It was not a good start to our bike ride. For some reason our brains were fogged with too much Vodka and we weren’t thinking straight. We had originally planned to spend a third night at the wedding venue, then cycle through Germany up to Copenhagen, but for some reason we changed our minds and went to Szczecin, Poland which is about 34 kms north of Gryfino. This meant we were to cycle on Polish roads, something we will definitely avoid in future. We rattled our way over uneven cobblestones and plonked through potholes. There had been weeks without rain, but about 10km into our ride, it decided to piss down. We rustled around in our bags looking for our wet weather gear and a man came running towards us shouting something in Polish. Embarrassed I said, “Sorry I don’t understand, I speak English.”

He carried on speaking in Polish at us, but louder this time as if that might help us understand. I shook my head and repeated that I didn’t understand, while at the same time trying to put on my raincoat before I got too wet. He started gesticulating then, putting his hands over his head.

Mike said, “He’s offering us shelter. We should go with him.”

Obviously I thought he was a nutter so I politely declined. I didn’t really think that, but it’s always a possibility.

We cycled on in the drizzling rain and after about a minute or so there was a clap of thunder and it pelted down. We took shelter huddled next to a building and watched the rain pour out of the sky.

“We should have taken up that mans hospitality,” Mike said.

I agreed then said, “No rain for weeks and it decides to piss down on the first day of our cycle ride. Typical!” Maybe it was a sign.

After about 10 minutes or so, the rain eased off to a drizzle and we carried on cycling. It wasn’t too bad. We were wet through, but it was warm, unlike the time in Germany when we almost got frostbite. After about 5kms, the footpath ended and we were cycling on the road. The car drivers were polite, but I preferred the idea of being on the footpath. Up ahead I noticed a nice wide footpath and decided to get off the road. I chose what looked to be a surface without a curb and picked my line. At the last minute I noticed a ridge across the curb. My bike tyre caught it and I realised I was going down. And down I went with a giant crash and tumble. My head whacked against the pavement with a loud crack. I silently thanked my helmet as it surely saved me from cracking my head open. My leg was in incredible pain. I sat up and hugged it saying over and over “It hurts, it really hurts.” I was sure I had broken it. Mike looked at me, stunned by what had happened. I expected him to come over to see if I was ok, but he seemed to be in shock. Eventually he managed to put his bike up against a fence and came over to me. I sat there for ages, too scared to get up for fear of my leg collapsing on me. After about 10 minutes or so, the shock started to wear off and Mike helped me to my feet. I limped over to a stone fence and sat down. Phew, I can walk at least. I looked down at my leg and realised it needed ice. It ballooned out the side of my thigh, swelling more by the minute. But there was no ice and we had no choice but to continue on.

I pushed through the pain, putting all my concentration into navigating the giant potholes that lurked beneath the puddles. After a while, we had to cycle on a main road. Trucks barrelled passed, spraying us with dirty water. We started cycling over a busy bridge when I noticed a cycle lane on the side of it. “Mike bike path, Mike bike path” I yelled over and over as loud as I could. Thankfully he heard and we turned around and headed towards the bike path. I wheeled my bike up over the curb but it got away from me again and fell to the ground with a crash. Thankfully I wasn’t on it, but when Mike came over to help, he picked up my broken mirror. By this time, I had enough, but we had to continue on. We planned to meet brother Paul who had a hotel booked for us. I texted him a couple of times on his phone, but the messages hadn’t gotten through.

We should have been at the hotel by 6.30pm, but we didn’t get there until 8.40pm. What a day. Paul got me some ice for my leg, then we went to their room for left over bbq and homemade vodka. The ice really helped my leg and the swelling had gone down significantly. Paul and Pam had some home-made vodka that Kasia’s brother made. I drank a load of it and the pain in my leg almost disappeared. I called it a healing potion as I woke up the next day, still sore, but not anywhere as bad as I thought it would be. That was the end of the cycle ride for now. The decision was made to catch the train back to Gryfino, pick up the car and head for the flat cycle paths of Holland.

Day two of the wedding was basically just a continuation of day one. The band was back, people were dressed up and the vodka was back on the tables. The only difference was, we were all suffering incredible hangovers. Thankfully a few vodka shots fixed this and we were off again.

The wedding venue was set on a farm and there were llamas in the paddock. We decided to grab the guitarlele and go over and sing the llama song to them. If you don’t know the song, you can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1fPYc5zyvcU

The llamas stood and stared at us with a crazed intense madness in their eyes. We tried not to show how scared we were and carried on singing at them. Then one of the llamas started peeing a never ending stream of pee. It just kept coming and coming and coming. A giant puddle formed beneath his legs. The other llama then joined in, peeing in sync with the other. This carried on for about 5 minutes when they finally ran out of pee. Then they started towards us. Lynda and I screamed, then ran, clearly thinking they were going to attack us. We thought we might have to sing the sheep shank redemption song. It looked like the llamas were going to cross the stream which separated us, but they stopped to take a drink. We all breathed a sigh of relief as we realised they were just refuelling, topping up their pee tanks.

Thankfully the evening ended about 8pm and we all headed off to bed, except for Katherine who partied on into the night.

The third day we awoke feeling refreshed and ready to party again. Ok, not really, but we certainly felt better than the day before. We attended a bbq at Kasia’s parents place. It was a hot sunny day, food was laid out on the table and the home made vodka was doing the rounds. There was a relaxed vibe as everyone started to wind down. We would like to have stayed longer, but because of some vodka induced decision we had decided to start our 6 week cycle tour a day earlier than originally planned, so we had to leave the bbq after a few hours. This turned out to be a big mistake for us, and had we not done this, we might still be cycle touring.

It’s the day we have come half way around the world for. It’s Dave and Kasia’s wedding day. We drove from Berlin to Gryfino in Poland. John followed us as it was his first time driving on the wrong side of the road. Mike made sure he ran every amber light, so that John would be forced to run red lights. It was a good initiation to driving in Europe for brother John.

Despite running red lights we made it to Gryfino in one piece. We found our allocated rooms which we were all happy with, except for Lynda who had been allocated a shoe box. Dave was at the venue and he was being followed by a photographer. They had put a mic on him so that everything he said was recorded. He told us about this, but one minute later we forgot so no doubt we have embarrassed ourselves before the Vodka shots even began.

We all hopped on a bus to go to the blessing at Kasia’s parents place. It was such a fun atmosphere on the bus and we even attempted to sing “Dave’s Responsible for the family name.” The blessing itself was an emotional affair. It’s the first time the groom sees the bride, unlike NZ where it happens at the church or venue. Kasia looked stunning as she glided down the stairs in her diamond studded dress. I could tell Dave was trying hard not to cry and I felt his emotion. The blessing took place in the living room, then we all piled on the bus again and headed for the church.

We found our seats in the church, only to be told we were sitting on the wrong side. That was Mike’s fault for leading us astray. We all moved to the “correct” side of the church and waited in anticipation. Excited chatter bounced around the walls in a language we didn’t understand. I felt embarrassed. Between us we managed to learn Spanish, French and German before we came away, but none of us made an effort to learn Polish. Now we were being punished as the strange words reverberated around us, taunting us, saying, I told you so. Or not. I can’t speak Polish so I’ll never know.

A nervous Dave stood at the altar trying to look brave, but his body language betrayed him. He looked dapper in his dark blue suit and tie, his hair gelled to perfection. I tried to catch his eye, but he seemed to be deep in thought, possibly thinking about his big responsibility to carry on the family name. Or not. I can’t read thoughts so I’ll never know.

A hush descended upon the crowd and the first few chords of ‘Here comes the Bride’ rang out from above. I pushed images of banana skins and fat brides from my mind. I always have problems in churches. I either have an uncontrollable desire to either giggle or cry.

All eyes were focussed on Kasia as she walked down the aisle, her proud father beaming at her side. I snuck a glance at my nephew and noticed his eyes were moist with emotion. I felt myself begin to well up, so I looked away and thought of happy thoughts. I didn’t want to blow my cover and become the sobbing Auntie.

A young and rather good looking priest ran the show. He performed the service in both English and Polish. We had been warned about long Catholic weddings, but it was like being at the theatre. The priest talked in his sexy accent, chanted for a bit, then the musicians would kick in with a soulful tune designed to bring tears to even the hardest of Aunties.

Dave and Kasia said their vows, kissy kissied, then it was all over. Mr and Mrs Millington led us to the party. We arrived at the reception venue (which was also where we were staying), and found our seats. There were two bottles of vodka on the table and some shot glasses. There was no way I would be doing any shots. Dave brought me my own special bottle of white wine. It was inscribed “Jo, you can sing, signed Wine.” I was really chuffed and felt so special.

Then the party started. We ate food, we drank wine, we did vodka shots and we danced the night away. Those two bottles of vodka I mentioned earlier were replenished several times by the waiting staff. As soon as one was finished, another one would come out. So all this talk about not doing vodka shots was lies. We all did them, even Barry.

At about midnight the games started. Mike and I got roped into a couples game called musical underpants. It’s like musical chairs, but with underpants. How it worked was, one of the couples would put on the underpants and when the music stopped, they would remove the underpants and their partner would have to put them on. The last couple to get the underpants on would be evicted from the game. I should probably point out that the underpants were going on top of our clothes. No naked bits were exposed (except on the last day, but more of that later). It turned out that Mike and I were really good at it, despite my leg being through the pee pee hole at one stage. Thankfully nobody noticed and we won!. Yep, we did and we won a bottle of Vodka each. How awesome is that!

At 4am the band stopped and we had to leave. It was already light outside as we staggered back to our rooms. I took some paracetamol, put on my sleeping mask (to block out the light) and passed out. Day one of the wedding was complete.

We spent the morning sightseeing around Ghent. It’s still pretty cold, but at least it hasn’t been raining. We hit the road just after 11am. The drive on the motorway was pretty boring so we got off it for a bit. Then the drive became really slow, but more scenic at least. It’s been mostly flat green countryside. I’ve been a bit slack on photos.

I had planned to have a hangover in Hanover, but only got as far as Munster. We stayed in an overpriced hotel and they would not negotiate on price. We went out to a Greek restaurant across the road. We had no idea what we were ordering and ended up with a giant platter of meat and not much else. We couldn’t even eat half of it. They put it in a doggy bag for us, so that is breakfast I guess. There doesn’t seem to be much in Munster, so we can’t be bothered to do any sightseeing.

Next stop, Berlin.

We got up at the ridiculous hour of 5am. It’s actually not as bad as it sounds as the sun starts coming up at 4.30am. We left early to try and avoid the rush hour traffic around Farnborough and as a result, we arrived at the Dover ferry terminal 2 hours early. It was just as well, as Mike spent about an hour trying to fit the low beam adapters on the headlights.

The crossing to France took 2 hours, and it was nice and calm. We had planned to drive as far as Breda in the Netherlands, but at 4.30pm we decided to stop at Ghent in Belgium and are glad we did. It’s a picturesque town with buildings dating back to 942. That’s 942, the year. We are talking over 1000 years ago!

We stopped at the first hotel we saw and negotiated free parking and a room with a view overlooking the square and cathedrals and other old things. We headed out for a bit of sightseeing and found  a crowded restaurant which we figured must be good. Even though it was freezing, everyone was eating outdoors overlooking the river. The waitress sat us at a table between two other couples, banquet style.

I ordered a giant pot of mussels and Mike had the sardines. Oh, and we had the Westmalle Triple, a wonderfully fragrant beer designed by monks. The alcohol content was 9.5%. To keep with the triple theme, I had three of them. Say no more!

Drinking Westmalle Triple

Ghent, Belgium

Ghent, Belgium

I was dreaming of giant Coronas and limes when something jolted me from my slumber. I looked up and there was a vision of Ems standing in our room with what appeared to be an ipad in her hands. Her mouth was moving but there was no sound. Mike was in bed beside me. He appeared to be talking to her, but it was all just a mime to me. I figured it was some kind of weird dream, so I plonked back down and tried to conjure up the soothing image of that giant Corona. I felt Mike get out of bed.

“What’s happening?” I asked. His lips moved but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. It was like I had gone comfortably deaf in my sleep.

“I can’t hear you?” I said.

Again, his lips moved, but no sound came out. “Speak louder, I can’t hear you.” I yelled.

“Well take your bloody ear plugs out then.”

Oh yeah, I had forgotten about them. Mike has a cold and was snoring in his sleep, so I had shoved them in before I went to bed. I removed them from my ears and suddenly all was clear.

“Ems is just on her way to the hospital. Her waters broke an hour ago and contractions are every 3 minutes.” he said. I assumed this meant the baby was coming. I looked at the clock. It was 3.27am.

I eventually got back to my dream of the giant Corona, my own waistline expanding like a pregnant woman as I drank it. At 6.30am Mike’s alarm went off. Except it wasn’t his alarm. It was his phone. Nick was calling to say that Ems had given birth to a little girl. I’m a Nana again!

Anyway, that was the big excitement for the day. In other news, we bought a car and are heading off on a road trip on Monday.