Prelude

The journey began after a goodbye coffee. After a long time between the idea of the trip, I was moving. The trip to Frankfurt was largely unremarkable - perhaps the way it should be. There are many opportunities for remarks during the journey itself. The only human activity worth noting was the train rage by a passenger at Flinders St Station because the train was a little late in departing (a common occurrence I am sure), plane food of which I have had a fair share had reached a new low, and the thought that once flight attendants all must be young attractive women, and on this Qantas flight there was not one like this in the cabin - the only person fitting that profile was in the cockpit.

On arrival, the bike duly assembled in the middle of Frankfurt Terminal 2 (with approval of the information officer), packing box removed by a terminal attendant after inspection of possible dangerous goods lurking inside, and so a day with the sole purpose of riding out the jet lag and getting out into the countryside without venturing into Frankfurt at all.

And so another of my solo journeys began - not solo by preference, but otherwise I would not be traveling at all this year.

From the front of the terminal to the Main River ( photo) then turn right.

As the ride soon unwinds beneath me, it seems that this place, and the other great cycling countries of the world, have the paradox of having great facilities but few cyclists in the way Australian's who ride are called cyclists because they are a minority or are different. In places like Germany riding a bike is as natural as walking and just an everyday part of life for many people - not a point of difference and not to be remarked on.