After quite exactly 1,300 kilometers, various altitude meters and a considerable number of packed sandwiches, we have reached Vienna. The city of waltzes, coffee houses and – in our case – well-deserved rest. We want to spend two days here, wander through the imperial surroundings a little and, above all, meet Paul and Laura, who, as promised, are waiting for us with Kaiserschmarrn.
It was a busy week – not just for the calves. Between our last rest day in Germany and today’s arrival, there are almost 5,000 meters of elevation gain. That’s about a quarter of the entire journey – or four full Alpine passes, to be exact.
The Czech Republic presented itself as a constant up and down, with radiant sunshine and temperatures that even made the zippers in the front pocket leak; squeezed into a standard-sized box, the homemade version of a good chocolate croissant.
The landscape: a mix of forest, agriculture, and hills – like painted for cyclists. And in terms of cuisine? A paradise of bakeries whose displays regularly forced us to slow down spontaneously, and inns that made the day end peacefully with knödel and beer.
But what really got us thinking was the cultural contrast. The boundaries between Germany and the Czech Republic on the one hand and between the Czech Republic and Austria on the other are barely more than a line on the map – but in real life they are apparently an invisible filter for interpersonal communication.
Our attempts to engage with people in the Czech Republic were about as successful as an attempt to have a conversation with a garden gnome: no hello, no chat at the bakery, no curious „From where? Where to?“ – nothing. One could say: a communicative vacuum.
The most emblematic example? A place called Zbýšov, which we reached in the evening. It was almost dark, the campsite closed, and our faces were correspondingly helpless.
Two men rode past, shouted „Closed“ at us – which probably means „closed“ – and disappeared without a thought that cyclists standing in the dark in front of a locked camping site might actually need help.
Quite the opposite in Austria: When we went to the supermarket before checking into our hostel, we were immediately asked if we already had a place to sleep – and if we wouldn’t just camp in the garden of the friendly gentleman. Such warmth all at once, we were almost moved.
It’s amazing: On a bicycle on side streets, country borders seem like arbitrary lines on a map. Yet – a few kilometers further on, everything is different: language, currency, pasta dishes. But most importantly, and that’s really the surprising part, the culture and the way people interact with each other.
Oh yeah, the night in Zbýšov ended peacefully after all: After an unsuccessful search and a persistent request from a woman who was sitting on her terrace smoking a cigar after work, we were allowed to camp on the adjacent football field. In the morning there was tea and coffee – and the feeling that hospitality sometimes just needs a little extra help.
The current track can be found (continuously) above the menu, or here.