Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
Hello to the home of arguably the best chocolate in the world (to ensure that no disputes occur I'm willing to make the sacrifice to travel around and sample the horrible brown stuff just be sure...quite noble really).
So, it only took me one hour and forty minutes to get out of Breda, which to be honest isnt actually a particularly big town... I think I added on at least another 10k or so to my days journey. After stopping at 5 maps and asking at least 4 people I finally cycled towards Belgium.
After crossing numerous African borders it could only be normal that as I neared Belgium I stopped at a bright yellow sign that said 'contol.' I proceeded to rummage through my panniers to find my passport before realising that a large group of people on bikes (what I though happened to be agiant number of fellow touring cyclists cruising from country to country like myself) were staring at me. At first I thought, yeah yeah I'm wearing a helmet, I know, I'm a freak but then I noticed that they all had bright yellow flags on the back of their bikes (which were clearly not up to the standards of my trusty steed). It appeared that I had invited myself to a checkpoint of a cycle tour but sadly Rocky didn't sport a bright yellow flag...
A little red faced, I cycled off to Belgium and wasn't met with anyone who wanted to search my bag for plastic bags (Rwanda), make me stand in line for at least 2 hours (Burundi), scream loudly in my face (Togo) or just sell me endless bunches of bananas (Uganda). How very uneventful!
Still, I managed to cycle the 57km (excluding my 'detours' in Breda) to Antwerp where my baggy black pants, wind swept (frizzy and wild) hair and HELMET made me stand out even more than normal in a super stylish city full of perfectly dressed people (apart from one kiwi cyclist). I managed to find a cute little hostel in the heart of the city with leg breaking steps (clearly something not unique to Holland), loud folk music, doors with pin codes and locks that I have failed to master, slightly scary dolls hanging from the walls and one very, and I mean very, 'energetic' ten year old boy who likes to constantly race up and down the stairs pretending he's an Indian...
- comments