Wow, a week can go by quickly. We'll try to post more frequently in the future, but no guarantees. 

On Tuesday (June 5) Phil headed to Budapest while Juliet stayed in Vienna. This post is just a quickie about Phil's journey.

Juliet accompanied me for the first dozen kilometers or so, riding out of central Vienna, across the Danube, and down the river along the top of the levee. It was rather windy, a tailwind, which meant a struggle for Juliet on the ride back.

About 10K outside Vienna, Juliet turned back and I continued alone..and within twenty minutes I ran into a bit of a barrier: at a point where some marshes meet the river, the road was flooded. After a bit of probing, I took off my panniers, and my shoes and socks, stacked everything on the rear rack, and waded through. (If necessary I could have backtracked a few miles and found another way, I'm sure). 

Flooded bike path outside Vienna. That is not the Danube flowing across the road, it's some flooded wetlands.

After that, it was more of what Juliet and I have grown used to for the ride through Austria: flat roads, pleasant scenery, and the occasional lovely small town with its biergartens and gasthauses. 

Although I had thought of doing a long day for the first day out of Vienna, when I got to Bratislava in the mid-afternoon I decided to spend the night there. Bratislava is the capital of Slovakia, and is, by the way, the only capital city in the world that you can leave and be in another country: exit the city to the west and you are in Austria.  Hungary is a few miles down the road.

What we've become used to in a European city with a long history: a tourist-attracting pedestrian core surrounded by historic buildings. 

It almost goes without saying that the signs demarcating the pedestrian zone have an interesting symbol: the father has a hat, the daughter has bows in her hair. I've come to feel a bit embarrassed about our boring, overly stylized U.S. signs.

When in Slovakia, drink what the Slovaks drink. Pretty good.

After a pleasant but unremarkable evening in Bratislava, I set off the next day through a tiny corner of Slovakia and into Hungary. One change from Austria that was immediately obvious was that the Slovaks haven't put nearly the investment into the bikeway: signage was poor, and I often had to consult my map or just head off in a given direction and see if, a few minutes later, I seemed to be going the right way. It was a lot more like a bike route in the U.S., actually: some towns have good signs and good road surfaces, others don't. 

I love this sign. It's on a small road at the border of Slovakia and Hungary. I think the big panel at the top means "use your headlights and wear your seat belt," but I can't figure out the small panel there at all. The bottom is exactly the opposite, the small panel is clear enough (don't talk on your phone while you drive) but I have no idea what the big panel could mean. Maybe "we don't use signs here"? Baffling.

The road in Hungary goes through lots of small agricultural villages. These people made creative use of a hay bale. 

This area of Hungary supposedly still had lots of thatched-roof houses as recently as ten years ago, but no longer: this was one of the very few that I saw.

After Bratislava I did a long day, 100 miles...even on flat roads this was tiring. The pizza loaded with vegetables that I had at a small hotel in Komarom that night was so, so welcome.

The next day was one of only two on the whole trip that wasn't dead flat. After completing a slightly hilly section on a dirt road I stopping in at a roadside bar to get some water, and ended up staying for a beer and some chit-chat in spite of having no good way to communicate. Initially, the bartender and a patron tried to ask me about my trip. The bartender spoke very slowly and enunciated very clearly...in Magyar, of which I speak three words (yes, no, thanks). I held up a finger --- "wait just a second" --- stepped out to my bike, and retrieved my phone, on which I have an "essentials of Hungarian" app. Speaking very slowly and clearly myself as I read from the screen, I said "Sajnos nem tudok magyarul." All three people in the place joined in for the last word, laughing: what I said is "I'm sorry, I don't speak Magyar." 

Fortunately, you can do a lot with place names and mime: I'm from America; California; San Francisco. My wife and I rode from Passau to Vienna. Now I am riding to Budapest. I started today in Kosonom. Easy!

The happy crew at the roadside bar. The guy on the left came in just before I left; he spoke a bit of English, and bought shots all 'round. One of the guys has a tee shirt that reads "The Sneaker was United. He's wearing a shirt, jean, and sneakers."

I spent the night in Visegrad, and did a quick ride to the old castle on the hill the next morning. About like climbing Claremont to Grizzly Peak, for you East Bay cyclists.

Freshly picked strawberries (the picking crew is in the background, not that you can tell). I'm almost done eating the double-handful that I bought for about $1.

Even quite close to Budapest there was a big section of undeveloped wetlands and forest. Pleasant riding.

Just a bit closer to Budapest there are miles of pathways along the river, with cafes and ice cream stands.

Finally, Budapest. The parliament building is quite striking. 

Budapest at night is stunning.

I'm going to claim that a higher fraction of Budapestians (Budapestos?) is out on the streets at 10PM than in any other city in the world. Probably not true but you can't prove it wrong by me. Every few blocks there was a scene like this one, hundreds of people sitting or standing around chatting, some of them paying attention to giant TV screens broadcasting the Euro2012 soccer tournament. The big island/park in the center of the city was also swarming with people picnicking, jogging, walking dogs, etc.

More Budapest nightlife. Unfortunately I didn't get any photos of a "ruin club" called Szimpla, a courtyard/bar/multiple-performance-space. By the time I got there I was too exhausted to put much energy into it, which is a pity.

I could certainly have entertained myself for another day or two in Budapest, but I was ready to see my sweetie again so after less than 24 hours in the city I caught a train to Passau via Linz. I was fortunate to have a folding bike, since my options would have been very limited otherwise. Even so, things looked a bit dicey when I was trying to board the train, 10 minutes before departure, and was told by one of the attendants that the bike had to be in a bag. In fact, I have a big bag that the folded bike will fit into, but after much consideration I had left it at home in Berkeley. What to do?  The best option, in fact, would have been to wait until the guy was busy doing something else and simply get on the train. Instead, I spent 6 minutes carrying my bike and gear frantically from shop to shop in the train station until I found one that had a bunch of big plastic trash bags, which I bungied around my bike so it was kinda-sorta "in a bag." I got on the train, sweating and stressed out, with 1 minute to spare, only to find that there was no room whatsoever in the big luggage racks, nor any empty seats.   I shifted some luggage onto the overhead racks and made just enough room for my bike -- a few luggage owners helped me out here --- and then sat between cars with some other forlorn people until a few stops later, when some seats opened up.  After that it was clear sailing. Whew.

We're writing this on Sunday, but the events (from three days ago, for cryin' out loud) have already started to blur a little. Which day did we eat at the Chinese restaurant? Did we take different routes on the day we stopped at Kloster-Neuberg or was it the day before? 

Anyway, casting our minds waaaay back to Friday, the best we can recall is that that is the day we got rained on in the morning, on our way to the city of Grein. There was no question about whether to ride in the rain, since it started drizzling while we were on a levee with the river on one side and a marsh on the over, with nary a tree for cover. We put on our rain gear and kept riding. It really wasn't bad; as someone who commutes by bike in all weather, Phil is always a bit perplexed when people make a big deal out of a little rain. 

Even so, when it started raining a little harder (um, Phil?  A lot harder...full-on wet gear involved...), we were happy to take cover at a place that was already occupied by a slew of Italian cyclists.

Juliet introduces herself to some Veronese.  (Juliet has to note here that these guys were hilarious, and every bit as Italian - in the nicest way possible - as the movie stereotypes make them out to be.  One of them asked me if I had heard of Verona, and I said, "Of course!  My name is Juliet...," which somehow really caught their fancy.  So every time they passed me over the next 20 miles, or I passed them, they'd all yell, "Ciao, Juliet!"  Kept thinking I was in the movie "Breaking Away"...)

But we were pretty much wussies compared to this group.  These guys rode all the way from Northern Italy - up THROUGH the Swiss Alps (including over one of the highest mountain passes) - and are continuing to northern Europe.  Small consolation: they're not carrying any gear.  They have a couple of support vehicles carrying it all. They set off just before us, riding along at a good clip, around 20 mph.  They pulled slowly away until they were lost from view. But...a few miles on, they were stopped to look at a map or something, and we passed them. Two minutes later, they passed us again...but a few miles on, they were stopped for some other reason and we passed them again.  And then, yes, the same thing happened a third time! In fact, we reached the town of Grein at the same time they did. Hare, meet tortoise.

Just before Grein, as they passed us a final time,  Phil couldn't resist the inexorable urge - apparently common to all committed cyclists, whether out on 60-mile bike tour, or on daily work commutes - to "Cat 6" the Italians (*).  In layperson's terms: race and pass them if possible.   He with full panniers; they with, well, their really nice bikes.  Phil had no problem matching their pace, and I'm proud to say I came in right behind them (to yet more cheers of "Ciao, Juliet!" I really really like Italians now).  

(*) In the U.S. there are five categories of amateur road racing, from Category 1 (best) to Cat 5 (novice). To "Cat 6" someone is to pass someone who doesn't know you're trying to beat them.

We had lunch in Grein and waited for the weather to clear, then took the small ferry (photo above) across the river to continue our ride on the other, less developed side.

Phil continued his collection of interesting road signs. Check out the details on this one: the scarf, the fenders (and even the supporting struts for the fenders!), the light, the exhaust pipe!...

...the hats, the heels on the shoes, the thumbs, the flare at the bottom of the man's jacket!  These things are works of art.

Lots of people are doing this trip. If we had any sense that we are doing something especially challenging, it would be eliminated by the fact that a zillion other people are doing it too, and most of them are visibly not in good shape. There are also entire families out with panniers (yep - kids from age 6 on up biking and carrying full gear...don't ever try and tell us children can't hack this kind of thing; you've got about 500 hundred German and Austrian families out here today saying different), and many cyclist groups consisting of 75-and-older cyclists.  A few with electric-assist bicycles, but plenty using all their own leg power.  Very very cool. 

You can pedal along for anywhere from a couple of hours to a full day, stopping along the way at a biergarten or two for sustenance. (It's a tough deal; you can see how shabby the biergartens are in the photo above.  Seriously.  Flowers, dedicated bike path along a gorgeous river, cute little picnic benches and fresh food handed to you on a plate...it's a real test of mettle doing this).  Every little town has at least a few interesting things to see, although we haven't been stopping at most of them (for instance, we did not stop at the little museum in Willendorf, site of the discovery of the "Willendorf Venus"). Honestly, just about anyone can do this, at your own pace...and we recommend it for everyone reading this blog. What a great trip.

We did stop at a tiny percentage of the interesting places along the way, including the impressive, dramatically sited Melk Abby, where we spent an hour wandering through the historical exhibits. Don't you think the guy on the left is showing an awful lot of leg? 

This is from the church in the abby; it shows St. Sebastian being killed a second time. Apparently the first time (by shooting him with arrows) didn't take (some woman nursed him back to health)...so here they're clubbing him to death.  Monks were a bloodthirsty lot, they loved gruesome stuff like this.  (FYI, we have a whole set of photos showing increasingly gory events in the historical religious record for this abbey and others. A lot of people criticize modern day horror films for displays of graphic violence; spend a few days in some of these churches and museums and you'll think "Chainsaw Massacre XVII" is a walk in the park...)

More posts to come about some specifics along the way, and getting to Vienna (where we are now)...but the big news is that Phil and I are splitting up.  Not maritally, but literally.  We took a good look at the bike route description from here to Budapest - and I recalled the raised eyebrows and exclamations of surprise from Passau onwards, every time I mentioned I'd be doing this - and realized that this stretch would be challenging and exciting for Phil (a trained, hard-core cyclist on a really good bike, who enjoys things like 100-plus-mile rides up and down mountains), and just one long, miserable slog for me (even if I didn't have panniers or a two-ton tank of a bicycle, which I do).  So, in the interests of everyone's long-term happiness, I'm going to enjoy a few cultural/music performances in Vienna, art exhibits in the museums, ride and run along the Danube here, and then head back west via train or ferry, while Phil continues on to Budapest.  We'll reconvene in Passau.  Internet will be sketchy in Slovakia and Hungary, so I (Juliet) will try and use the time to catch up on all of the other things we meant to get to in these posts, along with more photos.  Stay tuned!

We've been without internet access for a couple of days (except through our phones) so we are behind on or blog posts.  This post will only catch us up through yesterday. I know you're disappointed.

Oh, one comment right at the start.  Juliet and Phil are sharing authorship of these posts.  So far, this means Phil selects and uploads a bunch of photos and then adds text in a spare, efficient style --- think E.B. White or perhaps Ernest Hemingway. * Then Juliet goes through and tarts it up with all kinds of extras, such as adjectives. (Juliet also adds some of her own photos and paragraphs, don't get me wrong).  We're both happy with the final result, I (Phil) just want to make sure I get credit for my contribution.

* Juliet's footnote: Hemingway? White? Maybe over-stating just a touch... ;)  

And now, on with the blog.

Several people said they like the signage, like Phil does. You need to take a look at the larger image to see that this guy is striding out resolutely with his thumbs thrust forward. Onward!

It's tempting to put photo after photo like this, but the fact is, they lose a lot in being reduced to two dimensions and to being just a few inches across. This area was beautifully lush and green. Miles and miles of bucolic farmland alternating with woods full of bird song. And miles and miles of cycle path without a single parking lot, "staging area," road intrusion, or sprawl development in sight...almost impossible to believe tat this can be done...dedicated bicycle paths that connect across ENTIRE COUNTRIES (Germany, then Austria).  And then we realized that even if we tried to do this in the U.S., people would complain that there weren't easily accessible road stops along the way, or fast food restaurants every 2 mies, or...you get the idea.  Here, the biggest complaint would be that there aren't enough biergartens or gasthofs en route.  

Bicycles and rollerblades are not allowed on this trail, but motorized vehicles out of the Tintin books are fine.

Am I the only one who sees something vaguely sinister here? 

Eating some Linzer Torte in Linz. A pamphlet from the tourist centers says the recipe for Linzer Torte is the oldest documented cake recipe in the world. Phil is skeptical.  

And....more miles and miles of scenic country roads. We had a several days of terrain like this, although things did change a day later (as we will discuss in our next post). 

Au revoir Paris, Allo Passau

Our time in Paris whipped by, but we did get to see one more day of stereotypical Parisian scenes, including another guy making Nutella crepes, this time at a street market.

Juliet was quite taken by this flower-inspired hand-blown glass sculpture-chandelier.  Several famous artists worldwide who have now carved a niche in this area.  Our own friend/artist Eric Hopkins has created several exquisite glass pieces, while the daughter of our cousin-by-marriage, Phoebe Heap Stein, is doing graduate-level art/sculpture training in hand-blown glass work.

Along with the ceiling art, Juliet took one look at the menu in this contemporary little cafe and nearly wept with joy.  Real fruit juices (she's enjoying a mint-infused lemonade)... 

...and - oh dear god, yes! - Juliet-style salads.

So stereotypical it's hard to believe it's real. 

"Love locks" at the bridge near Notre Dame.

Not pictured, but noteworthy, is that Phil spent a couple of hours each evening hanging out with his friend Dermot at an expat bar called "The Local", trying to help Dermot make a crossword puzzle. Man, it is hard to make a crossword puzzle. At one point we thought about having something like "SNTAZJQ", for which the clue would be "tough Scrabble rack." 

Jardin de Luxembourg was right near our hotel - my (Juliet's) last shot before leaving this morning...6:30 am is the only time it's empty!  Another quintessential Parisian park...and a small haven in the busy city.  More workers per square foot than I've ever seen - grooming, planting, tearing up flowers that have withered, raking the gravel and sand walkways...maybe a BIT of overkill in the maintenance budget - but wish we had a fraction of this investment in our parks.   My favorite spot every morning - jogging the perimeter trail with sweeping gardens and classic architecture all around, stairs for my plyo workouts, a huge range of Parisians and others doing tai chi, playing tennis (public courts), walking, sitting, enjoying...

Finally, though, it was time to leave Paris.  Via train.  Gare de L'Est...

As you can see, Phil is SUPER-excited to be taking the train. 

We went via TGV to Frankfurt (train in photo above), then caught a regular express train to Passau, Germany, the starting point of our bike trip.  TGVs are one of the fastest train fleets in the world, according to the train brochure.  Apparently, France is very very proud of this fact, because it is highlighted on most pages of their magazine, as well as billboards along the way, and random train cars, station billets, etc.  And in fairness, the trains are still as good as their reputation.  You can go anywhere across the continent, anytime, and in total comfort.  Train stations are spotlessly clean and easy to get to and trains are on time...oh, it's just too good to be true.  But it is.

My only complaint: WHERE WERE THE FLASH MOBS???  C'mon, people - one of the biggest train stations in Europe, and we got NUTHIN'.  My personal feeling is that anytime you see women walking in bright red dresses and large silly hats (note photo, above), flash mobs ought to be an obligatory follow-up.  

  Juliet is now examining our very useful railroad map of Europe. Even in the internet age, it's nice to have a big map you can spread out.

A shot of the pedestrian plaza in the picturesque town of Passau, Germany, where the Ilz, Inn, and mighty Danube come together.  Juliet rented her bike, and Phil assembled his, which he brought in a suitcase. We took a short out-and-back ride to make sure the bikes were in order, then spent the rest of the day walking around charming cobblestone streets, tiny little alleys, and along the riverfront walkway. 

Views of the riverfront bikeway in Passau; here looking to the west, below looking east along the historic city center section (which, by the way, is home to the great Cathedral of St. Stephan, site of the largest organ in the world.  Seriously.  I never even knew that was a title that could be aspired to)...We bike east tomorrow, into Austria, and from what we've been told and read, the scenery and towns are going to be like this - and  better - for the next several hundred miles, as we head on to Vienna, and then Budapest.   

Important note: as of today, Juliet is taking a vow not to use the words, "picturesque," "quaint," "charming," or "delightful" more than once a week on this blog (and will not use any of those words to describe elements of the photo below). You can hold me to that, everyone.  Honestly, after walking through allees in Paris, cooing over colorful flowers tumbling out of window-boxes lining the streets, and now wandering through the captivating historic center of this town, those words start to pepper every damn sentence.  Really - it's just how these places look.  

Phil finds many of the signs amusing, like this one from Paris.  Juliet wants to know:  is the sign emphasizing the fact that dogs are not allowed at all?  Or that dogs should not be carrying their own leashes?  You be the judge...

From Germany, here's a tiny-headed man slouching downstairs. Nice fedora. 

Juliet imagined Pippi Logstocking leading a younger child to school.  Or maybe Beezus and Ramona.

The tiny-headed man is back, on a bike this time. Not sure where his other leg could be, or why the cranks are so short. No helmet (or fedora) but he does have a light. 

...And then in the "wow, OK just did not expect this..." category - a couple of my shots from Passau's main pedestrian mall & shopping area.  As in, where kids, parents, you, me, the world all strolls, blithely looking into storefront windows, checking out shoes, cool European clothes, and...um...whoa!...

...women's bondage-style underwear?... (part of me is wondering how I'd even get something like that ON - well, I'm pretty sure there would be some scary and possibly dangerous moments involved in that process - but I digress).  Clearly the question of the moment is: why the oversize gold rings in the mannequin's hand (top photo)?  Marriage offering?  Other?

...Needless to say, Phil was very sorry to leave this particular stretch of the mall...

And back to our regular programming: tomorrow we start our ride! We may do as few as 30 miles or as many as 70.  But it's going to be fun no matter what...