TBJ_04 In a high-capacity taxi to the province

Hello everyone, the chronicler can report virtually live. He doesn't have to crank. His first transit day in the Greyhound. The opportunity to relax. He's just wondering who else is on the other side. After all, everyone has their own little packet to work through and he doesn't have anything as sensational as a presidential helicopter crash to offer. He will therefore ask his back office in Todtenhausen for a few screen shots of the blog's statistics functions. So make an effort!

In the morning, with the hotel's generous breakfast offer of a coffee and a gumdrop in his hand, he quickly asks two hotel guests. Juana and Olivier. She's from Spain and he's from France, so why not give foreigners a chance? It's not that quick. Juana keeps out of it. Olivier doesn't believe in feelings in politics, so in the end Jesus comes away empty-handed for the first time: 10-90-0. The chronicler thinks of Willy Brandt and can't imagine that his particular success wasn't fuelled by his feelings. Perhaps developed during the time when he was locked out of Germany and had to live in exile in Norway. Oliver also considers Trump to be an incompetent politician (thinking of his teeth, the chronicler prefers not to use the original expression. His blog is also in English and he willingly distributes the link here too). Olivier baffles him with the question of what distribution the chronicler would award and leaves him speechless. He won't publish his answer here for the time being. Which has nothing to do with the teeth.

Juana and Olivier, the charm of travelling alone: you approach others; not in the picture: the lovely couple at the next table from New Zealand

Philadelphia is a city of millions, a metropolis. Its bus interchange is a 50 metre long, lice-ridden and potholed cul-de-sac in an abandoned industrial estate. No bench, no shelter, no one to clear away the rubbish. In the words of his favourite LIDL advertisement: You can do it that way, but you don't have to! You can tell from the people waiting for the buses with the chronicler that they don't make a very significant contribution to the gross national product. Nevertheless, it deserves more than a bus stop that looks more like a drug parlour. I hope the mayor somehow reads this and should also learn that travelling by bus is not cheap; the chronicler pays $100 for this 300 km trip.

Also a way of avoiding waste: Pointing the camera at the sky. Not the chronicler's bus in the picture

The vehicle is no consolation for this inconvenience. Because it is still of the rather low variety, its cellar is not suitable for transporting the racing bike standing up.

The nightmare sentence from the old days: The bike has to be in a box! Actually, says the rider

But the black female driver is not interested in whether he has a ticket. With five passengers, it's more like travelling in a large-capacity taxi. No wonder, when the conditions are so unappetising. The seats are well spaced, clean and comfortable, only the striped outer windows don't allow much more of a view than from a prisoner transporter. The chronicler is surprised by the area: the highway winds through a hilly, lush green landscape that almost reminds him a little of the Kassel mountains (for the English-speaking part: a landscape along a notorious stretch of motorway in central Germany ;-)) 

Behind striped curtains

Alone and without a specific task, the chronicler often wavers in his assessment of what he is doing here and hopes to be at least somewhat entertaining. Yes, why is he doing this? You could also ask the counter question: Why not? Why not be independent, quite free, with curiosity and a willingness to make an effort, while obviously travelling the world without protection? 

He occasionally thinks back to this encounter years ago in his favourite Bavarian café, the Tortenkaiser Winklstübl. Of the old man at the neighbouring table with whom his son made one of those rare trips away from being alone. "When you're as old and immobile as I am, you only have memories to live on". Yes, the chronicler thinks, and it's good to have a good supply.After all, he still has his pet, which is probably more likely to do him in than the usual biological decay. In such a shortened future, it's best to do what you can. And you do it as well as you can and with all the love you are still capable of. Just don't save money at the wrong end.

Now, after the first few days of this special tour, where his trousers are still flapping due to the duration and effort, he realises that there is something else besides encounters, sore muscles and meatballs: Education. So he is very grateful to Alain for his reference to the president at the beginning of the seventies, Richard Nixon. A tough dog, a person about whom a competitor once said: 

His lies will be remembered longer than his legitimate work. He was the most insincere person I have ever met in my life.

You can find that in Wikipedia and you can also find the interesting hint that his arch-enmity against the media and political establishment and his populist way of speaking provided the intellectual background for Mr Trump or Boris Johnson. Yet he did extraordinarily solid things during his time in office, such as a first Environmental Protection Agency, an Occupational Safety and Health Administration and a completely new approach to dealing with indigenous people. At this time, the chronicler was still in his nappies in terms of his personal development and was also subject to the strong influence of left-wing anti-war activists (the USA was at war in Vietnam). And so his opinion of Mr Nixon was limited to the offhand remark: Nixon does w..... too. 

Alain's comment was aimed at the chronicler's assessment that there used to be more love between people. But if that was the case, he wondered, how could a person of Mr Nixon's character achieve such an overwhelming majority for his presidency at that time? Yes, why?!

Meanwhile, the person in front of him on the bus has woken up. Of course he will answer the chronicler's question, but he wants to put God first. In his order and his own currency, it's Jesus 110, Biden 80, Trump 75. There's no reason to make fun of him. Somehow, this distribution seems to the chronicler to be reasonably balanced. In the order and counting method used here, it would have to read 42-30-28.

Darryle

That's almost everything today. In the small town of Ebensburg, the amiable bus driver has let him out. While he is cleaning his racing bike out of the cellar, she lights her cigarillo again for the third time, takes a few puffs, stubs it out again at the kerb, gets back on with a "Take care baby" and rushes off in the almost empty vehicle. The chronicler is surprised by the cleanliness of the town, by the old houses made of red brick or wood. Not at all his image of America, which he had formed more in the West. There is a pub with a pretty good and affordable menu. However, as is so often the case in such places today, there is a lack of life in every corner. 

The chronicler has to leave the village for the night and take the four-lane main road. He finds accommodation in one of these inns, rooms the size of double garages. So he takes his racing bike inside. The beds are so big that families of four could sleep in them. They are also piled high with pillows, enough for entire school classes to have wild battles. The chronicler will never learn to categorise sizes again in his life - what is queen and what is king? He enjoys himself. See you tomorrow. Stay cheerful.

TBJ_3 Into the cradle of independence and Philly sounds

Hello everyone and best wishes from the history-soaked city of Philadelphia. The chronicler is lucky. The fall from the amiable relatives' household into the normal hotel world was gentle. He is in a spacious hotel room furnished with old Italian furniture, on the fifth floor, quiet, with its own large balcony.

It is in the centre of the old town and is affordable. What was missing yesterday was made up for this morning: a group photo.

Grand cousin Nyasha, daughter Nomsa, dad Alain

The chronicler had company today. Vance, the visitor from yesterday, you remember 10-40-50, accompanied him. Or rather, pulled him to just outside the big city. 

Right at the beginning, he took the chronicler on a tour of the Princeton University campus where he teaches. An old, venerable, huge complex, a small town in itself, where the chronicler definitely didn't want to live. It was 75 kilometres to Philadelphia, not much. But after the long start yesterday and that bumpy canal-side path again, he sank into a sunlit armchair at his destination, feeling pretty exhausted. It was next to the Independence Building at a busy crossroads.

An independence tea at Independence Square

The trademark of the bar to which the armchair belonged was the music: Philly sound up and down. A style of music that people from this city coined in the early 70s and made famous worldwide. Some will know what it's all about, others can listen to it here:

And those who can, dance a nice two-step nightclub to it.

In terms of presidents, the chronicler doesn't have much to offer today. One successful attempt and one unsuccessful one. Nevertheless, they were intense. Katie professed to be non-religious, but eventually understood the intention and came up with 10-20-70. 

Her important message was that this special American electoral system was flushing people to the top that nobody actually wants in this case. The chronicler surmises from the other comments that many people will go to the polls with long teeth! He had no success with the Italian-born landlord of his large Italian room. He kept asking if the chronicler was recording the conversation and wanted to look into his mobile phone and his dented glasses case. No, the chronicler's question was an inadmissible mix-up, after all, everyone believes something different. His Georgian employee believed something different from him and the chronicler something different again. The latter could not really understand the evasive behaviour. 

What happened to him today, which was quite unusual, was that he had time to spare. He was already there at three o'clock in the afternoon, the next act won't happen until nine o'clock tomorrow morning, when the Greyhound is supposed to take him to Ebensburg, the small starting point for the big city of Pittsburgh. He could still walk around here or go to the famous art museum. But he hasn't slept enough for that, far too little over the last three nights, which, oh wonder, doesn't really make a difference. In Ebensburg he will have free time again because the bus will be there at three o'clock in the afternoon, but the third stage won't start until the following day. He'll think of something. 

Thanks to everyone for being there, whoever is at the other end. Good luck and good night. 

https://www.relive.cc/web/view/vrqo5N87PKO

TBJ_02 Simon Geschke, Time Square and kinship can be wonderful

Dear followers, it's been quite a day for the chronicler. He is now safe and sound in his great cousin's bed in the university town of Princeton. He has travelled around 125 kilometres and is now as content as a full baby.

The first day of this journey. He had peeled out the mummy in the morning and it had remained intact. He had already put together the talisman gift from his partner Norbert on the train to Amsterdam: Simon Geschke from Team Cofidis in Playmobil. And of course something like that belongs on the bike. 

Simon Geschke as figurehead; was also on in the evening

Just as the chronicler is not on his own. All the important people around him have given him their blessing for the endeavour and wished him all the best. That's quite a good thing. Very well indeed! Thank you for that.

The chronicler had placed three POI (points of interest) on the blue line and cranked them out nicely. Before that, of course, a crossover in Centralpark was part of it. A really beautiful area in the centre of the city, full of strollers, sportsmen and women and people.

One of Zaha Hadid's last works; residential building from 2017. Behind the chronicler his first customers of the day: Eileen and Paul

The house was next to a repurposed old railway line. He told the couple from Connecticut about it and asked them for answers in return. And lo and behold, they came as expected. It does work. Eileen 0-40-60, she thinks Mr Trump is terrible, Paul 10-30-60, he criticises Biden for sitting out the border issue. The chronicler has to give a few more explanations about the photo, but in the end it is done and he dutifully hands over his cardboard strip with the blog link printed on it. If they don't like it, they are welcome to write an email.

Then it will be just as he imagined it. He swims in the traffic through the heart of the city. Sex and the city of fine town houses, the colour and flashing lights of Time Square, the rather sober block of the Empire State Building. And he recognises from the building sites: the steam is not tourist steam. It is part of a district heating system.

Public steam cleaning and Times Square

And then the elegant flapping of the Path's wings at the World Trade Centre. This immediately made the chronicler's eyes water. This feather-light, innocent white monument to elegance as a response to the brutal attack of 2001.

Path Station makes your eyes water

For the chronicler, this is an ingenious building by Spanish architect Calatrava; you can put something up for four billion dollars. 

The human ability to pulverise a car full of supposed enemies from a desk chair hundreds of kilometres away with the help of a drone can be described as extraordinary. The development of such weapons is similarly expensive, the mental effort similarly complex. 

The chronicler prefers to stick with the built, the painted, the moulded.

The blue line forces him to take a ferry to New Jersey and leads him straight to a pretty good omelette and new customers at the neighbouring table. The sun is shining, New York has shown itself from a good side, business is good, the chronicler is happy.

A mother and two daughters are having a relaxed Sunday morning. The chronicler asks politely and explains his request. At first, Mr Trump has zero chance. But after a few questions from the chronicler, the trio of Patricia, Kim and Kerry agree on 10-40-50.

Patricia and Kim; Kerry doesn't want to be in the photo: Is she leaving because of her job?

This is followed by arterial roads whose verges are at least as littered as many in Italy, if not Africa or South America. Some streets are snow-covered with the beguilingly fragrant blossoms of robinia trees. The line also takes him through these suburbs with their tidy middle-class houses; you can even see the lawn in front of them mowed diagonally and the edges trimmed as if with a razor blade. The greater the proportion of "sub-" in the word "suburb", the further the houses move away from the street, sometimes putting a thirty metre driveway between them and the public. None of this is meant to be disrespectful! Please!

The chronicler drives almost 40 kilometres along a canal on a paradisiacal gravel road. But even in paradise it can get boring. To make sure that this doesn't happen, Finnegan and his companion Sam take care of the coarse gravel sections à la Paris-Roubaix. Finnegan is a full bike packer on the road. Everything still shines like it's fresh from the shop. It's Finnegan's first stage of a one-year break that will take him all the way to Argentina. He joins in and opts for 0-20-80. That's the way to go! Sam only accompanies him for this stage and will return home by train.

Finnegan on his way to Argentina; Bon Chance!

The chronicler has an appointment. A date with his great cousin Nyasha and her family. 

Nyasha and chronicler 1992

He is happy not to have to settle down in a sober hotel and somehow search for food. No, he is welcomed with open arms, green tea, a hot shower and a terrace dinner with friends. Princeton is a university town, his hosts and friends are academics. This gives the story a completely different direction. It's amusing when Alain, the husband, objects that Jesus shouldn't be in the trio at all. He died too early. In the USA, a presidency is only possible from the age of thirty-five! The whole group then explains to the chronicler that Jesus is appropriated by the right in the USA and could be interpreted in a completely different way in the further course towards the west, i.e. in the question game. This brings the chronicler back to his niece's thoughts: Will he keep his teeth as the adventure progresses? He is optimistic. The fifteen-year-old daughter's percentages are refreshing: 20-30-50!

Nomsa thinks practically

Not in the picture: Lucia 0-70-30 and Vance 10-40-50. Vance is a frequent cyclist and will accompany the chronicler tomorrow.

Thank you for your company here. Good night

https://www.relive.cc/view/vmqX3pejgL6

TBJ_01 New York, first to the opera

The chronicler has arrived. In this famous city, like millions before him long ago with few belongings and many dreams, millions today with better luggage and little time, and he with a mummy and a 4.4 kg rucksack.

With a mummy and the essentials still in the cosmopolitan city of Bünde

Now he has to deliver. Well, you can't expect much on the first day: he also has to familiarise himself first. Actually, there was no time. After Delta Airlines had delivered him to J.F Kennedy Airport with precision and the best of care, the entry into the country was a medium disaster. Never before had the chronicler queued for so long. For over two hours, he and hundreds of others pushed their way to one of the fifty immigration counters. Once he had reached the hotel by Skytrain and underground, he had to continue straight away. He had an opera ticket. 

Because an underground train wasn't running due to the Mayanance, he jumped into a taxi for the last few metres and had to grin as steam billowed out of the gullies in the heart of the city. He wondered whether this had a real background or was simply made for the tourists. As soon as the first sound began, he plopped down into the velvety red armchair. 

Actually, you reward yourself at the end, but he probably won't be coming back any time soon. It was at the Royal Opera House in London over twenty years ago that he discovered his belated fondness for beautiful operas in beautiful opera houses. So he thought he would pay a visit to the Met, the opera house in New York. 

The Met

They are playing the most frequently performed opera in the world there, just in time for him: Carmen, and he hasn't seen it yet. To cut a long story short, the house is impressive, the audience a colourful mix, but Carmen didn't come after his cap. A stage set in the present day of some fictitious violent state. So he closed his eyes and enjoyed the incredibly pure, fine music. How do you manage to be so perfect in terms of space and as a multi-part ensemble?

During the interval, he plucked up his courage at Natalia and Victor. Victor gave him two short lectures on why Mr Biden knows everything better and why Mr Trump will not be convicted by the court. The chronicler asked again about Jesus. Yes, no, you can't mix politics and religion, Natalia agreed. Neither of them understood the intention or the chronicler asked awkwardly. But it was still fun. 

Natalia, Victor willingly with the chronicler

He had already tried it on the plane with the people sitting next to him, mum and daughter from Germany. But the daughter had no opinion at all and the mum only had an opinion on Trump, whom she didn't think was sane.

If the underground to the opera uptown was packed, it was packed on the way back after midnight. An old traffic monster, screeching loudly as it eats its way through the more than hundred-year-old rivet constructions. He can only guess that he is travelling through the heart of the city from the wagon´s lettering.

Under the centre

Bye, bye.

TBJ Opening credits

Hello everyone,

The author of this blog, who likes to describe himself as a chronicler (which he is in the true sense of the word), is pleased that you are looking in. Hopefully it is and remains interesting enough throughout the episodes that you don't stop. Comments and grumbles welcome. There's always room for improvement!

Fragmentary world exploration was once one of his favorite radio shows. Random places around the world were presented in narrative form and with audio documents. A wonderful program that, strangely enough, is not even mentioned in the omniscient network; it will surely lie dormant in the station's archives. Its character fits in with how the chronicler likes to travel the world. Combined with his favorite form of exercise, namely with a racing bike and light luggage. He has been to all points of the compass - see Figure 1.

Figure 2 Silbermond: It´s better to travel light

"There is always a story to tell" (The Jaiy twins). Two black dancers in a BBC clip clip tell the chronicler that this sentence comes from their mother. Yes. And if you make an effort, it can even be amusing or at least interesting. He takes it as encouragement for this tour and he wants to make an effort. The story he wants to tell is about the people of the United States who cross his path on his journey with light luggage and give him information on a specific question: Trump, Biden or Jesus. What kind of president do you want anyway? 

The idea came from a precursor to such a trip to the UK, where the chronicler was driven by curiosity: Brexit? For or against? It turned out to be exhausting but also an extremely charming way to travel. Asking the people you meet whose side they are on. No one refused. Rather, detailed reasons were given (including a kiss). But this trip was for private pleasure and not so much for public consumption. An article appeared in the daily newspaper and the chronicler kept a blog. It is a presidential election in the USA this year and it has a particular impact on the world. That's why the chronicler would like a wider audience. Let's see what happens. 

He took the route once across the USA, roughly along the 38th parallel. Once from east to west. Along this imaginary line, he not only wants to observe the landscape, architecture, traffic and stores, feel potholes and mountains, smell vegetation and exhaust fumes, no, he wants to talk to people because he is curious about why they are in the mood they are in. Some don't like immigrants, hate Democrats and want to elevate the biblical story of creation to official truth in this land of infinite progress, others pettily pee on the leg of (former) President Trump, have created the term white trash for the somewhat out-of-shape white rural population and unapologetically climb over the homeless people camped out everywhere to pack their overpriced organic groceries in two organic paper bags tucked into each other at Whole Foods. There's plenty of everything. 

The chronicler is not the kind of racing bike ultra who crosses the continent in a time limit of 300 hours in Race-across-America. Firstly, he is too old, secondly, he is not an athlete in general, and thirdly, this does not suit his plans. His dreams and abilities are distributed differently. It is one thing to be able to torture oneself and another to enjoy it in turn and to be curious about the world in both cases. Thanks to good friends, he has learned both, so he will definitely struggle but also enjoy himself and is already looking forward to arriving in the world's cities. While the competitors in the peletons of the big bike races are overwhelmed with adrenaline before the finish, for the chronicler it is more the arrival in a big city. There, where the blue line on the handlebars shows him the way, which he has to fight his way through the rushing traffic with its many lanes and its different means of transportation with the diverse characters behind their steering wheels. And always with self-confidence and head held high. Don't mess around, because then you'll end up under the wheels. 

New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Denver, Las Vegas and San Francisco make his mouth water. Less so the prospect that he won't be able to eat beef meatballs between cardboard rolls on the breakfast-board-hard saddle forever. He has twenty days. The blue line that the chronicler will be cranking is therefore not a continuous 5000 km long, it consists of sections - see Figure 2 and will give him enough contact with the country. He will bridge the intermediate sections by Greyhound bus, train or plane. This requires sophisticated planning and is somewhat stressful because the chronicler is bound to timetables, which must be adhered to if you want to get anywhere.

Figure 2 Along the road 38.

In the old England, the question was simple: Brexit, for or against? Everything else was self-evident. But what did the chronicler want to ask the bus driver, the lady at reception, the hairdresser or the farmer from whom he refills his water bottle? What would be short and self-explanatory enough to give his counterpart an idea of what he was talking about? And on top of that, would a window open that would give him an insight and answer why he is the way he is? To get personal answers, explanations that go beyond what the chronicler is presented with by the Tagesschau, Süddeutsche Zeitung, Der Spiegel or other news sources. And incidentally, using this question as a flashlight, to catch a glimpse of a complete stranger. A person he won't forget because he wants to report on them. He doesn't have time for long small talks, they're not his thing either. What two or three keywords would indicate the universes to which his counterpart is dedicated and at the same time encourage him enough to confide in him?  

Trump, Biden, Jesus?!

Trump or Biden, black or white. Who are you for? Can't the chronicler tease out a little more from his counterpart? Isn't there another source in everyone that influences their actions in society? Isn't there more to people than just a commitment to one of these two poles? Doesn't everyone have feelings deep inside that go beyond this? Feelings that reach across, reach across to the others, the rich, the conservatives, the stoners, the gun carriers, the nerds, the children, the farmers, the soldiers and the minimum wage earners, the worshippers of God and the many fat people. The chronicler is convinced of this and therefore introduces his symbol of human love into the question game: Jesus. He will simply ask about these three and see what comes out of it. And to allow for nuances, he will give the other person the following option: If he is allowed to put together the new president himself, what percentage of the three personalities should he end up with? And that in twenty days, ten of them in the saddle, the rest for the journey there and back and the intermediate routes. 

Thank you for following me so far. 

And special thanks to Lea Büsing for the review, preparation and publication at the Todtenhausen home base.