Mon cher M. Hollande

 

I hope you are well and enjoying a pleasant summer vacation away from the travails of presidency. As a loyal Australian who once won second prize in an Alliance Francais competition for aural comprehension, I appreciate you making time to talk to our prime minister, M. Rabbit, whose aural comprehension has been under some scrutiny in recent times, and sincerely hope he didn't bore you too much with his stories about women and the difficulties he has in this department, as we know you have enough to deal with yourself regarding the women issue.

Garis, checking Garmin. Again!

However, I must get to the point. I shall not prevaricate any longer than it takes to congratulate you on a fine and beautiful country that produces and serves fine food and wine, takes recycling seriously and obviously enjoys soccer, or football as I know you prefer to call it. But to the point I must head, and the point, or actually the points are, and I hasten to add I have great regret in informing you of these points, but someone must in the best interests of international bike riders.

Let me begin. Firstly, your bike paths when we find them are generous and wide. But as you may have guessed, being a man of considerable competence, the point here is 'when we find them'. Signage, M. Hollande, is vital. One cannot expect international randonneurs to puzzle over goat track markings, wade knee high through corn crops and take direction from road construction crews, when just across the border in organised Germany, clear markings exist everywhere in all directions. Your colleague Angela has received correspondence, it is true, about some of the rough surfaces in her country, but we cannot fault her on signage.

Where does it state that tractors can bump bike riders off roads?

Then there is the small but significant matter of street signs in villages. This is related to the first point. How can we find our nightly accommodation in villages that are apparently sans signage?

It is also disconcerting to be riding along a pleasant road on a well-marked bike path only to find the markings disappear. Indeed, sometimes, we are faced with a big sign showing a bike with a cross though it. Levitation is difficult, deviation problematic and recalibration of route troublesome.

Garis and Maggie calorie loading

We would appreciate your direction in this issue, as we have been confused time and again as to what we supposed to do in such a circumstance.

Maggie's choice

In a country that loves food so much, why, M. Hollande, do we end in so many food deserts? Bike riders need to be nourished at morning tea time, again for lunch, and most importantly post-ride. Ice-cream and beer are just plainly inadequate. You must require hotels to stock delicious and wholesome snacks. We expect no less.

Tunnels can be fun, but why did we have to climb so far to find one?

an out of the way morning coffee stop

M. Hollande, thank you for your patience in reading my letter outlining small but vitally important problems that, in my opinion, require your immediate attention.

In closing, I wish you a lovely summer holiday with whoever is with you at present, and hope that you will take in hand the matters I raise and there be no further need for correspondence.

Regards, Janice

 

The Saone

 

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Perfect!

France makes itself obvious. As soon as we crossed the border from Germany we knew we were in a different land. For one, cars were sporting tricolour flags in celebration of the World Cup, rather than the black, red and yellow. For morning tea, the boulangeries instead of the Backereis. For our delectation, the women who take care of themselves over a lifetime in place of the women who have come to grooming a little later in life. (Not that there is anything wrong with later grooming or indeed no grooming. This is merely an observation.) And the meals, with the exception of the Texas Grill which we ended up in near Marcon on account of staying in a hotel in a food desert, are delicate, delicious and well-proportioned. Try a gallete of potatoes with smoked salmon somewhere in the woods close to Colmar, or the duck confit beside a canal in St Leger-sur-Dheune, or the apple tarts or pain au chocolat.

 

the gallete in question

Our French leg is taking us from Colmar to Marseille, a bit of a dash as we have poodled around Germany and achieved little in a southerly direction. Of course, what the French don't do half as well as the Germans is bike paths. But that said, our route has been pleasant enough so far, rolling through woods on disused rail tracks, along canals, past chateaux and herds of healthy Charolais, peering into locks and waving at patient boatmen and women (I'd last at best three quarters of an hour on a barge going through the infinite locks, hauling on ropes, pulling on lock gate releases, waiting until the water fills the lock, and inching forwards at about five kms an hour) and even coming across a solitary bass guitarist with volume fully amped in a deserted part of rural Burgundy.

Highlights have included barracking for Australia against the Netherlands in a Turkish cafe - best pide I've ever eaten, riding through a 1.6km tunnel where the temperature dropped to 11 degrees and a three-night stay in a farmhouse in a tiny village close to Chalon-sur-Saone. Our host, Mireille, a fascinating and generous woman, drove us through famous Burgundy vineyards up to a hilltop where we looked out over the 'brown gold' as she called the soil. Her large shady garden was delightful and enabled us to enjoy a truly restful day, lazing round, doing the washing, napping and cooking while glancing upwards to a big blue sky occasionally dotted with skydivers and light planes piloted by enthusiasts.

along Canal de Centrale

our French farmhouse for 3 nights

Mick doing bike maintenance

looking down on Burgundy

For those who are into numbers, we have now covered 555.5kms by bike, according to my reckoning. I'm loving this ride - slow, meandering, made up from day-to-day. As Michael our German friend would say, 'Perfect!'

 

Garis enjoying a big French beer

 

Stasbourg, near the Cathedrale

 

Barb examining a monument to dead French resistance fighters near Chalon

 

on the canals

 

in a lock waiting for it to fill

 

Barb assisting by pulling the rope to shut the rear gate of the lock

 

Garis explaining the finer points of locks to Barb

 

 

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Ten Things Germans Like Doing

 

Gardening: All gardens are spick and span. Flower boxes on windowsills are abundant with masses of petunias and portulacas. Some even contain hydrangeas in full bloom. All plants thrive. Fertilising is a mystery but it is evidently highly effective. If a person didn't much like gardening, they would need to do something to make their yard neat, otherwise the hood might take retributive action. (I just made that last bit up, but it wouldn't surprise me.)

Watching Fussball: The World Cup has brought out the yellow, read and black flags. I saw a car in Worms with more than a hundred flags on its roof, a bonnet and mirrors slip-covered with the national flag, and a model soccer pitch perched on the bonnet. That was the most extreme example I have seen so far. But there is bunting everywhere, colourful plastic leis and more and more flags. Michael said that when the World Cup was staged in 2006, Germans first displayed their flag as a point of national pride. It must take a long time for a culture to get over the shame of a war.

Drinking beer and coffee: Biergartens are numerous as are Kaffee und Kuchen shops. All supermarkets have a Backerei in the foyer where it is possible to buy pastry or cakes or rolls and coffee. Regular bakeries offer slices of cakes and biscuits along with a coffee. If you wish for milk, you are only offered that dreadful Kaffee Sahne however.

 

Ice-cream: This is a national past-time. Coloured glasses brim full of coloured ice-cream decorated with mock cream and wafers are sold in their millions. For those wishing to perambulate and lick, there is the waffle choice. Also cups - paper and plastic. Italian ice-cream is the preferred ice-cream. Of course.

Sun-baking: Yes, as outre as it may be in our culture, it has not entirely caught on here that sunburn is NOT good.

Smoking: And about fifty per cent of the population smoke. Cigarettes are very cheap by our standards. In a country where Natur is revered, this is curious behaviour.

Walking: The countryside is jam-packed with walking Germans. All ages, both genders, with and without gear (I mean specialist walking gear, not clothing, like the folks who shed theirs in the mixed sauna overlooking the Rhein and sat in the window for all to see.) Sundays in particular seem to be the day when a lot of walking gets done.

Riding bikes: See point 7 above.

Colour: After black black Melbourne, it is refreshing to see men and women wearing yellow, orange, pink, acqua, green, lavender, rust...Shirts, pants, sweaters, scarves. And red hair. Red hair dye has always been a favourite and is now sported in several shades.

Pigs: I am yet to spot a live pig, but pork is plentiful - sometimes the only meat - on menus. Perhaps it is because we are in the Rhein Pfalz region that pork proliferates. Who knows? I would have thought a good solid sausage with some potatoes and sauerkraut was the national dish, but here the schnitzel reigns supreme.

 

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Germany - Picture This

One of Germany's millions of churches

 

A British bomb found by workers when building caused a major detour on the way to Neustadt

plaques set into the pavement signifying where Jewish people who were victims of Nazism in WWII once lived

 

statue in Neustadt

 

view from Weinstrasse Radweg

 

village along the Weinstrasse

a Weinstrasse village that loved the donkey as a motif

 

a village along the Weinstrasse Radweg

how we felt after our ride to Wieembourg

And more pictures here https://picasaweb.google.com/105053170693330588495/Germany2014a?noredirect=1

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Statistics for those who are interested

 

The Lorelei Rock

Wheat on the Amische Radweg

Sunday 8 June: Nierstein to St Goar and return (train from Mainz to St Goar) - 48km some of which was along a very rough rocky road along the Rhein. Angela, when will those Radwegs be repaired?

Monday 9 June: Loop ride on the Amische Radweg - 35 kms along shady tree-lined paths and patchwork agriculture with a big long swoop into Bodensheim.

en route to Worms

Tuesday 10 June: Nierstein to Worms - 38km along the Rhein. Gravel - again - but perfect overcast riding weather. Past Spargel (asparagus) fields; through potato plantings where the potatoes flowered white, pink and lilac; alongside huge chemical factories, with Michael leading us onwards.

diversity in Mannheim

Wednesday 11 June: Worms to Mannheim (Michael's hometown) - 31km including hefting our bikes up several flights onto a long red stone bridge; a ferry ride in a ferry built in the 1850s, preceded by white swan observations; and then riding by the huge BASF factory, the biggest chemical factory in the world.

Thursday 12 June: Mannheim to Heidleberg and return - 56km along paths and through the picturesque village of Lagenburg. Heidelberg is beautiful. We spent time at the Castle reached by a steep climb upwards which tested the old lungs.

Friday 13 June: Mannheim to Speyer, a UNESCO city - 30 kms. I went swimming in the stainless steel 50 metre pool after driving to the town while the others pedalled.

Saturday 14 June: a rest day in Speyer

flowers for sale

at the Carribean along the Rhein

Sunday 15 June: Speyer to Neustadt - 36km along the Palatio Radweg. Most of the time we cycled through the woods on gravel and hard-packed dirt. A beautiful day's riding.

Speyer

 

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Finding a Heim in the Rhein Pfalz

 

It's not hard as the area abounds with Heims - Nackenheim, Oppenheim, Bodensheim, and now we have just departed Mannheim after pedalling to Heidleberg for the day. What a glorious place to ride a bike. Country lanes and bike paths everywhere, covered over often enough with shady trees to make the unseasonal German warmth pleasant. What a contrast to rainy cold Germany this trip is so far, with temperatures hovering round the 30 degree mark each day. The only down side is hot rooms in which to sleep, as AC is not something that is installed as a matter of course, unlike the bars and bars of hydronic heaters that flank the walls of every room.

Des enjoying a Spargel meal

Luckily we have caught Spargel season. If you have not as yet tasted the sweet creaminess of German white asparagus, a treat awaits. The developing spears are hulled with soil and left to grow. Then along come the contingent of migrant workers - Polish in the main I have been told - who use a slender piece of steel with a curved lip to pierce the soil, push down and lift a single spear into the light. Each spear is laid into a metal basket, one by one. Back breaking work. In my experience, the white does not have same effect on the smell of urine as does the green. Chlorophyll must be a powerful agent in the body.

We have been joined by Michael and have spent two nights in his hometown. Riding into Mannheim is nothing compared with riding into say Budapest (or Pnohm Penh - unimaginable really), but enough to remind me of why we are avoiding large cities on this trip. And who wouldn't? The villages are abundant and delightful. Nierstein, tucked between the Rhein and acres of grapes, entertained us for five days. An icecream shop on the river, two churches ringing their bells so we never needed to look at a watch, several restaurants, fifty Weinguts and many Weinstubes in which to drink a cheeky spritzig Riesling under large oaks or beeches and a swimming pool in the beautiful Villa Spiegelberg gardens - what a holiday to begin.

Our first excursion by bike was to St Goar where we pedalled and trained, then rode to the Lorelei Rock, a long held memory for me of Heinrich Heine's poem.

Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten

Dass ich so traurig bin,

Ein Marchen aus uralten Zeiten,

Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.

Die Luft is kuhl und es dunkelt,

Und ruhig fliesst der Rhein;

Der Gipfelt des Berges funkelt,

Im Abendsonnenschein.

Die schonste Jungfrau sitzet,

Dort oben wunderbar,

Ihr goldeneses Geschmeide blitzet,

Sie kammt ihr goldenes Haar,

Sie kammt es mit goldenem Kamme,

Und sing ein Lied dabei;

Das hat ein wundersame

Gewalgte Melodei.

Basically, the poem tells the story of a beautiful maiden sitting on the Lorelei in the afternoon sun, combing her golden hair with a golden comb. Of course, she is singing a sweet melody. The problem, a bit like Odysseus encountered with his men and the Sirens, was that her song would distract sailors and potentially result in ships running aground in this narrowest part of the Rhein.

I leant this poem sometime during my schoolroom German lessons, and like many things one takes by heart, it has more or less stuck.

The group is fun to be in. I have not ridden with newbies for some time. It can be very amusing to see them pedal along and remember my early days on the bike. We have laughed a lot, ogled together at beautiful gardens and buildings and landscapes, and found good food and wine to send us to sleep. Right now, there is nowhere else I would rather be.

 

 

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