Day 30: Buren to Amstelveen, Netherlands
(45.14 miles, 180 ft of gain, Strava map)
Our night in this small Netherlands village was very comforting, particularly because we were awoken by the pattering of morning rain while we stayed dry and cozy inside. We have been very fortunate to not have to sleep outside in the rain and then pack up soaked tents in the morning. Kinda crazy how the timing has always worked out so far.
We joined Yvette, our very floral, French, 70-80-year-old host, in the morning for a breakfast of coffee, bread, and spreads. The usual. Concerned about us finding the ferry, she drew us a rudimentary map with only two landmarks: the ferry and a llama farm. The map became more of a keepsake than actual useful for directions. As we biked away, I kept glancing back, seeing Yvette standing there waving until we were out of sight. When somebody waits until they can no longer see you anymore, you know they care.
Unlike our last ferry which surprised us by not running on Mondays, our ferry today was prompt and present. It was only 1e to cross for the each of us, and when we waved goodbye to the men who were manning the boat, we received an unanimous response of emphatic waves and smiles in return. We were delighted and warmed by the positive energy.
Our way to Amsterdam was first met with a stop in Utrecht. It is very hip and Amsterdam-like city with some canals and a lot of touristy shops and souvenirs. It’s charming with its ancient city center that dates back to the high Middle Ages, and it has a lot of students from the University, likely driving the hip-ness. As our double rest days were coming up and we were making good time, we had the chance to explore a little longer.
As we were talking to each other, a man made eye contact with us and said flatly “Americans”, almost like a question and a statement. We simply said “Yes”, not really anticipating anything else. As we stood there chatting, he became disgruntled and spoke more loudly, declaring “Americans, bullshit that’s what they are!” followed by other things in Dutch that I didn’t understand. This was really the only anti-United States sentiment that we directly experienced.
The rest of the time in Utrecht was actually quite nice. We picked up some cutesy postcards and bought some coffee at a modern, minimalist café. Claire had a deliciously too-big-for-Claire sized Falafel bowl that we were only too glad to help her finish. Claire and Uri also bought a wooden tulip from a gift shop, a memento to decorate their bikes with for the road. Unfortunately, we missed the Holland tulip season, but these wooden ones would make do for now. Slowly, we meandered our way out of the town, mounting our metal steeds and getting back on route.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the bike infrastructure in the Netherlands is absolutely incredible. The lanes are perfect for cycling, and bikers have their own road signs. Cars actually respect cyclists, yielding to them at intersections and roundabouts, likely because the people driving are also cyclists. Seriously, everyone has a bike and there is every combination of bike possible: bikes with front trailers or back trailers, bikes with seats for your babies in front of or behind you, tandem bikes for two, bikes for FOUR people, bikes where you can sit side by side, recumbent bikes where you are reclined while pedaling, tandem bikes where one person is reclined and the other is upright. It’s wild.
Our arrival into Amstelveen was through blissful farm fields. It was breezy and sleepy, and the upcoming two day break was excitedly hanging in the air. Our house for the evening was not Warmshowers but rather it was the home of the cousin of Uri’s dad. Her name is Diana, and she and her sister Graciela would be welcoming us for the break. Each of them had a granddaughter that was visiting, so when the four of them arrived home, there was a flurry of English, Spanish, and Hebrew: English for Claire and I, Spanish between Uri, Diana, and Graciela, and Hebrew when the sisters would talk to the granddaughters. Thankfully, English was the common language between the 7 of us, and we had a wonderful time socializing with a lot of laughter, sass, and teasing that family members are the best at. Diana and Graciela are particularly great at one-liners.
“To speak English, you have to put two potatoes in your cheeks!”
Day 31: Rest day in Amstelveen/ Amsterdam
(4.74 miles walking, Strava map)
I don’t think there has been a better timed rest day in the history of bike touring. On the night we arrived to Amstelveen, a rain storm began which... is an understatement. It didn’t stop until almost 6 PM the following day. The winds were violently whipping the trees back and forth, leaves were torn from their branches, and branches were ripped from the trunk. Being on the inside looking out was nothing shy of relieving.
We had a delightfully slow morning with the family, finishing breakfast around 10 AM. The perks of staying with two grandmas is that you get to eat grandma food and feel a little spoiled. It was wonderful.
With the rain still going at the windows, I spent the morning and afternoon relaxing and working on my blog, allowing the weather to not guilt me into exploring the city. Claire had left into Amsterdam (about 10 km away) by bus. Since she had lived there previously for a study abroad program, she had been looking forward to returning to the ol' stomping grounds. Meanwhile, Uri had some bike adjustments done and then got a sports massage; a proper way to spend a rainy day. His left hand had not been doing well; the numbness in his radial fingertips stagnating or getting only mildly worse. The massage to his arms and the two-day break nearly recovered this, at least temporarily. While I was waiting for the rain to subside to meet up with Uri, Diana returned with her sister and the kids. I just had to delay a little longer, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she prepared me a slice of chocolate cake and cup of coffee.
When 6 PM arrived and the rain had actually stopped, Uri and I braved the trip into Amsterdam and were excited to get fresh air. It was absolute carnage outside. Entire trees had fallen over, and there were more leaves on the ground than grass. In Amsterdam, city trees had uprooted (exposing the full root mats) and smashed cars on the streets and boats in the canals. I feel really fortunate that we were not in a tent last night.
We did a few miles of walking and had a super scrumptious dinner at a Nepali restaurant. Afterwards, we went to an Italian restaurant for dessert! I highly recommend restaurant hopping to try multiple courses. Though, the dessert wasn’t my favorite: it had the consistency of an undercooked soft boiled egg. When you cut it open, the inside was a runny apricot filling. The outside had a pistachio glaze with garnish. While it sounds positively delectable, I couldn’t get past the texture.
Our original bus was cancelled, so we waited until the next one which arrived after 10 PM. We struggle a little bit with the bus card system; you swipe to get on and swipe to get off so it knows how far you have travelled. It sounds straight-forward, but we (mostly me) are dumb tourists so sometimes it wouldn't register the card quickly or we accidentally didn't have enough cash on it. We get a little stressed with public transportation.
Day 32: Amsterdam rest day
(11 miles walking, Strava map)
Rest day #2! This time, we woke up to sunshine. We wanted to really take advantage of the day and go into Amsterdam, so after a quick breakfast and coffee, we took the bus with Claire to downtown. The layout of Amsterdam is very circular, with the roads spiraling around the city center and canals separating a lot of the streets. While picturesque, it was quite hard to navigate because every small degree change in direction had us accidentally walking in the complete wrong direction. The minute we separated from Claire, we began walking back to Amstelveen. So, it took us a long time to calibrate our internal compass.
We headed straight for the center with the goal of meandering back outwards. The first street that welcomed us in the middle was one that had a line of tent shops with flowers on one side of the street and shops that only sold cheese on the other side. Uri and I cheese shop hopped to sample ALL of the cheeses, and then we had to sample them again because we definitely forgot what they tasted like and needed to. Unfortunately, we missed the tulip season in Holland, so most of the flowers available on the opposing side were just bulbs and seeds.
Usually in the morning, we have one objective: find coffee. We were trying to find an ideal café that would sell coffee and waffles (we had to try the Dutch waffle!), though our efforts were futile since our more pressing urge for coffee came first. We landed on a modern shop that had giant white paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling and a seating area that wasn't exactly waving you out the door. The pastries and desserts were *chef's kiss*. FYI, cafés should not be confused with coffee shops. In Amsterdam, coffee shops are where you go to buy your weed! You find them with your nose pretty easily first.
We vaguely had a route in mind; we just wanted to wander around and get lost in the side streets with all the shops. There were crowds of people everywhere, but it all still felt clean and quiet (aside from the storm wreckage). We wanted to stop and visit the Portuguese Synagogue which Uri had seen before. Other than Columbus sailing the ocean blue, in 1492, Jews in Spain were given two options: convert to Catholicism or get the heck out (or they'd be executed). About half converted, but many went to Portugal, though Portugal then exiled them later as well. Those who had "converted" (sometimes they just said they did) were routinely checked on to make sure they still weren't practicing Judaism in secret, and sometimes they were executed anyway. Eventually, many fled to Amsterdam which had allowed the open practice of Judaism. Hence, the Synagogue was born; Portuguese since they didn't want to be associated with Spain. It was supposed to be incredible, and it had sand floors meant to absorb dust and dirt, but they charged an entrance fee. Uri and I are very opposed to paying to enter a house of worship. The entire prospect of making money on faith is absurd, so we didn’t actually go in. From this east side of the city, we headed back west.
On our way to the west-side of Amsterdam, we passed through the Red-Light district. I had never been through one of these before, and it only gave a subtle hint as to what could be expected during the night. Shops advertised live porn shows and all things sex paraphernalia. Dildos lined the doorways of some shops, and the windows were very large and tall. Large enough, I learned, for women to stand in them and entice potential customers. At nighttime, all these windows would be filled with women in lingerie. We cut through an alleyway and were presented with half a dozen of these women sitting on stools behind floor-to-ceiling windows. I felt discomfort for the women who were behind glass, like animals at a zoo, being ogled at. Perhaps I shouldn't have felt this way since sex work in Amsterdam is both legal and highly regulated, and licenses are required. The women here want to be here, and the activity is transactional and consensual for their livelihoods. There are moves in the city to shut down the windows and relocate them elsewhere, but this seems very divisive. One older gentleman walking beside us and muttered “too skinny” and something about being married.
We had a brief pit-stop in the next alley to curb our hunger panes via the Amsterdam classic fries in a paper cone!
By the time we routed to the Anne Frank House, we were pretty tired, and we paused to listen to a tour guide talk about the history. The line to go inside was pretty crowded, so we didn’t do this. In short, this house is where Anne, her parents, her sister, and four other Jews were hidden during WWII. She had been hiding in the "Secret Annex" of the house (42 m^2) for just over 2 years before they were found and sent to the concentration camps. Her father is the only one who survived and later published her diary.
Around 3 PM, we were positively fatigued and took the bus home while Claire stayed in Amsterdam and met up with a friend. Since the three of us are together all day everyday, we don't mind doing our own thing during rest days. With no hard feelings, we appreciate the personal space and a semblance of having some control over how we spend our non-biking time. All of us enjoyed the freedom to explore Amsterdam, Uri and I opting to walk more and Claire finding moments of calmness and tranquility, just sitting and admiring the city.
In the evening, we had a final group dinner outside. Pastas, and soups, and fish, and little dishes of things to nibble on. We were properly stuffed but not stuffed enough to not have dessert. Graciela's granddaughter made a surprise dessert, aptly titled "blueberry mushroom surprise". Two strawberries were stuffed with blueberries and glued together with whipped cream. These were paired with delicious mochi ice cream balls. All the calories we would need to propel us further on the bicycle.
After dinner, we had some logistics to take care of. We call these our Business Meetings. Diana convinced us to change the route to go inland instead of by the sea, cutting off a significant amount of mileage and asking questions that poked holes in our plans. After all, why bike more for the sake of biking when you can bike less and see more? A great point.
Diana to Uri: “You want to see the sea? Go bike 20 km, look at the sea, say ‘Hello, Sea’ and come back. Take pictures for the girls.”
Our Business Meeting really honed in on Norway. Getting to Amsterdam was a bit of a grind, averaging over 60 miles a day and sometimes biking 70 miles. This didn't give much time for rest and recovery, especially if we had to socialize with Warmshowers hosts in the evening. We knew the mileage would drop after Amsterdam, but the 10 day push for our 2 day break certainly stressed the group, though we were very in tune with each other and had many conversations and check-ins during the process (Diana was leaving the Netherlands on July 5, and we wanted to keep on track so Uri and Claire could reach the Arctic Circle by August 15). Fundamentally, there was a difference in touring styles and what everyone wanted to get out of the trip. Uri's goal is to bike from the Mediterranean to the Arctic. He didn't want to take public transportation if he didn't have to- he was driven by wanting this undertaking to be self-propelled. Claire didn't have a strong desire to get to Bødo, and she puts more emphasis on going more slowly and seeing the places. Both of these styles speak to both of my Type A and Type B forms of traveling, depending on what type of trip I want. Most people don't understand Uri's goals, though I do. There is such a sense of accomplishment and empowerment when you push your limits and comfort zone, achieving a big goal. Uri and I love the feeling of going hard, finishing days dirty and gross and absolutely wiped, something that developed during our adventures getting positively wrecked in the Adirondack mountains. Type II Fun makes you want more of it.
So, what were the outcomes? Uri and Claire were honest and open with their expectations and wants for having the Europe trip that they each desired to have. I fly home in Hamburg, so my opinions didn't matter, but Uri wanted to continue to Bødo and Claire wanted to meet with a friend in Oslo. She would scale back the biking and have a more relaxing, exploratory tour of Norway. Uri would delve solo into the country, averaging 55 miles a day and 3,000 ft of gain daily. The option to drop the solo ride and rejoin Claire was always available if it became too intense to do alone. Overall, I am incredibly proud of our group and the way we handle tough conversations. We do all care about each other, and I'm so glad that everyone can still have the trip they want that makes them happy. Seriously, there were no hard feelings about any of it, just complete encouragement.
Day 33: Amstelveen to Stavoren, Netherlands
(47.9 miles, 230 ft of gain, Strava map)
The morning was fast-paced with suitcases and packing by Diana and the three of us on bikes. We took a group photo before the sisters and grandkids loaded into the car for the airport to see Diana back off to Israel. The three of us finished more slowly before we locked up the house and headed back out on the road, fairly rested and ready for biking again.
The day was easy. The morning felt like a gentle mosey through winding, narrow roads, passing tall grass fields and sheep. A group of kids were assembled along each side of the road, high five-ing a few of the other kids who were biking through them on bikes. We were close behind on our own bikes, so the high-five gauntlet remained for us with excitement. the random hype-up was very enjoyable.
When we arrived to Monnickendam, we just had to detour through the city which was drawing us in with its cobble/brick roads and flags. It became clear that this town is a hidden gem in the Netherlands with streets that were currently full of outdoor markets and stands where people were selling all kinds of crafts, clothes, and knick-knacks. Monnickendam was founded by Monks and formally acquired city rights in 1355, which explained the Monk statue and medieval theme of the town. We walked our bikes slowly through the market and enjoyed the detour.
As we traveled along, we noticed a lot more houses that had straw roofs. Thatch can last pretty long, and it is a natural insulator, keeping homes cool in the summer. It was interesting to see houses that were part thatch and part other-material. Also, many houses had red and white diamond-checkered shutters or doors, which is a traditional Dutch pattern. I tried looking into the significance of this, but I haven't been lucky to find an explanation. Our personal favorite things today were the old-fashioned windmills, real Don Quixote-like. These windmills were used for physical work, such as pumping water, cutting trees, or pressing oil, unlike the electricity-generating ones used today. They are incredibly charming, and we loved seeing them! I recall counting six or so in our travels before I left to return home.
The day ended short, even though we were technically traveling over 60 miles today. About 14 miles was spent taking a ferry to the town of Stavoren. While waiting for departure, we ate some soft served ice cream, and then loaded our bikes on deck. It was a chilly yet sunny ride, and Uri and I retreated to the lower deck to put our heads on the table and fall asleep for the hour. Claire stayed on the top deck and chatted with some of the other people onboard. We passed many sailboats on the ferry ride and rows of windmills out in the water on dikes. It was a lovely break from biking. Plus, we gained 14 miles by sitting still!
Stavoren is an adorable little lake-side town in the province of Friesland that received us at the end of our ferry trip. The giant, black Fresian horses that you may have heard of before originated here. As we were docking, there was a picturesque row of tall, skinny, pastel houses that lined Lake IJssel and many boats rocking gently in the harbor. So horribly quaint.
Our campground for the night was just a mile away, and we set up tents in a grassy park next to the water where many sailboats were docked. The campground had a great lounge with Wi-Fi, some entertainment games, and a swimming pool (though closed when we arrived). That evening we took advantage of the space and properly flopped on their couches for some time, catching up on our social media and having a baby Business Meeting. Generally, we just discuss the Cold Hard Facts (CHF) for the next day and what time we want to wake up.
Upon arrival to our tent site, however, we first had a quick snack and then biked back to Stavoren for a swim in the lake, though the water was too chilly for full submersion. The three of us just played in the sand by the water in the slowly setting sun, and everything felt good.
Day 34: Stavoren to Roden, Netherlands
(58.83 miles, 187 ft of gain, Strava map)
This morning was pretty cool. After packing up and leaving camp, our morning was full of sheep, ponies, and windmills. "The people keep getting taller, and the horses keep getting smaller". The expanse of farm fields was just shear simplicity, though the creeping temperatures signified what the day would be like.
As per usual, we seek coffee in the morning, though the little towns are barren of anything but sleepy houses and one central church. When we passed a shed/farm stand, we screeched to a halt. Inside were vending machines and refrigerators with locally grown produce and products, though nothing with caffeine. We picked up a cute mustard (yes mustard can be cute) with a pattern on the top, which we had learned was the flag of Friesland. It has white and blue stripes with what we thought were red hearts in the white bands. They turned out to be red lily pads. This mustard would be a perfect, local treat to gift our upcoming hosts.
A lady came out to check on us, and when we told her our caffeine dilemma, she insisted that we sit at the picnic table while she brewed us some coffee and Claire a tea. We couldn't argue with the sweet gesture! Along with a glass of milk and sugar cubes, she served us our hot drinks on a little tray. When we asked her how much we owed her, she waved it off. "It's a beautiful day today, no charge". We left her some euros anyway but were touched by the kindness.
The day became hot and there was only a patch of shade every hour or so when a sparse tree cast a shadow over the bike lane. We took breaks during these precious occasions but otherwise cranked out the miles since there was nothing else to do.
We were making great timing today, so when a rare grocery store appeared, we took the opportunity to stop in for a cold treat. We were surprised by the AC there! Something we have only enjoyed once at a Warmshowers house and maybe in another grocery store or two. We ate popsicles inside the doorway, taking advantage of the cold and avoiding the glances by the employees who were watching us loiter in the store eating their food. By definition, we are actually influencers because other people joined in eating their cold treats inside the doorway as well. Yeah, we're pretty cool.
We were really looking forward to our hosts' house for the evening. Jan and Marian had been texting us throughout the day, checking on our dietary restrictions and promising us cold drinks and showers. They were super welcoming and sweet, immediately giving us cold beers and water as we sat on their back porch overlooking a private garden. They were both in their late 60s and had each been divorced. Marian was currently recovering from an appendix surgery and was taking it as easy as possible for someone whose life revolves around being active. They both seemed incredibly compatible, finishing each other's sentences (mostly Jan though) and feeding off each other's thoughts.
We were actually quite inspired by them. They have hosted so many people in their lives and they have even housed a young Afghanistan man that they met at the gym. Zaid was going to school in the Netherlands, but once he turned 18, he was going to be sent back where he knew he would be killed. He made plans to take his own life which would be more merciful than dying by the Taliban. Jan and Marian drastically changed the course of his life, fighting legal battles with lawyers and successfully getting him to stay (with a signature from the Prime Minister!). Zaid spent years not being able to get in contact with his fiancé since everyone had burner phones, and when he lost his during a boat/raft capsizing, he lost all his contacts. Inquiring for her phone number to the wrong people could also get his fiancé or her family killed. Note: his fiancé was actually his cousin which was normal because you could only trust your family, lest you get killed. So, his aunt basically set them up while Zaid was living in their basement. After a few years, he regained contact, and his now-wife is living with him, and they are happy in the Netherlands!
Jan cooked us an amazing pasta dinner (it was like a fettuccine Alfredo with mushrooms), and we spent a lot of time chatting about their lives. Jan is self-employed and translates a lot of books to different languages. Marian teaches Dutch, and they both are invested in communications, having their own systems diagrams for success which they are convinced will change the world. They are also incredibly environmentally conscious, avoiding flight travel because of its negative footprint (I squirmed at their chastising of flying, knowing I'd be taking a plane in a few days). They are also anti-flowers (no purpose and they require a lot of energy from start to export) and pets. I was starting to also regret the bottle of wine from Chile that we brought them. We appreciated learning about them, but we were starting to feel the fatigue of the hot day setting in, wanting nothing more than to vegetate on a bed. It took some energy to be convinced to do a short walk in the woods after dinner, but I don't regret it. Jan also served us a wonderful fruit dessert after! Such generous people.
Our rooms were on the second and third floor, and MAN was it HOT. One of those wear-as-little-as-possible-and-starfish-in-bed kind of nights. We also have yet to be in homes that also have fans. So, no AC, no fans, just good ol' Mother Nature vs. the Human Body. This included pesky mosquitoes slipping in through the windows. We love Warmshowers, but sometimes we miss our tents.
Day 35: Noordenvald, Netherlands to Leer, Germany
(58.2 miles, 210 ft of gain, Strava map)
Uri's lips were swollen that morning. By covering all but his lips at night to stop mosquito bites, they attacked just his lips and puffed them up like bee stings. He had a hard time separating them, and they were incredibly tender and painful. Jan provided some ice to help reduce the swelling.
The four of us, minus Marian who overdid it the day before and needed more rest from her surgery, had a breakfast of bread, cheese, jam, and a hard boiled egg. It was a cool and pleasant morning, and Jan made sure we were well-cared for before we left for the day.
About an hour into the ride, we arrived in Groningen, a hip city that welcomed us with a rainbow painted street and advertisements for Kiss, the band. For 10 AM, the shops were only just slowly opening. We wanted to do some exploring, but we also just really just wanted a cold drink. So, we paused at a café and each ordered a green matcha latte with a pastry and had a silly time hanging out before getting back on route.
We passed more old windmills today, and there was no shade and no wind. The rows of sleek, white, windmills that we biked by were all dead, unmoving, stagnant. No electricity generated this day.
Two main pit stops were 1) a local library with an attached café where we ate lunch on a bench and 2) a campground. At the campground (14 miles or so from our final stop), we loaded up on water at the outdoor sinks, washing our faces and rinsing our helmets just because it was so gosh darn hot. We then stopped to get ice cream at the campground's restaurant and shaded outdoor seating, searching desparately for motivation to keep going.
Kind of last minute, we acquired a Warmshowers in Leer that confirmed they could host us. Hurrah! Leer was pretty adorable with its brick buildings and dining establishments. We ran into 3 younger guys from the UK who were clearly on their first bike tour. We were excited to chat with each other, our first, rare, native-English speakers. We taught them about Warmshowers, and they were thrilled to try it out. They (as well as some other passerbys) were also stroking our ego pretty hard. All the way to Norway? Those aren't e-bikes? Wow!
My favorite thing to do has been to just slap my thigh in response. These bad boys are our only motors here!
A storm was in the forecast, so we rushed to shelter as soon as Katarina got home from work. And she was awesome! She had us in her basement which might as well have had AC since it was so delightfully chilly down there, and we had our own bathroom and entrance. She made us pizzas, and we had a lovely time chatting. There was also no pressure to stay and talk for hours. The no-frills kindness from an introverted host is a bike tourist's dream, particularly since we were over-socialized the night before. Claire ended up having her own room that evening as well, and the three of us slept so deeply and well.
Before breaking into our separate rooms for the night, Claire and Uri surprised me with a Happy Birthday song and some stroop waffles and wine. My birthday wasn't until the following day, but this would be our last evening together. There was an air of sadness, at least for Uri and I, knowing that I would be leaving the next day to return home. My original plan was to bike the whole day with them, but stress related to the public transportation to Hamburg and finding a bike box/ dismantling my bike convinced me to just get the first train out of Leer and spend the day in Hamburg. I was getting pretty sad to leave.
A final note of today: I have been contemplating the question “why do you do this” that has been posed to us a number of times. Most people, when they travel to Europe, get in a car and go to the best, most-touristy, beautiful places. Perhaps that's the best way to see the most note-worthy places. After all, we only have one life, and there is far too much to see in the time that we have. However, I find a lot of value in what happens in the space in between tourist attractions. When you travel by bike, you don't filter out how the rest of the world lives. You understand the sites in relation to the rest of the country. You meet the working class people who are living their lives, just like you and me. These are the people that I will remember with far more fondness than I would ever gain from taking a pretty picture. Perhaps by car you will say "But we take the scenic route", and that's great. It really is. But, in praise of the bicycle, you are forced to be more slow and deliberate. To be more immersed. I have no doubt that I understand a place, the full place, far more than anyone who site-hops does. I hope that everyone can experience this form of travel at least once in their life. You gain far more than you ever hope to receive.
Day 36: Leer to Hamburg (train)
In the morning, Katarina biked us by the train station and to the local bakery before heading to work. We ate our final pastries/coffee together in a rush because my train was to leave in 20 mins, and I still needed to buy my tickets.
At the station, the ticket kiosk was confusing, so I went to the service desk for assistance. The lady also seemed confused (which perplexes me still) and was having a hard time figuring out how to give my bike a ticket as well. All of our rushing was useless as the 8 AM and 9 AM train was cancelled for an unknown reason. It at least gave us some extra time to say our goodbyes which was heart wrenching. I know I would see Uri again in a month, but the farewells, be safes, and I love yous are hard words to say and hear. The automatic doors to the station closed behind Uri, and he disappeared with his bike from view.
UGHHHHHHH EMOTION.
My sadness turned to stress almost immediately as I tried to interpret my train ticket.
Gleis= Gate. Gleis 6 at 10:45. Ok I could do this. When the train did arrive, I was ushered down to one of the first train cars which was on the complete opposite side of where I was. I hastily started running with my bike since all the doors closed, dropping my bike in the process and awkwardly picking it up since the weighted bags made it hard to lift. Eventually, I found my car, but inside there was no place for my bike. I had a reserved spot for my bicycle which was taken since they had overbooked this train due to the 2 previously cancelled trains. A woman my age helped me read my ticket and confirmed that I was supposed to be there and that someone else was occupying my space. With nothing else to do, I stood in the entrance way of the car, holding my bike for nearly a half hour until she and I wrangled it inside to lean against one of the windows. There was another awkward moment when I was occupying someone else's seat, but in general, it was packed with people, screaming children, and it was standing room (or sitting-on-the floor room) only.
I had a hectic transfer in Bremen which had a massive station, but otherwise it was less crowded, and I could find a quiet seat. A man in his late 30s with his hair in a little top knot sat across from me. He had face tattoos of words like "Guilty" and "Bitch", chunky gold rings, a shirt that read "Straight Outta St. Pauli", two phones that he was using simultaneously, and he would periodically eat a dry scoop of Creatine out of a giant container like a crazy person. After this snack, he sat with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. This was my entertainment for over an hour before we arrived to Hamburg.
I had expectations of exploring Hamburg before heading to my Warmshowers house, but when I arrived around 3:30, my brain activity was flatlining and all I wanted to do was lie down. Fortunately, Rodrigo was working from home and buzzed me into his flat as soon as I arrived. He looked über cool with his thick, long, curly, black hair tied back in a ponytail and a few dreadlocks hanging further down his back. His apartment was also hip with skateboards on the wall, bike art, classic literary novels, thriving plants, and anti-government/anti-rich/anti-police pictures in the bathroom. A newspaper clipping of Che Guevara was on the fridge, and family pictures of the Mexican Revolution were on the wall. He had just got his PhD and was an environmental scientist like me! So, we had a lot of great conversations, and it was so easy to talk with him. He also told me more about Hamburg and how it was divided (he lived in the bougie-hip part of town where everyone wants to be).
Rodrigo still had to do some work, but he immediately made me feel at home, setting me up with snacks, a shower, and an hour nap. I have so much gratitude towards Rodrigo; I don't think he knew what he was getting himself into when he said he could host me. I thought I could get ready for my flight by myself, but no bike stores had any bike boxes for me. He independently found someone who was selling a box, so we walked over to pick it up and brought it back to his flat. We also went grocery shopping and made pizzas for dinner, and, since he found out it was my birthday, we bought some traditional German beers and had cake and ice cream for dessert. The cake was from his girlfriend's dad who was an excellent chef/ baker; the blueberry cake was perfect! More than that, Rodrigo called taxis for me to speak with them in German, trying to find a car that would be big enough to carry my box. This failed, so we planned to walk my bike box (over 50 lbs at this point) 600 m to the S-Bahn, the public train transport the following morning. He was even okay with being late to work to help me. I am super grateful!
On our walk to the bike box, he pointed out the golden square tiles on the ground in front of many of the buildings. Each square had the name of the person who used to live there before they were taken from their home and transported to the concentration camps. The Germans were so effective at note keeping that they could trace everyone back to where they lived. Seeing so many golden squares on the ground made my heart sink, and I continue to feel nauseous thinking about it.
I asked Rodrigo about the sentiment of German people regarding the war. He had been living in Germany for close to 10 years now and spoke confidently about it. He told me that in school, history classes nearly exclusively focus on WWII and nothing else, hammering the tragedy and horror to the point where German people don't really feel any country pride. If they do show patriotism, it's considered a bit odd or associated with older right-wing people. In his experience, if you tell someone something positive about Germany, they'll counteract with something negative. Basically, they are taught to feel like pieces of shit. He also said that it's illegal to have swastikas anywhere, including tattoos of swastikas. People still do, but it's very secretive. The police are also hyper-alert to any antisemitism, and if anyone (especially a Jewish person) has any complaint, the police are on it immediately to squash it, which made me pretty happy to hear. He said that there are still neo-Nazis, but it's illegal, and those groups try to go as far as they can which is legally allowed (like the National Democratic Party of Germany, for instance).
After our long chats and getting my bike all packed up, we ended up going to sleep between 11 PM and midnight.
Day 37: The saga of going home
As promised, Rodrigo helped me walk my bike box to the S-Bahn, taking about 20 mins with mini breaks to set the box down and change hand positions. We said goodbye, and for nearly an hour, I waited at the train tracks, until the morning rush died down so I could peacefully wrangle my box into the train. After yesterday's train debacle, I was horribly nervous to travel to the airport. Close to 10 AM, I was ready to try boarding. One train went by, then another. My heart was racing, worried that people would yell at me in German or that I would disrupt the flow of traffic on the train. That never happened though. I slid my bike on and unabashedly stood by it while people walked around it without batting an eye.
I had one transfer from the S31 to the S1 which was just a matter of sliding my box a couple meters across the platform to the other side. I was at the Hamburg Central station, and it was packed with people. My anxiety spiked as I watched the S1 pull up, waiting to see if I would feel comfortable with the level of people on it. As I was being indecisive about putting my box in this train or waiting for the next, a man just picked up the back side of my bike box and started pushing it into the train, eliminating all chances of me hesitating and waiting for the next one. Secretly, I was grateful because no one actually cared. The man didn't say a single word to me, he just left and took a seat.
I didn't know it, but my S1 train would split into two and go different ways at a fork. Without surprise, I was not on the correct one to go to the airport, so I had to backtrack with the help of a Spanish-speaking woman who directed me onto the right train. I had finally made it to the airport!
From country-wide train to city-wide train, I finally took my first flight to Reykjavik, Iceland. From the plane, I could see the volcano that had just erupted a few days prior. I then boarded my final flight to JFK, New York. It was such a long journey, and it didn't even end after landing. I put my bike back together after border security and took the airport Air-Train to the city subway. The NYC subway is literally the wild west; anything goes, and it's full of absolute madness. I went from being timid and nervous in Germany to just-try-and-mess-with-my-bike in New York. Speaking the same language as those around you gives you (at least me) extra courage. After 1.5 hr of city travel, I arrived to my friend's apartment just after 10 PM. In the morning, I then took a 4 hour bus ride from New York City to Ithaca, and then I finally drove my car from Ithaca to home. One would stop there, but I missed my cats. So, I drove 4 more hours to my parents house to get them and spend time with my family.
The end (for me)!
Uri and Claire have finished biking through Germany and have entered Denmark. I will do a final summary post of their experience through Denmark and Norway.
Until then, cheers and happy tailwinds!
E
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