So it has begun. After struggling to get the fuck out of Reykjavik with his bicycle lanes sending you three times to the right over and under the highway instead of one time left, i managed and went my way to Þingvellir -, remnants of the gathering place a great and intriguing People -Vikings!- and wondered if soon, Chinese would come visit Brussels like that, marveling about that People that kept ranting philosophy until their noses were under water. And not only was it a kind of parliament, it´s also the place where the North-american and Eurasian continental plates drift away from each other.
|Rupture of the continental plates!|
The roads were good the first day, but day two i had to put on my spiky tires. The sound it makes!! Cycling through all white, even the street, with the sound of rice crispies or kroepoek on the tongue, like driving over a street covered in bubble wrap? This just has to be soothing for the spirit, i know it for sure.
Blue sky, vast land, rolling hills, all white -give me some floating golden egyptian symbols and i am back in my Ayahuasca vision- and then a black cloud before me, somehow i stop to eat a snickers -cup of hot tea, because after all this is vacation- and decide to put on the rainstuff, and five minutes later heavy snowy hail with a strong wind right in my face to finish off the day. Before leaving, i thought it might have been a bit too much to take those mean ice spikers, but it might turn out that my normal tires could be the overkill ones.
|Clouds up to no good|
And as i drove out of the city, somehow the city drove out of me. Finally.