a pastoral idyll that became progressively more urban as we approached Vaals, the Netherlands town that morphs into Aachen after the German border bisects the town. We knew we had left perfectly planned Holland when we were forced to mix with a large volume of car traffic and bike alongside parked cars whose doors could open at any time - it was like biking in Toronto again. Aachen was beautiful, but rougher around the edges and definitely a different feel than the lovely towns in Netherlands - we saw our first homeless person since Turkey, which made us realize that Holland must have great social programs (or else a hidden underbelly that we didn't see). Of course a much smaller population than massive Germany could also contribute to the different conditions.
Fittingly for our first meal in Germany we ate bratwurst on a terrace across from the Aachen cathedral,
except for Kyra, who had a veggie burger. Our regular up close and personal encounters with animals, starting with Turkey and continuing from there, have convinced her that she doesn't want to eat them anymore.
The cathedral was impressive
as was the massive old city hall, in German called the Rathaus (insert cynical joke about politicians here).
Our campground that night was on a man-made lake outside the town of Duren. There were waterslides and trampolines, torture for Tom who was keen to jump in but the very chilly weather and the late hour of our arrival meant we just wanted to stay warm and go to sleep right after a sunset dinner.
It was beautiful and peaceful at the site where we pitched our tent, but more expensive than the fully equipped cabins we'd had in Holland. That, our time mingling in Aachen traffic, and the difficulty in finding a route - ultimately travelling along the highway for long stretches (though still nicely protected by our slightly elevated bike path) -
made us wonder if our German cycling tour was going to less positive than our terrific Dutch one. The experiences of the next day (which happened to be Paul's birthday - his present at breakfast was some drawings from the kids and a bottle of pomegranate juice wrapped in our camping bandanna/hot pad) made our worries disappear.
First, while stopping at a fork in the path to consider our route (we had been checking our maps every few km which slowed us down significantly) a racing cyclist stopped to chat with us. We are used to racing cyclists ringing their bells and then whizzing past us in their professional looking outfits and expensive bikes, but this gentleman introduced himself and, after asking us about our travels, offered to guide us towards Cologne, our next destination. We cautioned that we would be too slow for him but he was delighted to meet a cycling family and insisted it would be his pleasure. George acted as our personal tour guide for almost the entire 40 km to our campsite, taking us to a hidden rest stop for our picnic lunch, and later on a tiny detour to the amazing gelato parlour in his town.
With his wide smile, infectious enthusiasm and stories about the landscape and towns we passed,
he made the journey both faster and more interesting, and we were sorry to say good-bye. After taking a picture -
which we joked could prove to his wife where he'd been for the past three hours - we bid him adieu, so glad to have had this incredible introduction to Germany.
Because of the speed of our George-guided route we reached our campsite outside Cologne in record time, so we were able to set up our tent and then cycle the amazing riverside path into,
and around the city centre. We loved the mix of striking modern architecture
with the historic buildings, like the imposing and futuristic looking "Dom" cathedral (whose spires could adorn a spaceport), too massive to fit into a single photo frame.
We celebrated Paul's birthday enjoying beer, bratwurst and fries while perched on a ledge looking out over the Rhine.
On our cycle back through town we happened across an outdoor film screening, where movie goers sat facing the water on amphitheatre-like steps with wine and beer, wrapped in cozy blankets that were included with the price of admission.
We were sorely tempted, for the ambience as much as the movie, but knowing it wouldn't start until it was finally dark at 10:30 or 11 meant our parental responsibility (Paul's) kicked in and we headed for home - a campsite directly across the street from a frosted pink house with unique balcony furniture.
were a foretaste of the section further south whose monicker is "the Romantic Rhine",
Over breakfast the next morning we struck up a conversation with Karen and Mike, two Americans from Portland who were on a 9 week cycling vacation. We had first seen them on a ferry on the Maas river in Holland, so compared notes on our routes and exchanged travel advice. We would ultimately end up crossing paths with them in four different countries before our paths finally diverged.
Once we left Cologne our navigation became much easier since the Rhine was either next to or parallel to us the entire time.
Our campsites were often on the water, and the paths were paved and smooth.
The flowers, tree covered hillsides
and picturesque villages
but there were also decidedly unromantic industrial sections,
which good zoning constrained into discrete plots of land that bordered green pastures.
We reached the city of Koblenz, situated at the confluence of the Rhine and the Moselle rivers, ahead of schedule so decided to set up our tents for two nights in a campsite across from Deutsches Eck ("German corner"), dominated by a massive statute of Kaiser Wilhelm I (the original had been destroyed in WWII, but the tribute was resurrected in 1993). Our first evening, Kyra persuaded us to take a gondola ride across the river
up to a Prussian 19th century fort that presided over Koblenz so we could fully enjoy the sunshine and the view of the city from above.
We wandered around the ramparts,
and heard faint sounds of music from the courtyards below, so followed the music through the tunnels until we came upon a huge open atrium filled with partiers, bars and cafes, and a stage with a live band.
It was a entertaining scene in a great setting, and I loved that most of the stylishly dressed crowd, clearly local, was in their 40s or older. The fact that most touring and camping cyclists we meet are older than us, and the vibrant social scene I see for grown-ups (posters advertise giant dance parties where the minimum age for entry is 25), makes me want to retire to Europe, where age doesn't seem to be a limitation to fun!
After dancing to 50 Ways to Leave your Lover (the German band did a bunch of surprisingly good Paul Simon covers) we descended over the trees in the gondola
and had a picnic at a table next to the river, cycling home at twilight.
The glorious time we'd had made us decide to spend another night in Koblenz. For our extra day, we decided to take a side trip down the Moselle river, lined with vineyards that clung to the steep hillsides and whose products could be enjoyed at riverside cafes in small villages along the route.
Our morning started out well and we rode with the sun at our backs.
We cycled 30 km up the river, glimpsing castles such as the one perched above Alken,
stopping for a glass of riesling and frites at a cafe where we chatted with some fellow cyclists. We ventured (somewhat accidentally) up into the hills,
a peaceful but arduous detour, necessitating a swim to cool off in the Moselle down below.
Emerging from the water we noticed storm clouds massing, and decided to head back to Koblenz asap. We were tired and, in our haste, we decided to rush across the busy road in Alken instead of waiting for a longer break in traffic so we could cross calmly. Reaching the other side, Kyra turned to me with a loud cry. I look at her and was appalled to see her front tooth (an adult one) had chipped diagonally in half when her bike had hit the curb and bounced back, hitting her mouth. We were in shock and spent five minutes searching for the missing piece, impossible to find among the many tiny pebbles on the sidewalk and road, not able to think about what to do next. Two passing cyclists, neither of whom spoke English, tried in vain to help. As a measure of common sense returned to us we realized we weren't going to find the tooth, so started to walk to the train station as the heavens opened and the rain began to pour down on us in earnest (the kids learned the meaning of pathetic fallacy that night). Our luck returned to us though as we almost immediately came upon the tourist office that we hadn't seen before. It was open for another 10 minutes before it closed for the week-end. The two amazing women there, Julia and Vanessa, quickly arranged an emergency dental appointment back in Koblenz, called for a taxi to take Kyra, Thomas and I to the clinic (Paul and Jacob had to walk several kms to the train station with all four bikes). They even lent us their phone to call the insurance company back home. We were all distressed, though when Tom overheard us talking about the dental appointment he ran out to Jacob, calling with delight "Kyra's going to get a free toothbrush!".
In the grand scheme of things a chipped front tooth is a very minor thing (easy for me to say since it wasn't mine), but the fact that we had made an error that resulted in a permanent loss for our daughter reminded us how life can change in an instant, and that it matters not how many kms we cover in a day, nor how many sights we see. All that is important is that we love and cherish each other, a perspective that we need to retain as life quickly returns to normal - with Kyra's repaired tooth looking good as new.
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