Thursday, 4 August 2022

Bicycle(Chain)Reaction

 

Bicycle(Chain)Reaction

 

Earlier this year when I was in England my nephew shared a post from a tractor driver... the man claimed that his post was a 'fairly polite' message to cyclists. However it was more of a tirade ridiculing cyclists in general while proclaiming that, in his opinion, the most are assholes!  Well, to be honest, I think he said dickheads but I can't be bothered to read it again. Anyway the post will appeal to his friends, family and many other motorized road-users but I doubt if any cyclists will take much notice of an insulting rant by an angry farmer with a massive tractor. Which in a way, is a pity. An increasing amount of all forms of traffic have to share roads that were never intended for them. In the area I was visiting, farmers going about their business have to deal with all sorts of other road-users including inexperienced tourists on bicycles... and locals going into town on E-bikes bikes instead of taking the car. This last should please them, fewer cars means less traffic and hold ups on narrow country lanes but Mr. Tractor-Driver isn't bothered by cars, recreational or otherwise. On a scale of evil cyclists, it seems, are somewhere between Genghis Kahn and Stalin, they are, according to him, the  ONLY road- users who cause problems on the roads. Of course this in not true. Beside riding bikes for transport and sport I was also a bike messenger/courier for 15 years, I had some accidents and every working day at least two near misses, few of them however involved other cyclists. There are assholes and dickheads everywhere...and some of them are allowed to drive cars! 

Nonetheless there is a large and vocal anti -cyclist feeling in GB... the cyclists get the blame!

You'd think that it would be different in The Netherlands, a country famous for windmills, tulips and especially bicycles.      There really are a lot of bicycles and there are certainly more cycle paths and bike lanes but familiarity causes it's own problems. British drivers, as suggested in the Highway Code, will do their best to allow 1½  meters when passing, even if they hate you. Here, in NL,  you'll be lucky if you get half a meter!  

In spring angry letters and articles start appearing in the newspapers, motorists complaining that they are being terrorised by groups and individuals on racing bikes who take to the roads on Sunday mornings. Now this is the point where I have to point out that the average private car weighs around 1000kg and can travel faster than 150kph, most racing bikes weigh less than 10kg and many of the Sunday cyclists will be doing well if they average 30kph. It's a fairly unequal contest. A motorist claiming to be terrorised by cyclists is a bit like Goliath running home to his mother complaining that David was a big bully!  Sure there are some cyclist who get carried away by their Tour de France fantasies but mostly the worst thing that will happen to Sunday drivers is that they will arrive 5 minutes later for tea with grandma. 

Oh – and what about those of us who prefer to ride off- road? Well we're in the bad books too! During the Corona period the Dutch government persuaded people to drive to more remote and less crowded places for exercise and fresh air. Not a bad idea.  Unfortunately these are the places we have been going for years to avoid clashing with other members of the public.  Now the newcomers, family outings, hikers and dog-owners, want us to move over!

Strangely, just down the road, across the Belgian border things are a little different. The ordinary cyclist may not be better off, but cycle racing is deeply embedded in Flemish culture, hard to believe for a foreigner but the myths and legends surrounding Flemish cycle racing are not unlike those of King Arthur and his Round Table: epic struggles, daring deeds, romances, alliances, betrayals and, oh yes, magic potions. The Tour of Flanders, one of the oldest bike races in the world, is officially a national monument. Belgian drivers, who once had the reputation of being the worst in Europe, will often stop for a racing cyclist even when they don't have to and they will do it with a smile and an encouraging wave.

In Belgium, as in many other places in mainland Europe, cycling was traditionally a rural sport. For the talented athlete cycle racing was a way to escape extreme poverty in the countryside. But almost every village café has it's own group of cyclists. You will see them, after their Sunday ride, locals of all ages, shapes and sizes, sitting outside their chosen café, dressed in brightly coloured Lycra, drinking a Trappist beer (or two). A lively, jovial after-party.

Many professional racing cyclists and café-cyclists come from agricultural backgrounds...

            ....  many of them have been, are, or will be,                                                                                         tractordrivers.


Wednesday, 23 March 2022

Out of the Frying Pan....

 

 Out of the Frying Pan...

It's was roughly two years since Corona became a crisis here in The Netherlands. Not an anniversary that anybody wanted to celebrate but there was going to be singing and dancing in the streets. Most of the Covid restrictions were being lifted just in time for Carnival. You've probably heard of Carnival. In Rio, minimally clothed women dance to samba sounds on exotically decorated floats. On Bourbon Street, New Orleans, women flash their breats in exchange for strings of beads. Well it's way too cold for that sort of thing here in this part of The Netherlands. Carnival is, however, an important part of the regional culture. It involves dressing up, role reversal, the suspension of moral norms, mocking of authority and, as my Carnival loving friends insist, it's not all about excessive drinking and promiscuous behaviour. They tell me this so often, mostly without be asked, that I have my doubts. Many relationships start up or break up during Carnival and I've not seen many people drinking lemonade!

 Anyway...restrictions were eased, Carnival was back, slimmed down it's true, but back after two years. It was party time! Time to throw caution and surgical masks to the wind! Time for  hugging and kissing and all we've been missing!

That was when the Russians decided to invade Ukraine and provide us with the mother of all hangovers.

There is no need for me to go into detail... you've seen the pictures, you've seen the news, heard the discussions and all the speculations.

Only a handful of people I know have been to the Ukraine.  Three years ago we crossed the bridge from Sigheti Marmatiei, Romania, into Ukraine where we were greeted  by quite an attractive but very angry soldier carrying a large weapon. We had somehow missed picking up a slip of paper which it was her job to stamp. After a brief exchange of words that none of us understood she decided we were too stupid to bother with and sent us further down the line. 

News item: A photo of that same bridge, now lined on both sides with cuddly toys. The children of families fleeing the violence could choose a toy as they passed and customs officers were handing out sweets.













Lviv was quite a contrast to the places we past and visited on the way. Affluent and picturesque with grand buildings in various states of restoration and decay but with all the trappings of a modern cosmopolitan city. Hip coffee bars and restaurants and of course a craft brewery.





The Pravda Beer Theatre looks out over the main square, with several bars, restaurant and shop it was one of the places to be. A tourist attraction. Due to the frequent short but heavy showers we visited it more than once giving us a chance to sample more than one of their assortment.




News Item: Two weeks ago the Pravda brewery announced they would no longer be brewing beer... instead their staff would be using the bottling facilities to produce Molotov cocktails.

We left Ukraine crossing the border with Poland that is currently featured regularly in the media. We were stuck there for six hours, there was no information, we heard later that  the hold-up had been due to a strike by the Polish customs. When we did eventually reach the front of the queue it turned out, despite the long wait, we had managed once again to miss a ticket or a stamp, this time it was Yvonne's tears that saved the day. 


We were tired, hungry, thirsty, frustrated and annoyed that we wouldn't be able to reach the campsite where we had planned to spend the night. 
Today, and every day, there are ever increasing numbers of tired, hungry, tearful and bewildered refugees, stuck for much longer than six hours, most having no idea where or when they will be moving on or if they will be able to find a place to sleep. The scenes are heartbreaking, it takes a lot to move me to tears, but again there is no need to explain- you've seen it on the News. On the other hand the actions of many private citizens has been heartwarming. The local Polish population have done their best to help. People from other nations have driven across Europe, sometimes more than once, to pick up and transport refugees. Even some food truck owners have made the long journey to provide comfort food.

News Item. The photo: a column of trucks: The caption: These Romanian truckers rushing aid to Ukraine is what a real 'Freedom Convoy' looks like.

What a contrast! These overworked and underpaid  truckers along with many others are giving their time, energy and possibly risking their lives to help desperate people in Ukraine. While elsewhere anti- vaxxers, Corona deniers and conspiracy theorists have been organising demonstrations and convoys, blocking roads and city centres ....grown-ups making a big fuss about a small prick in the arm.


 

Wednesday, 1 December 2021

Bonus Tracks

 A follow up, filling in some of the gaps in the last Not Only but Also column: 

https://onlyalso.blogspot.com/2021/10/i-took-my-guitar-to-party_26.html

Bonus Tracks

Sketches & impressions based FB posts on the road


BREB, BREAKFAST and BABOU





Last Monday was a holiday here in Romania, a three day weekend, but it was not as busy as we had expected at the campsite or in the bar/restaurant next door, where we'd offered to help out if needed. So there was plenty of time to visit the local craft fair and music festival...nearly all our friends were there and we made some new ones... on an impulse I bought a shirt but the question is..will I ever wear it in public?

              

      Where the 'In-Crowd' hang out!    

            https://www.facebook.com/Breb148




 






Two days ago I cycled up to a mountain pass (1000m) ... I've not seen a serious hill or mountain for about 2½ years. A few bumps in the middle of the Netherlands don't really count! 
Today we hiked to 'Rooster Ridge', around 1350m. It's so good to be back in the mountains, back in Romania and back in Breb....and ... yes my legs are aching after all that unaccustomed walking but, as usual, a cold beer (or two) at the end of the day put things right!!!




When the Rooster Crows at the Break of Dawn

In the village the dogs have gone quiet after barking through the night...while about 100 roosters will be waking up.

On 'our campsite' one of the first sounds we hear each morning is a woodpecker close to the tent. Our first visitor will be a grey or black cat, they never come together, both are looking  for company and a little affection after a night of doing whatever cats do at night.


Next 'Maan' the large and shaggy campsite dog will drop by before making her tour of inspection.

She will be giving special attention to campers who are breakfasting...there could be something tasty either on offer or dropped by accident. Soon a couple
of horse will appear, I've been 
feeding them apples. 


Last to visit will be the chickens. 
The chickens belong to Grandma and Grandma belongs to the campsite. It was part of the contract.

Grandma likes us, she doesn't like everybody, in return for some help Grandma gives us eggs, tomatoes, onions and sometimes a slab of cake. 

We're now into the last week of our 'tour of duty'.

The numbers of campers each day is unpredictable it's never too busy... but far from empty. Our duties are mostly light and basic but we did get to be Campsite Managers for a day and of course, that was the day the water supply broke down!



A Moving Day

Our friends, Eveline, Matthijs, Emma and Lef, were moving on after ten years owning and running the campsite. They are off to new adventures in Greece.




There were some tears. 




We will stay a little longer to help Bram, the new owner, with the transition and to help him empty a few glasses. http://baboumaramures.com/

For us it's also the end of an episode....

but - we'll be back!!!


BUKOVINA

Our next destination was a beautiful and spectacular mountain area further west. It was/is everything people said it would be.

It reminds me of the Dolomites but with fewer flowers! The region is famous for it's painted monastaries and churches..........they really are worth seeing but after visiting two I had exceeded my yearly quota for religious kitsch. 






While Yvonne went on to another monastry I cycled up another mountain! Due to taking a wrong turn the ride was a lot longer and tougher than I had intended...we met again at the top... rarely have sausages and chips tasted so good! 



People have often pointed out to us that we don't have to cycle up mountains... we can walk up...well yes...sometimes we do that  too.... we even make friends on the way. 









SIGISHOARA: We'd visited the town briefly several years earlier, just passing through, we were not impressed. This time we stayed a while. There was a Blues festival, a party and a picnic. We spent a pleasant evening in a streetside café swapping travel stories with Denise & Robert. A chance encounter, we'd seen them before at the campsite in Breb.  

(  https://www.instagram.com/followthevan.nl/  )  




We took the not particularly long or steep walk up to the citadel, not for the first time I found myself wondering why tourist activities always seem to involve stairs!!

GRUMPY



The alley where our apartment was situated was watched over by an old dog, Grumpy I called him, he didn't like us. From the first day to the last he made it quite clear that HE had not invited us, HE had not been consulted and if he had his way he would bite us on the ankles before sending us on our way. However as we had keys to the gate and the apartment he grudgingly let us pass in and out but not without a great deal of bad tempered mutterings.

We didn't become friends. 






SIBIU

Sibiu is the nicest of towns.... and there is always something going on. There seems to be a festival every week! That maybe a few too many if you live there.





We arrived on a Sunday afternoon as one event was being dismantled and another prepared. Monday morning we were surprised to see the city centre and cafés alive and buzzing with happy teenagers. Apparently they were celebrating the first day back at school. Reunited class mates were laughing, joking, eating pizza and exchanging tall stories about their summer adventures. The attractive city squares were full of youthful enthusiasm. What a great tradition! Although I did feel a little sorry for them, tomorrow it will be back to adverbs and algebra!


RUNC

After a week of city life we drove to the Apuseni Mountains. I couldn't bring myself to take photos of the devestation as we passed through the village of Ocolis on the way to a remote campsite and hostel in Runc:https://taranomada.com/. It was hard to believe that the tiny stream trickling peacefully through the valley just a few months ago had suddenly turned into a raging torrent that caused so much damage and promoted these sleepy villages briefly to international TV news status.

A first time visitor could be excused for thinking that Tara Nomada had escaped, untouched by the freak storm and flash flooding. True the main buildings remained relatively unharmed but Jordi was building a wall that he hopes will protect the land, the vegetable garden and the chicken run from future floods. The trees had been damaged by the hail that accompanied the storm so there was no fruit to be harvested which, among other things, meant I couldn't top up my supply of tuica to see me through the winter. A minor problem.












ORADEA

After nearly two months on the road this will be our last day before starting the tedious motorway drive home.

If you're going to visit a city this must be the best way to do it..in our friend Timea's spacious apartment right in the centre of town. 

Oradea, so I'm told, has undergone a huge facelift in the last 15 years or so- and it's still going on. 

For Art Nouveau/Jeugendstil lovers it's especially worth  visiting. 







But hey... there are some really nice places to eat and drink too!!!