (which can just be the kitchen) then you can meet people who aren't just in your room, and swap stories, ideas, etc. and the whole experience of where you are improves. Some of the better hostels actively run social events you can join, on-site bars, will arrange tours around the city, bike hire, restaurants/cafes, give advice and guidance on where to go and what to do in the city or local area, and this essentially turns it into more than just accommodation but a hub of everything you need to make the most of where you are.

So - there is a range, and this one in Amsterdam was pretty near the bottom of the facilities on offer - it had 2 sinks, about 3 glasses, a couple of plates and a set of cutlery in a cage in the corridor outside the room, 3 showers and 3 toilets between a potential of 40 occupants. Luckily the city itself was so vibrant and busy it didn't really matter because I wasn't intending to spend any amount of time in the hostel during the day as I wanted to be out exploring the huge range of things to do here. The manager who ran the hostel was really nice which also made a big difference to the place, and is often the underlying cause of everything else being okay. 

I unloaded my bike into the room and squirreled away most of the largely unnecessary luggage into a corner, got changed and went out to look around the city and canals. Amsterdam has a lot of really interesting historic culture to absorb, but also has the more superficial lure of drug use and legal sex trade. I've been here before but it's still very unusual to be walking down little cobbled streets packed with tourists with the smell of weed in the air, almost every corner shop selling baked goods with various strengths of weed, magic truffles (similar to mushrooms) and hundreds of red lights above full length glass doors scattered amongst bars and restaurants with sex workers advertising themselves for work. There are police in the streets, and in any other country they would be raiding the shops selling drugs, prosecuting the inebriated punters and discouraging the sex workers often funding criminal activity, but here they are smiling, conversational, and making sure no one has had too much of whatever their vice is, but largely there as a presence of safety. The biggest problem in a city filled with drugs and sex, seems to be the behaviour of the tourists, and unfortuntely, Britain appears to do a thorough job of its participation. 

It isn't all just 'lads lads lads' though, I was really interested in watching the behaviour of people in this alien environment. As well as groups of guys from all over the world being raucous or piling into 'coffee shops' and sex theatres/peep shows, there were a lot of guys walking around on their own hovering a little uncertain on the other side of the street from the girl that took their fancy, and couples walking around just taking in the atmosphere of it all. It surprised me how equal the balance of guys/girls was throughout the city, the mix of age groups from teenagers to retirees, and how very non-seedy it actually felt. It was interesting to see people walk up to the doors of girls, and either stand outside and chatting to the girls for a few minutes presumably asking for the price of services, then peeling away again or going in and the curtains being drawn. I've just realised I never saw someone come out of a glass door though, so maybe its a one-way portal to a world of ecstacy guarded by the sirens of the city. As a single guy walking around the city, my guess is I would have been prime candidate as a customer because I seemed to get quite a bit of beckening from girls to approach and talk to them. It was a strange sensation - very difficult to describe, sort of between a strong adrenaline rush and a fear/intimidation of a world I am very nieve to.

The other thing about Amsterdam which I hadn't realised was how full of restaurants and takeaway eateries it was! I spent a long time trying to work out how best to spend the next 5 meals of my visit because there were so many options of tasty places that I didn't want to 'waste' the calories on a bad choice of food! In the end I opted for some loaded fries with parmesan and truffle mayo, which is a regionlly famous takeaway, and was absolutely delicious. I got back to my hostel after about 2 hours and noticed that the camping chair which I had left tucked into the spare tyre since the bear ruined my topbox, was gone.

There was a fairly big population of homeless in Amsterdam, and the lure of an untethered bag attached to a rolling cash machine was obviously too strong in the end. I went into the hostel to ask whether they had cameras outside their door but they couldn't record the pavement for legal reasons, so I had no way to know what had happened. The manager suggested that it was probably worth going round the block to see whether they had dumped it because they mostly look for things of value, and if they don't want it they get rid. True to his word, I did a lap of the block and within 20 meters of my bike I found it dumped on top of a load of bicycles. It probably wasn't obvious what it was, a folded fabric thing with a bundle of aluminium tubes in a haphazard arrangement. If they had known it was a lightweight camping chair which packed down to a convenient size my guess is it would have continued its new life in the city, but I was glad to get it back all the same. At that point I decided it was probably a bad idea to leave my axe attached to the bike in the street too, so took that in to save being accused of murder or robbery in the morning from my fingerprints.

The next morning I wanted to do the park run which was 7km away, I had loosely intended to run to it but woke tired and nearly renegged on my plan then changed heart and knew I would regret if I didn't. My shin still wasn't fully right since June with little twinges every now and then, and I didn't think I would be able to do the 14km commute as well as the 5km run which would be approaching a casual half marathon in length, with untrained legs on a cold morning running on hard pavement. I set off with my credit card in the pocket to give me an option of return if it started to go wrong, and got to the start of the park run 12 minutes after it had begun. After a hasty conversation to work out which direction to go in, and a glance of the map on google, I set off hoping to catch the tail marker before too long as the course is removed once they clear each point. Just before the first significant turn I caught the tailwalker and was then able to follow marshalls and other runners for the rest of the course. In the end I managed to finish in 31 minutes and wasn't last! Happy with the result but aware the legs had pushed hard to do that, I got the bus back and stopped a cafe for breakfast before finishing the final 2km back to the hostel.

Annoyingly, I messed up with my visit to Amsterdam in exactly the same way I have before. There are a few very good museums in the city that were on my list of places to see whilst I was here, part of the reason I was returning to a city I have been before, but the museums are very popular and the tickets for each day sell out long in advance - which I forgot. I had intended to visit the Ann Frank Museum, and the Van Gogh Museum, but I wasn't organised enough to remember I need to pre-buy tickets. I went out for a walk around the streets as it was no longer raining (it had been the entire rest of the time I had been in the city), and had an excellent pastrami sandwich for lunch from a cafe I had heard about online, spent a bit of time buying cheese and gifts then visited the Our Lord In The Attic museum, recommended by Anne.

The museum was facinating as it described the back and forth between various religions through time, and that once the authority of the city established a prominently protestant direction for the people of  the city, catholics had to worship in secret. It was a sort of open secret, in that they couldn't have churchs for religious gatherings as they'd all been confiscated for protestant worship, but a few individuals built churches within their homes that others could attend, and this museum was one such church - build in the attic of a town house, seemingly ordinary from the street but hugely complex and grand inside. After a few more hours of wandering the streets I headed back and begun packing for my check-out the next day.

With a few hours to fill before meeting Demi for lunch, who I originally met with her friend Lara when we were in Kaunas 12 weeks ago, I did a bit of a walking tour of the city in my motorbike boots as the rest was packed away. It was really good to see Demi again on my way home, with her dry sense of humour and confusingly American sounding accent (until she switches to fluent Dutch). I suited up and set off for my final stop, to stay with Anne and get a taste of Rotterdam. Remembering to get fuel I discovered that 2EUR/litre wasn't motorway prices, it was the Dutch price, so I swallowed the pill and filled up with the most expensive fuel I'd bought in 12,000 miles. An hour later I was outside Anne's apartment close to the centre of Rotterdam as she arrived back from running some errands by bicycle.

The whole of The Netherlands really is as pro-bicycle as their reputation proceeds. The roads and traffic management preference cyclists as road users above cars, there are designated lanes for bikes everywhere, bike locking points almost everywhere you want one to be, outside shops, houses, parks, everywhere. The terrain is largely flat so it isn't a chore to travel around, its ingrained as part of their culture and having a car or motorbike in this environment doesn't really add much (certainly for local travel), beyond the ability to store 2EUR/litre fuel in a container you need to park somewhere.

We spent a few hours catching up, had a tour of her apartment which she has put so much energy and thought into renovating and creating a space she enjoys, then had a delicious dinner and set off to a Jazz club by bicycle to listen to a band perform. The musicians were fun and full of energy as the crowd got up and danced along for a few hours, it was a nice surprise activity for the evening. Before we headed home Anne knew of a few art exhibits that were worth seeing at night so we begun the tour of Rotterdam under the cover of darkness. We went to see a piece by an artist who uses a series of projectors to cast various patterns in light onto the floor in front of the art depot for Boijmans Van Beuningen which reflects the display back as its mostly made of silvered glass (mirrors), it swirled and merged, the images of the projectors coming together and parting with a mix of colours and patterns, it was quite hypnotic to watch and stand amongst. We cycled up to the harbour to see the buildings and a few other areas around the city as she articulated various anecdotes of interest to me. It was very impressive to realise how well she knew her city, the buildings, its people, the history, culture, shes very connected to where she lives but she was also very knowledgeable about Copenhagen which I realised when we met and spent the day cycling around, and of Amsterdam, and multiple other places in Europe too. It made me wonder whether I would have the background knowledge to reciprocate with the same level of knowledge and interest with the places I have lived, and I'm not sure I do. Maybe I would have better luck doing a countryside/rural tour in my home county but even that I'm not sure about, its something I feel I should maybe spend some time considering and learning/thinking about - to be more aware of where I am and how that place came to be. 

We got back fairly late and head for bed, then the next morning had a full spread of breakfast as she resolved some of the apartment issues with plumbing, having become the defacto central point of contact and organisation for the community of apartments she was part of, because everyone else took a slight step back in responsibility. We mixed up a continuation of the Rotterdam tour with some errands and had a really fun mix of a day, visiting a statue of the world's tallest man (who was obviously Dutch, as the tallest nation on earth), visited a chinese restaurant for a sandwich, had a traditional drink of some horrific tasting spirit and a half pint of larger, ate some oliebollen which are sort of like donut balls, but not quite, and are very tasty, visited the result of an architects fancy, having created a series of cuboidal houses orientated onto their corner, making quite a curious living space, a huge archway 40-50m tall filled with street markets and food stalls, met one of Anne's close friends who I had heard of through the stories of a toy hippo that Anne creates mini stories for, and has an online following of his escapades! The day wrapped up with a visit to the supermarket so I could buy some truffle mayo to take home, to recreate the parmesan and truffle mayo loaded fries I'd tried in Amsterdam. We had another full meal of homemade delights and chatted a little before I suited up and said my farewells, bound for the Hook of Holland, 30 miles east.

To say I was only in Rotterdam about 26 hours in total, it was a very full and fun experience, Anne was an incredible hostess and has such a vibrant energetic and eye opening view of the world, every bit as much fun to be with as I remembered in Copenhagen.

I got to the ferry terminal in good time and sailed through the formalities without much delay. The ferry was only 1/10th its capacity with 135 passengers (plus freight) aboard so there was a lot of space on the car deck but despite this I was instructed to squeeze in between a couple of cars already parked - a little more awkward than necessary. After strapping my bike down to the deck I climbed the 6 flights to my cabin and had remembered my key this time unlike the crossing from Stockholm to Ventspils in Latvia. Before heading for bed I went to the upper deck to watch as we departed mainland Europe bound for England.

I woke to the one hour warning for disembarkation disguised as a call to prayer for the canteen, and started to suit up for the final leg of the ride. The bike was still upright and where I'd left it which is always a relief to discover, and as I sat there amongst the mass of cars waiting for lorries to tetras themselves out of the ship I realised I could just roll backwards into the clearing the other side of the deck and creep along to the front skipping 200+ cars. I was waved forward by a member of crew and was first to the UK Border checkpoint. "Good morning sir, where have you been?" - everywhere.

The final 200 miles was strange. I was riding along unfamiliar roads, through countryside I didn't know, in the hours before the sun had risen, but still felt a strong sense of belonging to everything around me. The number plate format of vehicles I passed, the style of driving, the roadsigns, the smells, the form of houses, buildings, farmland layout, hedgerows, I had no questions about any of it, I just felt like I knew how and why. I got to the M1 and before too long and saw signs for Derby - the first time I'd seen it written in what felt like a very long journey, I could feel myself smiling and fondly aware that I was almost back. I hadn't thought very often about the practically of being home whilst I was away, I was generally working out where to sleep, or get food, how to overcome various obstacles along my way, meeting new people and how to make the most of the environment I was in, to do and see as much as possible. Now I was almost home, it felt very releasing to not need to think about anything anymore.

I pulled up to the vacant space on my parents drive at 10:00, was greeted by Mum & Pa, and sat down just in time for brunch.