¨Wird Regen geben im Nachmittag¨, an old ameteur cyclist told me this morning while we cycled along under am ominous looking overcast sky.
Looking up at that gray mass that spanned the heaven I knew for a fact that he was right.

The first drops started around two o´clock in the afternoon and by now I can only hope my tent will stay as waterproof as it has so far!!!

Berlin is surrounded by fast stretches of oak and fir tree forests that are inhabited by moose, elk, deer and even wolfs. The many lakes must make these forests a mosquito nightmare but this early in the year I expect no problems in that department.

Though I liked Berlin very much cycling all over the city these last few days, Brandenburgerturm, Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtniskirche, Tiergarten, Bahnhof Zoo, the different city districts which each one often had its very own admosphere due no doubt to the many different people inhabiting Berlin, each ethnic group clinging to its own neighborhood.

Yeah Berlin was fun but I am longing to cycle a bit around the former Eastern Germany, spend time in front of my tent at night after a long and exhausting day on the bike, drinking a few cheap beers, light a campfire to heat up my cans of Bratwurst and hear the sounds of the dark nightly forest surrounding my tent.

The cycling is easy today passing through small villages where most of the younger population has moved to the west, only the old men still sit around in the village one and only surviving Kneipe / bar in German / playing cards and sipping schnapps, reminiscing the old times when they were still young and powerfull.

I see their wives sitting in front of old brick houses chitchatting and drinking cups of watery looking tea. Their children living their own lives in big western german cities now far away from the tranquility that still rules the villages where they grew up and where their parents are now living out their lives. Old and worn-out people...by the time they die these old villages will die with them.

written by  heraclio on January 13, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
tagged BerlinOldPeopleVillageCycleTourTrip
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With a start I wake up feeling disoriented and confused. For a moment, just a short moment in the eternity of time I was back in the heat of Thailand hearing the voices of Thai women chitchatting outside my room while washing the laundry by hand.

Slowly their melodious Thai is being replaced by the constant patter of the heavy rain that bangs down on the outside of my tent and it becomes clear to me that I`m camping in the dark-green forests that surround Barlin.

My body is shivering and I`m covered in clammy sweat despite the warmth of my sleeping-bag. I`m scared beyond believe but find it hard to figure out why. It is not like I`m new to this, wild camping on my own in the middle of nowhere.

Trying to get my act together and find comfort in the realm of Lord Morpheus I
try to return to the dream that I was just in before my rude awakening when I hear a weird howling through the drumming of the rain outside.

Do I realy hear wolves? Hard to believe but the fear that gripped my heart earlier is now being replaced by the excitement of hearing the voices of those that rule these ancient forests.

Maybe the are preparing for the hunt and are warning the other inhabitants of the forest that their time has come....they beter hide and take cover or else.... they might find themselves on the pack's menu this rainy night.

When I wake up in the morning the rain is still heavy and incessantly drumming away on the outside of my tent forcing me to delay my departure. Sticking my still sleepy head outside my tent I discover a thoroughly wed small owl sitting only meters away on the low branch of a fir tree eyeing me curiously.

written by  heraclio on March 16, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
tagged BerlinWolfCycleForest
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With a start I wake up feeling disoriented and confused. For a moment, just a short moment in the eternity of time I was back in the heat of Thailand hearing the voices of Thai women chitchatting outside my room while washing the laundry by hand.

Slowly their melodious Thai is being replaced by the constant patter of the heavy rain that bangs down on the outside of my tent and it becomes clear to me that I`m camping in the dark-green forests that surround Barlin.

My body is shivering and I`m covered in clammy sweat despite the warmth of my sleeping-bag. I`m scared beyond believe but find it hard to figure out why. It is not like I`m new to this, wild camping on my own in the middle of nowhere.

Trying to get my act together and find comfort in the realm of Lord Morpheus I
try to return to the dream that I was just in before my rude awakening when I hear a weird howling through the drumming of the rain outside.

Do I realy hear wolves? Hard to believe but the fear that gripped my heart earlier is now being replaced by the excitement of hearing the voices of those that rule these ancient forests.

Maybe the are preparing for the hunt and are warning the other inhabitants of the forest that their time has come....they beter hide and take cover or else.... they might find themselves on the pack's menu this rainy night.

When I wake up in the morning the rain is still heavy and incessantly drumming away on the outside of my tent forcing me to delay my departure. Sticking my still sleepy head outside my tent I discover a thoroughly wed small owl sitting only meters away on the low branch of a fir tree eyeing me curiously.

written by  heraclio on March 16, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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I'm in a small bar in Blankenförde, a small settlement in the Nationalpark Müritz consisting of narrow cobble-stoned streets that are lined with mostly empty two storeyed houses that look in a serious state of decay, many of the red colored tiles missing from the roofs, windows broken with the incessant rain slashing through the jagged holes.

No parked cars anywhere in this old and derlict Eastern German village, just a few ancient looking rusty bicycles parked in front of the village's only bar that doubles as restaurant where old and wrinkled men with unkempt beards play checkers nursing small glass cups of Schnaps called Asbach Uralt.

Nobody paying me any heed despite my ragged and worn appearance due to nearly two weeks of living rough and wild-camping in the woods. I drink my weak coffee quietly while working on my omelettes and stale bread, my orange juice looks watery while the glass it is served in, is opaque with use, the table cloth is full with sigarette burns and dusty to the touch.

Everything in this bar and the rest of the village is despodence to the MAX, glum and hopeless, a place where the remaining population is old and without inspiration. I feel like I have walked into A care centre for the terminally sick!!!

After the collapse of the Wall the younger generation ran off to West with big dreams and hopes taking the souls of these Eastern Germany villages with them.

The families they started far away in Koln or Düsseldorf, big German cities in the rich industrial part of the Suaerkraut and Bratwurst country. No joy for these despondent old village people most of whom have never been to the West, to see their grand children grow up and replace the old village populace.

Leaving this darkly lit bar and unlocking my bike - why did I ever bother to lock my bike anyway? Not like any of these old sods is gonna run away with my iron travel partner! - and cycling out of this miserable place I can`t help but feel sorry for them.

The constant rain that has been my companion these past two days only adds to my glum mood!!!

written by  heraclio on March 17, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
tagged BerlinCycleTerminalSick
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I'm in a small bar in Blankenförde, a small settlement in the Nationalpark Müritz consisting of narrow cobble-stoned streets that are lined with mostly empty two storeyed houses that look in a serious state of decay, many of the red colored tiles missing from the roofs, windows broken with the incessant rain slashing through the jagged holes.

No parked cars anywhere in this old and derlict Eastern German village, just a few ancient looking rusty bicycles parked in front of the village's only bar that doubles as restaurant where old and wrinkled men with unkempt beards play checkers nursing small glass cups of Schnaps called Asbach Uralt.

Nobody paying me any heed despite my ragged and worn appearance due to nearly two weeks of living rough and wild-camping in the woods. I drink my weak coffee quietly while working on my omelettes and stale bread, my orange juice looks watery while the glass it is served in, is opaque with use, the table cloth is full with sigarette burns and dusty to the touch.

Everything in this bar and the rest of the village is despodence to the MAX, glum and hopeless, a place where the remaining population is old and without inspiration. I feel like I have walked into A care centre for the terminally sick!!!

After the collapse of the Wall the younger generation ran off to West with big dreams and hopes taking the souls of these Eastern Germany villages with them.

The families they started far away in Koln or Düsseldorf, big German cities in the rich industrial part of the Suaerkraut and Bratwurst country. No joy for these despondent old village people most of whom have never been to the West, to see their grand children grow up and replace the old village populace.

Leaving this darkly lit bar and unlocking my bike - why did I ever bother to lock my bike anyway? Not like any of these old sods is gonna run away with my iron travel partner! - and cycling out of this miserable place I can`t help but feel sorry for them.

The constant rain that has been my companion these past two days only adds to my glum mood!!!

written by  heraclio on March 17, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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I cycle - like yesterday - all day through pine forests interspersed with deep blue colored lakes that abound with water fowl, ducks, geese, coots, spoonbills and more swans as I have ever seen before in my life.

The trees of the forest surrounding me are awash with noisy finches that fly ahead of my bicycle for a while before disappaering back into the dark-green curtain that line both sides of the road.

At open places I experience the occasional bout of "Wind in the Face", every long distance cyclist`s nightmare apart from heavy rain and snow.

But this Gegenwind as the Sauerkraut and Bratwurst people in this part of the world, call it does not dampen my enthusiasm. Quite the opposite actually, I take in huge gulps of the still crispy cold air. Like the flora and fauna kingdom around me I too can feel and smell the coming of spring in the air which is hightening my spirits, heightening the dopamine levels inside my dutch skull.

It has been a good decision to up here instaed of hanging around in Berlin for another 4 or 5 days.

The smells that penetrate my nostrils is that of pine forest and lakes, what my eyes see is pine forest and lakes. Yes, I enjoy this trip a lot!!!

At some point during the day I notice the tracks of deer in the mud along the road. Getting off my bike to investigate, maybe make a quick drawing of them in my sketch book, I discover some more tracks, more sinister and ominous in character reminding me of the weird howling I heard a few nights ago.

They look like the spoor of dogs but I seriously doubt the presence of stray dogs in these dark forests. Dogs tend to stay around human habitation even when going stray. I have a strong suspicion I have stumbled upon the tracks of a very different type of canine here.

I make a photo as well as a sketch. Another photo of the greyish and very smelling droppings I discover a few meters further on.

I will have to check up on this once I get back to Amsterdam. I really like to know whether or not I`ve been in the presence of wild wolves.

written by  heraclio on March 19, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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In the difuse light of the small bar where I have breakfast I try to make sence of the Berliner Zeitung I found on the table and which is several days out of date - to say the least - and a touchy bit yellowish.

The runny eggs with stale bread that seems to have to rule the menu in these Eastern German villages, has already gone down to my starving belly. The watery and luke-warm cup of coffee is still waiting for consumption. Not that I expect to really wake up seriously from this low cafeine brew that looks more like dish water then anything fit for human drinking purposes.

I`ve no doubt that an impoverished Indian or a Thai individual from the poor north of the Thai Kingdom would consider this breakfast a once in a life time five star restaurant delicacy.

However I'm far from being an impoverished Indian or a poor Thai and need my food desperately in order to do my daily 100 km. of cycling.

"Darf Ich mich vielleicht ein moment mal bei Ihnen setzen?".

Being disturbed in my mental ponderings about bad food and weak dish water I look up into the roundish and wrinkled face of a rotund old woman, maybe somewhere in her late sixties dressed in faded jeans and a woolen sweater that once must have been red but has discolored to a darker sort of brownish color with age.

Her face is open and honest betraying curiousity.

She introduces herself as Die Kerstin coming from the nearby village of Brüel having been married to a local man in this village called Dabel. "Er ist aber schon seit vielen Jahren tot und unsere Kinder sind alle ausgeflogen zum West".

Husband died many years ago and the kids have moved to the Rich West. She seems in a serious need to tell me her life story and wants to hear all about my travels across the globe....she tells me she can see from the look in my eyes I`ve seen many places....have been to the corners of the world.

"Ich kenne nur diese Wälder, war sogar noch nicht mal in Berlin, noch nicht im Leben im Zug oder Flugzeug. Das war in meiner Zeit gar nicht möglich, lieber Herr". "Die Partei gab kein Erlaubnis und jetzt bin zu alt zu reisen".

Basically she never has been anywhere in her life, no permission from the former communist party and now she is too old to go anywhere but enjoy her small pension.

I offer her a Schnapps feeling genuinely sorry for this gnarled old woman who is obviously still in the possession of all her wits drinking one myself as well mentally considering the fact that she has probably been eating runny eggs and stale bread, drinking weak dish water all of her life.

One Schnapps turn into several and while the heavy german rain drums away on the opaque windows of this little run down bar with its disfused light and stale air inside, while the habitual clientêle slowly fills the five tables oppressing the already laden air with old men`s farts and the smoke of cheap tabacco, Fraulein Kerstin tells me what it was like to life under the communist yoke. With a Lächelchen - a smile you knowe - she tells me how it feels like to be the Mum of children who have left and have Keine Zeit für ihr Mütterchen heute. No time for Mum today.

Trying to get my act together after all the Schnapps I expalin my life in Thailand, my trips to India and South and Middle America, my cycle trips around Europe.

Half drunk on all the Schnapps and with the German rain having come to an end I apologise and stagger out cycling through dark green Eastern German forests where the animal world is feeling happy with the onslaught of Spring and most definitely much more sober then me.

written by  heraclio on March 20, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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In the difuse light of the small bar where I have breakfast I try to make sence of the Berliner Zeitung I found on the table and which is several days out of date - to say the least - and a touchy bit yellowish.

The runny eggs with stale bread that seems to have to rule the menu in these Eastern German villages, has already gone down to my starving belly. The watery and luke-warm cup of coffee is still waiting for consumption. Not that I expect to really wake up seriously from this low cafeine brew that looks more like dish water then anything fit for human drinking purposes.

I`ve no doubt that an impoverished Indian or a Thai individual from the poor north of the Thai Kingdom would consider this breakfast a once in a life time five star restaurant delicacy.

However I'm far from being an impoverished Indian or a poor Thai and need my food desperately in order to do my daily 100 km. of cycling.

"Darf Ich mich vielleicht ein moment mal bei Ihnen setzen?".

Being disturbed in my mental ponderings about bad food and weak dish water I look up into the roundish and wrinkled face of a rotund old woman, maybe somewhere in her late sixties dressed in faded jeans and a woolen sweater that once must have been red but has discolored to a darker sort of brownish color with age.

Her face is open and honest betraying curiousity.

She introduces herself as Die Kerstin coming from the nearby village of Brüel having been married to a local man in this village called Dabel. "Er ist aber schon seit vielen Jahren tot und unsere Kinder sind alle ausgeflogen zum West".

Husband died many years ago and the kids have moved to the Rich West. She seems in a serious need to tell me her life story and wants to hear all about my travels across the globe....she tells me she can see from the look in my eyes I`ve seen many places....have been to the corners of the world.

"Ich kenne nur diese Wälder, war sogar noch nicht mal in Berlin, noch nicht im Leben im Zug oder Flugzeug. Das war in meiner Zeit gar nicht möglich, lieber Herr". "Die Partei gab kein Erlaubnis und jetzt bin zu alt zu reisen".

Basically she never has been anywhere in her life, no permission from the former communist party and now she is too old to go anywhere but enjoy her small pension.

I offer her a Schnapps feeling genuinely sorry for this gnarled old woman who is obviously still in the possession of all her wits drinking one myself as well mentally considering the fact that she has probably been eating runny eggs and stale bread, drinking weak dish water all of her life.

One Schnapps turn into several and while the heavy german rain drums away on the opaque windows of this little run down bar with its disfused light and stale air inside, while the habitual clientêle slowly fills the five tables oppressing the already laden air with old men`s farts and the smoke of cheap tabacco, Fraulein Kerstin tells me what it was like to life under the communist yoke. With a Lächelchen - a smile you knowe - she tells me how it feels like to be the Mum of children who have left and have Keine Zeit für ihr Mütterchen heute. No time for Mum today.

Trying to get my act together after all the Schnapps I expalin my life in Thailand, my trips to India and South and Middle America, my cycle trips around Europe.

Half drunk on all the Schnapps and with the German rain having come to an end I apologise and stagger out cycling through dark green Eastern German forests where the animal world is feeling happy with the onslaught of Spring and most definitely much more sober then me.

written by  heraclio on March 20, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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It has been raining every night now since I left Berlin but with enough dry hours during the day time to manage my 80/100 km. a day, though last night it was hail that was being sent down to me by those divine beings that are rumoured to inhabit the clouds above my mortal head.

In the early light of a not so brand new day I break down my tent which is still wed from last night`s hail. The stretch of open agricultural land in front of me is covered by a fine whittish fog but I can still discern the small herd of deer munching away on the first sprouts of Spring grass. They eye me curiously keeping a safe distance but seem otherwise unconcerned by my presence.

A completely white - albino? - peacock is hopping busily around and among the deer proudly showing off his huge white tail every so often. Is this bird trying to impress the deer with this halo of white feathers - I mean I see no female peacocks anywhere - ,if so he is not doing a good job of it.

I`ve always thought peacocks to be native to the Indian subcontinent but these german forests seem to contain a sizeable population.

Packing my gear together and on the back of my bicycle I leave this macho bird behind quietly hoping he`ll eventually see the error of his ways trying to impress a herd of deer instead of female peacocks. His changes of getting laid the peacock way are very slight this way.

written by  heraclio on March 22, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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Flashes of lightning light up the inside of my tent while I work on a couple of cans of Weissen brew. The rain is once again coming down like a tropical downpour reminding me as always of my trips to Thailand and the little family I have there.

Thai voices ring inside my head drowning the steady patter of rain on top of my tent. I`m slowly getting into phylosofical mood brought about no doubt by the alcohol and several weeks of wild camping in German woods, living it rough, shunning human contact as much as possible, living a solitary life of cycling all day on a bare excistence, my only luxury of the day my runny eggs and stale bread served with luke-warm watery dish water that qualifies as hot coffee in these lonely Eastern German villages.

The rain is slowly subsiding and the sounds erupting outside my little one-person tent in this dark and mysterious forest are at the same time fascinating and scary bringing my farang mind back to the here and now from the far away Land of the Thais, from the sociable and always smiling Thais to my self chosen life of solitary.

I`ve spent all day cycling through the beautifull Nossentiner-Schwinzer Heide National Park with groups of sparrows and wood pigeons in the Fields, deer running away ahead of me, dozens of swans in a Field. An owl sitting on a barbed wire pole looking at me cycling by, a big brown buzzard sat only a few short yards away from me in the grass. I had no idea what he/she was doing there and when I stopped to investigate the bird flew away loudly shrieking his/her protestations.

Today I also reached the river Elbe which means I`m slowly leaving the former East German Replublik behind and am back on track to Amsterdam.

written by  heraclio on March 23, 2009 from Berlin, Germany
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
tagged BerlinCycleNossentimmerHeideNationalParkGermanyAmsterdam
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