Where Three Countries Meet…

Crossing the border from Poland to the Saxony State in Germany got reacquainted with a part of Europe that is somehow familiar to me. The familiarity of the sounds of the German language, the ubiquitous bakeries with all sorts of dark bread, rolls and pretzels, and an impeccable architecture that combines traditional design and modern day charm.

As I cycle through eastern Germany and stay with friends, I also perceive that despite the efforts to bring the two parts of the country in line to each other for nearly three decades since reunification in 1990, the East and West divide still remains. On the surface, economical differences have lessened, but deeply entrenched prejudices and psychological boundaries still persist today between Easterners and Westerners.

I roll from one friend to another visiting them in their home place. All of them I have met unexpectedly on the roads of Asia. The random encounters with other cyclist travelers who have been on the road for a few years and with whom communication is not a strenuous effort, bring a sort of freshness and joy into your day. It can even result in an instant of closeness and connectedness too. In a way, they mirror your own experience and can relate to what you are doing without the need to justify yourself.

When travelling through an unfamiliar country, it is not always easy to explain in a foreign language that a journey on a bicycle that extends over many years is not a vacation or a simple gap break. Something deeper, that I am myself not even able to articulate, must move you to endure all aspects of travelling, the joys and also the discomforts. The good and the least good often intertwine in the most mysterious ways and are all part of the one and the same experience.

So, here I am in Germany visiting some of these people who share a similar intimacy of travel. Back for years already or having returned just recently. I find them at different turns of their post-journey life. I am now in my last push to Spain to visit my family I have not seen in almost six years. I wonder how it would feel for them, being back after so many years on the road. How one could possibly readjust back home and at the same time keep the freedom of the road.

In Dresden, I meet with André. We met on the commercial street in Gilgit two years ago and later again in Almaty, Kazakhstan. André is back into working life with future plans of travel. Easy-going and relaxed, he seems to embrace his new job with the same energy and novelty as his life on the road.

I visit Manu in Leipzig who had recently returned from her bicycle journey across Central Asia and Europe. We met in Kyrgyzstan the previous year, and she is now staying with her sister after many years in Asia. She is dedicating herself to job hunting so that she can move out soon in order not to abuse her sister and brother-in-law’s hospitality.

I am also hosted by Jochen in the countryside of south Germany. Four years have passed since we met in Yunnan, China, as we were cycling in opposite directions. He is living with his parents and has started his own project of growing organic food and searching alternative ways of being self-sufficient away from company job constraints.

There is also Tobias I had met more recently cycling across the mountainous Svaneti region in Georgia. We were cycling in opposite directions, but at the end of our cycling day, we shared campground, food and stories. Now that I am making my way to south Germany, I would meet him again in Lindau, a charming Bavarian little town stuck on the Austrian border.

Tobias is in his mid-thirties but his tall athletic figure and soft features make him look younger. He is originally from the nearby industrial city of Friedrichshafen, but lives now in Lindau. He is an engineer and commutes to work to the Austrian city of Bregenz, only a 10-minute drive. But Tobias has already decided. He is going to quit his job in a couple of months and set off on a long cycling journey across Europe and Asia

When Tobias talks about the orderly German society and the cookie-cutter lives, he sounds disenchanted with his own country. There are so many rules and regulations for everything, people seem always ready to scold and complain about futile misdemeanours of each other’s lives. I think of the many people I had met in Iran and other developing countries who also want to escape their own countries and fantasise about living and working in Germany precisely for the same reasons Tobias wants to escape: the rules and the order.

Tobias received me in Lindau with the same excitement I received Emily in Japan five years ago. Emily had arrived all the way from England by bicycle and had taken a ferry from South Korea to Japan where I lived at that time. She was at the end of her journey, and I was about to start mine.

This time I was the one at the end of the journey and Tobias at the beginning of his. It was like closing a circle.

Cradled on the eastern shore of Lac Constance fed by the Rhine river and in a backdrop of Alpine peaks, Lindau sits on a unique location and attracts sightseers and holidaymakers all year round. Offering water activities on the lake and plenty of hikers in the Alps, visitors come to Lindau for its great outdoors.

There are not many places in the world where you can visit four countries within a short ride distance. Within 90 kilometres you can visit Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Liechtenstein. There are no border checkpoints between the countries and you can drive freely without being asked for your passport.

The day after I arrive it is Friday and Tobias comes back from work at midday. After a quick lunch, we drive to the small town of neighboring Bregenz in Austria and leave the car next to the Pfänderbahn station, a cable car that has been running since 1927. It is a short ride to the Pfänder mountain top but we prefer hiking. There is a well-developed network of short walks and trails and we follow the sign to the Pfänder departing behind the cable car station.

It is a radiant afternoon of November. The sunlight beams through the trees and shines on the forest path dressed in its autumn colors. We come to a large meadow and walk past small cottages dispersed on the slopes of the mountain and big farmsteads converted to holiday stays and inns.

Further up we come across a small chapel overlooking the valley and a 360-degree panoramic view opens up in front of us. It is a spectacular lookout over the Rhine flowing into the lake and over the hundred of Alpine peaks stretching across Germany, Switzerland, Austria and Liechtenstein. The sun starts slowly to disappear behind the silhouette of the mountains. The big cotton candy cloud that had formed starts to blend with the velvet sky as it quickly turns into a rich spectrum of violets, reds, pinks, and oranges. Delayed by such an eye-catching spectacle of colors on our way down. It’s already dark when we reach the car.

The following day I say goodbye to Tobias and his girlfriend who has come to spend the weekend. Before cycling to the Austrian border, I want to visit the historical medieval old town of Lindau which is actually an island connected by a road bridge.

In the island, the short ride along the sea promenade takes me to the lighthouse and the statue of a lion, symbol for the region of Bavaria, presiding over the entrance of the harbour. The lakefront restaurants and quaint cafés are getting ready for lunchtime.

Through Maximilian Strasse, I stumble on the Altes Rathaus – the town hall – one of the most significant buildings in the Altstadt decorated with cherubs and a few streets away, the lively weekly is held in Markplatz, a square surrounded by historic buildings and dominated by the St. Stephen Church. Local producers sell organic frsh fruit and vegetables cheese and other specialities from the region.

It is my last day in Germany, I am only a few kilometres from Swtizerland, the country where I lived throughout my childhood and teenage years. Home in some ways. Ten years have already passed since my last visit.