Now we are going to see what we can make of the remainder of the Germany tour after the encounter with the crack heads and angels of Frankfurt’s red light district. Things weren’t all bad in Germany. They were just weird throughout.
I did get to spend time with the most amazing Colombian chick I met at the hostel. She was leaving later in the day, but I took her out on a river cruise and walking through the old city. For me, she was a kind of a cure for curious fact that I am out here in Europe trying to take pictures of everything, but there are no friends to take pictures with. I adopted her for the day and had her pose for all my pictures of the various buildings and views I wanted to photograph.
As usual, if you want to see all of the incredible pictures and videos, you’re going to have to take a look at the Strava post about that day. She was wonderful and beautiful, and almost a clone of my stepsister Shay. I guess she will be my second lookalike on the trip, after the German girl who looked exactly like my childhood friend George. Or maybe my third. The Hebrew class that I just left had an Orthodox chick who looked exactly like one of the “Heathen Whores of Venice Beach” who drove me crazy in California in 2023. I’ll definitely go crazy trying to figure out what God is trying to tell me with that one. Once I am free of the technodemons I can show some amazing pictures about that one. But my task for the moment is to try to put these experiences into a coherent narrative without devolving into incomprehensible mad rambling, so let’s move forward with the trip.
If the message heretofore had been to escape from a troubled past to a brighter future with no reminders of old miseries to keep ancient traumas alive, the next few days were tearful reminders of old times in this country. As mentioned in my previous post, I went to military bases in order to get fingerprints.
Interestingly, “coincidentally,” Israel was celebrating their Memorial Day, Yom Hazikaron, and Independence Day, Yom Haetzmaut, while all of this was going on for me. This would be a time of remembrance for me. I was confronted with my own past of standing side by side with Iraqi Muslims killing other Iraqi Muslims during my two combat tours in Iraq, but my journey with Jews and Judaism began in this part of the world. Once I had my fingerprints, I headed south to where I majored in Jewish Studies in Heidelberg. In order to do that, I first made a stop where I used to live at that time in Mannheim.
The ride was incredible. The Strava post has all the pictures and videos. When I arrived, I landed at the most amazing hostel, and of course had a number of synchronistic events, such as this picture on the wall at the entrance.
I doubt the owner of the hostel knew that I had been comparing my life to the ancient prophets for the last six years when he made the choice to decorate his venue with that picture. “Prophet, be happy” seems to be the message from God here.
I also had a fascinating conversation with the owner, who was a vet from the German army who got out and made his hostel in Mannheim. He told me that his time in service told him what he wanted to get away from, and he left the warrior life of misery to make an art house for students, travelers, and bohemian types. There is the idea that all of the miseries of this life teach us what we want to avoid in the next, perfect life.
Concerning my quest to have a god time with chicks, I met Hilary at that hostel as well. She was a lot of fun.
I was indeed making progress on my mission to separate myself from the triggering December incident with my daughter and the bizarre Sky Princess incident with the Polish girl Karolina and her crazy boyfriend José. Perhaps the Curse of Jezebel could be lifted? I also met a really cool guy from the Netherlands, but I’ll say nothing further about him because he has asked not to be put on the internet.
From Mannheim I shot over to Lottie’s hostel in Heidelberg where I was able to go by the Hochschule für Jüdische Studien where I majored in Jewish Studies and started this wild ride with Judaism back in 1997.
The rest of the breathtaking photos and videos of that incredible city are on Strava. I would have loved to stay for weeks. Lottie’s hostel was also an experience. I found my old apartment I lived in. That brought me literally to tears. And I had a great day with the Dutch guy at te Heidelberg Castle. But I had to get moving. A number of constraints were driving a need to move.
First, my goal was to get to Greece via the Danube. Greece looks like a place where I may want to settle if Israel doesn’t work out. Taking the Danube there would an opportunity to get south via flat riverbanks. Hills are tough on this cycle tourer and his 30-lb pack. I need to make time getting to Greece if I am going to make it back to my family reunion in July.
I also wanted to make sure I had some quality time in Budapest. Hungary was the only place that refused to hunt Prime Minister Netanyahu like a criminal, going so far as to withdraw from the International Criminal Court in order to stand with him. And there is a song that has become anthemic about my journey to Israel.
The Technodemons aren’t going to let me show you, so I guess you don’t get to hear it. YouTube Music embeds on WordPress are broken, and they for some reason removed the ability to add Spotify embeds. I guess they decided life is better that way.
Finally, Munich has another US Consulate that may actually allow US Citizens to make appointments. And there was a German guy I met in Amman, Jordan who is also into bikes and did a tour of Afghanistan who I wanted to meet. Further, the guy had the best time in Iran, and quotes Rumí and other Islamic philosophers with great erudition. That a guy from the other end of the world and opposing cultural tradition would be willing to befriend a convert to Reform Judaism and Kabbalist who loves Greek mythology as well as Jesus and the Apostles really spoke a lot to me.
So to get to Munich and Michael I would go through Stuttgart, Ulm, and Augsburg. To see those incredible rides, you’ll have to check Strava.
Little Shabbat Stuttgart Recovery Ride
It’s Time to Take Recommendations for a Good Multivitamin
A Glimpse of the Danube on the Way to Augsburg
In Munich, though, I found that Michael might not be free for the weekend, so the Consulate went out the window, and I headed to his little Dorf in the Bavarian countryside to see him. We had an incredible time. I found that being late really motivated me to ride fast. The ride down and back and what we did there is all on Strava with pics and videos.
I had to Take the Condom off for this One
As incredible and wonderful as all that was, it was in Munich that the next phase of the holocaust hit me. Trying to mix the riding with the fun and partying was really taking a toll on my poor lower back. In Munich I took a walk to a spa to see if I could get some relief.
Now that FKK on the spa’s sign is interesting. I remember FKK from my days back in the 90s. It used to be associated with what Germans call Naktbaden, or basically just walking around naked at beaches and water parks. It means “clothing optional.” I thought it might have something to do with the spa’s format, some edgy European German thing where you just took your clothes off for your massages and sauna dips and all that. When I got inside, I found that a lot had changed in Germany since I had been there last. Germany recently legalized prostitution, and this place was some kind of seedy operation that I don’t quite understand.
There was a bar inside and “professional” girls. I should have just turned around and walked right out, but some subconscious demon that destroys judgment apparently had the driver’s seat of my lizard brain or something. I sat for beers and talked to the girls to figure out what was going on. I learned the place was indeed a whorehouse, but was drunk by the time I knew what was up, and foolish along with that, and ended up staying the rest of the afternoon before leaving.
The next morning I found that the entirety of my Venmo and PayPal accounts had been cleared out. The girls were from Bulgaria and Romania, and it looks like I fell pray to some kind of gypsy operation. I put in complaints with PayPal and Venmo, and they are in the process of returning my money. But they cancelled my Venmo and PayPal cards and froze my accounts until everything is complete and te money is settled in my accounts.
I totally walked right into that one, a stupid guy who exhibited the poorest judgment a man can display. But I complained to God anyway. I let him know I took responsibility for the sin, but he could have at any time during the process put a little angel on my shoulder to tell me not to be such an idiot. In the end, I think that complaint is why Venmo decided to get all my money back for me. However, the money will take a while to return, and I am now short two accounts.
I had thousands of dollars on Venmo. And on tour, having multiple cards and accounts helps with the war against the technodemons, since you never know which transactions will go through as you travel through different countries and the AI algorithm decides you shouldn’t be making the transactions you want to make. Of course the replacement cards are being sent to my address of record in Scottsdale.
So as I have gone through this country from my past, with reminders of a military life here long since gone, my college days, and a friend from Jordan, all amazing and blissful experiences along with the phenomenal bike riding and beautiful countryside and castles and all the rest, I’ve also been hammered with calamity, often that I walk straight into with a candor that only an abject idiot can possess.
And with that, I have only one misadventure to describe in my absolute last stop at the utter border of Germany in a little town called Inzell.
Because my schedule had been messed up seeing Michael, I made the call to ride to Inzell on Shabbat, breaking my commitment not to travel on that day. And with that, needing carbohydrates and substance in my belly, I decided to pig out on the typical German breakfast fare of the hostel which included every kind of pork known to man. Germans don’t have the satisfying steak and egg breakfasts that my body wants me to start my day with or the filling shakshuka breakfasts that Jews have come up with to start the day strong while keeping kosher. I threw my commitments to the wind in order to stay on schedule.
That was a mistake. You can see from the Strava post above that the ride was utterly beautiful, but bitterly wet and cold. I narrowly avoided losing my fingers by riding with socks on my hands, and I lost my voice shivering through the ride.
It was when I got to this charming Gasthaus in Inzell, my GoPro camera and my Garmin cycling computer were stolen out of my room. I say in the Strava post and I will say here, if you make a deal with God not to eat pork or travel on Shabbat, don’t do those things.
The beauty of Inzell and the Bavarian mountains was otherworldly, but once again I was being whittled to nothing. It would cost me a thousand dollars to get my electronic gear back in Salzburg in Austria. But Austria is going to get another post of its own. An even weirder one.
I don’t want to pontificate too much on what all of this means here. This post has been long and has meandered quite a bit between experiences idyllic and horrific. I’ll only say a couple of things.
Germany was not an experience of escaping the past for new horizons as was the UK and Belgium. It was trudging neck deep through everything and everywhere I had been, good and bad. And this taught me a lot about where I do want to go and where I do not.
I will also say that my Pesach, and my Yom Hazikaron, and my Yom Haetzmaut was not a typical Jewish experience of Passover Seders with friends and family nor the festivities of memorial services and patriotic flag waving that Jews and Israelis experience during the traditional holiday cycle. It was me experiencing my own holocaust. There aren’t many Jews who have done that. Just like there aren’t many Jews who have literally gone through the desert of Sinai or crossed the Red Sea as I did back in the first days of 2023.
I was mugged by demons and encouraged by an angel. I was robbed by gypsies and taught by God to keep my promises to him. I was shown the contrast, as was Solomon, of the joy and power of the beautiful ladies Laura and Hilary while falling prey to Solomon’s warnings against the grifter prostitute. I was nourished by the sunflowers of gorgeous German meadows while being driven to the point of madness by the demands of Israeli bureaucracy. (That whole story I only barely scratched te surface of here.)
What would come next in Austria is a new tale that I am still trying to understand. I’ll write it down as soon as I have a clue.
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