20 years ago today - Day 110

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Friday, June 21st - Antwerp to Ghent, 5525 km

While cleaning my bike in the entranceway last night I found several bald patches on my rear tire. Before I leave town today, I need to find a bike shop. I could have a flat any time soon and be in big trouble if I don’t have a replacement tire. In threat of getting a flat in Antwerp is especially high. The old town has the largest cobblestone I have ever encountered. Each stone is rounded, making for a bumpy ride even at walking speed, and the cracks between the cobblestones are wide and deep enough to grab my rim and bend my wheel. I need to be extremely careful.


There is a youth information centre on the same street of my hotel. They are nice enough to look up the address of the nearest bike shop and direct me there. The bike shop is large and modern. I buy two new tires and a pair of bright yellow jumper-styled bike tights. The young owner of the bike shop checks out the fit, smiling approvingly at the way the tights display my 'package'. He is obviously gay and we flirt back and forth a bit, knowing that it will add up to nothing. He has his staff change the rear tire for me, which is very sweet of him.

He also gives me instruction of how to cross the harbour, since the only two routes shown on my map are restricted expressways. There is a pedestrian tunnel across the bottom of the harbour that requires taking three very long escalators down to the bowels of the earth, walking about a kilometre and then taking three escalators back up on the other side. It feels like entering a mall or walking along an endless corridor of steel and fluorescent lights between two airport terminals. It is a bit of a challenge holding onto my loaded bike on the steep escalators. Antwerp has one of Europe's most active harbours. It is used by the largest ocean-going cargo ships so it needs to be very deep.

The route south-west to Ghent (also known as Gent or Gand) is quite straight and flat once I get to the other side. There is a bike path or, more accurately, a bicycle sidewalk made of concrete with seams at each slab that make the ride annoyingly jarring. I can’t wait to get beyond the countries that have networks of bike paths.

10 REASONS ONE SHOULD NOT CYCLE IN HOLLAND:
1. It rains too much (almost as much as Vancouver).
2. Bike path surfaces are sometimes unpaved and you can’t cycle on the roads.
3. Forks where trails meet are not always signed properly.
4. The distance between towns on the paths is sometimes 50% longer than by road.
5. You can’t see anything as the paths are below the dikes for wind protection.
6. When you get up high enough to see anything the wind off the sea is relentless.
7. When you can see the scenery, there’s nothing to look at.
8. Dutch architecture is to French architecture what Jello is to tira misu.
9. There’s high risk of developing AFW (Another Fucking Windmill) Syndrome.
10. Because everybody who has never cycled there tells you that you must.

After several kilometres of the bumpy sidewalk path, I detour to find smaller routes where I can ride on the road, but I get hopelessly lost and have to make my way back to the main route. I stop along the way to change money and buy food. Eleven km from the city, it begins to rain steadily. I take shelter in the doorway of a garage but after half an hour it is still raining. I have to continue to make it before dark. It is already 5pm.

The rain continues unabated as I ride into the city. I find the tourist information office within the confusing layout of the centre city. Fortunately, it is still open. One of the Gai Pied ad responders lives here. His name is Jean-Philippe. He sent his address with his original response but did not reply to my letter from Paris asking for his phone number so I could call him from Amsterdam. I find his address on the map I purchase at tourist information and ride to his building to see if he is there.

He isn't answering his buzzer. Déjà vu. As I wait in the lobby, a woman questions me and offers me assistance, just like last night. Her name is Monique and she points out her buzzer, offering to give me a place to spend the night if I am stuck. Ten minutes later, a jolly, bearded man my age or a bit younger questions me too, and makes the same offer. He points to the same buzzer and I mention that I have just met his wife who made me the same offer. He laughs and says 'We are on the same wavelength again.' His name is Guy.

I wait another 20 minutes I leave a note for Jean-Philippe and buzz Monique and Guy's apartment. They give me a chance to shower and change. They make me dinner and give me wine. I am beginning to love Belgians. We have a great conversation after dinner, mostly in French. I converse comfortably French now, though I am far from perfect. Jean-Philippe has still not answered my note by 10:30 so Guy leads me to the garage where I lock up my bike and they set up their couch as my bed for the night. I am very touched by their kindness and generosity.


PHOTO 1: statue of Roman soldier Brabo throwing the hand of the giant who terrorized the city into the river
PHOTO 2: streetscape in central Antwerp
PHOTO 3: another square in Antwerp
PHOTO 4: central Ghent
PHOTO 5: wet side street in Ghent