It was my dad's idea. It's always my dad's idea. As soon as we stay somewhere for more than three days, he wants to rent bicycles. He can't help it. It's in his Dutch DNA. So if it's anyone's fault, it's my own. I should've said "no" after what happened in Laos. But I didn't. When my dad came up with the idea to rent mountain bikes in Bratislava, I said "yes" loud and clear. I told him it was a great idea to cycle to Devín Castle on the Austrian border. So when I ended up in a garden center, my clothes soaking wet from the rain, waiting for a new mountain bike with no flat tires, I really had no one but myself to blame.

In hindsight, everything hinted at a negative outcome from the start. When we wanted to make a reservation for three bikes, we already ran into trouble. The rental place was closed the day before we wanted to go cycling. Luckily, people at the tourist information office were able to get in touch with the owner and by the end of the day, we had a reservation and put down a deposit. But when we showed up to pick up our bikes the next day... there was once again no one there. It started to rain. My parents and I huddled together under a pent. Every minute seemed to last an hour. I was getting cold. A big part of me just wanted to go back to bed. I was sure the owner was not going to show up, but we'd already put down the deposit and leaving didn't feel like an option.

Just when I was about to turn around and go back to my botel, the owner of the rental place showed up on an electric scooter. He did not see it as a problem that he'd kept us waiting for half an hour. Both my dad and I were very annoyed already, but put our annoyance aside so we could finally hit the road. We got our mountain bikes, and a normal bike for my mom so she wouldn't have to put extra strain on her bad back. Almost an hour later than planned, we finally left for Devín Castle.

Rain kept falling steadily as we followed the boulevard along the Danube towards the Austrian border. We had 10 kilometers ahead of us, which is not that much for the average Dutch person. Despite the rain, and despite my brakes screeching loudly every time I touched them, I was optimistic. So far, things looked better than they'd done in Laos. The boulevard had a beautiful lane for cyclists. I loved it. And then it ended.

First, the signs along the boulevard disappeared. Since the first one I'd seen said "9.8 km", I'd assumed this nice boulevard would take me all the way to Devín Castle. But not long after I'd spotted that sign, the boulevard ended. No signs were pointing me in the right direction, so I just stayed as close to the Danube as possible. After a while, we had to go off-road. Dirt sprayed everywhere. The paths were very rocky. My butt was starting to hurt already, but I was also enjoying myself. Slovakia was silent and cold that morning, gradually turning green in the first days of Spring. The small forest we cycled through was beautiful. Sadly, that part of the journey soon ended, as the path ended when we came across a road. Not quite a highway, much busier than a backroad. There was no bicycle lane, so we just cycled on the main road, pretending we were cars. Occasionally we'd pass a house, cars passed us by every few minutes. It was still raining. My mood dropped. I wanted to pick up the pace, but my mom had different plans. Out of nowhere, she stopped and yelled: "Go on without me!"

My mom had a full-on dramatic outburst in the middle of Slovakian nowhere. She had tears in her eyes when she told my dad and me that she couldn't go on. She thought her back was letting her down once again. She said she just didn't have the power in her legs to turn the paddles around. I'm not going to lie, I rolled my eyes when she said those things. I love her, but I knew this had nothing to do with her body letting her down. That was simply impossible: One second she'd been right by my side, the next she was 20 meters behind saying she couldn't do it. I know my mom, this was very unlike her. Something else had to be up. My dad looked at her bike and solved the mystery: she had a flat tire. We all looked at each other. There was only one thing to say.
"Now what?"


My phone told me we were right in between the center of Bratislava and Devín Castle. Smack dab in the middle, five kilometers either way. That's a long walk, especially when it's cold and rainy. My dad asked me for my phone, so he could call the guy who'd rented us our bikes. I gave my dad my phone, but he handed it back because he didn't know how to dial the number on the business card he'd put in his pocket for instances like this one. I dialed the number and fled. My dad can be intimidating when he's angry. When he hung up, he was furious.
"Now what?" I asked again.
"That idiot said we should call a cab and come back. And he ain't paying for that cab. Well, neither am I." He looked around. "I'm going up to that house over there. Maybe someone can help us."
My dad disappeared, leaving my mom and me behind. I couldn't help but be reminded of Laos and my dad having to fix his bike between the rice fields. The big difference between then and now was that we had been close to our hotel in Luang Prabang. Now, we were an hour's walk away.

When my dad returned, he was accompanied by a Slovakian man.
"I'm getting a ride to the city center," my dad grumbled.
"What about us?" my mom asked. "Shall we stay here?"
"You could go inside," the Slovakian man suggested. "There's a... an... arboretum there."
My mom looked at me. I looked at her. "Okay. Why not?"

The arboretum turned out to be a garden center. My mom and I both like gardening, so we decided to walk around. The place appeared to be deserted. Although the plants were beautiful. I was starting to feel uncomfortable. It was too quiet. A memory of Percy Jackson's visit to Auntie M's Garden Emporium popped up in the back of my mind. I decided to talk about the misshapen fruits on a lemon tree to convince my mom that I wasn't freaking out. Every little noise made me jump. The situation was surreal. "This is how people die" is what I imagined my friends would say. How do a Dutch girl and her mom end up in a deserted Slovakian garden center in the middle of nowhere? I was balancing on the verge of hysterics. Then I rounded a corner and my heart stopped.


A person was standing right in front of me. A woman in overalls, most probably a garden center employee. I literally jumped when I saw her. And then she asked the question I least expected in that situation.
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
My first reaction was to decline. I said my dad would be back any minute and my mom and I would just wander around for a bit. But as the rain fell down harder and harder, we got colder and colder. My dad was still nowhere to be seen after what felt like an eternity. So my mom and I went to the house next to the gate and asked if the offer still stood. Five minutes later, we were all sat on the front porch, talking about quinces.

It was the most bizarre situation I'd been in for as long as I could remember. The rain kept on falling and as the temperature dropped, we were invited into the office. There was a beautiful shrub full of flowers that gave off an amazing smell. After getting stranded in the middle of Slovakian nowhere, I was now sat in the office of a garden center next to a Caribbean plant. I couldn't help but laugh. "This is so bizarre," I told my mom a thousand times. Never in a million years did I expect to end up in such a situation. But I was grateful for it. I could go to the bathroom there and when my dad showed up with a new bike, we all got another cup of tea.

Around noon, we left the garden center. It was called Agapé and had ties with Boskoop, the place where I got for my long jump training. Bizarre as the entire encounter might have been, I'll never forget the kind Slovakians who offered us help, shelter and tea on that rainy day. They made a bigger impression on me than Devín Castle, which we eventually did reach. None of the bikes had any issues again. Yet with Laos in the back of my mind, and this Slovakian experience leaving me flabbergasted, I couldn't help but think: What will happen next time when my dad says "Let's rent bicycles"?