I will have to write this letter to myself, so to speak, as you will not be able to read it until I next have WiFi. I have endured another day along the Danube and am looking forward to biking for only two or three hours tomorrow. I have little to say about my bike trip so far except that it has been far less stimulating than any of my trips by train. It did not make sense for somebody of average fitness, who is ambivalent towards physical activity and indifferent towards cycling, and who travelled to Europe with the express purpose of coming into contact with different cultures to plan a bike trip as part of a broader trip through Europe. Plan bike trips if you are into biking; plan city trips if you are into visiting new cities.
I wrote down some notes earlier in the day, when I still had some energy, but I want to mention a few other things first. Firstly, I met a very nice group of travelers from England who were delighted to hear that I was from Vancouver, as they were planning to visit it in the near future - one meets the most varied and interesting people while travelling. Secondly, at one point in my trip I heard a thump behind me that sounded like my trailer's rattling, and, when I turned my head and saw something moving beside me, I thought, before I realized that it was another biker, that my trailer had detached itself from my bike and was propelling itself forward somehow, which caused my stomach to jump. The most exciting part of my day was again listening to the birds, which have continued to impress me.
My final note before I pass on to my actual notes is that I am experiencing what I thought, when I visited Austria last year and longed to see more of it, would be the magical countryside of Austria. I am, indeed, seeing the countryside, which is much like the countryside of any other country, but the magic is gone, as I am too exhausted to take much interest in anything around me. Again, I do not see this as a giant loss, as I have learned both to phase all of the biking out of my planned trip to Italy (for next year, hopefully) and that I could see more of the magical side of Austria by revisiting it in the winter (and travelling by train). I suppose that travelling always entails some discovery of one's own predilections, as well as the discovery of places that one is dying to visit, and about which one wished that one had known beforehand. I expect that everything that I am now experiencing is par for the course - I certainly took some missteps (if one could call them that) last year (and in my first-ever trip to Europe) that have guided my future decisions (such as to avoid Eastern Europe, on the whole).
I wrote down some notes earlier in the day, when I still had some energy, but I want to mention a few other things first. Firstly, I met a very nice group of travelers from England who were delighted to hear that I was from Vancouver, as they were planning to visit it in the near future - one meets the most varied and interesting people while travelling. Secondly, at one point in my trip I heard a thump behind me that sounded like my trailer's rattling, and, when I turned my head and saw something moving beside me, I thought, before I realized that it was another biker, that my trailer had detached itself from my bike and was propelling itself forward somehow, which caused my stomach to jump. The most exciting part of my day was again listening to the birds, which have continued to impress me.
My final note before I pass on to my actual notes is that I am experiencing what I thought, when I visited Austria last year and longed to see more of it, would be the magical countryside of Austria. I am, indeed, seeing the countryside, which is much like the countryside of any other country, but the magic is gone, as I am too exhausted to take much interest in anything around me. Again, I do not see this as a giant loss, as I have learned both to phase all of the biking out of my planned trip to Italy (for next year, hopefully) and that I could see more of the magical side of Austria by revisiting it in the winter (and travelling by train). I suppose that travelling always entails some discovery of one's own predilections, as well as the discovery of places that one is dying to visit, and about which one wished that one had known beforehand. I expect that everything that I am now experiencing is par for the course - I certainly took some missteps (if one could call them that) last year (and in my first-ever trip to Europe) that have guided my future decisions (such as to avoid Eastern Europe, on the whole).
My first real note is that Austrian cities have a peculiar and idiosyncratic smell. Unlike the Germans, Austrians do not tend to line their streets with trees (although I guess that Salzburg contradicts this theory; perhaps it is the case that a lower percentage of Austrian cities have lots of trees), which may contribute to the stale air that hangs in many of them. The smell of an Austrian city is a harmonious combination of that of car exhaust, cigarette smoke, and, on hot days, warm asphalt. One knows that one is in Austria as soon as one detects that smell, for it does not exist in any other country that I have visited.
My second observation is that the French did not understand a word of Russian - I had forgotten to mention this earlier. While most Germans to whom I started speaking Russian turned out to be Russian or to have had the good sense to study the language at least a little, the French did not comprehend it one bit. Austrians seem to understand such ejaculations as, "Get the hell out of the way, you [blackguard]!", as my yelling them today made many of them stop trying to cause an accident. The pedestrians in Linz were the dumbest that I have seen in any city in the world. At least a half dozen of them tried to step right in front of me as I biked out of the city or to cross the street, having clearly seen me, at such a time as to arrive simultaneously with me at one and the same spot. Either these people's mothers taught them to walk wherever they wanted rather than looking both ways before they cross the street, or they think that there is no danger in getting crashed into by a bike. The fact that this behavior - that of completely ignoring the existence of bikers despite seeing them - seems to be limited to Linz and may have something to do with the prevalence of tramcars, which muddy traffic patterns a little, on the city's main streets.
I have noticed that many Austrian cities have free bathrooms, putting them a notch up on the humanity scale over France and Germany, and forgot to rate the railway stations of the cities that I visited before starting this bike trip. I remember only that Salzburg's rail station is tiny and is currently under construction, Augsburg's rail station was relatively small, and I was served quickly in both Freiburg's and Augsburg's railway stations; they may have made up for their size with efficiency, or I may have just gotten lucky. My final note was that I enjoyed learning to do hay wagon turns with my trailer early in the day and have gotten a lot of attention, mostly positive, from it. The Austrian people continue to impress me with their sternness and coldness; I have started to return their scowls in kind. Linz was a city of great cultural riches, almost like Nancy (though on a smaller scale), that it was a pity not to explore further, and Melk is a funny city, as it had enough cultural relevance at some point to have a giant, sumptuous castle built on a hill overlooking it, yet now its main streets are lined with almost nothing but hotels. Every restaurant here seems to be the bottom floor of a hotel; the word comes up on the awning of almost every building. I am going to eat a bit and go to bed now. I am showered and shaved and expect to sleep deeply. I do not have to check out of this hotel until 11:00 AM tomorrow.
My second observation is that the French did not understand a word of Russian - I had forgotten to mention this earlier. While most Germans to whom I started speaking Russian turned out to be Russian or to have had the good sense to study the language at least a little, the French did not comprehend it one bit. Austrians seem to understand such ejaculations as, "Get the hell out of the way, you [blackguard]!", as my yelling them today made many of them stop trying to cause an accident. The pedestrians in Linz were the dumbest that I have seen in any city in the world. At least a half dozen of them tried to step right in front of me as I biked out of the city or to cross the street, having clearly seen me, at such a time as to arrive simultaneously with me at one and the same spot. Either these people's mothers taught them to walk wherever they wanted rather than looking both ways before they cross the street, or they think that there is no danger in getting crashed into by a bike. The fact that this behavior - that of completely ignoring the existence of bikers despite seeing them - seems to be limited to Linz and may have something to do with the prevalence of tramcars, which muddy traffic patterns a little, on the city's main streets.
I have noticed that many Austrian cities have free bathrooms, putting them a notch up on the humanity scale over France and Germany, and forgot to rate the railway stations of the cities that I visited before starting this bike trip. I remember only that Salzburg's rail station is tiny and is currently under construction, Augsburg's rail station was relatively small, and I was served quickly in both Freiburg's and Augsburg's railway stations; they may have made up for their size with efficiency, or I may have just gotten lucky. My final note was that I enjoyed learning to do hay wagon turns with my trailer early in the day and have gotten a lot of attention, mostly positive, from it. The Austrian people continue to impress me with their sternness and coldness; I have started to return their scowls in kind. Linz was a city of great cultural riches, almost like Nancy (though on a smaller scale), that it was a pity not to explore further, and Melk is a funny city, as it had enough cultural relevance at some point to have a giant, sumptuous castle built on a hill overlooking it, yet now its main streets are lined with almost nothing but hotels. Every restaurant here seems to be the bottom floor of a hotel; the word comes up on the awning of almost every building. I am going to eat a bit and go to bed now. I am showered and shaved and expect to sleep deeply. I do not have to check out of this hotel until 11:00 AM tomorrow.
This is what the Danube looks like.
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