We continue southwards. 10,000 years ago, the island of Cres was still mainland. Then a little too much ice melted and Cres was in the sea. The last hostel manager said it wouldn’t be a good idea to cross over just by bike. He was right. Immediately after the ferry, I realised why. The only road goes from the sea practically vertically 500 metres uphill.
Sabine, who’s a fan of the study tour, really wants to see the lammergeiers of Cres. We stop at the vulture centre in Beli. A boring exhibition says a lot for the good cause. We see a poisoned lammergeier with brain damage in the enclosure. In real life and in the wild, they don’t exist. The local stone beach is only impressive because of the parking fees. We fly further south. (more…)
No Hula in Pula
We continue southwards. Next stop: Pula, over 2000 years of history. An amphitheatre half the size of the Collosseum in Rome. We cycle through the area. No beautiful beaches anywhere. Everything is full. A tour of the old town in the evening. The food is greasy, bad and expensive. There are jugglers on every corner. We can’t find a single real bar. No Hula a Pula.
Medulin is the Mecca of Croatia’s wind junkies. Well, that is, of course, only as long as I’m not there. Windfinder predicts a week of calm and is right. We fry in the dirt on the crowded beach. Sun cream floats on the water, the stones bite into our feet. There’s nowhere to get to the water, and where you do get there you mutate into an oil sardine. (more…)
Castle towns in Istria
Istria was given its current name in 1994 when the Swiss Pierre Rosan realised that money had no value at all in post-communist Yugoslavia: “L’argent, c’est rien ici!” he shouted out at the marina in Umag. Some Germans picked up on the slogan, left out the money (greed is cool!) and Germanised the name. Istria was born.
Arrival. At the border with Slovenia, we are delighted to discover that my European sat nav map material apparently dates back to the time when Slovenia was not yet part of Europe. We drive the last 200 kilometres towards Istria by compass. From Koper onwards, the world comes to an end: heavy thunderstorms are raging, visibility is 50 metres and you could even go boating on the roads. (more…)
Viennese for beginners
Vienna is big, colourful and quirky, old and new. The only annoying thing is that Vienna is full of Viennese. The sun can shine as brightly as it likes, but as soon as someone behind you notices how full their glass is, you simply feel obliged to join in. In all the fun, life is infinitely slow, long and empty.
I’m celebrating my birthday in Vienna. Tom and Christiane are travelling 400km for it. Sabine brings a couple of biologists. On the roof terrace of the Faculty of Biology, Vienna tries to impose its mood on us: For the first time in weeks it’s raining, and it’s raining hard and almost all night. A Hawaiian party is going on next door. Inside. We press ourselves against the wall under a small eaves and refuse to obey the Leyd. (more…)
Stuttgart-Reinlichingen
Kai’s party is great, but I always get tired of scout songs very quickly. After the third beer, I fall into the yurt, which is almost impervious to the rain. At dawn, fog rolls through the forest. I pack my things and leave. Tanja in Stuttgart must have been away a bit too much, I can’t reach her.
The streets of Stuttgart show the true Swabian obsession with order. There are more signs than cars. Some I’ve never seen before (environmental zone?). There are two speed traps for every sign. Nobody drives even one kilometre faster than the speed limit. The streets are empty and clean, the parks large and green. You’re not allowed to lie down on the grass unless there’s a sign. That makes it sound like you have to lie down. (more…)
Still life from Nagold
A tourist in his own country visits the Black Forest: Nagold, a small town surrounded by dark, steep forests. No parking space in the centre is free, so the forest around it is something completely different. A sign in front of the local CDU association with its 70s-style curtains indicates that parking is prohibited. I park my car. Nagold is quiet, dark and empty this evening. My tour of the town takes 15 minutes.
Hobbingen: The houses may not have grass on the roofs, but there is plenty of wood in the walls. The windows are small. The residents hide behind them. The streets are so clean that the village alcoholics look even dirtier. Two auxiliary hip-hoppers in white gangsta outfits waddle to the nearest hotspot with beer bottles. (more…)
Constance
I am in Constance. An Australian import in the making could use some help with her architecture thesis. I offered to help her with the modelling in Melbourne. Always doing what you say is very difficult right now. She is finalising the plans while I build the model of her library. 10-12 hours a day. Eating out. A few hours at night doing my job: web design.
My plan was something between six and eight hours a day. Travelling a bit further and getting to know Germany. But even 10 hours a day is nowhere near enough. Seven days before delivery, there’s still nothing from the model, not even materials and tools. I’m doing what I can, but it can’t be enough, and above all it feels like I’m wasting myself. (more…)
Away From Vienna
The last day in Vienna. Going for brunch with Sabine and Georg. Up to the Baumgartner Höhe. Otto Wagner built the Steinhof sanatorium here in 1907. The grounds are so beautiful that you could almost consider becoming a drug addict – just to enjoy a detox within the old walls. An old granny asks for directions to her room.
The Kahlenberg is very busy. The whole of Vienna wants to look down on its city from above over the Grinzing vineyards. In the evening we walk across the Prater. The Schweizerhaus is well stocked, the beer is as stale as promised and the prices are just as salty as the crust on the pork knuckle. I get sick on the chain carousel. Can only ride with lines. The Ferris wheel is just fine. (more…)
Thunderstorm kiting on Lake Neusiedl
At lunchtime we drive to Lake Neusiedl. It takes just 45 minutes from the third district. The Austrian holidays have started today. The motorway is full. Masses of wind turbines are turning in the strong wind. The first glimpse of Lake Neusiedl makes me cheer: there must be 100 kiters out there. My first ride in two months, high time.
Lake Neusiedl is huge. But there is only one small legal launch site for kiting. And the nice people of Podersdorf charge a whopping €5.50 entrance fee. Not just for kiters, but also for Sabine, who came along as a spectator. The spot is a good 30 metres wide and about 200 metres long. There are more than 100 kites on the meadow. There are just as many on the water. (more…)
Vienna Calling
I’ve been in Vienna for six days now and apart from a few good pubs and the fan zone, I haven’t seen anything yet. Vienna calling. Work is taking a break today, I’m going into the city. So, Vienna. Wait, that’s the drawer at the bottom right of my chest of drawers: Viennese are rich, loud, annoyingly grumpy and arrogant. Anything else? Ah yes, the alpha’s licence plate of course says “iener” after the W.
That’s how I’ve got to know the Viennese so far. That was mostly when I was snowboarding or kiting. Fortunately, the Viennese aren’t like that at home. Vienna is very colourful. From a multi-ethnic state to a multicultural metropolis. City park. First bank: bums. Second bank: bankers. Third bank: Plemplem. Fourth bank: Rasta. Very funny. (more…)
Of Yesterdays Heurigen
I’m learning Austrian. Georg enlightens me: Heurigen is not the wine, Heurigen is the wine tavern that serves it. So Heurigen is not the continuation of the eternally yesterday and is politically more in the moderate centre. Yesterday we definitely went to a Heurigen outside Vienna. It was almost as unhealthy as it was fun.
It’s quite funny to constantly learn something new in the same language and a similar dialect very close to home. I learnt more new words in five days in Vienna than I did in three months in New Zealand. Which certainly doesn’t help me to memorise anything better. Just one thing: the online lamperl from the Heurigen is out. (more…)
European Championship final in Vienna
So I drive to Vienna. Continue travelling. Visiting old and new friends. Three lads from Kelheim join me via Mitfahrgelegenheit.de. Lowers the adrenaline level when refuelling. We arrive four hours later and there’s no major traffic jam for the final game. For the first time I’m really happy about my sat nav. Across Vienna to Sabine. I haven’t seen her for three years.
It’s good to meet people who have been out of sight for a long time. It makes my own travelling seem slower. I drop my camera on the way to the first beer garden. Broken. Only mobile phone pictures today. On to Karlsplatz, extreme drumming, making a boat and listening to a favourite yodel. Finally to the Schickaneder. A pub that fits like a glove. And smoke. Inside! (more…)
We are travelling to Vienna!
We were never Pabst. But we’re travelling to Vienna for the final on Sunday! We deserved to win the semi-final of the European Championship. In the quarter-finals we were given the 3:1 as a gift, but today the referee stole a penalty from us. We deserved to win 3:2! The motorcade forms up in Regensburg, the drinks are drunk, the carnage doesn’t happen and we can continue to eat expensive rotten meat kebabs with a grin.
We? Germany! I am not Germany. I’m still a traveller. I watch the games from a strange angle. Like rugby in Fiji. I have my favourite. But it’s not “mine”. I’m happy for Germany. Good friends say: “Your country, here!”, and I’m very happy about that. But it’s like surf on a rocky coast. Water against stone. (more…)
Munich
Munich is exactly the same as always: everyone drives like idiots, the beer is expensive and nobody speaks Bavarian. I visit David. We move from roast pork to the Isarauen and beer garden to gyros one Sunday. I’ve been here before. Everything is strangely familiar and far away. Another European Championship quarter-final is on in the evening. I sleep through half of it.
Business appointments drive me through Munich on my bike in temperatures of over 30 degrees. I don’t want to live here, I’m glad I’m only here for two days. Everything dissolves a little, even customers. In this case positively, from now on there are two separate HPs to look after. I’m not standing still, but I’m not moving either. I look out onto the street. A summer storm scatters its hailstones over Munich. (more…)
The Author
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.