Problems – one by one – resolved with right Intention

So, my arrival in Berlin, after the Russian man saw that FIXBus in Paris wasn’t acknowledging the Iberiabusline receipt for my Flixbus bicycle ticket which the annoyed Fixbus line Portuguese man had me pay, despite my repeated pleas that it was indeed a Flixbus line.This man approached me and told me the story of his Russian wife not being allowed to enter GB (and that he drove around with her for a wonderful 12 days and then drove across the border to allow her to enter England. He paid for a later bus from Paris to Hamburg, Hamburg to Berlin each with the bicycle sorted. It was not a FIXbus line.This assured me the ride to Berlin and allowed me to stay several more hours in Paris. I made my way to the other side of this woodsy park on a Sunday afternoon, dragging a heavy bag. I found a café restaurant open with a group of several families, from Cypress Greece I discoved. I ordered a cappuccino then rather than a breakfast, a pizza. It was huge, I ate all of it. I liked all the staff, my waiter and the (cat de la maison) of the house, who came to lounge on the chairs after the families left. They had WiFi, and one plug to recharge. The cat which appeared was not after  crumbs, he/she receives ample food. He merely wanted to lounge in the late afternoon on the empty chairs. 

Terrace Berry 102 Rue De Berry 75192 Paris

Terrace Berry Paris – Chat de Maison – Cat of the house

Sufficed with food, I headed to the bus, then had to sample the 2nd song that these local

https://share.icloud.com/photos/0343-Qkfc-UmDJH07_iEYzzQA weight lifter guys outside the underground bus station in the park, were playing French rap, as multiple guys choreographed their exercises, weights, swinging on bars rigorously, showing off 6 pack stomachs. Prior to this, after walking back and forth across the entire underground station, inquiring to numerous people about the missing keys, a lost and found, receiving only negative nods, that doesn’t exist, I spotted the black plastic top of what looked like my kryptonite bike lock key, which suddenly appeared after the 7th time looking at the same parking lot spots. What? No way? I hastily walked towards it, picked it up {broken at the top} and went to my bicycle. It slid into the lock! The most important item of the missing key chain. Unbelievable. Blessed!

I made it to Berlin via Hamburg. Upon arriving, I had to sit a bit, collect myself. Asked a group of police how to ride to Hackeshir Markt. The chief among them pointed to where I’d find Kaiserdamm, the main road past the Siegelseule towards the Fernsehturm and the Brandenburg Gait. I intended to make it to Montbijou park, where I read about a meetup that day, thinking I’d ask the group attending the BYO food, jam session, about housing. As I passed these tanks where years earlier I’d taken a phot of a 9 year old n the crowd before the Love Parade, sitting right in front of this displayed tank’s firing trunk and thought to myself, if it rains, I will sleep under the tank, high above the ground, protected from moisture, insects and hidden from people.

Plenty of people showed up for this event, which I finally located, after listening to a horn and drum Ukrainian orchestra band. Half the guys were in IT, half were of Indian descent. Everyone of the people told me how difficult and challenging housing in Berlin had become. And expensive, because of you guys in the IT business I pointed out with amusement.

Very much later, after 2am, I rode towards this tank, first eating my remaining food, sitting illegally at the outside tables of a hotel roped off, sitting befor the Brandenburg tor, where 4 young girls with long hair giggled taking selfies, then 4 young guys approached the same space.I chose one then the other tank, sort of hid my bicycle. Obviously not hidden enough. I slept slightly under the tank, a Russian monument to its military weaponry. I was woken up from a profoundly deep sleep 4.5 hours after laying down in my sleeping bag under the tank by a Police Officer saying loudly “Guten Morgen”! I slept on the concrete block displaying the historical Russian army tank, my first night in Berlin. There were no inexpensive hostels. I got up, out of my sleeping bag, put on my sneakers and jumped down to stuff it into its case. The police officer had walked away, but was still in view. I deliberately chose to not walk away, but right by him, up these stairs, I said “es ist nass” – it is wet, pointing to the grass – I was 5 feet up on a block of concrete, very dry. He answered, not grumpy, nor angry, perhaps slightly amused, “Es hat geregnet”. It rained.

I was going to go to the other side of the Tiergarten park, then changed my mind, and went back towards Mitte, wanting to find this bakery I remembered with great bread. Didn’t find it, but did find a spot to eat breakfast, then another place with WiFi and a girl standing up to leave the one table adjacent to an electrical receptacle. I had 2% battery left. 

The key had been found. Two days before when I felt a foreboding, bicycling the several miles over the mountain to a train station, where just as I was reaching he peak of the hill, suddenly my bike chain dangled. There were hardly any cars. One elder man sitting in a tripuck, headed in the opposite direction. He said there were houses ahead. I walked, coasted, then spotted 5 or 6 Portuguese men hanging outside a garage with several motorcycles and cars. I pointed to my bicycle. The one guy made it clear that he was   not a bicycle mechanic, but shied me he car gear mechanics he built. Yet, he looked at my bicycle, disappeared into his garage, came back with a screw, then another, which was the right size. In the mean time, two of the guys took off in the car, and he explained to wait until they came back. One of the younger guys pulled out his phone with google translate, and we exchanged some sentences. There would be a number of trains from Estarreja to Aveiro. I had time. My Flixbus was the next morning at 7am. Then the two guys returned in the car and handed the guy a rusty derailleur from one of their old bicycles. The mechanic took it apart, attached this also to my bike, adjusted the front part of it over the middle chain, and ai was now able to pedal – still only a third of the gears available since the first bus from Lisbon to Aveiro had snapped the shifter as he shoved it into the bus (after at first refusing to allow me on at all). When I thankfully went to my purse to pull out a 10€ note, the guy vigorously shook his head, no, no, he would not accept payment. This caused me to tear up, already sleep,deprived.

When I finally figured out where to catch the FLIXBUS, I went there to park my bicycle, prior to approaching the hotel where ai had left my luggage in a separate town weeks earlier, and then vanished. When I finally walked into the hotel, I was super surprised and relieved to be greeted by the smiling face of the young hotel desk guy who initially allowed me to clandestinely leave my baggage there, giving me three tags. He had me point out which was mine, because they were going to be bombarded with luggage. He told me that if I’d waited several more days, they might have called the police to declare left luggage and a missing person. He was very friendly, and told me the story of his life, his period of homelessness, then he ushered me outside, where he could openly tell me the story of how he got there. That he used to sell drugs. I said, what marijuana? He said no, all kinds. Then one day he returned to his apt which had been torn apart, in shambles, with the threat to pay 10,000€ or he and his mother would be killed. They gave him two days. His mother left to stay with another relative. He left within two hours with just the clothes he had on and 50€? He showed me a video of the music group he was in, of himself with short dreads, he had been the lead singer. He showed me the picture of another guy in the video who was in the band, who was the person who turned on him. He told me of his travels, escape, living on the streets, dropping his identity, that many of his friends still don’t know of his whereabouts. That eventually he turned his life around. That he was blessed when he arrived to this town, found the job, and an apt right away. Blessed by God for having the right intention. He left me with this uplifting story. My luggage had been safe. He accepted the 10€ note for having taken care of my luggage. Showed me the music video. Talked of being in a really good place in his life. Talked of his curiosity, of people he has met through this job.

So the bicycle was fixed in Portugal enough for me to ride it presently. The bus ride to Berlin resurrected by the Russian observer of the Fixbus corruption and the bicycle lock key found. And a German girl ( she and her boyfriend also had bicycles) informed the driver as he was about to leave without me , that there was still someone inside after the 10 minute break, where I brushed my teeth and almost missed the bus as he started pulling away. I call it FIXBUS, because only a few USB ports and electrical receptacles worked. The WiFimdidnt work at all. The drivers were far from customer service oriented. Another French/Portuguese woman teacher and her mother were horrified with their experience on an earlier FLIXBUS, when they had been left behind though returning to the bus in the allotted time and had to take a taxi and train, to catch up with their bus.

Now in Berlin, I’m in this café using the internet to explore northern Italy, which the Thai French speaking wine dealer woman at the remote hostel who consistently travels throughout Europe, told me that northern Italy, north of Verona, is the best place to live in Europe. Best quality of life, best educated people, most efficient transportation due to the influence of bordering Austria, and where many people ride bicycles. Then I saw today a message from one of he sons of my pastor in a palmyra, Pennsylvania home town who lives in Berlin, saying that he sent me a message when he saw that I was in Berlin,which I’m about to look at.