Dresden Dubweg

 It was tough leaving Berlin. In fact when I tried I made less than 20 miles, to a birthday party at a boat house on lake Sedinsee in Schmöckwitz. By misunderstanding I arrived some hours before Eva and Hiula who had invited me along. I didn't know the birthday girl, or any of the guests, I was wearing cycling shorts and jersey with my silly blue cap and still hadn't learnt to pronounce "excuse me" properly in German. Oh and on top of this I was kind of hope expecting a bed for the night. Soon I was happily ensconced next the lake with beers and mixed grill, Pablo the Ecuadorian Syphilis doctor and a young journalist intern from Burkina Faso whose name escapes me for a happy chat about Syphilis and the ambition of Africans given half a chance in Europe. Eva and Hiula arrived, wine and percussive Mexican music flowed and I slept top bunk in the dorm. Hospitality from strangers can be truly humbling. Sunday morning I said goodbyes to Eva & Hiula and bless them once again found myself pedalling off with tears in my eyes. It was a beautiful three days to Dresden. It seemed to me that the landscape changed somewhat, forest and wetland giving way to agriculture (Camomile fields in full bloom); flatland to faint contours. I had another dawn visit from another friendly farmer who was concerned that I might have been interfered with by pigs in the night. I don't recall.

'til next time, Eva & Hiula x

not a pig in sight

Camomile fields

chez Keyserlingk

Now I am in Dresden. As my hostess Bettina (Konrad's mother) pointedly said over dinner, "The first thing to know about Dresden is that it was destroyed." We didn't go into the by-whoms or whys, instead she told me about the surviving culture; Dixie music festivals and porcelain (produced locally since the 1700s, the formula having been discovered quite independent of the previous Chinese monopoly) famous paintings from August the Strong's personal collection, and a certain eccentric, bohemian spirit even through the old Communism. When Bettina arrived in 1991 there were still piles of rubble in the town centre. Cycling through town on Tuesday, happily along the Elbe again, I was struck by the harmony with which old met new. Admittedly I was riding pretty fast to keep just ahead of a thunderstorm, so I looked more carefully the next afternoon to see if that impression was born out by exploration. Bettina took me on a kind of cultural tour of galleries, museums and an exhibition opening. Many of the historic buildings have been painstakingly rebuilt and my surprise at the extent of the bombing was matched by admiration for the dedication and skill with which the reconstruction continues. Controversial bridges aside, Dresden looks a fine work in progress.

Thursday was Herren-tag, Men's day. Gangs of German men roam the countryside with trolleys of beer to sing and celebrate their masculinity. Not the best day to explore Sächsische Schweiz with Marie from Eschenhof, but we found some quiet spots and it was really special to arrive at my first properly foreign looking landscape. After 800 miles on the flat some hills felt a welcome development. Tonight I'll stay with Couchsurfing host, Felix. He is a member of "Dresden's finest reggae dub band", who'll perform somewhere in town this evening. I expect I'll get back on the bike tomorrow. Or Sunday. Perhaps Dresden will also be tough to leave.

the black stones are originals from the rubble

Waldschlösschen Bridge, ugly enough to lose Dresden's UNESCO World Heritage status