23rd-25th August - Back through Europe

I awoke at 5am knowing that we had a long ride all the way across Poland to Berlin. It wasn’t long before the others surfaced too. Aga, in her own inimitable style, threw together a plush breakfast to send us on our way. Tytus, who definitely had the biking bug, wanted a little scoot out on my bike before we departed. I took him to the end of the street, returned and loaded up. I have to say, I didn’t for one moment mind having Pawel on the back of my bike for a few days, but it felt great to have the whole saddle to myself again. I really wondered how Kris and Gesa had achieved what they achieved.

Unfortunately it wasn’t all motorway to Warsaw, and in fact, the road had us going through every little town and village possible. This made for slow progress and the ride was largely uneventful…which is good given how eventful things had been of recent times. In the early evening we were passing out of Poland and into Germany. Kris and Gesa were understandably excited, so I went ahead of them and shot some video of them riding home, past the German border sign. We all stopped and marvelled at the sunset and they wondered if the architect of the heavenlies had laid this on especially for their return. Our destination would be the apartment of their friends ‘Danijel and Sylvie’.

It goes without say that the Berlin Wall information centre/museum was top of the list of places to visit, as well as the historical buildings, Brandenburg Gate and the Jewish memorial. I have to say that it was sobering being at the Berlin Wall. I have vivid recollections of my mum setting me in front of the TV on the 9th Nov ’89 and saying ‘you have to watch this, it’s history in the making’. As a 13 year-old boy, I was more intrigued by the graffiti on the wall than the political significance of the circumstances. However, it all came home when I stood there and pulled up those memories. On reflection, this trip was a comprehensive education on communism, nicely rounded off here, in Berlin. I spent a good deal of time wandering the city and thinking about walls and their use in segregation; from my own homeland, to Israel, to E/W Germany, to Korea etc. I was particularly fascinated with this church, ironically called ‘The Church of Reconciliation’, which stood alone in the death strip. If walls are metaphors for segregation, I thought, what would be the equivalent metaphor for unity and reconciliation? I wondered if it was the very thing that this church and other churches like it render impotent by building walls around and thus preventing its true transformational power from taking effect in society: the table? At table, eucharist, communion (or whatever your tradition calls it), our own dinner tables etc, barriers are dropped and everyone sits, together. A level of intimacy, otherwise unachievable, is experienced, as strangers are welcomed and our humanity encounters ‘the other’. Perhaps this is why most of the successful Protestant and Catholic reconciliation work was done over dinner? These reflections were taken further when I visited the impressive Jewish Memorial, build on the site which hosted Joseph Goebbel’s bunker.

arriving in Berlin

Kris and Ges, the next morning

checking that the bikes are ok

breakfast, and no canned fish in sight!!!

sightseeing. this is one of Berlin's cool cafes in the background. i chose to focus on the Guzzi though

Berlin has great graffiti. a salutary reminder that...nobody is perfect. this is a city that proves it.

at some remains of the wall

standing alone in the death strip, the ironically named and soon to be destroyed 'Church of Reconciliation'

the Holocaust memorial

When in Germany...

far too talented and cool for their own good!

there's a baby a'comin...soon!!!

Excited to be in Berlin as I’d only heard good reports about the city, we rolled in in the dark and parked up under their balcony. It wasn’t long before Danijel was down and welcoming us. I knew instantly that these were good people and it was going to be a good couple of nights at their place. The plan was to spend the whole of the following day sightseeing around the city, have dinner in the evening when Gesa’s sister Adja would come over from Hamburg, and then break for Cologne the following morning.

Even more impressive were Danijel and Sylvie. Dan is Croatian but speaks fluent German and English and is pretty good in French. Sylvie is from Hamburg but her mum is French, so she’s fluent in French, German, English, and Croatian. They have a 2-year-old son Mijo whom she converses with in French, he converses with in Croat, and he’s obviously learning German, as well as English when people like me come through. It’s not often 2-year-olds can make you feel educationally challenged! As it happens, the day after we left, Syvlie gave birth to a Marie Yvonne. Congrats you two!!!! I’ll be over to give English lessons next month;-)

Danijel and Sylvie's, just the people in just the place you want to be with after an epic adventure

It was time to leave these new friends. I had a deadline to be back in England for, and wanted to spend at least one night in Cologne again, but with two people whom I didn’t know on the way out when I visited, but would share some rich life experience with in the weeks following. Kris and Gesa were understandably excited about this final run home along the autobahn.

After a final farewell to D and S, we made it to the famous German autobahns with some alacrity. I’d say that normally, Kris was quite a conservative rider, partially owing to the fact that he had his missus on behind him. Not now though. They were maxing every drop of hp out of that R100GS that they could muster. Their excitement was vicarious, because I could feel it too. I’d no idea what or to whom we were returning to, but when you’re friends are this stoked, it’s very hard not to feel it yourself.

Kris was texting that we’d be back at a certain time, but with loads of road works, and torrential torrential rain, we were delays by some 2 hours. It wasn’t helped by the fact that my fuel reading sensor in the tank, replaced x4 by BMW and guaranteed by Hursts Motorrad before I left, went on the blink twice. On both occasions it showed in excess of 70 miles left and then here I was on the autobahn freewheeling. Not good. With the smallest hard shoulder in the world, I’d pull in, Kris would detach his fuel hose, and gift me some from his voluminous tank.

perilous re-fuelling

The closer we got to Cologne, the more I could see them getting excited. Kris passed me at a speed I had not yet seen him go, and then I tailed them into the city on this horrible wet evening. We pulled down into the street his flat was on, and there standing in the rain, was a gathered throng of expectant family. Just as they had all gathered to send them off some 4 months ago, here they were, suffering the rain, to welcome them home. The shouting and whooping was great craic as Kris and Gesa pulled up and tooting the horn. Then began the hugs, and then came the little beers and pizzas from his local pub underneath his flat. It was a good evening and even though a stranger to all of these people, I felt incredibly privileged to be part of this and was made to feel welcome.