No arrows does not equal no hills! (Prague)
Despite the funny smell and the flimsy doors of the pension, I slept like a log, and was still feeling pretty exhausted by the time the alarm went off at 8.30. One reason for my reluctance to get up was the sound of rain that I had somehow made out even through my sleep. The thought of a day of cycling in pouring rain did not seem very tempting, but what could I do? Prague was calling me, and there were milongas to go to.
In the end, the rain was the least of my worries, as it only really poured down on a couple of occasions, while mostly it was quite a good cycling temperature with a tail wind and overcast but rainless skies. However, in terms of terrain things were not half as rosy, as the road towards Plzen seemed to be crossing every single hillside in this corner of the country (and there were many!). I had been expecting this though, so although the slow going was frustrating, it did not start to bug me until much later in the day.
The scenery can be described with just one word: green. Meadows, fields, forests, bushes...everywhere you looked, just green. It did strike me as quite a contrast to the German side of the border, where apart from the few protected areas I had crossed, basically all arable land was being cultivated or grazed. Here, on the other hand, most fields stood fallow, and I did not see any cows or other farm animals the whole day! Seems like there really is something to the complaint that is often made about the EU: that the "old" member countries are doing a good job at protecting their interests and farmer livelihoods, while new members get little understanding for their agricultural needs.Who knows. It is certainly true that a lot of money has been poured into all the "reconstruction work" that is carried out in these countries; road building, restoration of old buildings, signposting etc. But, at the same time, how can it actually make sense that all this arable land is left fallow?
After an early lunch in a roadside town I got back on the bike, still full of confidence that I could easily make it to Plzen, and maybe, just maybe, even all the while to Prague. It would be a long day but hey, it wouldn't be the first one!
However, that was when the hills started for real. In trying to be clever, I had been studying the map intensely and come to the conclusion that more or less all the hills from now on would be downhills. How it escaped my attention that this is hardly possible, at least if you are not riding down the Himalaya, I don't know. I only know that it did not take me very long to figure out that even if there is only an arrow indicating a steep downhill, there will almost always be an almost as steep uphill afterwards!
The biggest hurdle, however, was the traffic. As long as I was on the minor backcountry roads, there were not that many cars, and most drivers were actually being quite polite. However, the last 30 km to Plzen were the most horrible of the whole journey so far. I was actually quite scared for my own life, as the cars were just tearing past me at full speed, totally disregarding the appalling condition of the road surface, the blind curves (or hills), the upcoming traffic when overtaking, the fact that the car driving in front of them was ALSO about to overtake someone... What's more, there was no shoulder to talk of,meaning that I had nowhere to go to if I wanted to avoid them. In short, it was a nightmare. In all time I have spent traversing different countries by bicycle, this day was the one when I really feared that I might not make it alive to the end of the day.
So, when I finally got to Plzen, I knew it was time to call it a day. It was now getting close to 6 pm, and the remaining distance to Prague was in the league of 84 km. Had I not been so fed up with the hills and the traffic, I think I could have pushed myself and done it. But now I just decided to give myself a break and catch the train.
Roadside advertising seems quite sexually loaded in this country. Or what do you think about these two examples?
Finding the railway station was a hassle as well, as there were no signs and none of the handful of people I asked either spoke English/ German or knew where the place was or how I could get there with the bike. At this point, I must say my impression of Czech was not very favourable, and the sales clerk at the station did nothing to change it either. However,the moment I was on the train I felt ok again.
Getting into Prague, I could immediately see why so many people seem to like the city so much. It was already well past 8 in the eveniong, and the city bathed in a lovely evening sun that together with the old buildings made everything look like from a fairytale. The historic city centre, where my hostel is, was packed with people, mostly tourists but a few locals too.
Funnily enough, in the same dormitory where I am sleeping there are 3 other tangueros (from Germany) that have also come for the festival. After a chat with them it was time to leave for the first milonga, which fortunately took place only a short walk from the hostel. It was in a lovely old building, a museum of some kind (I never found out what), and the dancing was on two floors in several different rooms, all furnished with beautiful chandeliers. My first impression upon walking in was incredulous: the place was just teeming with dancers, hundreds and hundreds of them, and almost all of them wearing white. Now I remembered that the theme of the evening was "white", and one was supposed to stick to it in dress as well. Try to guess who was one of the few wearing black tonight?? It did not seem to matter too much though, although I would really have felt better had I been able to "blend in" a bit better. However, even if I had taken something white with me when I left home 6 weeks ago, I doubt it would be white now!
Am writing this at almost 5 am, having just come back from the milonga. It was a very good evening with both live music, classical tangos and neotango. Perhaps due to the full day of cycling, my own dancing was far from what it has been lately, and generally there seemed to be a fair bit more showing off than enjoying the music. However, the longer the night progressed the more relaxed it all became. Myself, I danced for about 3 hours and then decided it was time to go get something to eat - only to discover that at that hour, there was nowhere where one could get anything! In the end, I had a package of salt crackers plus an orange juice. With that, I will need to make it to the morning.
In the end, the rain was the least of my worries, as it only really poured down on a couple of occasions, while mostly it was quite a good cycling temperature with a tail wind and overcast but rainless skies. However, in terms of terrain things were not half as rosy, as the road towards Plzen seemed to be crossing every single hillside in this corner of the country (and there were many!). I had been expecting this though, so although the slow going was frustrating, it did not start to bug me until much later in the day.
After an early lunch in a roadside town I got back on the bike, still full of confidence that I could easily make it to Plzen, and maybe, just maybe, even all the while to Prague. It would be a long day but hey, it wouldn't be the first one!
However, that was when the hills started for real. In trying to be clever, I had been studying the map intensely and come to the conclusion that more or less all the hills from now on would be downhills. How it escaped my attention that this is hardly possible, at least if you are not riding down the Himalaya, I don't know. I only know that it did not take me very long to figure out that even if there is only an arrow indicating a steep downhill, there will almost always be an almost as steep uphill afterwards!
The biggest hurdle, however, was the traffic. As long as I was on the minor backcountry roads, there were not that many cars, and most drivers were actually being quite polite. However, the last 30 km to Plzen were the most horrible of the whole journey so far. I was actually quite scared for my own life, as the cars were just tearing past me at full speed, totally disregarding the appalling condition of the road surface, the blind curves (or hills), the upcoming traffic when overtaking, the fact that the car driving in front of them was ALSO about to overtake someone... What's more, there was no shoulder to talk of,meaning that I had nowhere to go to if I wanted to avoid them. In short, it was a nightmare. In all time I have spent traversing different countries by bicycle, this day was the one when I really feared that I might not make it alive to the end of the day.
So, when I finally got to Plzen, I knew it was time to call it a day. It was now getting close to 6 pm, and the remaining distance to Prague was in the league of 84 km. Had I not been so fed up with the hills and the traffic, I think I could have pushed myself and done it. But now I just decided to give myself a break and catch the train.
Finding the railway station was a hassle as well, as there were no signs and none of the handful of people I asked either spoke English/ German or knew where the place was or how I could get there with the bike. At this point, I must say my impression of Czech was not very favourable, and the sales clerk at the station did nothing to change it either. However,the moment I was on the train I felt ok again.
Getting into Prague, I could immediately see why so many people seem to like the city so much. It was already well past 8 in the eveniong, and the city bathed in a lovely evening sun that together with the old buildings made everything look like from a fairytale. The historic city centre, where my hostel is, was packed with people, mostly tourists but a few locals too.
Funnily enough, in the same dormitory where I am sleeping there are 3 other tangueros (from Germany) that have also come for the festival. After a chat with them it was time to leave for the first milonga, which fortunately took place only a short walk from the hostel. It was in a lovely old building, a museum of some kind (I never found out what), and the dancing was on two floors in several different rooms, all furnished with beautiful chandeliers. My first impression upon walking in was incredulous: the place was just teeming with dancers, hundreds and hundreds of them, and almost all of them wearing white. Now I remembered that the theme of the evening was "white", and one was supposed to stick to it in dress as well. Try to guess who was one of the few wearing black tonight?? It did not seem to matter too much though, although I would really have felt better had I been able to "blend in" a bit better. However, even if I had taken something white with me when I left home 6 weeks ago, I doubt it would be white now!
Am writing this at almost 5 am, having just come back from the milonga. It was a very good evening with both live music, classical tangos and neotango. Perhaps due to the full day of cycling, my own dancing was far from what it has been lately, and generally there seemed to be a fair bit more showing off than enjoying the music. However, the longer the night progressed the more relaxed it all became. Myself, I danced for about 3 hours and then decided it was time to go get something to eat - only to discover that at that hour, there was nowhere where one could get anything! In the end, I had a package of salt crackers plus an orange juice. With that, I will need to make it to the morning.
Ihana kuulla että olet (turvallisesti ?) perilllä Prahassa! Tiedän että saamme nähdä myös kuvia jossain vaiheessa. Toivottavasti sait nukuttua loppuyön hyvin ja nautit tukevan aamiaisen. Haleja.
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