Coswig, Dessau, Konnern, Kloschwitz June 14

We had some great strawberry-covered pastries for breakfast in Coswig. The woman at the counter of the bakery was very friendly, patient with our German, and altogether sincere. The funny thing is, we got completely used to this in Germany. People were so friendly we though little of asking a stranger for directions or anything at all. Other countries had been friendly but nowhere had been so much so as Germany. Eastern Germany, that is. We later learned that Western Germany is much more hit-or-miss.

From Coswig we rode about two km down a bumpy cobblestone street to our last ferry crossing over the Elbe. From near here the Elbe turned north and we went west.

While we waited for the ferry, four other bike tourists rolled up. They were all in the sixties. They had neat small panniers with suitcase handles. They didn't speak English but we managed a fair bit of conversation. They were on their way down the Elbe from near the Czech border clear to the homes in Hamburg. One of the couples was going to America one month later, primarily for a mormon wedding Salt Lake City but also for a lot of sightseeing -- Grand Canyon and Yellowstone as well as Santa Barbara, California.

We said goodbye but met up with them four or five more times over the next two hours. It was nice to see that they also got lost, probably even more than us since all four of them were trying to navigate.

We made sandwiches in the pleasant Worlitz park. A man racing down one of the paths in a little golf cart told us that it was forbidden to ride bicycles in the park. We ignored him. Other people were riding their bikes inthe park, too.

Dessau was a pretty big town and our main task there was to find film some place where we could pay with a credit card (We were waiting for a few checks to hit our bank account, and until that happened, we were broke). Credit cards are a bit harder to use in Europe than in North America or New Zealand. At a huge department store called Karstadt I found some film. To my surprise Karstadt also had an internet cafe on the top floor, where they sold computers and TVs. In the cafe, you could surf the web or play Doom on the cafe's computer network.

We bought some sodas from a woman who gave us directions out of town. Once again, an amazingly friendly person.

The next 50km passed in a flash. We had had few easy kilometers since we left the tail winds behind in Andalucia. Finally on the stretch from Dessau to Konnern we had flat roads and strong tail winds. We cruised at around 28 kph (17.5 mph) without much effort. All around us were fields of oats and hay.

We had to slow down for the bumpy cobblestones in each town. The vibration was so bad I was starting to worry about the Newton even though it had survived every other road, including northern Laos. The roads in the towns were so bad it reminded us of China. I expected to see a woman in high heels dragging a muffler across the road, like we had on one of the worst roads in China. (JOAN: the cobblestones were so bad all over Eastern Europe that my hands kept going numb, even though I'd bought special, thick-padded bike gloves to prevent this.)

After Konnern, which was completely without life, we crossed the Saale river and then climbed a long hill out of the river valley only to descend back into the valley 5km later.

We were aiming for a campground on our map in the tiny town of Kloschwitz. When at last we found the campground, we discovered a big steel rod across the outside of the reception door. Clearly no one was in here. We saw lots of camper vans but no tents. The campers looked pretty much permanently parked.

A few people were sitting outside at a nicely set table under an awning having dinner. We ventured to ask them about reception.

There were three woman and an older man. The woman seemed to talk the reluctant man into going to fetch the "camp boss" for us. He walked off and they cheerfully said, "Moment please."

I didn't realize it at the time, but he had to walk about half a mile to find the camping boss, who was sleeping off his afternoon drinking round.

Finally he showed up. He was wearing shorts and his shirt was unbuttoned. He looked almost exactly like Bill Murray. He even walked like a tired, slightly drunk Bill Murray. Like Karl Heinz, he showed no interest in business. He was called Willy. "Free Willy!" he said, so we'd undersand. (Funny, he had heard of the movie Free Willy, but had no idea who Bill Murray was, even though he also recognized the movie Ghost Busters).

Willy sat on the ground with us and asked, in German, where we came from, where all we had gone, what we did, how we managed to pay, and he studied our maps with us. He treated us like his guests. (JOAN: I had no idea he was the camping boss until after about half an hour, when he asked us how many nights we wanted to stay).

Finally we got him around to checking us in - paying, getting a bathroom key and tokens for the showers and a place for the tent. Most campgrounds ask for a passport so they can fill out the forms. When I asked Willy if he needed a passport he laughed as if this was ridiculous. "This is not the DDR!" (the former E. Germany). The reception building was gutted. Tools, lumber, and paint cans were laying around. Willy tried to tell us the place was being renovated. But ironically, he came out with a very different word: "Reparations," he said.

Willy had us put the tent directly in front of his camper. Then he gave me a shot-sized bottle of a liquor called Kuemmerling and he and I had a drink. A drink for "nice people" he called it. He didn't give one to Joan because he only had two with him.

"Drink Beer?" he asked.

"Ja, bestimmt," I replied. (Yes, definitely).

"Okay." In German, he then told us to set up our tent and have showers then we'll all drink a few beers. He was not inviting us so much as telling us what would happen.

While we set up the tent, he went somewhere to get beers and more Kuemmerling. When he got back we all sat at his plastic table with a steel coffee can in the middle and started drinking and talking. He skillfully opened the beer bottles with the bottom of the square Kuemmerling bottles. I have more trouble using a bottle opener.

Willy knew a little English and was excellent at charades. He also had a good ear. He would repeat English words we said exactly as we said them even when he didn't know what that meant. I got the feeling he was misplaced in his current job.

We had assumed that he owned the campground. But, he said he was just a "lackey." (It was strange: he knew a lot of English words, even very uncommon ones, but he never spoke in English, except as a last resort when we couldn't communicate in German. Many times, he was trying to explain something in German, and when we didn't understand, we'd try to guess the word he was groping for in English. We'd guess five or six words before we'd finally get the one he wanted). All he had was the camper and a boat tied up to the bank just below our tent. This seemed to bother him though it was a pretty place he lived in.

Joan's T-shirt had a map of the world on the back so I was showing him where we had gone. He grabbed my arm, "Wait!" he said, He rolled up his right sleeve and showed me his compass tattoo.

He had tattoos all the way up both arms. He had done his left arm himself just a few months before. He had one particularly good Sphinx.

Above all, Willy, whose real name is Torsten, was a rebel. He talked a lot about the "Scheisse Krieg" (shit war) in Kosovo. He didn't want to stop talking about that. That very day two German journalists had been killed and he told us NATO had killed them. Willy believed that America and Europe were in the war for all the money they would make. Through mimes and a little English he said something that now that money bombs had been used, America would have to make more bombs and this would make America, "Happy Happy, dollar..." and he pointed up. After the war European companies would come in and make money rebuilding Kosovo.

After a while we were joined by a friend of Willy's named Volker (pronounced by Willy as "Forkau"). "Volker is capitalist. He has 315 pubs! But he is a good friend." Willy had a warm, sincere way about him despite his rebellion. The way he introduced Volker, I really felt they were good friends.

Volker was a sort of round guy with a beard and mustache. It turns out he delivers carbonation for beer to 315 pubs. He brought four fresh beers with him.

We told him that the people in eastern Germany had been the nicest people we'd met anywhere. He said west Germany would be different. West Germans didn't come to the east he said. We asked why. He put his finger on his nose and put his nose way up in the air in a hugely exaggerated motion. There were a few very good people from western Germany, he admitted, some staying in his campground. They were "super."

"Aaaaaaaber" ("aber" means "but") "90 percent, nein, 80 percent are not nice. In 1989 they didn't want one Germany."

"If they didn't want one Germany, why is there one Germany?" I asked.

"Helmut Kohl," was all he said.

It sounded like he wanted two Germanys again.

When we first met Willy he was a tired and a little hung over. I didn't realized but while we were talking he got somewhat drunk again. Abruptly he got up, said good night and staggered into his caravan.

Next: German Chapter 7 - Brigitte: "We are a Simple Folk"

Germany Main Page World Trip