Frydek-Mistek, Czech Republic: "Welcome, we have many anguish"

September 7, 2015

I had no idea you could do it for a living

I'M KILLING time. I have less distance than time ahead of me now. So I was happy to spend an hour in the last café in Poland.

It was down a side street in Cieszyn, a town that straddles the border. On the other side of the river is the Czech Republic where the town is known as Český Těšín. That's what the signs say when they point back over your shoulder.

The wide bridge is the border and a rusting canopy is all that remains of the control on the Polish side. It's now a trinket shop, your last or first chance to buy a souvenir of Poland. On the other, there's no sign at all, although the usual blue signs stand on the bridge in mid-stream.

I said my last dzień dobry of the trip and pointed at something that looked promising on the café blackboard. One of the excitements of travel is that you have no idea what you've ordered; you depend on human kindness, willingly offered, to save you from your worst errors.

"Nie Polksi," I said apologetically for the thousandth time. People in border towns are used to foreigners. She asked what language I spoke.

I said "Anglia", which I think is the name of the country rather than the language. But she understood.

"Many anguish," she replied hesitantly. I sympathised with her troubles but it seemed a bit much to expose them to strangers. Maybe it was the trouble I was putting her to by not speaking her language.

"Many anguish," she said again and then she took two steps to the side and vanished behind a brown wooden stand of cups, saucers, cakes and more. And then, beaming with happiness, she returned with a plastic sheet, bright and shiny.

"Many anguish," she said again as she handed it to me. It was a menu in English.

I like to think that one day I shall have a statue like this. Complete with a bottle of vodka

Well, the mountains came to nothing. You remember I camped last night in what I thought was their foothills. I'd been looking forward to quaint gentlemen playing long trumpets while wearing leather shorts. But nothing of the sort. Not even the weather changed. It rained again this morning as well.

So, no mountains but a roller-coaster - more than 900 metres of climbing for just 70 kilometres - across rivers flowing from the slopes I'd hoped to ride. I've done more climbing than if I'd ridden into the mountains and yet I never got higher than 400 metres.

The glories of central European architecture

It gets dark earlier this far east but I can still see the the grey bulk of the mountain range from my tent here on the edge of a field. I could have ridden further, to be honest. The legs were still willing even if the spirit was battered by repeated and fruitless climbing. But I'm ahead of time and Frýdek-Místek, an oddly named town, is just down the road. All the road signs have been pointing to it for a while. Which means a reasonably sized place perhaps with suburbs and industrial estates taking up the countryside and denying me somewhere to camp.

The long-stay car park outside Frýdek-Místek

Maybe it's better I'm alone here in this field. I'm sure I'm riding in a cloud of stink. Nobody has mentioned it but it's been two nights that I haven't had more than a cat's lick. And then, if I don't smell, I'm sure my clothes do. I've been bundled up in my rain jacket for hours of hills.

Skokzow: another town, another glorious town square

The firemen of Skokzow celebrate their history

I did my best this morning in the loo of a McDonald's. The hamburger did me good but the main reason was to charge my GPS and to splash soapy water round the sinks.

It was as stripped off as decency allowed and beginning to feel on the edge of personal hygiene when another customer stepped in to use the cubicle. There was a half-second of uncertainty and then horror and another half second before he said something in Polish.

It'd have been OK if he'd been talking about cheap plumbers or opportunities for beauty treatment. I've been reading signs for those for weeks. But I'd no idea what he was saying. Probably disgust but maybe an offer to meet him down a side street later in the day. So I just smiled back and said something in French, which seemed to shock him even more and he vanished into the cubicle and refused to come out until I'd left.

I'd have stayed here as reward for the wonderful murals, but I was too early

Today's ride: 71 km (44 miles)
Total: 5,731 km (3,559 miles)

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