DAY 1: EDAM - WURZBURG: A pint of heaven

There's no better time to set off for a 7000 km trip to Romania than during a massive heatwave. Or so I must have led myself to believe at one point. There's no other reasonable explanation why I would be sitting here cooking away in 40 degrees Celsius, in a three-piece motorcycle suit, on a piping hot motorcycle swiveling over molten tarmac. Right? Right.

When I'd left home, the weather had still been reasonably mild. There were some thunderstorms predicted over southern Germany, but I had a cunning plan. I wouldn't take the usual route over Frankfurt, instead I would stay on my way east to Kassel, and then swiftly drop down south to Wurzburg. A few 100 extra kilometers, not worth making a fuzz about.

And here's me, somewhere south of Kassel, riding through the scenic hills of Hessen, burning my skin off. Well, somewhat. I'd forgotten that thunderstorms tend to push hot air out in front of them. Since Kassel I'd definitely remembered. I'd also remembered that it would have been useful to get my cooling vest out about a 100 km's ago, at the last stop. No use now. I decided to hold out for a few km's more. That thunderstorm would surely show up at one point

It took another 100 km's of sweating and swearing, and then it did. The rain came down like a waterfalll and I couldn't see a thing. No mind. The ice-cold raindrops running down my back were a blessing, at least this once. The thunder and lightning were a bit less comforting. But I managed to escape the worst of it, by hiding under the roof of an abandoned gas station. The roads smoked, as the rain turned to steam on the hot asphalt. When the rain lessened and I rode off again, the mist took a while to clear.

Final relief came in the form of a 400 year old inn called Gasthof Zum Schwan. Located in Franconia near the Bavarian border, in a small village near Wurzburg, the Swan has all the features that make the best German inns so fabulous: a cosy old room, a great menu (go for the impeccable Pfifferlingen steak) and last but not least, a freshly drawn pint of Weizen. Which is, for all matters, about as close to heaven as you can get after a day like this. Sitting out in front and sipping at another Weizen, I watched the next thunderstorm coming in. Let it roll.

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Great start. Looking forward to this

You have a great turn of phrase - looking forward to more.

I got caught in a thunderstorm on the autobahn a few weeks ago - zero visibility, couldn't even see the side or the central reservation. Lunatic German cars going nearly as fast as me. But I was chasing a ferry so no Gasthof or for me.

Good start, liking your writing style
Weizen is great, especially the Hefe Weizen, enjoy

Wayne

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The Balkans
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My trip towards Hungary in June started in poor weather, which never really improved. Eventually I headed south to Croatia and France and back homewards to UK. Meanwhile at home they were enjoying an unseasonable heatwave, and since I've been home the poor weather has continued to keep me company. Completely agree about the Bavarian hospitality though, one of the few enjoyable parts of a rather disappointing tour

When I left for Austria this morning, I realised I had taken this particular route before. I was following the path of my own footsteps about 30 years ago. Well, the path of the wheels of the Euroline bus that regularly took me to Budapest in the early nineties, when I used to be living in Hungary. In fact, I crossed paths with that same Eurolines bus today, just before the border crossing in Passau. Waived to the bus driver, which he seemed to appreciate. Funny thing, I never actually layed eyes on that particular border crossing until now: we always used to pass it in the dead of night.

During my time in Hungary I got acquinted with what one of the English expats described as 'the solace of Habsburg'. He was referring to the cafe culture in the old Austro-Hungarian empire in general, and to its particular proponents in Szeged, where we were living. We partook of the solace of Habsburg everyday during lunchtime, meaning we bought ourselves the best possible lunches (dirt-cheap at the time) and enjoyed them on the balcony terrace of the Cafe Vienne. We thought ourselves to be very refined. Lucky bastards we were.

Well, crossing the Danube on my way to Lower Austria, I felt I was definitely in need of some Habsburgian solace again. The day was heating up to 36 degrees Celsius, the asphalt had already reached 55 degrees as the Austrian police sign next to the highway drily told me, and I had managed to put on my cooling vest backwards. The magnificent view towards the Alps on my right was somewhat lost on me. After a gruelling 200 km, I consoled myself with a molten icecream from the bottom of the freezer at the petrol station. No Habsburgian romance there, but it did the trick.

Arriving at my hotel for the night, I was a bit nonplussed to find the doors shut and no-one there. The hotel was closed for the season. During the summer holidays? A bit odd. A quick call assured me that there was indeed a room made available to me, but that I would have the place to myself. Somewhat like the hotel from The Shining, Alright, no problem, we go with the flow.

Imagine my surprise when, late in the evening, a few other guests turned up, Lithuanians who seemed to be lost in time, space and language. Confusion reigned. In the end, I decided to act as hotel manager myself and showed them a room. A few hours later I was awakened by some noise coming from the kitchen. When I went to take a look, there was nobody there, but spread out on the table lay some paperwork. Which turned out to be a hotel bill for me, with an 50% price hike! Somewhat irate, I sent a message to the ghostly hotel owner. Though seemingly very busy in his spiritual realm, he did manage to convey to me that it was all a misunderstanding. Which was the least he could do, considering it took him until 2 a.m. to come up with a reply.

After my delayed sleep being cut short by Lithuanians banging on pots and pans in the kitchen to achieve their breakfast, I decided now was the time to evoke the solace of Habsburg. I rode down to the town of Melk, put the bike on the town square and sat down at the first available table of the Cafe Madar. A Viennese breakfast please! And so it was promptly served up, by a waiter in a pinguin suit. The eggs benedicte were perfection, the coffee beyond compare. Solace indeed!

Why did I go to the town of Melk? It's a gentle historic town that basically owes its existence to the huge Benedictine monastery that has been sitting there on a steep hill in its centre since 1089, in some form or other. Its current incarnation dates from the 18th century and is considered to be a prime example of Austrian Baroque. What mainly drew me there, was its library, which is said to contain more than 100.000 books, many from medieval times, or earlier.

It was definitely a magnificent place to visit. Though there were a lot of tourists groups (the busses from Vienna unload them in the morning), their number was made insignificant by the size and grandeur of the building complex. I made straight for the library and waited a while for the guided tours to pass by. And then, just for a minute, I had the place to myself. Thousands of historic books in elegantly designed cabinets, a painted ceiling to rival the Italian pallazo's and the sun shining through rounded windows. A glorious dream. And a moment I would wish to carry with me into eternity.

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You're right, the weather has been pretty crazy. Never expected it to be such a dominant factor during the trip, especially at the end, when I revisited Bavaria. I'll write some more about it later on.

I had a situation like that in Finland last year, chasing the ferry to Germany. I arrived at ferry port completely soaked, only to be made waiting 2 hours in the rain. Glad I took some whiskey with me....