Schweich – Zum Fahrturm – ACSI2010-575 contd
Wednesday, we cycle to Trier, reputedly the oldest town in Germany. It is an easy 22 mile round trip, mostly along the banks of the River Moselle.
The first task on arrival, is a drink, we have just cycled 11 miles, no, not alcohol, we have a very pleasant Café Latte Machiata.
Trier is quite a large place, this is one of the old city gates, called “Porta Nigra”, which I assume translates (from the Latin) as “Black Gate”.
The Cathedral is very impressive too, clearly the German attention to quality and detail, is not a recent development, since the quality and detail of the stone carving etc is truly amazing.
For me personally, the cloisters where probably the most impressive, so beautifully kept and so peaceful.
Once we had our fill of culture and piety, we get down to more worldly matters, Trier is a large place and has an excellent shopping centre. I have managed to avoid shops, markets etc for most of this trip, I have to give in occasionally.
We first of all buy two tops at a shop called M&S. It looks very much like Marks and Spencer, but I am not sure if it actually is.
Then the hunt is on for a pair of white pants. Kathleen has been coveting a pair like those worn by our German neighbour at Bernkastel.
The obvious thing to have done of course was to have asked her where she bought them and then go there, or go on the intyernet and buy them. But that would not be nearly as much fun for a woman.
So we begin a relentless search of every clothes shop in Trier.
I must admit, it is not entirely without it’s lighter moments for me, as I sit outside of numerous changing rooms waiting for madam to emerge.
I get to observe that German women are every bit as obsessed by the “does my bum look big in this” question as English women, since every single one of them (if they are trying on pants, shorts, a skirt or a dress), as they emerge from the changing cubicle, to view their potential bargain in the mirror, turn first to look at their bottom!
It so happens there are a few very attractive bottoms as well.
Success at last, we find a shop which has not one, but three pairs which potentially suit the bill.
I am waiting outside of the changing cubicles with a fellow sufferer (a German man, his wife is in another cubicle), his enthusiastic thumbs up, to the view of Kathleen’s bottom in the second potential purchase, clinches it.
I am so pleased the ordeal of shopping is over, and we can now retire to a bar, I rashly offer to pay for the pants.
After a couple of delightful cold beers, we set of to cycle back to the campsite. Kathleen peddles with enthusiasm.
I suppose I should be pleased, the running costs are not high, a couple of tops and a pair of pants, 25 Euro to get 22 miles of enjoyment, that’s only roughly 1 Euro per mile!
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