First moves

The morning of my departure I handed the key of my apartment to the man of the Housing Association. For some reason he ignored the fully mounted bike in the middle of the otherwise completely empty room pretty much the same way one ignores the proverbial elephant.
He asked me where I was going after this.
I’ll be riding my bike, I smiled, pointing at the biped with the pachydermic qualities.
He nodded.
Very unusual, he said. Will you sign here please?
When I moved my bicycle outdoors he waved goodbye.

Before the man arrived, I had made coffee, thrown away the coffee-maker, made sandwiches, thrown away the plate and knife, and after breakfast, I threw away what was left of my kitchen. I cleaned up, packed my bags and threw away all the cleaning stuff.

Extreme decluttering.

That first day I cycled to Amsterdam and noticed my compass was  broken. It told me I was cycling northwest, which was not true. Well, at least not most of the time
In Amsterdam I was received with great hospitality by good friends.

Distance cycled: around 80 km
Number of wrong turns: 2
Other statistics: 0



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