Before breakfast today – at Decin, I walked to a small grassy, isolated square and sat on an ancient, low sandstone wall, to practice the Recorder. It was about 6.30 am, I was all alone… Not for long!

After a few minutes a rather unkempt woman appeared, rather Dickensian in appearance, and sat beside me. I had a brief sense of Brazilian deja-vue and automatically went for the crutch – where my iPhone was secreted.

She nodded along as I tongued and fingered my way through “Deck the Halls”… A welsh tune and to some a recognizable Christmas carol. When I had finished with a flourish, she gave a big grin and clapped!!!!

Lest you assume that she then tossed coins, the reverse was true – she asked me for money….. I said of course – if you will listen to another piece? She shook her head violently and scurried off – obviously no appreciation of the finer things in life.

Thoughts on automatic movement or heat sensing lights. Most of us (other than Tony Abbott who still can’t fathom it out) appreciate that these timed lights save power, reduce energy needs. It has dawned upon me that there is a direct relationship between the cost of a hotel room and the duration these lights stay on. Hence in hostel accommodation, a simple fumble with the key and darkness descends. One rapidly learns to have the key out of one’s handbag and orientated the right way pointing to the keyhole.

Any transgression from this path then, as sure as the Liberals will win, the lights go out.

I have found a sort of answer to the problem, I approach the door, key out and orientated and then begin a sort of pirouette routine, delicately jumping up and down to maintain the light. The down side is that whilst the lights stay on, manipulating the key into the keyhole as I pas de deux at the door, seriously impairs my ability to coordinate the bloody key into the keyhole!

The pathway along the Elbe in the Czech Republic is not quite as well maintained as in Germany. To be fair there are occasional dead ends which I suspect are the consequence of floods washing the path away!

Other than a coat of arms on a pole beside the path, I pedaled blissfully ignorant, as always, across an an international border. The town of Decin is more obviously the poor cousin of the German villages. The Czech Republic is apparently in the EU but I guess like the UK, still uses its own monetary system. There is almost no English spoken, by any generation; the local currency has a value that places it somewhere between Monopoly and the defunct Italian lira.

However I did manage to negotiate a local SIM card with Vodafone that, according to the young man, promised me 1.2 GB of data over the next 3 weeks! Time will tell.

It’s 19.30 and Decin is dead! There are a few pubs open and people seem to be drinking and not eating? I negotiated a salad, a beer and god knows why I do this, but a coffee! I keep on saying to myself never again, but I do! Crossing the border has signaled a return to cigarette culture. There are lots of what are advertised as electric cigarette holders. If only it would shock them out of the filthy habit.

The former Decin Palace is quite something and tonight there is a production of Romeo and Juliet on the parapets.

The majority German population of Decin were summarily moved on and out, after the war, all twenty odd thousand of them. Sadly it shows in the dilapidated infrastructure.

The difference between my first day on the Camino last year and today, is stark. In Spain I felt like I had been run over by a steam roller, in Germany, tickled by a feather.

The local tourist office booked me into a Pensione – the Villa Anna. The more astute reader will recall that the night before in Dresden I was at the Terese Malten Villa. Other than the names of both establishments containing the word “Villa” , there the similarity ends.

Whereas Teresa Malten was a world famous opera singer whose forte was Wagner, Anna would have been in the back line of the chorus of an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical – not that he actually wrote music.

But being objective, the latter was on par with the average accommodation on the Camino. It was basic – clean linen and lots of hot water. What led to an initial bad reaction was lack of Internet access and no soap or shampoo provided. To both I have grown accustomed. Granted we could have a philosophical discussion about the soap issue.

A delightful German woman explained that often soap is not part of the deal. I thought that they had forgotten my room! As to the Internet, this little village is nestled between the river gorge and there is no service.

My fellow German traveller was a grandmother visiting her daughter and grandchildren. She was a retired teacher. I had slept like a log for more than 10 hours, she had had a disrupted night due to traffic noise. I expressed my sympathy. I wondered if I was partly to blame, as I had arisen to practice the Recorder on the outside verandah at about 6.30. Goodness gracious she exclaimed so that was you playing? “You were very good…… I teach the Recorder”! For one semi quaver of a crochet, the thought crossed my mind to nonchalantly admit I had only been learning for 2 months. She offered me a quick lesson! Truely!

I declined. We chatted – she had been a school teacher- biology, mathematics, religion and music, specifically the Recorder. I am not making this up! What an amazing chance meeting that I befriend a German woman who seems to be Vivienne and Caryl rolled into ONE!

Bad Schandau reached its pinnacle as a health resort and retreat in the 1930, with its cool climate and thermal pools and spas. It has in the 21 st century taken medicine and retreats to a new level combining both into salubrious post orthopedic surgery rehabilitation. I think both Dr Kiley and Dr Henningsen could visit these German villages along the Elbe on a fully funded tax deductible junket.

I asked of the Matron, the cost of and the commonest indication for, such orthopaedic rehabilitation. “hips” she said. I asked specifically about pelvic fractures and they are the second most common. She gave a disdainful germanic sniff, explaining that the incidence was increasing. Why I asked? Cyclists falling off their bikes apparently and the cause of her angst was that the vast majority were middle aged overseas tourists.

I tried again on costs and fees especially for pelvic fractures. She refused. I pressed on : is there a special deal on simple undisplaced pelvic crack, as compared to the genuine fracture? She was becoming irritated and fobbed me off, as she got into her BMW coupe saying that she had to rush off to the monthly meeting of Orthopaedic Matrons in the Maldives… As she sped away she cried out, “we do a special deal on double pelvic fractures.”

Little ferries criss cross the Elbe every few km carrying passengers and cycles, it’s all very quaint

Day one of the trip, having warmed up with 50 km into Dresden and back yesterday. The devastation from the floods in June just 3 months ago is ubiquitous. 90 % of all shops at ground level in Pirna are gutted and being dried out prior to a complete refurbishment! It seems to me that the flood waters must have risen more than an extra 30 metres. Seems impossible!

All the towns along the Elbe are undergoing an amazing redevelopment. Most of the businesses are continuing in caravans and demountables even shipping containers. This must be providing an enormous stimulus to the German economy. To paraphrase the recent global upheavals this is a rerun of the GFC … The German Flood Crisis.

There is one immutable fact that guides me like the great Redeemer to Prague – the Elbe river and as long as I cycle in a direction against the current, I will inevitably reach my destination. It’s even better in terms of navigation – vital as you are all aware for my sanity let alone survival. For it is impossible to stray. Should I turn right, I end up in the river, whilst a left turn may land me in the living room of a riverside German house. So I have no alternative other than to “go straight”.

There are a few issues with the bike and panniers, specifically how one mounts and dismounts with a modicum of decorum. It requires a deft swinging of a leg over the saddle with a wide throw to clear the bags and yet maintain balance. This is a rather masculine manouvre, akin to a male dog cocking a leg. It’s all rather foreign to me, I am more of a squatting person. The reverse, dismounting is even more problematic indeed difficult.the back wheel has an extra 15 kg and if one does not pack the panniers fairly equally, an ignominious fall is inevitable, this is definitely the advantage of being able to swing both ways – but surprisingly I know of few men in my circle who do.

This bike even with panniers is so
much more zippy and dare I say it lighter than the Spanish trail bike with the front wheel on backwards!

I am as relaxed as I ever will be!

Flight over relatively painless with
intermittent naps and a good sleep on my first night in Dresden. The bike is here and I am pulling at the bit or itching on the derailleur, whatever is the best metaphor?

It’s a great cycle. I feel like Mulga Bill! I had not been on any bike for a month in Adelaide.

One of the reasons I am not so anxious is the fact that I don’t feel the pressure of needing to be at a certain village on a specific date! In fact as long as I am in Vienna around 21 st September, I can do what I want and if I fall behind, take the train! Some of you may remember it’s what the English Couple on the Camino did last year. He a publisher, she a paediatric ophthalmologist. Want I want to know is “did they see eye to eye”?

I rode into Dresden and back today, 50 km all up. I have had a couple of pub meals – bread roll, bratwurst , mustard and a beer. In fact I have had TWO beers and the German wench at the next table is starting to look somewhat attractive to me. Well it was a very large bratwurst!

Across the Elbe river from where I am staying at the Therese Malten Villa- is the Pillnitz Palace, the stunning summer residence of the saxony kings from 1720. I think the best analogy is that it is in concept similar to the French Palace of Versailles and whilst the gardens are not so formal, they are spectacularly natural yet with a pleasing symmetrical structure. The garden has the oldest living camellia bush in Europe – more than 300 years. Tea anyone?

I had an Alice in Wonderland happening at this Pillnitz Palace,

An original sandstone guard house had been converted to the ticket office. She sat at a window – in fact a beautifully crafted heavy wood double casement window one of which was wide open. I offered my 10 Euro bill to pay the 8 Euro admission price to her. She gave a rather brusque start and indicated to me, what I had not noticed till then: the bottom few centimeters of the casement had been replaced with one of those gleaming stainless steel trays that bank tellers use for their security and transactions. The rather efficacious woman pushed it out, I placed my 10 euro on the tray, she pulled it back, placed change and ticket in the tray and pushed it out again!

Now let me hold your hand and walk you through this interaction in case you missed the nuances here!

The ticket person is in a small office with one shutter window wide open and sitting less than an arm’s length away. It is surely a natural and human instinct to interact with one’s fellow man at a personal level? So my attempt to simply hand her ” in person” through the wide open window, my money was intuitive, all the more so that I did not see the security tray anyway. I was incredulous! I felt like Alice in Wonderland, having a nonsensical argument with the Queen of Hearts – or if you feel it more appropriate – I felt like the Queen having an altercation with Alice. Indeed the analogy with me as the Queen of Hearts is better, as I had a definite urge to screech “off with her head” to Alice the ticket lady.