Man in white

After a night in nice clean beds, we wake up refreshed and full of energy. We take the elevator to the reception hall with our equipment, get our bikes ready and carry them down the large staircase to the street when Tanja is approached by a woman and a man. They are from local television and were just about to go for breakfast at the hotel. Our outfits make us stand out, so they ask Tanja where we’re from and where we’re going. “That sounds very interesting. We would like to do an interview with you. If you want to wait for us? We’ll quickly get a cameraman and an editor from the station,” they say. We wait and use the time to finish loading our road trains. When the editor shows up 10 minutes later, we talk about our big trip, about Mother Earth and how we have to protect her. We also talk about the garbage and how everyone can do their bit to significantly improve the overall situation. The hospitality in Romania is also a topic, which is why we are able to publicly thank our host country in this way. At the end, we hand our film camera to the friendly cameraman so that we can both be seen together on the film. Then we cycle off in good spirits. We cross a large bridge over a branch of the Danube and are pleased with our fitness. The training in Germany has paid off. An expensive four-wheel drive vehicle overtakes us. The occupants wave to us. We wave back. A few minutes later, a man dressed in white suddenly appears at the side of the road. He stops us politely and says in broken English that his boss would like to invite us for one or two nights free of charge. “Invite us where?” I want to know. The friendly man in his starched shirt points to a handsome hotel hidden behind trees. Tanja and I are overwhelmed. We would love to stay because the Hotel Albatros looks really inviting. Unfortunately, we have only covered five kilometers and still have at least 50 to go. Have to? Who said that? Tanja and I look at each other again. “For a coffee,” I say. We let the bikes roll to the hotel. The boss shakes our hands and hands us a cell phone. A nice Austrian woman speaks on the other end of the line. My friend Bebe would love to spoil her for a day or two. He has great respect for long-distance cyclists like you.” “That’s incredibly nice of him. But unfortunately we only set off 20 minutes ago. We want to be on the road for a few more hours today until we’ve earned a rest. Please tell him a thousand thanks and that we’d like to have a coffee and then drive on,” I reply. Bebe, the boss, smiles at us. His waiters offer us a seat in the shade. As soon as we sit down, a delicious cup of Turkish coffee steams in front of us. Two bottles of mineral water are placed next to it. “Enjoy,” says a voice in English. A woman speaks to us in perfect German. She was born in Romania, grew up in Germany and lives with her husband in Tenerife. “I think what you’re doing is great. Why don’t you stay a little longer? Bebe is an excellent host. I’ve been coming here for years to spend part of my vacation here. It’s a beautiful hotel complex right on the Danube. You can swim here, although the water is not very clean. But it is a place of peace and quiet. The rooms are nice, clean and the food is very good. If I were you, I would stay here. You don’t get an invitation like this every day,” she chats amiably and offers us her generous help with the slightest problem. Tanja’s and my eyes cross again. “Actually, I could also write my first update for the website here. It doesn’t matter whether I’m writing on the Black Sea or here,” I muse aloud. “I agree with you, snail. This place has a good atmosphere.” “Do you really think we should stay? If we carry on like this, we’ll hardly get anywhere,” I question. “Listen to your gut feeling. What does it say?” asks Tanja. “Oh, my gut feeling. As if I could ask it just like that and it would answer me just like that. If only it were like that,” I reply. “It’s always the same snail. Look inside yourself and if you think we should go on, we’ll just go on. But I’m also happy to stay here with you,” she says, making my decision easier. In the meantime, the second cup of Turkish coffee is in front of us. I look around, look at the bikes and listen to my feelings. Mother Earth is silent, or so I think. “Well, you can’t ask big mom about every little thing and hope for an answer. At the end of the day, that would be pretty immature,” I think to myself. As I don’t want to be immature under any circumstances, I look at Tanja and say: “We’re staying.” I immediately feel a sense of relief and know that this is the right decision. Two men from Bebe’s staff escort us and our bikes into a shed that is sealed off like Ford Knox. Iron bars bar the windows and the steel door is locked with a fat lock. We roll our riese und müller with trailer into the shed. Dismantled outboard motors are lying around everywhere. Good tools and much more. “Your bikes are safe here,” says one of our companions with a smile. “Looks like it,” I reply.

Then we are shown to our room. It is actually very clean and large. It even has a second floor where the beds are located. The air conditioning cools the rooms to a pleasant temperature. “This is a good place to write,” I say happily. “In the meantime, I do my yoga, meditate and continue to rest,” smiles Tanja. I immediately grab my Itronix laptop and head out onto the terrace. As soon as I sit down, a waiter brings me the menu. “Take your pick. You are our guest,” my stomach rejoices. Somehow the whole thing is soon too good to be true. But… It’s true. I’m not dreaming, I’m just wide awake. “A great trip,” I whisper, running my finger over the map. Until the food arrives, I create structure in my short notes. I check the collected coordinates, data and so on. Then comes my chicken in wine sauce. It tastes amazing, of course. How could it be any different here. “Would you like another coffee?” asks the friendly waiter. “I’d love to,” I reply and almost feel guilty. I don’t want to appear to be a freeloader. But, the fact is that we are invited. To be really sure, I ask for the bill at the end. “No, no sir, please don’t pay. Our boss wants you to feel really comfortable with us. “The things you don’t experience,” goes through my brain again. Who would have thought that Romania would be such an unforgettable country for me. Originally we just wanted to cycle through quickly.

I use the afternoon to write a few stories. Until a pretty young woman asks me if we would like to go on a trip on the Danube with her boss. Now I look at her, really embarrassed. “What do you mean?” I ask a little uncertainly. Well, my boss would like to show you and your wife the Danube and the surrounding area. He would like to invite you on his modest yacht.” “I’d love to,” I reply, stuttering a little, pack up my laptop and tell Tanja about it.

At 17:00 we are taken to the Danube by a driver in a fat Range Rover. Thick clouds hang over the land and promise a heavy thunderstorm. Just a few minutes ago I asked a lady at reception if it was going to rain soon and if we should perhaps postpone the boat trip until tomorrow. “Oh no,” she said. “It never rains here. If it does, then only once or twice a week.” When I look up at the sky now, I’m sure I’ve caught a day or two today. But never mind. Let’s see what happens. The driver stops in front of a kind of houseboat or party boat. It is large and can certainly accommodate 100 guests. We are taken up to the second floor as the sky falls over us and torrents of water pour down on the landscape. There’s lightning and thunder for all it’s worth. “It never rains here!” I say jokingly. In response, there is such a crash right next to the luxury boat that you might think the earth is opening up. We can watch the inferno from our safe place and are glad not to be on our bikes right now. After half an hour, the spook is over. Bebe comes by. He greets us and waves us wordlessly onto a smaller yacht tied up to the houseboat. Two helpers untie the boat and we set off in the direction of the Bulgarian border. The atmosphere after the thunderstorm is fantastic. The air is washed clean and the view is crystal clear. Bebe switches on the CD player, decapitates two bottles of champagne, pours us cups full with a smile and starts talking to us in broken English. “Over there is Silistra,” we understand. The Bulgarian border town with its tall houses looks rather repulsive but interesting. You pass banks overgrown with trees. We meet poor fishermen casting their rods. See Romanian tourists who have set up their tents on the lonely beaches and are celebrating the evening with a few beers and barbecued meat.

Bebe stops his excursion yacht in the middle of the Danube and switches off the engine. The water laps gently against the bow. Birds are chirping. A tractor chugs comfortably past. The Titanic song plays softly from the CD player. Pure idyll. As cyclists, we are now unexpectedly sitting on the Danube, invited by a millionaire, drinking champagne, listening to music and enjoying romance to the hilt. Who would have thought it? However you want to look at it, for us this moment is a gift from Mother Earth. A gift for listening to my gut feeling. There is no doubt that we would have missed something if we had continued.

Bebe pulls out his cell phone. He speaks. Then he hands it to me. “Bebe wants to know if you are enjoying the evening. He wants to know if you’re doing well and enjoying it?” asks the voice of the German-Romanian from the hotel. “But yes. We like it very much. Fantastic, in fact,” I reply. “Bebe wants to know if you would like to eat on the water. He would like a courier to come with dinner for you,” I don’t think I understood correctly. “If that’s what Bebe wants? We would be delighted to dine on his yacht,” I reply. It’s not long before a speedboat appears on the horizon. It’s the driver of the Range Rover. He brings cold plates and two more bottles of champagne. Only minutes later, the speedboat rushes away and we bob down the river again to the sound of soft music. Hungry, we eat everything a Michelin-starred restaurant has to offer its chef and guests. Then, after our bellies are almost bursting, Bebe drives us to an island. He shows us the remains of ancient walls. “Over 2000 years old”, we understand. “The river has taken the castle,” he explains. The sun sinks blood-red in the sky and it becomes pitch dark. We drive for hours into the night to get back to the starting point. We follow a light signal to the shore. Fishermen have their quarters here. Bebe gives the poor men a bottle of champagne. In return, he gets a large Danube catfish. After a brief but joyful conversation, we rush on through the night. A lukewarm breeze blows through my hair. I let my thoughts drift. We reach the Hotel Albatros again at around 11 am. Ready and exhausted from the day’s events, we want to go to bed. Bebe leads us through a restaurant that we haven’t even seen yet. It is very well attended. He beckons us to an occupied table. Friends of his greet us and shake our hands. Although we are full to the brim, Bebe serves up a mixed fish platter. Allan, a friend of his, says: “Now he wants to spoil you properly. You have to eat.” So we also eat the fish. We learn that part of it was the catfish he got from the fishermen tonight. We then stagger off to bed after midnight. What a day. Who would have thought it?

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