Strangeness of being home

Last time I visited home I felt as though I hadn’t really left. I’d been gone six or seven weeks but everything at home still seemed familiar. The leaves hadn’t yet started to change. The grass was green and needed to be cut. It was as though I’d been away on a trip for work just a little longer than usual.

This time it seems different.

Changing planes at the airport in Newark the overall scene seems so different: people speaking only English, shirts and hats from U.S. sports teams, people carrying coffee cups with cardboard sleeves, gigantic cups of Coke that match the people drinking them.

The TSA personnel at the security checkpoint are obnoxious and yell directives at the growing line of travelers. Such people in Germany are largely indifferent – I think it is requirement of the job -- but at least they are not obnoxious.

On the drive from the airport I notice yet another shopping center has been built, with yet another set of the same stores: Wal-Mart, Home Depot, Petsmart. How many more of these does this area need?

I don’t mean this to sound negative. This is simply what seems most apparent.

The leaves are gone now, and the trees are just brown sticks. The grass has taken on the faded color of fall.

We stop at the grocery store. It seems huge to me now, brightly lit and with so much more stuff. This is something I miss. It is strange to see people pushing carts so loaded with food. It is strange for me to fill a cart with food. I never get more than I can carry in two bags. We go to the check-out line. The cashier is actually friendly. Out of reflex I’m about to start putting the groceries in a bag myself when one of the baggers comes over.

I find this whole process interesting. When I arrived in Germany, everything was strange and unfamiliar. I would walk 10 minutes to the store and be looking around at everything. I think that’s partly why we so easily recognize tourists. After a while though, a walk to the store was just a walk to the store. All the little details started to fade into the background as they became familiar.

Back at home after being away, the experience is similar. Many of those things that were part of the background are now very obvious.

I go for a trail run through the nearby West Woods park. It seems so quiet, and I don’t see another person. That never happens where I am in Germany. I go for a bike ride on one of my usual routes. These are roads I’ve ridden probably a thousand times, but now they seem fresh. For a moment, I’m a little disoriented and run a stop sign where there is cross-traffic.

There is also so much that seems so unattractive and out of balance: the sprawl, the parking lots, the huge vehicles, the endless stream of the same stores. I wonder how these things can be so overlooked.

Being able to see things from a different perspective is one of the opportunities of this work assignment. But I’m afraid it’s inevitable that no matter where you are, over time, you notice less and less. That is unfortunate.

What do I miss / don't miss?

The weather was unusually warm for November, and I was able to go out for a nice ride. On the way home, I rode over one of the bridges that cross the Rhine. The city was to my left, and barges traveling down the river to my right.

There was one moment where it registered: I am going to miss being here when it is time to leave.

That started me thinking, what are the things I miss and don’t miss?

I miss:
My family. No need to say more.
Good pizza. Italian restaurants here are good, but I like the pizza I make, with home-made crust, sautéed mushrooms, and Italian prosciutto.
Cooking in our kitchen.
Shopping at our local Heinen’s. The stores here aren’t even close.
Riding in Geagua county. We don’t know how good we have it.
Riding with friends and teammates.
Stores open past 8pm. If you don’t get to the market by 8pm Saturday, no food for you on Sunday.
Bookstores with books in English.
My leisurely drive into work on back roads.
Driving at reasonable speeds. Driving here can be a white-knuckle experience.

I don’t miss:
Television. I could not even tell you who played in the World Series, and that doesn’t bother me at all.
News on television and in papers. What if everyone stopped watching the TV news and reading the paper? Would politicians still have so much BS to say?
Stores open at all hours. Convenience is nice, but it is refreshing to have a time where not everyone is out shopping and buying.
Giant parking lots. One of the ugliest things we have at home.
Strip malls. Um, see above.
Suburban sprawl. Hmm, see above again.
Having to drive everywhere. One of the things I really love about being here is being able to walk or take the public transportation to just about everything I need.
Chain restaurants everywhere.
65 mph speed limits. OK, it’s a 2-sided coin.
Hearing only English. I never get tired of hearing people speaking a foreign language.
Sloppy Americans. I hate to say this, but the contrast is startling.


I'm spending 2 weeks in the US over Thanksgiving, so we'll see what else comes to mind.

Some Things Stay the Same

Whether in the U.S. or in Germany, some things remain constant. Take for example trying to go for a bike ride on Friday afternoon anytime later than 3:00.

We typically think that the Germans (maybe Europeans in general) take their time off from work seriously. We in the U.S. have the impression that they work something like 30 hours a week and receive 52 weeks of vacation.

It’s not quite that extreme, but sometimes seems rather close.

With all that time, you would think that they would take a more leisurely approach to getting home from work on a Friday. But just as in the U.S., Friday afternoon means a mad rush to get home. Or get somewhere.

The drivers here, while driving fast and aggressive, are mostly tolerant of cyclists. They usually give me enough room when passing. They don’t honk or yell things out the window.

But on Friday afternoon, when they are in that rush to get home, they seem to have no patience with a cyclist who might delay their arrival by maybe 30 seconds. So they pass too close, pass when there is oncoming traffic, try to squeeze in front of me when approaching a red light (why, I cannot imagine).

This has always mystified me back at home too. I’ve wondered why are people in such a hurry that they cannot stand to be delayed for even a few seconds? Once I asked a driver this, after catching up to him at a red light after he obnoxiously honked and yelled at me. His answer was to spew something like, “Get off the road!” with spit on his lips.

And I once asked the mayor of Hunting Valley why he was in such a hurry after he called the police to pull three of us over. We had delayed him by not riding single file on a country road (on a Saturday morning). He couldn’t answer except to say some nonsense about us breaking the law.

But that is in the U.S., where we expect most of the population to be racing home to the couch to switch the on T.V.

I think there is a similar phenomenon in Germany. Maybe the specifics are a bit different, but there is that same sense of impatience to get home to whatever small indulgence or distraction is waiting – which ironically might be going for a walk, run, or bike ride, judging from the amount of people I see out on the path along the Rhine.

Two Fridays ago I was riding on a narrow farm road, when a van, obviously a work vehicle, insisted on passing me from behind even though there was not enough room for both of us, and even though I was moving along at more than 20 mph and he had to stop up ahead anyway.

I can tell that my perspective here has changed, because now I am no longer the polite American in these situations. But I still need to learn the best insults to yell in German.

From track to 'cross

What do you do the day after going to a six-day race?

Why, you go to a cyclocross race.

After the smoky night indoors in Dortmund, I needed some fresh air. It was a nice October afternoon, and I had noticed there was a professional cyclocross race in Sint-Michielsgestel, in the Netherlands, just an hour and a half drive from here.

For those who don’t know, cyclocross racing takes place on a course that is part on the road, and part off-road. There are obstacles where the riders are forced to dismount and carry their bikes. When the conditions are bad, in some places it’s faster to run than ride. They use bikes made for cyclocross: essentially a road bike that’s a little less aggressive, with wider tires and more brake clearance.

I’ve done exactly two cyclocross races in my life, and decided it wasn’t for me. I was sore for days afterwards. But then I was racing on a 35 pound mountain bike, using road pedals, and I hadn’t done any running in many years. It was as ugly as it was painful.

The race in Sint-Michielsgestel was a professional race, but it also included races for Masters, Juniors, Women, and U23’s. I parked and started to walk to the race course. I felt like I was at a local race at home. The racers from the early races were changing clothes, washing the mud off their bikes, and rehashing the race. The U23’s were warming up, sprinting and down the street.

I wanted to change, hop on my bike and jump in with them.

I watched the U23’s start and fly into the first turn off the pavement and onto the dirt, with brakes squealing, bikes crashing, and guys yelling. They quickly turned onto a small metal bridge (the sound even made me nervous), then through a field with a dismount and run through a sand pit. To say that it looked hard doesn’t begin to explain it.

The sand pit:


Cyclocross is spectator friendly. I walked the entire course watched all the difficult sections. In several places I could stand and have a 360-degree view of the race. You’re also up close to the racers, with only some plastic tape keeping you off the course. If you’re not careful and lean too far into the course, you can easily get hit.

The crowd watching the race was large – fans there for the race, families from the town, racers who had finished their races. Food and beer of course (do I need to keep mentioning that?).

The pro race had many of the top guys: Sven Nys, Bart Wellens, Richard Groenendaal, Erwin Vervecken. It’s pretty cool to see the guys in person who I’ve only read about.

They started insanely fast, with guys sprinting from the start to get to the first turn off the pavement. Now, I assumed that as professionals these guys would be good, but I could not believe the speed at which they rode on the dirt, and the skill they showed in the difficult sections of the course.

Nys over the barriers:


The race was an hour of absolute intensity. With the exception of Nys, who seemed to float over the course, they all had a look of pain on their faces. No doubt, these guys were tough. I felt bad for the guys who were at the tail end, in danger of getting lapped. They still looked like they were riding as hard as they could go.

Sven Nys won by a pretty comfortable margin. I left with a completely different perspective on ‘cross. If it wasn’t for my still-not-right collarbone, I might even be convinced to try it again.

Nys navigates the muddy section with ease:


The other guys have a harder time:


No doubt, one of the oddest sponsor names ever:

Dortmund Six-Day

Borrowing from the joke about hockey, I went to a bar and a bike race broke out. Only the “bar” was the Westfallenhalle in Dortmund, where the Dortmund Six-Day Race was held.

A six-day race is an indoor track race. Each night teams of two riders compete in a series of different races. There are Madison races (where riders take turns racing, using hand slings to make the change), elimination races, points races, and sprints. There are the derny races, where riders draft behind motorized bikes at speeds of 65 km/h (40 mph!). The teams try to accumulate points and gain laps on their opponents.


Among racers and fans in the U.S. six-day races have a mystique about them. They were very popular in the U.S. prior to World War II. I’ve read that they were as big as any of the six-day races in Europe. For a bike racer or racing fan, being able to sit indoors and drink a beer while watching top riders race around a track is almost as good as going out and riding, especially at this time of year.

There aren’t any big six-day races in the U.S. anymore, but they are still quite popular in Europe. Bike racing in general is more popular in Europe, but I think a big reason the six-days are still held is that the promoters make them into events that are much more than just bike races.

But then again, I’ve noticed that Germans can pretty easily find an excuse to make anything into an event, with copious amounts of beer and food. It seems every other weekend there is a festival of some sort along the Rhine promenade in Düsseldorf.

The Dortmund race is just a short 45 minute drive for me, so I can’t pass up the opportunity to go.

As a racer, I’m interested in the racing. I’m mesmerized as I watch the 220 lap Madison race early in the evening. When you first see this race, it appears to be complete chaos. All the riders are on the track, but only 1 rider from each team is racing. The other teammate is circling waiting to make an exchange (by doing a hand sling). The riders trade off frequently, and they make the hand slings in the tightest spaces. Other riders pull off the front of the group and ride high up the banking of the track. At the same time, riders are trying to break away and gain a lap on the field – which happens frequently. I’m surprised they don’t crash more often.

I lean back and watch the track without focusing on any single rider. When viewed like this, the race looks like a perfectly synchronized choreography. It’s an amazing scene.



A large proportion of the people haven’t come for the racing though. They are here for the event: the food, the beer, the crappy band playing bad American pop music in the dance hall. The food, as expected, is plentiful: different kinds of grilled wurst, pizza, large pretzels, some kind of fish, Turkish gyros, shish kebabs, frites and mayonnaise, Dutch licorice.

They sing along with the cheesy music played during the race (if you can imagine this, “Take me home country roads”, in English, with a thumping electronic beat). They stand and clap, sway back and forth in their seats as if they were in one of the Oktoberfest tents. People smoke while in their seats inside the arena. As the night goes on, and more beer is drunk, it gets even louder.

Erik Zabel, probably Germany’s most popular racer, is clearly the fan favorite. They are visibly disappointed if he doesn’t win a sprint or if he and teammate Bruno Risi don’t win one of the events.

It all adds to the atmosphere.

By the time I leave, well after midnight, I smell like I’ve been to a bar. My clothes reek of stale smoke and grilled meat and will need to be washed. My throat is scratchy from the smoke. And I’ve eaten too much again. I’m going to have to ride a bit longer the next day.



Zabel and his derny partner: