Freddy Fritz, from Germany to Thailand by bike
I have said for a long time that it is almost harder to find a travel partner than a spouse. While I was taking photos at the start of the Pamir Highway in Tajikistan, I met the one who would become an incredible traveling companion for two months. And because our cycling experiences are very similar, this is almost an interview with myself so much I recognize myself in his answers.
Here are five questions to the German Frederic Fritz.
1- Tell us a bit about yourself and your bike trip.
Pierre and Freddy, with our host Davlat, in Tajikistan.
I'm Frederic Fritz, but people call me Freddy. I come from a small village in the south of the Black Forest in Germany.
In 2016, my friend Pierre (from Paris, Editor's note) and I left Europe to cycle to China. Without a specific route, we followed the Danube to the Black Sea, entering Bulgaria, then Turkey, Georgia, Armenia and Iran. We then passed through Tajikistan - where we met Jonathan - and part of Kyrgyzstan before entering China.
I then continued by train alone to southern China where I drove to Laos, Thailand, then Burma again with Jonathan.
2- How did you decide to go on such an adventure?
After high school, I went to Australia for eight months, and I continued to travel as much as possible during my university studies.
Backpacking in Laos, I realized how difficult it was to meet local people and learn about their lives by only walking around on public transport.
I wanted to get to know people, nature and different cultures, but I was just meeting other tourists like me on the buses.
The people I really wanted to talk to, and the nature I wanted to be in, were on the other side of the window. It was when I saw two cyclists coming down a mountain that I knew I was going to do the same.
Freddy explaining his bike trip with gestures.
3- Can you share with us a memorable memory of your trip?
I'm having trouble choosing just one. I have experienced so much human generosity, seen so many beautiful landscapes and have surpassed myself so physically that I could share one memory a day.
However, I do remember stopping one afternoon at a very small store in Burma when it was raining heavily. There I was invited by a young couple of barely twenty, already with a three-year-old girl, to rest in the "living room", a small room behind their kiosk.
The bedroom was about five square meters and the living room three. There was no water, no toilet, and all slept directly on the dirt floor. They lent me dry clothes and offered me food. They didn't speak a word of English and I didn't speak Burmese, but I could understand their friendliness and hospitality. But I felt like I was taking what little they had from them. I tried to leave a few times but the rain wouldn't stop and they wouldn't let me go.
In Burma, the government prohibits people from inviting foreigners to their homes. I tried to convince them that they might have problems with the police if I was caught in their house, but they didn't want to hear anything. I finally spent the night there.
This outpouring of generosity and hospitality represents the world and my journey very well, and I will never forget it.
4- How is life "normal" now that you have been home for a few months?
Life on such a trip is very intense.
Physically, because every day we pedal against the weather (rain, wind, heat). You have to climb mountains, wash in frozen rivers and constantly think about replenishing your water. Mentally, because we meet people from different cultures. You have to adjust to the level of the language and constantly to the way of behaving. And morally, because we understand that we are among the privileged. Those who have the time, the money and the freedom to travel.
We pass places where people wash in the middle of the village and where five-year-olds work in the fields. And these poor people never ask us for help. On the contrary, they happily offer us everything they have.
And then we come home. Where we have everything except a smile.
We don't seem to realize that buying the latest phone or an ever bigger TV is a never-ending cycle. I appreciate our democracy and our standard of living, but I keep wondering where the smiles have gone since my return.
And then I miss the freedom, of living adventures every day, of pushing my body to the maximum. Feel the grandeur and beauty of nature. Mostly, I miss the generosity of strangers and the intensity of life.
I've realized since my return that I could probably write a book for each week of cycling, when I would be bothered to do one for a full year here in Germany.
Freddy with two monks who hosted us for the night.
5- A final word for the readers?
There is no need to enter this race against the clock of the Western world.
Take a moment to really ask yourself what you want and need in your life. And follow your instincts, we only have one life!
Freddy driving in Burma.
NOTES: As I translated Freddy's answers, you might have recognized my style of writing. All photos are mine.
It's one thing to go on an adventure alone or as a couple, it's quite another to embark on a cycle tour with children. I spoke to four families who nevertheless demonstrate that with a little preparation and adaptation, cycling remains the best way to travel and grow. Here is the fourth.