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Date:
July 26, 2002
Hello !
I hope this email finds you well.
I am writing form the tiny Rhine River town of
Bucharach. The flower boxes are overflowing with
various vivid shades of geraniums. The language that I
over hear is American accented English. The shop
across the street is displaying it`s gaudy inventory.
Above me is a steeply cascading vineyard and one of
the numerous castles that majestically overlook the
Rhine. Behind me the gong of a church bell radiates
through town and a pampered teenage tourist is arguing
with her parents. It is noontime.
I was granted a gift that I longed for since arriving
in London. I departed Cologne a day early in search of
this prize. My spirits soared when it was bestowed
upon me. The gift was the sun. My smile was infectious
to those who passed as I rode the bike paths south of
town.
I was granted a second gift. A mandatory tour of
Koblenz. My back rim separated after 10000 miles of
use. I was fortunate to find a bike shop in the city
with the proper replacement wheel in stock. My only
reservation was my desire for a higher quality rim. I
have now replaced 2 tires, a rear wheel, a road pump
and a set of cleats since my arrival in Belgium. I
hope this is the end of my mechanical problems.
I had my first conversation in German. A woman kicked
a vending machine. She knifed a look in my direction
and said , " Kaputt !". I replied, " Ja. " . What
language barrier ?
I received the best direction on my trip from German
cyclist. He informed me to make a left at the SECOND
castle to locate the camp ground.. He then proceeded
to convince me to visit Speyer and Heidelberg on my
way to Stuttgart.
My time in Cologne was a disappointment. A tour book
touted it as one of Germany`s most beautiful cities.
What I found is a city without an identity.
Prominately displayed on postcards and posters was a
black and white photo of Cologne in 1945. The city was
in ruins after heavy Allied bombing. What arose form
the rubble is a conflicting skyline. The remarkably
intact, massive city cathedral towers above geometric
structures that detract from the city`s charm.
Hello I am now in Heidelburg huddled behind one of the
stone supports of an ancient bridge that spans the
Neckar River. I am hiding form that first gift I was
granted a few days ago.
The German cyclist was correct. The town of Speyer is
a must see. The village which began as a Roman army
camp contains architecture that spans 800 years. The
street are spacious and cared for in that impeccable
German style. Bicyclist, ice cream shops, cafes and
cobblestone plazas abound among the alleyways that
exude history. The city is anchored by two structures.
The clock tower/city gate that is remnant of the
city`s walled fortresses and the astonishing Cathedral
of Speyer where 8 German heads of state are entombed.
I met a French cyclist on the cathedral`s steps. I
did not ask his name. His wild beard, missing form
teeth and sun damaged face concealed his age. He was
begging for money with a cup from passing tourist
while we conversed in Spanish. He had been traveling
for 5 years. His bicycle and trailer weigh in at an
amazing 200lbs when he is loaded down with a weeks
worth of food and water. He carries a full size boom
box, a set of solar panels to power his brake lights
and is considering buying a TV. He chided me when I
told him that I was going to pay for a campsite in the
city`s park. He lives outside Monte Carlo and intends
to return home briefly in October before continuing on
to Portugal and Spain. He also tried to convince me
that he walked form Alaska to Russia . He claimed that
his expensive boots made this possible by keeping his
feet warm while he walked on the ice. I wished him
well after this revelation. As I rode away I wondered
how long it would take me to reach the same point if I
just kept traveling.
The attention paid to cyclist on continental Europe
has been refreshing. In the US and the Uk I have been
viewed as an irritant to motorist. The Germans and the
Dutch understand. In their parks they go to the extent
of separating bike and pedestrian paths. The bike
paths have their own traffic lights and distance
markers. I learned the distinction between the two
paths when I almost ran over a woman`s poodle. She
said something to me in stern German and pointed to
the bike path. What I feel most motorist do not
understand is that I do not want to be on the road
with you. I want an option. ( my own space ) Why can`t
we be more progressive in the States ? Our dependence
on cars reduces our level of health, fouls our
ecology, devalues our currency and threatens our
nation security. How many more wars are we willing to
fight to guarantee our endless need for oil and still
convince ourselves that we are defending someone's
human rights ?
I miss you all,
Dennis
This email is slightly dated. It was composed over a few day. I am currently
staying in Stuttgart, Germany until Monday.
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