It was raining as we landed at the Hook of Holland the next morning. The drizzle seemed to be making everyone in the city grumpy--my girlfriend was totally bummed out by the women-under-glass red light district and it was expensive to be there; so off toward Germany we went. We knew that eventually, we would encounter warm weather, we just didn't know when. Did the usual tourist things on our way across Holland; stopping at castles, town squares and cafes. Crossed into Germany, toured the Black Forest in a downpour. Landed in Baden-Baden, to spend the first night in a rather pricey youth hostel ($45). Next day, in the sun, went to Munich to tour the BMW museum--one of those things all Beemerphiles ought to do once. Strong message of: there isn't ANY problem technology can't fix. Hoisted a costly 1/2 liter of local camaraderie, in honor of Oktoberfest, missed by one week. As we left the Munich area, we stopped at Dachau. A sobering reminder of the organized evil of not too long ago. Proceeded into central Germany, looking for a reasonable place to stay. As this well past the end of the season, all of the campgrounds were closed. Hostels were scarce. We ended up "crash-camping", sleeping rough, as the British would put it, for the next two nights. Made us a little nervous, but did wonders for the exchequer. No-one hassled us at either site. The plus side of this was that the main tourist areas were very uncrowded. The next two days was a fast (although Strider lived in the RIGHT lanes of the Autobahns) diagonal run across the country. We were developing an appreciation for church architecture and ornamentation (free) as a way to sample the culture. Stopped by Nuremberg to view the Zeppelin and Mars Fields, site of Albert Speers' efforts of designing the show piece of the thousand year Reich. It only lasted 13 years, but the buildings and stadium, site of those massive rallies, were clearly built for a thousand years. On to the Czech Republic and Prague. Spent the first night in Pilsen, birthplace of Pilsner Urquel. On our way out, we stopped by and had a 1/2 liter, for $.27, at the brewery. Found a campground about two miles outside Prague and stayed five days. Good weather and, even in mid-October, crowded with tourists. Much to see in this well preserved and lively city. Krakow, Poland was our next stop, we were getting into some seriously unchanged-since-the-days-of-Communism country. Lots of horse drawn carts, old cars and bicycles. Stayed outside Warsaw for two nights, toured an underground salt mine with statues, murals and chandeliers, all carved from salt. Walked around the city a lot. Krakow seemed a lot like Prague, without the masses of tourists. Has the same potential: Virtually untouched by the War, lots of old and pretty architecture, an old Jewish quarter with many abandoned synagogues and dwellings and a large university just outside the old city walls. I'd love to go back there and open up a hostel for travelers. Headed out and south, stayed in Oswiecim, known to the world as Auschwitz. Staggering in scale and evil. Dachau and the original camp at Auschwitz were converted WW1 barracks and fairly small; the facility at Auschwitz-Birkenau, a couple of miles out of town, was purpose built in 1942 and the grounds literally stretched to the horizon. Being there on a drizzly Sunday morning further set the somber mood.

We were both ready to hurry south at this point, toward sun and warmth. We left Poland, crossing into Hungary in the rain, we just sort of rolled through, stopping in Budapest, only to change money. We stayed in a almost closed youth sports complex that had dorm space for rent. One day, in the Republic of Slovakia, spent the night in a closed down ski resort, once again, the only guests. From there to Romania. We were given a months' visa but only four days were given to Strider to be in the country. Not a frantic rush, but neither could we relax. Not much in the way of tourist infrastructure here, we found ourselves staying in truck stop sort of hotels (complete with hookers) an the bases of mountain passes. At one of these I encountered the NASTIEST restroom in all of my life's travels; three tours of Mexico, Vietnam and much camping included. An ancient stone building with a flush toilet, that looked like it had not been flushed in MY lifetime. On a brighter note, we toured Dracula's castle--not really, but it was a place any vampire would feel at home. Vlad the Impaler did live down the road a bit, a few centuries earlier. Swung through Bucharest to view the massive "Communist White House" that Chescheu had sucked the country dry to build, before the people shot him. Ugly, ugly monument to ego and Socialism, and they wiped out the prettiest part of the old city to put it up. Arrived in Bulgaria as darkness fell, the first city was Varna, on the Black Sea. After much asking, we arrived at what seemed to be a Bulgarian Mafia run place. Sort of a residential hotel (great food smells) that sold mufflers and hard liquor on the side. One young owner drove a big BMW car, the other had a Mercedes. The next day, it was nice to promenade on the boardwalk on the beach of the Black Sea. The guy selling hard rock tapes from a stand last night had switched to opera for the midmorning walkers. Again, this was a large resort city, with almost no crowds. Very peaceful. My girlfriend was feeling ill with some sort of respiratory infection. We headed down the coast a few miles and found a massive sport camping complex, that had a few fairly modern motel type rooms. We stayed three days, walking on the beach, driving into the nearby city of Burgas for evening promenading. I took a day trip to the Soviet answer to Cancun, totally mothballed for the season. A massive resort, at least 10,000 rooms in multiple high rises, totally empty, other than one open cafe to serve the ten or so groundskeepers I saw, working with horse drawn carts.

Left there to climb a fog shrouded mountain. Near the top, five or so soldiers, with AK47s and a dog appeared out of the mist. A show of passports and soon we were at the mountaintop border of Bulgaria and Turkey. An hour of paper work with officials, who, to a person, smoked strong cigarettes as they worked, and we were on our way down the other side of the mountain. That was a pleasure, dropping out of drizzly clouds into the warm Turkish sun. The countryside changed too, becoming that of a warm and dry climate. Suited us just fine.

Rode into Istanbul during the rush hour and the call to prayer, from the many minarets about the city. Total traffic madness, six lanes each way. The bigger your vehicle, the more right of way, seemed to be the rule. We found a campground and rented a hut in it for the first two days, then came into the Sultanate district and took a room. The four days spent in Istanbul were most pleasant. Ran into a lot of English speaking travelers, after hardly any over the last few days. Spent a most relaxing afternoon in a real Turkish bath, complete with massage. Toured the various mosques, Topkapi palace and Harem, spice markets and the underground cisterns of the city. It was nice to park the bike during this time.

We somewhat reluctantly left Istanbul, heading East on the bridge over the Bosphorus and into Asia. A hundred miles later in the mountains, I pulled on the front brake and felt the cable give and then break completely. Now, I had spare clutch and throttle cables, I had never heard of anyone losing the front brake! Gingerly completed the mountain crossing and found myself in a small town. Nobody spoke English, my Turkish was nonexistent, so I communicated by waving around the broken cable. After a couple of false leads, a fellow on a bicycle led us to a scooter repair shop.

A few minutes later, the mechanic had threaded a new cable in the old housing and adjusted it to proper length with a screw clamp arrangement. Cost: about $1.50. Throughout-out Turkey, we were impressed with the Islamic tradition of hospitality and kindness to strangers and travelers, other than in Istanbul where it had been perverted to a hard-sell by carpet vendors. No exchange; like repairs, renting a room or visiting a place, could happen without the offering of cigarettes and/or small glasses of tea. A genuinely friendly culture. As Ireland is my favorite English speaking country; Turkey is my favorite non-English speaking country. Feeling more secure with front brakes; this was the first breakdown of the tour, we're well over 300,000 miles now, we continued East. Strider, so far, has only asked for the occasional tune-up and oil change. We spent couple of days at the Roman ruins and hot springs of Pamukkle, blinding white calcium carbonate pools, hanging on a cliff, overlooking a valley. This was central Turkey, about as far as we felt comfortable going. There was an Islamic fundamentalist revolution going on in the east half of the country and we did not wish to tangle with the PKK. After a restful two days, we turned around and started West, back to Europe and home.

To be continued.... Matt Parkhouse