Pancakes and freedom

20120721-113154.jpgMy energy consumption has been enormously high. I am constantly hungry and I would not mind having something even after a large meal. I prefer a diet of vegetables and fruits normally, but now I feel like hardly eating those. Kebab meat, something I avoid back at home, has been noted to provide energy for a long time. Grease, salt and tons of calorie, mmmm..

If it has fat and sugar, then it is right up my valley. Ein Kaffe mit Kuchen, bitte. Sugar makes a huge difference providing an almost instant energy boost. Eating a chocolate bar or something similar after a big breakfast makes pedalling much more enjoyable. Sugar boost requires a proper meal beforehand. Sugar on its own makes me feel empty and unsatisfied. A beer and an energy drink has been noted to be a good combination too. Beer is treacherous though, as at times it seems to have an opposite effect. Not to mention that in countries like Poland there is zero tolerance for alcohol on the road that concerns also cyclists. Living on the edge, man.

I became fond of making pancakes at pitstops. The idea of me making pancakes for my hosts always met with enthusiasm. Everybody likes pancakes after all. High fat and high sugar is something I need to continue my journey. Win-win for the both parties. It took me several false starts to master the technique of pancakes considering different pans and spatulas, but eventually I got hang of it. In Berlin at Juha and Maija’s place, there was no spatula, so after a quick brainstorming session we made one using a piece of plastic, a butter knife, tinfoil and some duct tape. DIY at its best and excellent pancakes too. Yes.

24 hours of Fusion (Part 2 of 2)

The title of the post is a lie. I stayed over for another 24 hours till Tuesday morning to see what Fusion after-hours are. Most of the friends and acquaintances had left earlier, the festival area looked deserted and on top of that it started raining. I was sitting in the empty camp in a grumpy mood contemplating what the hell I was doing there. But then I had a realisation that it was way better to wait for the rain to stop at the festival with people and music than all alone in the middle of nowhere. How different things can look in another light. I met more people on Monday than during all the previous Fusions combined. The festival atmosphere is not the best setting for having a profound conversation, but the after hours were different. It seemed people were more down to earth and had no rush to see the festival programme. Food was shared with strangers (including smuggled bratwurst!) and stories were told. Highlights are anarchy of Berlin’s nightlife in early 90s and incostistencies of German traffic lights. Long story short, traffic lights in Germany do not make any sense. This is a topic for another post, though.

Monday did not have those “a day after, a Monday morning” qualities (but Tuesday had!). While most of the stages closed, Bachstalzen kept on deliveribg a mixture of deep house, slow techno, lo-fi, 80s hits and everything in between. Something that works really well both for dancing or as a conversation background. A full-on party nevermind the slow bpm with the packed dance floor and people hanging out in the trees jungle style A club for cool boys and girls, just like Guy’s Bar in Koh Phangan with sand and fancy dresses making the impression complete. As shocking as it sounds at some point of the night the bar ran out of beer (we are talking about Germany here). Mate was mixed with vodka and the party continued… As the official programme was approaching its end, entertainment was put into the hands of fellow partygoers. After music ended at Bachstalzen, sound production got rather lo-tech with people drumming on anything remotely generating sound and producing acid sounds by scratching air balloons. There was a “the rave is on” van cruising over the camping area and blasting drum & bass. It made brief stops inviting people to join this mobile mini-rave. Then there was a disco bus equipped with a decent sound system/lights and a mad party inside. I have been to many parties in my life, but never to a bus party. Fusion surprised once again.

Tuesday was a true day after. Music stopped, people were tired, food was difficult to come by. A quick cold shower (my first one ever in Fusion!), musli with a banana and milk for breakfast and I was on the road again. My bike gear raised questions from several people. One guy was so impressed by my story, so despite my protests he gave me five euros telling me “to buy something nice as long as it is not meat”. Funnily enough on my way from Fusion, I stumbled across a restaurant serving “after Fusion freakadellen”. I ordered frikadellen with potato salad and an orange juice, which cost exactly five euros. Remembering the condition of the gift, I paid with my own money. Universe balance was not upset. Bad karma avoided. Fusion ended.

24 hours of Fusion (Part 1 of 2)

The road to Fusion was hard: three storms, one rain jacket forgotten in Hamburg, two flat tyres, plus an old puncture in the spare tyre. Preparations for the journey could have been indeed better. I arrived on Sunday 8am, two hours late from the schedule due a huge storm in the wee hours of the morning. Sparkling wine for breakfast and I was ready for festivities. This year I had only one day worth of Fusion, so the time was to be used wisely. An important lesson was made this time: 24 hours are not enough to experience something as massive as Fusion. I kept hearing about amazing things discovered at the festival, but was never in a right place at a right time to catch them. On the other hand this is a part of the Fusion experience – missing something magnificent and hoping to catch it the next year.

What could be said about Fusion this year that was not said last time? It is always the same each year, but totally fucking different. It is like Christmas – no revelations, same as the last year, but nonetheless you cannot wait to experience it. A theme park for grown-ups, a playground for all ages. Walking around, exploring, getting lost, dancing, seeing absurd things, enjoying veggie food, watching theatre and cabaret, having strange conversations and experiencing just plain weirdness. How about a remote controlled real-looking robotic homeless bum or a mobile bicycle piano (completed with a woman lying on top of it)? Or a giant human powered wheel, witch set in motion an animation of a rowing skeleton? In a true Fusion fashion 99% of the line-up did not ring a bell. I was glad to catch Afrika Hi-Tech, but either they had problems with PA (the sound check took way too much time) or their music is too avant-garde for me, but the end result did not work for me. I will give them another try at Flow Festival next month, though.

Anyway what is the point in talking about Fusion? It is to be experienced, not to be heard or read about. As a Fusion newbie realized that it was actually AMAZING and not just something people pretend to be fun. Or as a new acquaintance from the festival put it: the first rule of Fusion is you don’t talk about Fusion. Just like Fightclub, minus the violence.

Helsinki – Berlin

41 days, 2264km (+ distance covered by ferries)

Helsinki – Stockholm – Jonköping – Uddevalla – Götebörg – Helsingborg – Helsingør – Copenhagen – Roskilde – Køge – Møn – Lolland – Fehrmann – Lübeck – Hamburg – Schwerin – Güstrow – Müritz – Magdeburg – Potsdam – Berlin

I am roughly half way through. I will leave Berlin tomorrow and will head back home via Baltic states. ETA is the end of the month, but I am notoriously bad with estimating arrival times.

Five days of Denmark

20120710-152546.jpgThe very first impression of Denmark I got was the liberal alcohol policy. The harbour of Helsingør is full of liqour stores. Just like Tallinn, but with the considerably higher prices. There is no state monopoly on the sale of alcohol, you can buy hard liquor in conveninience stores at any time of the day. Apart from that Helsingør is a very enjoyable place with its oldschool pretty architecture, cobblestone streets and a medieval castle. It started raining the moment I stepped on Danish soil, soI had a lunch under a tree near the castle. Living the dream, man.

20120710-152027.jpgAfter the mordor of Swedish west coast, the distance from Helsingør to Copenhagen was pure bliss. No wind, excellent cycling infrastructure, clear traffic signs, subtle hills, which make you feel like going downhill in both directions and well-famous industrial design. How about modern looking traffic lights as if they were designed in The Infinite Loop, California? Or a water/heat/something station, where a bunch of rusty tubes were put under transparent glass, making an impression of a modern art installation. Lamp posts, trash cans all show the signs of careful design. Postmodernism at its best, except here it serves a concrete function. Just lovely. Things changed after I had left Copenhagen, though. Roskilde is a rather forgettable place, apart from the church and the festival. Køge was next on the agenda. Small, provincial and full of old buildings, including the oldest building in Denmark, built in 1524. I went to Møn to see unique white cliffs, but found brutal wind instead. Ten kilometres and one lunch later, I made a decision to turn back and head straight to Germany. This time the wind was on my side, and fueled by sugar and fat I kept going the steady 30km/h, twice as much as to the opposite direction. It was a glorious evening. Sometimes quitting is the right choice.

Lolland had nothing interesting to offer except the fascinating name. Pity. The further south I went, it turned more provincial. Infrastructure showed slight signs of decay and no hints of the wonders of the capital area. At some point it started looking like half-assed rural Germany. The south was pedalled through very quickly indeed aided by the tailwind, high prices and the lack of anything remotely interesting to see.