What the Lord Privy advises ...
I like Goethe. Honest. Even in school I loved the "Faust" to read, I devoured the second part of the tragedy only pretending. And in preparation for my current I buy just the "Italian Journey" - if this has a box-office hit "Go, Trabi go!" a red thread was used, why not my bike tour?
The Lord Privy writes in the - surprisingly prosaic, funny and entertaining held - Travelogue of Venice following wonderful introduction text: "Well crowded with apartments smaller and smaller, sand and mud have been replaced by rocks, the houses looked the air, like trees that are closed, they had to win by looking at height, which they lacked in breadth. At each span of soil stingy and at the very beginning pushed into tight spaces, they had to streets not more width than was necessary to separate a building width of the opposite and get the citizens makeshift crossings. the way they had the water instead of road, Place and walk. The Venetians had a new kind of creature is, how can you even compare because Venice with itself. The large and tortuous serpentine channel differs in any street in the world, the Piazza San Marco may well not be placed at the site. I mean the big water mirror, which is covered on this side of the real Venice in the half moon. Above the water surface can be seen next to the island of St. Giorgio Maggiore, a little further right, the Giudecca and its Grand Canal, where in us shine like a couple of huge marble temple. These are a few trains to the main subjects that we are striking when we emerge between the two pillars of St. Mark's Square. "
Nice, right?
But before that happens for me too, it was a long away. Shorter, But more annoying than the much more exciting journey, which had put the Lord coming to Karlovy Vary from Goethe in stagecoaches across the Alps behind - but I have to get into the holiday bombers. But here the first surprise at the airport Hamburg: My luggage is too heavy. Just 2.2 kilograms to the scales to much. Oha, I think with horror of my 8 kilo of excess baggage that I wanted to somehow explain to the Tokyo airport - which was no good and cost me just under 800 € at the end of payment of arrears have.
The friendly lady from Air Berlin at me smiling, winking at me and stuck the bar code strip on my road bike case. Wow guess I'm in and thought a Hook - Air Berlin, which could be my new favorite airline.
The second surprise comes when candled my 4 kg hand luggage. The lady calls two gentlemen of the federal police. With a straight face she can pull me the wrench from the luggage. Terror key. With 8 bits.
"tool is prohibited.", Says he just barely. "Check here or leave."
I go back to Zwinkerlady.
checked out with a Doppelzwinker it my second - in itself, a fee - a piece of luggage and wished me a pleasant flight.
So now official: Air Berlin is my new Lieblinsairline!
Swap 10 degree drizzle against 35 degree sunshine ...
The flight is calm, the machine is surprisingly only half full. Nanu? Do because not so many in the South? But I'm lucky, because in the otherwise silent aircraft sit the two most loudly chattering ladies because then also just in front of me. You obviously want to go shopping - they are all one and a half hours only on chatting.
I delight in the Alps, which, as I imagine, to conquer the road bike certainly a pleasure beyond compare to be. It is in the winding up of the mountains a little rough. The Schnattertaschen are quiet for a few minutes.
Thank you Captain, that was sometimes very late.
We end up in Venice and I can from my window here - see the bell towers and churches in the city - because the very back. Many are from Venice a false picture and think that it was just a city on stilts. This is true, but many do not realize that the Venice consists of two intertwined in each other islands in the middle of a lagoon. From the mainland are located several kilometers. I get off the metal tube and hits me the first blow: It is intended 35 degrees in the shade, it is midday and slams the merciless sun of a flawless sky. I'm sweating now.
is at least cooled the terminal well.
Does my bike travel over? Although I bought a hard case suitcase for the bike, each carbon strut, each part carefully and repeatedly secured with bubble wrap - but still ... Doubts remain. A friendly Africans rolled out the case.
Although my obligatory "Tour of Italy - Euro sport" label a bit scratched, but the TV logos that I stick with my travels, always on the boxes, seem good job: it is not damaged. Sure, as is the carbon inside is delivered, I will be able to see at the hotel.
Italian for Beginners: A taxi, Lesson 1 waits
Outside, a sign with a Taxi driver to me. My hotel provides a shuttle service for 60 euros, all in a big van. So is also used.
"Buon Giorno!" Bows to the wiry little man. Obviously not Italian, but at least he is behaving so - Flexig he trundles ahead of me, as my suitcase and he me the way through the crowds and waiting at the terminal blazes.
Outside, he complains before it is a time out with two taxi drivers and a fat lady at the ticket machines on the computer. A little later I'm sitting in the van.
"It's hot here," I try to start a conversation.
He grins and nods beflissentlich, the engine can be equal to 7,000 times Rpm revving, looks at me and says: "Aldo ... my name."
Aha.
Then he steps on the gas.
The approximately 65 meters from the parking to the automatic barrier bridged the aged Van with a micro-Warpsprung. At the wrong speed, the Aldo in close - too full in / out cars only so crowded - performs parking lot, I am pressed into the seat. Rear beats my bike case on the rear window.
comes at the barrier is a traffic jam. A very Kluger has not paid his parking fee, must now get to pay to run back to the terminal, and then come back it should go.
"Studpido! Stupido," I hear out only as Aldo started his hate rant. We are filled with about 20 other cars in line. Under a chorus of car horns is beyond compare, the poor man to pay for. But not that Aldo would use this time around the course out to take their foot off the clutch and heading out of the car - no, he keeps the speed stringent than 5,000, and rolls - now and honking - in centimeter increments the in the queue in front of us waiting car.
automatic parking aids would now send the latest. are only millimeters in front of the bumper, we want to. Meanwhile
has coming next to us, from right, an Audi driven into about a meter wide gap between us and our Hintermann - How the hell he did it to me is still a mystery.
some point it starts then. Aldo pushes the magnetic strip through the device, the gate opens and he can accelerate. Previously, he looks at me, smiles, says something very long out in Italian, I hear the words "Traffic" and "Mafia", then breaks through the sound barrier our Hyundai and I have pressure on the ears.
Larger Map
Even in the roundabouts, which guide us safely away from the airport, he slows down (and the other not) much from. On the straights - and we are still in Venice - it manages to Aldo impressive 150 km / h. I do not know whether I smile, afraid to check the air bag or to pray. The radio is playing "Voooooolare ..."
The trip will take about half an hour. My hotel is located in Cavallino-Treporti. Or should I say ON Treporti, because I have the most northerly of the three islands, which seal off the lagoon of Venice to the sea here, chosen for my home.
It is the hotel Ca di'Valle . Before we arrive - after all we have to take a huge bow - we meet the first racing driver. Bent from the wind seeking cover, he sits on his machine. I call into the engine noise (all windows are open, resulting from about 100 km / h Very interesting interplay with the eardrum and also leads to noise contributes enormously) "Ah - there Bicicletta Corsa", the only thing I can in Italian.
"Si, si!", As does Aldo.
"I cycle to Catania -. Bici da Corsa on," I continued talking.
"You?"
"Si!"
! "Oh, bene, va molto Belissimo," he says, praising the road and the beautiful sport, the grace, strength, tactics and suffering of the cranks - I think to myself, as Aldo referenced in sentences without a comma, and point - and pulls right in praise of cyclists only few centimeters away from the rider by with about 160 cases.
Well, I think to myself - no wonder it did rain be!
for a nice man ... it is like sequences
end the horror trip. I get out. Tremble. Aldo pats me on the shoulder. I stand at the front desk and the mom gives me my key. All in perfect German. Then they
calls her daughter.
A pretty thing, not 23 years old, comes out from behind the counter.
"They will be your rooms look Mama ...", says.
"Oh, I do think is okay."
"No, no, no - for a beautiful man she will be happy to sequences ..."
daughter grins.
you taller than me by more than a head.
in the top room I enjoy the short view from my balcony over the pool - and later hear noise, I see the sea. My biggest concern is once the bike. The case is indeed roomy, it fits into everything but only under pressure. And if all survived my spokes, struts and then the trains yet gruff determined transport is questionable.
A friend who does road driving, told me this way: "With carbon, it is this:.. Imagine you have an armor and you ask to only four glass jars This is really goes when you are.. But then, instead of clever, it's so much tension on the glasses that a small -. Schnipps - enough to make us all ! KAWUMMM "
Well then, I think, close to the case and grab first erwarungsvoll clamped the wheels from Mavic R-Sys, not the cheapest material If there which would have an ass -.. Even if only one spoke is - how do here, get out here a carbon store, and then re-jet with ... Aldo to Radladen Another such a trip will survive I do not
But see -? everything is safe and beautiful, unbroken and intact arrival I. wrap them in frames, wheels, gears, handlebars and saddle, build everything back together. Carbon assembly paste stuck to me everywhere, I act now naked, because it is so hot that I I have stripped of all clothes. air conditioners to stay with me always out anyway.
I pump my Conti GP 4000 with my small hand pump. And get the load to bar 8 without floor pump is ... a fun job. After a treadmill hurts everything. But I force myself to fill the second and still plump and hard.
Then I pillage once the mini-bar.
some point as my Cervélo then built up, aligned and once lovingly dressed in the corner, I put myself sweaty on the balcony, then take a shower and Erstein hard stomach rumble just can motivate me to put on clothes and the hotel on in search for food to leave. Italian for Beginners Lesson 2: Siesta is sacred
Cavallino is indeed full of restaurants. Everybody was just all about. It is 14 clock Clock and I have to read through all that would be opened here again until dinner, so clock 19:30.
I walk the streets a few hundred yards to the beach. Well, here there must be something! It may not be true that there are millions of people on the beach and no one gets to eat something! Or have all the sandwiches here? Hardly ...
millions of people? The beach is empty. Umbrellas folded. Lie empty. No towels. Nothing. Chance of a few bikini ladies walking through the forest stand, from the back of a car deafened Depp Techno in the Adriatic Sea ... but Urlaubswut, tourists sponges ... here is to see anything. And I'm hungry!
I find a small beach bar. Since I order Tramezzini. Known from Germany. Delicious. Here are the corners with nothing more than toast ham (Parma at least) and without border. Well, the stomach is full. At least this
I stroll around the beach, looking for a nice start-shell for my baby and wonder that Italy is now so completely not what I had imagined. Much calmer, quieter - yes - somehow dusty, narrow-minded. Or is that?
When my blonde operation (Ferienjobberin from Sweden) and her two blonde ladies (one German, the other from Sweden ...) chat, I have no further questions. Probably the real Italians are now in bed and take a siesta, or they are all in Germany.
Look at Neuschwanstein or so.
night I get in front of Hotel Ristorante really cool spaghetti with scallops, I sleep gentle and quiet, the Fiat Punto with the Techno Depp is eventually disappeared and so I can have my breakfast the next morning at the pool really enjoy.
Today I have another Aklimatisierungstag. The use I want to get me to look at Venice. I have breakfast at the end leave me one by one even bring one of these delicious Capucchini and break open at 9 clock. on to Venice!
What initially means a short bus ride for me. In the hotel I buy two tickets, the bus clock is 8:50 and I'm ten minutes early at the bus stop sign and wait.
cars pass by.
Coach carts groups paying tourists to the ferry.
Only the island-serviced public transport.
8:50 clock. Nothing happens. Meanwhile, an Italian woman waiting with me.
9:00 clock. Slowly she is impatient, begins to curse softly in Aldo-manner to himself.
9:10 clock. Still do not see a bus. Another lady comes to us asking for the one where would the bus, as it breaks out of it, all their zeal, Italian, Mediterranean, the emotion, the Mafia, the euro's anger, Berlusconi, who has fooled her and all. She railed, gesture, she almost cries.
then I go again - will come in an hour so the next bus. In leaving, I still hear "... Italia! Mama mia!" and when I'm 100 meters away from the stop, I turn around - the bus drives up.
I can run as I will, of course, the bus leaves me in front of the nose away - 50 minutes later I'm sitting in the next. Another 20 minutes later I'm on board the water taxi.
Everything as expected - and more.
all jostle and push, and when the water taxi finally arrives. Surprisingly few tourists, I think - that's a lot of Italians. Can it be that Cavallino Treporti is no Tourihochburg? I can hardly imagine. But I mags.
I grab a seat in the back seats, a thick between mom and her fat child and listen to two Americans, as they talk about the beautiful turquoise of the lagoon, as the front of the boat at once hectic breaks out. Also with us back to a time to be dug out the cameras, people are rising, many run to the front. And one after another, it mumbles: "... Venezia!"
Well, I have to get up but sometimes!
I fidget me between photography and leaders see how the distinctive silhouette of the City on stilts from the morning mist. Campanile - the high tower of San Marco - and the Basilica you can see very beautiful.
I must admit, it looks great.
Venice, as I am!
I get out and direct my steps, first a few hundred meters - and the first two channels - St. Mark's Square. Center and Center of the two divided by the Grand Canal main islands. I stride through the two columns - one on the emblem of Venice, the Bucentaur - and dazzled look, blinking in the sun. The gallery is del'Uffici indescribably beautiful. Although the facades have suffered and say here and there the ravages of time (and certainly the effect of salty sea air and salty water from the bottom recognize) so I have to, this ensemble is one of the most beautiful places I have ever Seen was allowed.
The masses - particularly American and Russian - tourists who hang about the area, are hardly noticed, since the high architectural their chattering and shouting, their astonishment and chatting swallowed and ironed away.
The inevitable pigeons. I do not see many. Only a small woman in pink feeding the animals, it attracts everyone is able to monopolize them. As you well today may look pink evening? I hate pigeons, let alone the idea of what to wear these flying rats so all in their plumage and desist now on their substance, we can thus understand I do not the Americans who spend minutes to the mother at the birds feeding watch.
Goethe writes about Venice: "And because it was Sunday just occurred to me on the great cleanliness of the streets, what I had to do my reflections. There is probably some kind of police in this article, people push the Kehrig in the corners, I look at it and happen to big ships, which are in some places still and take the Kehrig, people from the islands around which the fertilizer need, but it does not result in these institutions nor severity, and the more inexcusable the cleanliness of the city, because it was created entirely for cleanliness, as well as some Dutch "
too, I had already heard from many visitors to Venice. - it should be dirty here, and even sky-high stink
When I was in some closer, more outlying. Verkrümele parts of the city - to the Babylonian Touristengeschnatter escape - I must say that I the Lord Privy Weimar and my famous Venice Visitors must refute: Neither the city nor is it smells unclean. Neither the main streets - lined with Hilfiger, Gucci, Vuitton and all sorts of similar luxury stores - even the small streets, residential quarters and where the real Venetians live, have been somehow dirty.
Although I found no single public bucket, where I had my Magnumeis packaging can be disposed, but was neither dirty nor rubbish in the streets. And the smell - a fragrant blend of old stone and fresh sea.
heartache, hunger, and thank God does not play Quartet.
So I roam through the streets. Time and again my phone beeps - SMS from my sweet, I miss the Sun Right here , right now, especially in this city, the power thus made for lovers, I just from the story and grabs the suitcase at home for their holidays.
miss hurts. potentiated in Venice.
I take from the tourist information with a map of the city. In addition to the luxury shops that are specified with logo, there are even small clues to the architectural delights of the city and it is easy for Me, the only connection of the two main islands to find out which one can use without getting wet and without cable: the Ponte Rialto. 
The backwater tourist begins in the homes and streets in front of the bridge so I have some trouble, I wade to the shore and a beautiful view, where I can have a clear view of one of the most famous bridges in the world. squeeze the people are thick on the marble steps. In the roofed interior offer all sorts of hawkers and small shops store to buy Tünnef the Touristrom I also dar. fight my way through - in front of me a group of American girls who probably come straight from the airport, completely exhausted and are desperately trying their bulging suitcases rolling the sharp steps hochzuwuchten.
From above I enjoy - briefly - a magnificent view of the Canal Grande. Ships, water taxis, gondolas swarm a crowd in the water, a ballet choreographed, somehow, and I can not see the "Road Rules" - because the drive neither left nor right, it seems that they communicate by hand or eye signs. sings Somewhere a "O sole mio ..." the elbow and I get a heavy perfumed lady in the ribs - Ponte Rialto, is here fighting for the best photo position.
somehow got I turn off the middle of Touriläden and colorful market. Loud and powerful praise fruit dealer, Gemüseveräufer, butchers and bakers, fishermen and weavers, wood artist, Zeitungsverkäuferm cooks and all sorts of other trades their goods. I am particularly fascinated by the fish market, where on the green herb beds in most colorful variation of the sea presents its splendor: squid and shellfish from small to large, prawns and crabs cavort next to mountains of shells - black, big or bright, small, red fish by rich sea bream , halved tuna, whole swordfish, mackerel and everything else that has gills. A pleasure to look at that. And it makes hunger.
Another Love SMS beats me in addition to the gut, so I sit down to a quiet, small channel, I drink the hunger pangs away something and think of her. But it does not help: I have two weeks bike trip to me, now only a slight, a very easy match - and then it becomes hard. And she, she has two weeks before China itself. Probably even harder, Asia-shock, I know this already, wish you much fun and yet - as I would have liked it to me here.
The gondolas swing so beautiful, clear morning sun is shining, the water magically and I sit down - now that I think have seen what I wanted - again in one of the Restaurant and order me a cappuccino. climb The Campanile would have been a nice, but the snake in Dreiherreihen had at least 1 km long and wrapped around St. Mark's Square - was at one point it wild confusion, as it mixes with the 2-kilometer-long line of those had who want to Vasilica di San Marco. A wonderful spectacle - the crowds, nor to that of inexperienced tourists - but would fascinate any psychologist.
There comes a Gacon with the bill.
9 € are written on there. Those were times
18 D-Mark.
I stare at the Zette and not getting to my mouth. A cup Coffee costs in Venice that is 9 €. At least this story have told my friend that is true.
Next door at the table see the two elderly gentlemen, one who bends over to smiles and says: ". Be glad it is not a string quartet plays - otherwise there will be 5 Euro Music Award"
I go as I came - in the water taxi. Again I sit back, again next to a fat Italian mother with her big girl. We Americans face two couples who know each other just at that moment. The one always indicates my backpack. His colleague, I can see now, sitting alone next to me and spelled his friend, now the company that my Backpack has produced: "Delta-Echo-Uniform-Tango-Echo radio ..." Military jagged.
asks The other Americans: "And what are you doing?" Since the
told frankly that they were both pilots retired. (Aha, therefore, Delta-Tango-Uniform!).
"Which airline?" He asks.
The partner indicated on his baseball cap. I read the code, but because of what is "Air"
"Do not know this one." He says.
"Yeah, it's private. We used to be the Pilots of Mel Gibson and Madonna."
knowing nods as the other.
Well, look at that!
beer or training?
in re Hotel I shower, go over to the Restaurant and enjoy a huge portion of spaghetti alle Vongole, make the delivery of my Bike Case via TNT clear to Sicily and am a little later in my bathroom before taking a decision.
It is 17 clock.
I could now take my well-chilled bottle of Birra Moretti, I sit at the pool and enjoy the sun. attract me or my Radklamotten and turn a small Einrollrunde.
beer or training? A little later I
sit in the saddle of my Cervélo, give me gas and let the fresh air flap in the nostrils - it was the right decision!
Cavallino Treporti has a super smooth, beautiful bike path and I use it. I go back where I come from and where I just need out tomorrow: Back to the ferry to Venice. It always goes straight, the sun is burning, I'm sweating, I headwind and yet - I clean kick and enjoy it.
After nearly 15 kilometers and a few minutes to reach the tip of the island, can still take one of the water taxis, parks my bike on the dam, and drink a round of Heat spritzer. a great feeling to finally drive wheel. And a thousand times better than to lie by the pool.
What I notice in my first few meters on Italian soil: Something like "you feel right" it seems not here to give. Neither driver (which also like to use the entire street) or pedestrians (or are they all British?) Adhere to the most basic principle of road and street use. So I have but a lie again and again quite a slalom for me to maneuver at 40 km / h by joggers and families.
I shoot back to the hotel - knowing that my machine is well built together, that everything works and hums that Dura Ace brakes gently and precisely their job and that I did it with my Mini Travel pump to inflate the Conti GP 4000 so hard that they have the lowest rolling resistance. The carbon-powered car is ready for 1,300 mile in Italy.
it me too?
After dinner (fantastic gnocchi and a supremely fresh salad with Tonno) I sit on my balcony and study in light of the setting sun once the card for tomorrow. It goes first to the ferry. Then on the INSEE, the Venice is upstream - Lido di Venezia - this until the end, then continue to the next island - San Pietro in Volta - and then after the third and last Fährpasse to Chioggia finally to the mainland. More and south to Ravenna.
That sounds simple, right?
stands in the corner my road bike - ready to pounce like a cat. It smells of Professional Dry Lube, my helmet is shiny, the Sidi shoes and wonder I look at my clothes ready the cream ass put down once already, unpack the Cervélo-shirt and my civilian clothes before one. breakfast will be 7:30 clock, but the concierge has promised me that I will get, starting from 7 something. So I set my alarm clock at 6:45. The right time to get up on vacation, right?
an SMS to my sweetheart. I love you.
And outside rushes a horde of jubilant teenagers from USA loudly to the pool. Well, screw, opposite Spring Break I have nothing in itself - but please, not today, okay? starts
During the game on TV USA-England, I cover myself with the sheet. It's hot in Italy. I think of Venice, this beautiful city, remember what a beautiful opening that. Say goodbye before Cavallino Treporti think of Aldo, my crazy taxi driver, think of my baby, I see again in the first 3 weeks, and gum-like in an "Awesome!" the dawning of the pool up stretches away I fall asleep, I toss and turn in my sleep, my legs twitch ... want to connect ... want to boost ... want to race cycling.
Quiet, limbs, quiet - you can even tomorrow!
"I like to leave Venice. I have charged, however, wear well and the rich, strange, only picture away with me." says Goethe. And then, as now, in spite of Disney tourists and 9-€-Capucchini, I have to agree with him, but Venice is worth the trip. And while I regret, not with my wife to be here.
must for lovers, this magic city would again make very different.
training ride to the ferry port
leg length: 24.5 km
journey net: 52 min
section: 28.2 km / h
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