And then that moment, which only happens on bike tours: When you dismount, not because you have to, but because you want to. Because a place stands in your way that doesn't call loudly, but quietly beckons. Like here, on the banks of the Havel near Paretz, where the water draws time in wide loops.
A few boats lie crookedly in the sun, "Fat Elke" stretches charmingly and self-deprecatingly on the jetty, as if she's already seen the world – and approved. An old barge patiently rusts away, while on the bank, a woman with bare feet reads a book, as if there were no algorithm to remind her to do something.
The Havel River shimmers flat and flowing, a stage for deceleration, framed by willows that don't resist the wind, but accompany it. If you want, you can swim here. If you don't want to, you can just watch. Both are fine.
And when the sun slowly sets, the sand crunches beneath your tires, and the first Radler clinks from your luggage, you know: This is exactly why you're doing it. Not for the miles. For a moment of reflection on life.