Because you will be dissapointed by the Kunstmuseum in Bern, we prepared something for you. A Gallery of a bike trip. Click and enjoy.
All three, just joined. Leon hates selfies. Jorge hates Paris. Nelson hates them both. We’re all happy that way.
Juanjo, Leon & Nelson, at Sainte Chapelle, a selfie that had to be taken.
And that was supposed to be an official bike lane.
Our beloved and empalagoso Taboulé
Every country has a characteristic street art. A monument, a significativd piece of history for itself, like “Goethe has been bere” plaques in Germany. In France, there are more WWI memorials that statues of Jean Paul II in Poland.
The three of us… Kind of. Leon was petrified first. In Besançon.
Leave Besançon, enter the Jura, in the morning
Contortionists thieves. A punished Venezuelan.
Beards entering the Jura on a bike
To which Pole did you say we are going?
Jorge’s bike’s last meal. Bikes. There we were, there we are not. Pontarlier, near The Porta. Last minutes.
Ze Germans alvays fint each ozer.
This is Le Locle. Where Clock-making was born. Where they boast of a unesco heritage on precision. Where some buildings look as if the builders had a party in Russia the previous night.
Leon learnt how to sew, and got paid for it
Le Locle. Hotel de Ville. French for City Hall. But in Spanish, sounds like the “hotel of the village”, further to a funnier “La Posada de la Aldea”.
Driving to Tour de Moron, from Tramelan and back, to stare at the mountains. Our host lend us a car and insisted us with their marvellous offers to stay for a resting day at their place. And so we did.
How many kilometres there are on a straight line? From the Tour de Moron, in the Jura, there are 400km to Paris, and 730km to Rome. But we are so much going to do more than that.
What did the tourists do to the poor Moises in Bern? We still wonder.
There was once a cyclist I hosted from the streets. And what an amazing time we had. In the last day, he obsequied me with a “free ticket for Absinthe”, once on my trip around Switzerland. Now, we drink for him, the Promised Drink. Auf sein Wohl.
PS: Luca, thank you for the Absinthe!