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Around the World on a Bicycle - Volume 1 - From San Francisco to Teheran by Thomas Stevens
page 131 of 572 (22%)
not unpicturesque structures of mediaeval times to the modern brown-stone
front, he pilots me outside the fortifications again, points up the
Appenweir road, and after the never neglected formality of touching his
cap and extending his palm, returns city-ward.

Crossing the Rhine over a pontoon bridge, I ride along level and, happily,
rather less muddy roads, through pleasant suburban villages, near one
of which I meet a company of soldiers in undress uniform, strung out
carelessly along the road, as though returning from a tramp into the
country. As I approach them, pedalling laboriously against a stiff head
wind, both myself and the bicycle fairly yellow with clay, both officers
and soldiers begin to laugh in a good-natured, bantering sort of manner,
and a round dozen of them sing out in chorus "Ah! ah! der Englander."
and as I reply, "Yah! yah." in response, and smile as I wheel past
them, the laughing and banter go all along the line. The sight of an
"Englander" on one of his rambling expeditions of adventure furnishes
much amusement to the average German, who, while he cannot help admiring
the spirit of enterprise that impels him, fails to comprehend where the
enjoyment can possibly come in. The average German would much rather
loll around, sipping wine or beer, and smoking cigarettes, than impel a
bicycle across a continent. A few miles eastward of the Rhine another
grim fortress frowns upon peaceful village and broad, green meads, and
off yonder to the right is yet another; sure enough, this Franco-German
frontier is one vast military camp, with forts, and soldiers, and munitions
of war everywhere. When I crossed the Rhine I left Lower Alsace, and am
now penetrating the middle Rhine region, where villages are picturesque
clusters of gabled cottages - a contrast to the shapeless and ancient-looking
stone structures of the French villages. The difference also extends to
the inhabitants; the peasant women of France, in either real or affected
modesty, would usually pretend not to notice anything extraordinary as
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