Torun, 24-07-2001. Torun surely has charm, a soul reaching touch of clasic admosphere that breaches the charactre of this ancient realm of the Teutonic Knights, small cobble-stoned streets overshadowed by mighty churches which ghotic appaerance makes me feel small and insignificant... A ring of powerfull looking walls surrounding the inner city is testomony of my first visit to this ancient place. A light rain drizzling down on my head while I push my overloaded iron lady through near-empty streets, my sweaty and rained upon head trying to make an owl's turning, trying hard to take [View Full Entry]

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Malbork Castle, evening. Now that I know the gipsy story, how they ended up here in the Northern Poland Lake District, waiting for the European Union borders to open up once Poland will join this big European economic powerhouse, keen on their part of the dough, social money free of charge and the respect of outsiders they mostly despise... So now I really like to get the background story of the two dozen or so Africans living on this badly mantained camping in old tents, taking turns on sleeping time and spending most of their time, when they aren't doing odd [View Full Entry]

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Malbork Castle, 23-07-2001. I slowly walk the cobble-stoned narrow streets of Malbork Town with the looming shade of the Malbork Castle above me, a Teutonic strong-hold of times past and nowadays a prime tourist destination for people the wolrd over - my ears besieged by a multitude of languages...though most of my attention is on Salima, Miss Gipsy Magician's grand daughter who is explaining the Gipsy Plight to me... Salima grew up in a small gipsy community near the Bulgarian/Turkish border where they were the frequent victims of Turrkish speaking Bulgarians who themselves were re [View Full Entry]

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Malbork Camping, 22-07-2001. "Wie heissen Sie dann, lieber Herr aus Holland", A strange question for someone who claims to be able to predict one's future by merely looking at your palm. I mean asking for my name just after one quick glance at my hand that after nearly three weeks on the bike has become severely callused...a bit like trying to read a crumpled old newspaper I guess. a parchment-like skin heavenly wrinkled by time and a long life time of living outside, olive colored skin with pink patches and despite the owner's advanced age notwithstanding she has long raven bl [View Full Entry]

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Malbork, 21-07-2001. I sip my coffee slowly while sitting on my sleeping bag in front of my tent watching the early rising of the sun, the darkness of the night slowly surrendering to the first rays of the sun - when you live you life like a solitay vagabond wild camping in the forest trying to survive on a bare-bread budget, it seems easy enough to understand the devotion early mankind had for the sun, even turning this massive hot sphere into a GOD... Mister Maribu is still out in the lake standing in shallow water on his long black legs [View Full Entry]

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In the forest 10 km. before Stanica Wodna, 20-07-2001. It's only 10 more kilometers to Stanica Wodna, an easy 20 minutes with the late afternoon sun slowly sinking in the west but the shape of a huge but strangely formed bird out on this small lake stops me dead on my pedals, my hands gripping the brake handles in a death hold... It takes me a few precious seconds to get my small binoculars out of my daypack - a prized birthday present from lovely Amanda back in Amsterdam. For a short moment I search the lake's dark blue water before [View Full Entry]

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Mazurski, Wedland Biosphere, nighttime. I return from my 20 km. hike through the Masurian Lake District late afternoon, dead tired and hungry like a grizzly after a severe cold and long winter of hibernation. Typical camping life sounds greet me while I struggle to my tent, bend on the bottle of Chilean Red Wine - a luxury I couldn't really affort but surely deserve after my long day alone hiking purposefully through dark green forests. There is something really magical about trees, let alone a forest full of them and ancient at that - I love to spend my nights under [View Full Entry]

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Mazurski Park, wedland biosphere, 19-07-2001. My breakfast in this buzy litte eatery is Russian and the name henceforth totally unpronouncable to me though it came highly prized by the cook. I am unsure how to tell him my true feelings about this, though no doubt highly nutricious meal considering the sheer amount of veggies and egg yolk, but still very bland Russian morning enhancer. Have to admit though that the ´Vodka On The Rocks' - as it is named on the biligual menu, Russian and Englsih but no Polish - included in the breakfast deal, does give my morning a serious [View Full Entry]

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Camping Vagabundo, 18-07-2001, late afternoon. Smack in the middle of the Great Masurian Lake District is the little tourist town of Mikolajki and though the setting is scenic with the little town perched on a little narrow, red-roofed houses scream at me from across the narrow straight, the small strip of waterway between me and the high-speed life of a buzy town in the high tourist summer...even from my vantage point I can clearly discern the hunderts of yachts filling up the small waterfront... Three bridges no less could bring me back to civilisation after several days and nights of [View Full Entry]

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Stary Folwark, Wigry National Park, 16-07-2001. At first I lie still not daring to move an inch, my limps still limp and crampy after a well-deserved night of sleep - much needed when cycling up and beyond a hundert kilometer a day. I listen intently to the sounds outside my sleeping bag, it is the pre-dawn hour, the time the animals of the night seize their nocturnal activities, ready for rest while those forest dwellers involved in Sun Worshipping prepare themselves for the coming day. I decide to follow the latter taking a quick peek outside the warmth of my nighttime [View Full Entry]

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