Tromboning in Hamburg.

09.09.2009 Hamburg, Germany


We thought we had lost the sun for the rest of the year.

Today, however, it decided to come back to play, allowing us to hold out on our black clothes and splash a bit of colour around - just for a little while longer.

But all the signs are there. Autumn is well and truly moving in, as the leaves fill the footpaths and gutters and make it a little tricky for us Dahon collapsable bike riders with our low slung, leaf-trap mudguards. The German bikes, like their cars and women, are built to last and cover any terrain. Leaves, logs and little dogs-not a problem. They have frames like Panzer tanks and our delicate Dahons are clearly no match - should we tangle.


Back in the saddle again after a three city hiatus and I have to admit it is not easy. Enjoyable for the magnificent views, along the canals and the Alster River, through the parks and the strictly neat, clean streets. In all directions the roads are lined by enormous elegant white homes with large green gardens and often a pier, and a small personal army of domestic staff. The ride to Natalia's takes about an hour down to the South West of Hamburg near the fish markets and the landing dock for the big boats.
An hour IF the wind is in my favor. But it could be worse - it could be raining or we could still be in Duisburg or I could be descending down the street at rapid speed because I have no traction on my twenty aussie dollar blue Repco bike "bought from Bob off the back of a truck" in Canberra, now accessorised with expensive European saddle bags which don't help with traction one bit. But no, I now have a DAHON and the blue Repco has been retired as the family vehicle when piggy backing is required.

So whilst I continue training, Steven has retired from playing with his balls, I mean bells. Musical bells that is. Remember in Vienna, same time last year, leaves falling, Autumn, back to back boys birthday celebrations, he would sit on our neon rooftop in that restored former asylum for schizophrenic artists and as a distraction from Spanish immigration, IRS investigation, ATO assessment and a North Coast renovation, he would play with his balls, I mean bells. (Technically speaking - they are tuned alpine cow bells or Alpenglocken). Well with constant practice he got quite good and could play a very cheery version of "Idle Vice" (sic), a lovely rendition of "O Sole Mio" and my personal sing-along favorite, "I love to go a-wandering along the mountain track...".

I think it is because we prevented him buying a second hand pair of leder hosen at the markets, or he is just tired of playing with them but now he has moved on to the Trombone. It takes up the same amount of room but is noisier. To add to this he stumbled upon a mini soprano trombone for Enzo so he doesn't have to play alone. Our luggage on tour includes two trombones, a set of musical bells, a keyboard, a guitar, a musical saw, a drum pad, a ventriloquist mask, a ventriloquist dummy, the krups coffee machine, an entire circus kit of playmobil, some rather secret Russian herbs that perform magic to a basic pasta sauce, a printer/scanner, several pairs of cowboy boots, 6 hoola hoops, 4 sets of juggling pins, a trombone silencer, a fair number of women's shoes and up until Europe, Steven's Dad. (His ashes were cerimonally distributed off the rocks at Hillary's Harbour in Perth with Steven following the kindly Maroochydore Undertakers piece of advice : "make sure you cast 'em with a back wind - otherwise yull wear Dad. .")

And who do you think is in charge of packing all these lovely toys. Not the boy in the corner playing with his balls, I mean bells, .......
I mean trombone.



We have just been informed we have to make an itemised list of all our luggage contents for Moscow by tomorrow. (It included a memo which stipulated "no firearms or alcohol"..I guess it needed to be mentioned after the BBQ and lighting fuel found stashed in with the costumes.)

The sun continued to shine when, at 6 pm, the school shuttle dropped the children back to Halfhohbahn (sic) (Hoheluftbrucke) and we could not go home. Instead we walked the opposite direction up the smaller canal following queues of bikers, joggers and pram buggies. People were having picnics and barbeques throughout the park, milking up the end of the summer break. We watched young canoeists traveling up the canal water ways and decided that was our next mission, to secure a raft or sea vessel and paddle as far as we can. The canal actually runs to our back door so we shall have to see if we can secure access onto the pier......Rrrrrrr.


Enjoy your music. Wishing you safe travels.

Peace, love and laughter,

Cathryn, Clown and Clan - on the bike again, in Hamburg.