Gaby Book 28 ~ Balancing Trick ~ Chapter *12*

Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
Cramp sucks and muscular leg cramps really are the pits, the excrutiating pain, the inability to do anything about it, the only good thing this time was that it wasn’t me wracked with pain. Sounds a bit harsh I know, I do have sympathy for Mand and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone but, yeah, I’m just glad its not me whimpering on the bench. Dieter arrived after a couple of minutes, Sonja’s ministrations had managed to lessen de Vreens squeals but as I know from experience, that relief can be all too brief.

Herr Luchow put his beer down and started issuing instructions.

"Okay, the rest of you go change, the bus is in the carpark by the entrance, Gret has the key, Josh, Daz, put the bikes in the trailer, make sure you lock it,” he handed Josh some keys.

It didn’t feel exactly right to just leave Mand but the Luchow’s are in charge this weekend and its not like Dad would’ve done anything different.

"Come back when you’re done, if you bring your Stempelkartes you can get a ride certificate.”
"What about Mand?” I asked, watching as Sonja massaged the afflicted’s leg.
"Greta’s bringing the med kit, we’ll soon have her back on her feet.”
 

The lads double handed their own bikes along with Gret and Mand’s and we headed through the crowds back out the way we so recently entered the park. It wasn’t far, maybe two hundred metres but clomping along in bike shoes that far isn’t ideal so footwear was removed and we carefully walked barefoot on the warm tarmac the rest of the way. Gret was just locking the bus up when Tal and i got there a bit ahead of the lads.

"How is she?”
"Still squealing like a pig,” Tali advised.
"Tal!” I admonished.
"Well she is.”
"Even so.”
"Well I’d best get back with this,” Gret stated.
"See you in a bit,” I called after her as she jogged away with the cycling equivalent of a magic sponge grasped in one hand.

We hadn’t exactly brought a lot down from Berlin, yes we had a change of footwear and us girls had fresh underwear to put on but that was about it. Tal and I did the clothing change shuffle in the hired bus, a Volkswagen Sprinter that gave us plenty of room, certainly more than the usual nine seaters we get having six single seats in the back rather than the usual shared seat arrangements. I was glad to lose my damp BH, sweaty bras are just so gross and after a hundred and fifty kilometres, mine was a bit aromatic too.

I found a pack of wet wipe things amongst the coffee stuff from earlier which allowed us to freshen things up a bit – not ideal but better than nothing. By the time we were done the lads had the bikes secured and after they’d had a quick wipe down we locked up and headed back into the event headquarters.
 

Manda certainly looked better when we found them, they’d relocated to some seats under a sort of awning affair that offered some respite from the sun.

"You okay Manda hen?” Josh asked.
"A lot,” de Vreen allowed.
"You gonna be okay for tomorrow?” I asked.
"She should be,” Dieter suggested, "Plenty of electrolytes and a dose of potassium should do the trick.”
"So what are we doing now?” Daz enquired.
"Well I suggest you get your certificates first then you can enjoy the entertainment for a while. We’ll be eating later, I’ve got a place booked,” Dieter told us.
"Didn’t you guys bring a change of clothing?” Gret asked.
"Only like underwear,” I admitted in a low voice.
"Well you can’t spend the rest of the day in that stuff,” Sonja opined.
"We’re okay,” Josh stated.
"Hmmph!” Frau Luchow retorted.
"Lets get these stertificates sorted and I fancy eis, you coming Mand?” I enquired.
"I’ll give it a go.”
"Okay, we’ll stay here but eis would be nice,” Dieter hinted.
 

There was a row of small marquees along the far side of the small arena, a queue snaking away from the central one. We made our way through the multitude of our fellow participants and their supporters, eating, drinking and reliving their exploits out on the roads of Brandenburg. It didn’t take long to ascertain that the queue was indeed for the certificates and so we joined, adding our own reminisces of the day in the saddle to those around us while we waited.

"Dunno why we need these,” Gret mentioned unfolding her Stempelkarte which, like the rest of us’, was now rather dogeared and damp from a day in our jersey pockets.
"Proof?” Tal suggested.
"Of what,” Daz asked.
"That we rode all the route I guess,” Mand offered.
"Seems a bit anal just for a bit of paper,” Daz observed.

The PA system crackled into life with a rendition of Billy Joel’s Uptown Girls and a few girly yells pulled our attention to the ‘arena’. The squeals were from what I assumed by their attire, were the local cheerleaders, around a dozen girls in light blue leotards and short skirts waving poms enthusiastically above their heads. Well you know what its like, much like racing bikes, once a cheerleader always a cheerleader, ‘professional’ interest and all that.

They were enthusiastic, I’ll give them that, I guess that the ‘wilds’ of eastern Germany are still a bit country yokel compared to the west nearly two decades since reunification. They might be driving Audis instead of Trabants, eating Maccy D’s and so on but they’ve still got some catching up to do in some areas of life. Exposure to American culture is one of those things and the ‘Lübbeneers’ reflect that.

The display involved a lot of pom waving, a few simple gymnastic set pieces and some jumping about. I found myself comparing what I was watching to the All Stars and the Foresters and they came up short, well I don’t suppose they have the sort of coaching that the groups I’ve been involved in have had. I found myself thinking how their routine could be improved and so on, if I was in charge I’d…

"Gab, come on,” Mand urged, "You can shake your poms on Monday.”

Am I that transparent? We shuffled along for another ten minutes before reaching the printing department, our cards were checked and after a short wait the printer whirred and clanked before spitting out the ‘coveted’ certificates. Half an hour queueing, two minutes checking details, thirty seconds printing, job done.

If there’s one thing I miss in Germany its ice cream vans, I’m not saying they don’t exist but back in England an event like today there would almost certainly be at least one Mr Whippy or the like offering 99’s, ice lollies and so on. But we aren’t in England so we have a trailer thing doing, in todays case, just plain waffle cones in two sizes, kinder or standard.

"I’ll get these,” I told my companions, "Your parents both have one Gret?”
"Just dad, mum can’t stand this sort, it has to be chocolate from the Greschke shop in Cottbus.”
"Okay, everyone else?”
"Please,” Daz enthused.
"As you’re offering hen,” Josh added.

And so it came to pass that we returned with our ice creams to the awning where we found Dieter Luchow sat on his own nursing what was left of his beer.

"How’s the leg Amanda?”
"Still a bit sore,” de Vreen replied, subconsciously giving it a quick rub.
"Well that’s good news,” Dieter allowed.
"Where’s mum?” Gret asked.
"Running an errand, she’ll be back shortly, lets see these certificates then and we’d best get a photo or two of you all with your gurken for George.”
We stayed at the festival for another hour or so, there were würst to eat, cold drinks to, well drink and entertainment to watch, all in the company of a couple of thousand fellow Radfahrer from tots to octagenarians, well quite old anyhow.

"We should get back to Berlin,” Tal proposed as the shadows started to lengthen.
"I guess,” I agreed, "Gret, you think your dad will drop us at the station?”
"Duh, dinner!”

Okay, I hadn’t so much forgotten but I’ve been snacking so didn’t have a burning need for food.
"Dad? We going to dinner? I think Gab’s is hungry.”

Huh!

Dieter checked his watch, "Okay, we’re a bit early for the restaurant but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

We gathered our stuff and headed out to our transport.
 

"This looks a bit posh,” Mand suggested when we pulled up at what looked like one of those expensive country hotels a few minutes drive from Lübben.
"Are we gonna be okay dressed like this?” I asked.
"Never fear, Sonja’s here,” Gret’s mum sang out, turning to face us from the front of the bus. "Nothing fancy but its not cycling gear, I think they should all fit, Gaby,” she passed a bag back for me and the others in turn except for her daughter.

The contents turned out to be clothing from Kik, the Lidl of the textile and clothing world here in Germany. The lads each had a pair of cargo shorts and a polo shirt, Tal and Mand similar outfits but in more girly colours.

"Sorry about the dress Gaby, they hadn’t got any shorts in your size.”
"Er thanks for getting this stuff.”
"Yeah we should’ve thought things out better,” Tali told our dresser.
"Right lads, with me,” Dieter ordered, "Lets find you somewhere to change.”

We were parked in a quiet corner of the car park so we weren’t on view as we stripped to our undies, our slightly wiffy bike gear deposited in a carrier bag, only Mand needed to strip further but we’re none of us shy. Gret of course had packed a denim skirt and sun top, oh how I wished there had been shorts in my size at Kik. Don’t get me wrong here, I was grateful that Sonja had got us this stuff, it was just that the dress was, well, a bit embarrassing.

I know I’m a short arse and a bit on the skinny side but really, a size one six eight? Its not that it didn’t fit but it was clearly meant for a girl somewhat younger than my seventeen years.

"Nice frock Bond,” Manda spluttered when I stood to tug it into place.
"Sorry Gaby, I didn’t realise it had that on it,” Sonja apologised.

Could it have been worse? It could’ve been pink or covered in frills so yes it could be worse but that doesn’t mean a lot. As dresses go it was quite plain, a sort of dark lavender stretch fit t-shirt style that just about concealed the tan line from my cycling shorts, so far so good. No it was the glittery unicorn printed across my bosom that was the issue, I must look about ten!
"I’ll live,” I sighed.

If you know my history you’ll know that I only really started wearing dresses and skirts when I was thirteen, as a child neither I nor my sister had anything like this in our wardrobes. And now, well sparkly unicorns might look cute on an eight year old, not sure I’d agree on that even but on a young woman…

 
We were still a bit early to dine but we were accommodated at a table, drinks ordered and my embarrassment largely passed, Dieter called us to order.

"We might as well go through tomorrow now as later. So, I’ll take all the bikes home tonight, give them the once over and bring them up in the morning. You need to be ready with your luggage at eight thirty, its not far to the event but I’d rather be early than late. Everyone okay so far?”

"Aye,” Josh answered, nods and grunts from the rest of us agreeing to that.

"Right then, the race itself is one big lap around the Wannsee then you do a couple of laps around Sansoucci before the finish in the palace grounds, we’ll take in most of the circuit on the way but it’s basically flat with just a couple of short rises, a lot flatter than where you were last week, more like today in severity.”
"Billiard table,” Daz suggested.
"Not quite,” Dieter told us, "But its finished with a bunch sprint all but once in the last ten years – I checked with the organisers.”
"Maybe its time for a change this year like,” Josh opined.
"Perhaps we need a magical beast to help us,” Mand chortled.

And I’d nearly forgotten what I was wearing, I’ll get you de Vreen!

"I think we plan for the big gallop,” Dieter went on ignoring Manda’s comment.
"Aye,” Josh agreed, "Keep the pace high and get our champion to the front at the end.”
"Couldn’t we just mash ‘em on the circuit?” I asked.
"Make a decision in the morning,” Dieter suggested, "You’ve had my input, you’re the ones riding, Josh you’re road captain.”
"Is there a feed at all?” Tali enquired.
"Yes there is, just before you join the finishing circuit at about fifty kilometres, oh and there is neutral service if you need it.”
"Hope not,” Gret mentioned.

Things descended into more general chatter, tales from last week’s riding experiences in both the NRW and Wallonie and the more general chit chat that, especially teenage girls indulge in. It felt like an age but it was probably no more than thirty minutes before one of the table staff arrived with menus. Having at least pretentions of grandeur the Spree Heide Hotel’s offerings at first glance looked quite pretentious but once you’d translated the French into German, most of it was standard fare maybe with a fancy sauce.

Considering the prices, I wasn’t that impressed, my Côtelette Camembert was okay I guess but i would’ve preferred some proper salad to the grated carrot and what looked like dandelion leaves and a few more boiled taters than the five tiny things on my plate. I wasn’t paying so I felt a little better ordering a Créme Bruleé which arrived aflame as it should. Their coffee was a bit urgh though, far too bitter – I needed three sugars to make it palatable.

"Okay,” Dieter started as we finished our coffees, "Lets get you to the station, I know Dave would suggest an early night and I know that probably isn’t going to happen but you should at least be near your beds.”
"Ah don’t think we’ll be oot on tha toon Deetah,” Josh posited.
"Yeah, they wouldn’t let little miss unicorn in and it wouldn’t be fair to leave her with a sitter,” Mand almost brayed.

Seriously? You can go off people and de Vreen was starting to get on my wick.

"Just be ready when we get there please.”
"We will,” Tal promised on our collective behalf.
 
There didn’t seem much point taking our bike shoes and helmets back and Sonja insisted on taking our dirty gear from earlier home to launder, without the bikes either we were able to snag upper deck seats when the RE7 slid into Lübben barely five minutes after the Lüchows dropped us off. Josh and Tali cuddled on one seat, me Mand and Daz sprawled around a double seat a couple of rows away. It wasn’t exactly late, only just turned eight but the earlyish start and riding a hundred and fifty kilometres had taken their toll and I found myself dozing off.
 

"Bond!”
"Eh?”
I felt my shoulder being shaken, "Wake up, we’re in Berlin hen.”

And?

I cracked an eye, "Hmm?”
"We’re gonna do some sightseeing like.”
"Hotel?” I mumbled, “’snearly dark.”
"Come on Gab, Daz and Mand haven’t been before,” Tal stated, "We can get a sightseeing bus, see the sights.”
"Get a snack before we go back to the hotel,” Daz tempted.

Well that clinched it, we got off at Alexander Platz as the light faded from the heavens, replaced by manmade illumination. There were still a fair number of tourists about as we wandered past the TV tower, yours truly acting as tour guide based on my memories from the school trip. After looking for the now stopped tourist buses we instead caught a one hundred, Tal insisting that we sit upstairs, the Berlin double deckers being a rarity in Germany.

Not in England though, as we made our way past the Dom and onto Unter den Linden my mind wandered off to memories of bus trips from Warsop, up to Worksop or down to Mansfield then occasionally further to Nottingham or even Sheffield. Innocent days with my friends, some of which I’ve not seen for best part of a year or more, back then we were joined at the hip.

I was jerked from my daydreaming, quite literally, by Manda dragging me out of the seat.

"Come on Gab, we’re getting off.”
"Where are we,” I asked squinting into the darkness beyond the glass.
"Near that big gate thing,” my tormentor suggested.
"Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

After all, everyone is entitled to see the Brandenburg Gate in all its floodlit glory.
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023