Poland to Belgium: The Concept of Balance
“Oh, right, I forgot to warn you about the strip clubs here in Gdansk” our host told Petr after he had been tricked into going into one and buying a ridiculously expensive drink.
When I arrived at my hostel in Gdansk, Poland, I met 3 other motorcyclists from Czech Republic, Petr, Michal, and Mikulas, who were on a moto-adventure of their own. Late in the evening, we all walked the long market of the city center, in between tall, narrow, adjacent buildings, each one of a different pastel color, some yellow, some pink, others blue, and so on. I was surprised by the number of promoters lingering around, trying to get people into one of the many strip clubs in town. Unfortunately, my new friend Petr turned out an easy victim.
On my way south, to the Polish city of Krakow, as it was a custom now, I avoided big highways and preferred the countryside roads. In this aspect, Poland delivered in the form of abundant forests, spotted with occasional lakes, and small roads in good condition with light traffic, if any.
Krakow, which seemed like a bigger city, but with a similar easy-going atmosphere as Gdansk, was one of the last stops in Poland, along with the nearby Auschwitz concentration camp, before leaving the country. Auschwitz was interesting, to say the least. Walking in and around the buildings which served as bunkers, offices, or prisons, gives one nothing more than a tiny glimpse of what everyday life could have been for those imprisoned during the holocaust.
On a brighter, more positive, note, I entered the Czech Republic the following day and made a stop in the town of Hradec Kralove where Mikulas was from and had invited me to stay. As a good host of one of the countries with the highest beer consumption per capita, Mikulas brought out a few different beers which we enjoyed with dinner, thought-provoking conversations and the later company of his family.
I would have more beer tasting experiences in the beautiful Czech capital of Prague, although the displayed courtesy by the locals was not the same; on more than one occasion I felt shunned by the bartender, the waiter, or any other local person I encountered. I do have to say, some people I met were nice and welcoming, but I couldn’t help noticing the prior negative trend. I would later find out it wasn’t just me who felt this way, but other travelers as well. One person I met, who had adopted Prague 15 years ago, stated that unless you speak Czech, some locals will continue to reject you; there is some kind of resentment towards foreigners who have made of Prague an excessively crowded and touristy city.
In the following week, I moved on to places like Berlin and Amsterdam, big cities, full of history, life, and, for the most part, anything you can think of. I enjoyed the days I spent there, but I began to feel worn out, in large part due to the intense everyday heat; apparently this has been a remarkable summer in the region. In addition to the weather, these cities not only had a large number of inhabitants, but of visitors as well, and it was notorious in the traffic jams, the public transportation system, and the bicycle lanes that didn’t seem to be sufficient for the thousands of rampaging bikes up and down the streets tinkling their bells before running over some distracted pedestrian.
I found intermittent comfort by camping or visiting smaller towns, such as Giethoorn and Utrecht, in the Netherlands, which seemed to be smaller, more manageable, versions of Amsterdam. In traveling between these places, I came to realize the north of Germany and, basically, all of the Netherlands shared similar uniformed terrain of low altitude above sea level, which didn’t make for the most interesting motorcycle rides. I began to yearn for the mountains, or at least some rolling hills.
One evening, in northwest Germany, I met an older man whose name I’ve rudely forgotten, he probably doesn’t remember mine, either, but I’m sure he recalls our conversation the same as I do. After a few gentleman gathered around my motorcycle at the campsite I stayed in, and asked where I was from and what I was doing, as it happened often, one of the men offered me a beer, and we sat on some chairs he had to talk and drink. He laughed and called me crazy for being on such a trip, and then went on to explain he’s traveling on his tractor hauling a camper at a maximum speed of 25 kilometers per hour, and yet, I’m the crazy one!
We enjoyed a couple of beers and began talking about travel and how relatively easy it is for younger generations. He used his teenaged son as an example, “my son can cross from one country to another with no problem, no visa, no money exchange, it’s easy, and safe. He doesn’t know how easy he has it, he’s only worried if the Wi-Fi signal is strong” he said. I suppose in that aspect it is easier than decades ago, but this is only true for Europe, since the same does not apply to places like Mexico or Central America, places to which my friend had never been, and the safety issue is completely different.
I further rejoiced when I came across the Ardennes Mountains in the southeast of Belgium. Although the roads were not technical nor specific to motorcycling, the ride was pleasant, winding around and atop heavily forested mountains as far as the eye could see, dipping down to refreshing rivers at the bottom of valleys, passing by occasional castles, and making stops for lunch and waffles in cozy small towns like Houffalize and La Roche-en-Ardenne.
Some years ago, I watched a movie called In Bruges, and what I recall the most about it is the setting, which took place in the Belgian city the movie is named after. The narrow streets, the old houses, the canals all around and bridges over them, and the central square; it all seemed so pleasant I told myself I would someday visit. Once I arrived, I learned that movie nearly duplicated the tourist influx into Bruges; I couldn’t help feeling fooled, but only briefly, since it was indeed a beautiful place to be, just as in the movie, minus the killing.
During these past few weeks, I discovered that, as much as I enjoy visiting the cities, I enjoy the most when I balance this with spending some nights camping under the stars. It almost sounds obvious, “balance”, isn’t that what we try to incorporate into all aspects of our lives? It seems evident when put into perspective, but it can easily be lost from sight in the everyday life.
