"Bike Touring" in Europe
After a month of (very) light bike touring throughout the Netherlands, Germany, the Czech Republic, France, and Spain I've had time to formulate some observations (on very inconsequential subjects) that may or may not be interesting.
On Shipping a Bike Overseas
Taking my bike from Canada to the Netherlands was significantly easier than I had anticipated–most notably because I paid a bike shop $60.00 to pack the bike for me and then relied on the generosity (and truck) of a friend to transport me, and the bike, to the airport. Upon arriving in Amsterdam, all I had to do was reassemble my bike and try to dispose of a giant fucking cardboard box in the middle of the international arrivals terminal. If I did this again, I would probably assemble the bike in a more inconspicuous location so as to make it less awkward when blatantly walking away from a giant pile of garbage in the middle of a busy airport terminal.
On Dutch Toilets
Apparently Dutch people are among the tallest on earth, which seriously calls into question the design of Dutch toilets. Well, not the toilets themselves (which are fine), but the fact that they are invariably located in tiny closets adjacent to the bathroom that you basically have to turn sideways to get into and/or close the door. That these hobbit holes also tend to lack any circulation at all is just the icing on a very small cake.
On Dutch Hills
There aren't any. Unless you count the overpasses you have to take to get across freeways or over rivers.
Classic Dutch hill.
On German Toilets
Contrary to Dutch toilets, German toilets are usually located within a human-sized bathroom, but they do have one defining characteristic that bears mentioning: the poop shelf (probably not an official name). If you haven't been to Germany, just picture a toilet bowl that's shaped more like a plate than a bowl, with a high-powered horizontal flushing mechanism that ensures everything eventually finds its way out a small exit chute. No other toilet I've experienced has generated such animated or opinionated discussion. Although I haven't been to Japan yet, so stay tuned.
On German Beds
Something could probably be inferred about Germans and intimacy, but I love the efficiency of German beds, which have one giant pillow and one individually-sized duvet for each person. To be honest, the pillows are usually shitty. But the fact that you never, ever, have to share a duvet with anyone is heavenly. Some people disagree with me on this. Most notably, Michael.
On Google Maps
This isn't a commentary on Google Maps in general, but an analysis of Google Maps for bike touring. As far as I can tell, the Google Maps bike feature essentially works like this:
- Locate point A
- Locate point B
- Draw the shortest possible line directly through any mapped area to connect these two points
- Ignore all official bike routes and/or private property lines
So if your idea of a good time is to ride through active military shooting ranges, pastures full of bulls, miles and miles of sand, or algae-covered irrigation ditches, then you definitely don't need to buy a bike map. Google will suit you just fine.
Halt! Sharp shooting! Risk of death!
On Trying to Buy Food in Germany
Don't even bother trying to buy food on Sunday; Germany is closed. Unless you want Turkish, Chinese, or Greek food; then you should be fine. Also don't try going out for German food on Monday anywhere in the country. Also avoid grocery shopping at midday–you never know when employees could be taking a lunch break. Also don't try to buy anything at all (at all) in any small town in Germany between the hours of 9:00-17:00 any day of the week. Small towns are closed.
On Beer and Wine in Germany
After spending a month in Germany, these are the two things I appreciate most about German beer and wine:
1) Anywhere you go in Germany, regardless of how many beers they have on the menu, you can always say "eins (or zwei or drei) bier" and they'll just bring you something. And by something, I mean a pilsner. It's always fucking pilsner. Nonetheless, I genuinely appreciate that they don't ask me a million questions to clarify which beer, exactly, I want to drink when I clearly don't speak a word of German and wouldn't understand their questions anyway.
2) Grocery stores basically give wine away. Honestly, we started out spending around 4€ for a bottle, but quickly discovered that you can get very drinkable wine for 2€. Or even 1€ if you start a bit higher for your first bottle and work your way down. It really doesn't take long to get standards as low as mine.
On Small Towns and Big Cities
Every single person who grew up in a small town will already know this, but I didn't so I've just realized it–the small towns are way friendlier. Yes, everything is closed 50% of the time and the food is usually shitty, but we met the kindest people and stayed in the most incredible places in the middle of nowhere. And if you time it right, you can usually find a grocery store and make your own food, so you don't end up eating donair in the parking lot of the local gas station. Just kidding, that was delicious.
On Trains and Bikes
Taking your bike on the train is awesome and stressful at the same time. It means you can see more of a country in a shorter period of time, but it also means you have to be able to physically lift your bike off the ground (Hilary struggled with this). The experience of taking 3 fully-loaded touring bikes on regional trains looks like this: as your train pulls into the station, you quickly scan the train cars to find the one with a bike logo printed on the side; you then jump on your bike and pedal through the crowd of people boarding the train to get to the right car; once in front of the door, you start madly throwing your panniers off your bike so you can fit it through the doors and haul it up the near vertical steps to get it into the compartment; then you jump back off the train to grab all your shit off the platform and get back on the train. Times 3. But really, German and Czech trains are amazing and easy and cheap and fast and I would highly recommend them.
Typical bike touring activity.
On Speaking Czech
HA. Ha ha ha. Don't even bother.
On Czech Food
Apparently steak tartare is a traditional Czech dish? And also fried cheese? I didn't know either of those things, but was very pleasantly surprised to find them out. I also ate a cheese dish that so far surpassed my expectations of how disgusting cheese can be, that I had to take a day off from eating cheese altogether. Which is honestly not something I've done intentionally in as long as I can remember. Just thinking about it makes me feel a bit queasy.
On Oktoberfest
The pros of arriving at noon: you can get a seat in pretty much any tent you want. The cons: you will have to go home at 7:30pm because you'll no longer be able to carry a coherent conversation. Or stand up, for that matter.
On French Beaches
They're really, really nice. And basically deserted in early October, unless you happen to stumble across a pro surf competition. Who knew?
Sunset in Mimizan Plage.
On Spanish Food
Is there any other reason to go to Spain? Apart from the perfect climate, pristine beaches, and the world's most attractive men? Okay there are a few other reasons to go to Spain. But eating is high on the list. Drinking wine is also up there.
On Trains and Bikes in Spain
Not exactly a match made in heaven. Our attempt at taking our bikes from San Sebastian to Seville to continue bike touring went something like this:
"Hello, we'd like three tickets to Seville next week with 3 bikes please."
"No."
"Oh, are they all sold out?"
"No."
"Is it because of the bikes?"
"Si."
"Can we take the bikes on a different train?"
"No."
"Can we get the bikes to Seville at all, on any train?"
"No."
"Okay... thank you."
So then we sold our bikes and flew to Mallorca and bike touring in Spain turned into just touring in Spain. Which is basically just eating and drinking through Spain. With the occasional cathedral visit or hike thrown in.
On Free Tapas vs Paid Tapas
We started our month in Spain eating pinxtos in San Sebastian, and finished the month eating tapas in Barcelona. And in between those two cities, we stopped at what are arguably the two tapas capitals of Spain: Granada and Seville.
In Granada (and the surrounding areas), tapas are free. You get one tapa with every drink you order, and you usually don't get to pick what it is. Conversely, in Seville (like San Sebastian), you choose what you want to eat and order your tapas like you would any other food.
While I can see the appeal of free food, I'd take paid tapas any day for the following reasons:
- It's basically the same price (because the drinks are pricier in when the food is free), but the quality is higher.
- You don't have to eat anything you don't like.
- Most importantly, you avoid playing the inevitable free tapas game–which involves ordering drink after drink after drink just to find out what the next tapa is going to be. By the end of lunch, you've eaten 3 anchovy dishes (plus Michael's because he won't eat them) and at least 2 plates of potato chips. And you're really drunk.
Admittedly, it's a fun game to play once or twice.
On Fruits and Vegetables
At first, you miss them. And then you start to realize that grapes are fruits and wine is mostly grapes. And potatoes are in fact vegetables, even if they're called frites. And, if we really think about it, couldn't hops be considered a vegetable too? Or at least an herb.
On One For No Reason
More precisely, on the perils of travelling with Hilary Angus–which invariably means one more round, for no reason, when one round ago would have been sufficient. But at the time, every time, just having one more seems like reason enough.
To see our actual bike route, you can check out my Strava. I usually remembered to turn it on.
