Our world has got very small. Our main preoccupations are where we are going to stay and, especially in my case, what we are going to eat. This is the first time Andrew has experienced what happens to me when I get hungry. I turn into a feral, obsessed, harpy and he has learnt that life isn't worth living unless food is found immediately. Now there is always something in the saddlebags. The campsites all have kitchens, sometimes with individual cooking islands and dining tables so our routine is to arrive somewhere, check out what pots and pans they have in the kitchen and then whizz off to the shop pronto. Sometimes Andrew even gets some help putting up the tent if i've been fed first.
My obsession means that my criteria for judging how much I like the different countries I've visited are strangely linked to food. Denmark? Great pastries but no open coffee shops anywhere, ever. Germany? Massive portions but only any good if you like fleisch and lager and I fall off my bike after one lager. Sweden? Knackerbread is better than it sounds and a girl can get a taste for pickled herring.
Sweden is ahead on points because we found a fantastic restaurant on our arrival in Goteburg. Chiefly by avoiding all the crowds of graduating High school students all arriving in town on lorries with music blaring from massive speakers. I am now in a position to evaluate the relative strengths of Polish rap (from our notorious first night camping in Zandervoort) and Swedish rap.
Anyway because the sun has come out (and we are staying in a real house with rooms) we have changed our tactical approach to the trip. Instead of checking off the maximum number of kilometres we can manage every day (a daily average of 60km since you ask) we are now retiring from the tour du norse in favour of a more island hopping, ferry riding sort of amble through Sweden. Or maybe this is just a cunning ruse to put off the evil gradients of Norway the Swedes are all delighted to tell us about.
My obsession means that my criteria for judging how much I like the different countries I've visited are strangely linked to food. Denmark? Great pastries but no open coffee shops anywhere, ever. Germany? Massive portions but only any good if you like fleisch and lager and I fall off my bike after one lager. Sweden? Knackerbread is better than it sounds and a girl can get a taste for pickled herring.
Sweden is ahead on points because we found a fantastic restaurant on our arrival in Goteburg. Chiefly by avoiding all the crowds of graduating High school students all arriving in town on lorries with music blaring from massive speakers. I am now in a position to evaluate the relative strengths of Polish rap (from our notorious first night camping in Zandervoort) and Swedish rap.
Anyway because the sun has come out (and we are staying in a real house with rooms) we have changed our tactical approach to the trip. Instead of checking off the maximum number of kilometres we can manage every day (a daily average of 60km since you ask) we are now retiring from the tour du norse in favour of a more island hopping, ferry riding sort of amble through Sweden. Or maybe this is just a cunning ruse to put off the evil gradients of Norway the Swedes are all delighted to tell us about.
i go mad when i need to eat too, girl thing. just don't let yourself get into the situation in which there's no food around and my dad starts to look like a tempting heap o' meat.
ReplyDeleteRebecca - I suspect after all that cycling there is not much meat left on either of them!! However, I completely agree with you I am positively short tempered and mean spirited until I get food. Jill you are not alone.
ReplyDeleteI have to say I have just noticed the latitude spot where you are and as you say islands and islands what a brilliant location - its weird to think I am in a Brighton office writing this and only 17 mins ago you were logged as being in Tanum municipality - I LOVE technology..
Annexx