Friends Help

​This week’s Mustard Seed carries on from Antwerp. Visiting our cousin did much to relieve our car-trouble frustration. Though our spirits were replenished, our wallets weren’t. Getting cash in pre-ATM times was not as expedient as it is now. I had to find a sponsor back home who would advance funds through American Express on the promise of repayment when I returned home. The process took several days. I mailed off my request estimating we could be in Munich by the time funds arrived. We left with renewed enthusiasm.
     Our next stop was Brake to visit my sister’s friend Chris who was studying at a Bible school there. We arrived on a Thursday evening, made our greetings, and retired to our van. The next day, while Chris attended class, we toured the countryside. We stopped beside the mill house at Brake castle to prepare lunch. A date etched into a stones above the door filled me with awe. We were there on the building’s 500th anniversary.
     We spent the weekend socializing with Chris and a few of her friends from the school. One friend, Sieglinde, gave me a Bible as a parting gift; it was a welcome companion through the rest of my journey. I still have it today.
     We headed to Munich to find the American Express office. We drove through a very dark and rainy night, taking a random exit from the autobahn. We had no hope of finding anything on such an inhospitable night so we parked at the first convenient opportunity and slept. In the morning we awoke and peered out to a sunny day — and an American Express sign above the door across the street. God is good. My friend Greg was also good, the funds were there. Next stop: Venice! We thought.
     According to a brochure we picked up at the Italian border, cars were not allowed within Venice and the parking lot outside the city was notorious for thieves. After the theft of our passports in Paris we reluctantly gave Venice a miss. We travelled on to Bologna because, well, why not — we’d eaten plenty of bologna sandwiches. We decided to use the free highway system rather than the toll freeways. To save money, yes, but more for the scenery and relaxed pace. We wanted to be there, not get there.
     Bologna’s roads were narrow, twisted, and often one-way. It was clear they weren’t made with cars in mind. That drew us into the town’s history. It didn’t help us navigate. There were many signs directing cars to the toll roads. We had to discern the path to the free highway from our tour-brochure map, which showed the roads but didn’t indicate which way traffic flowed. I kept us heading east as best I could. When we crested a hill to see the sun setting before us I surrendered. We followed the signs to the straight, boring, tollway and continued down the boot.
     Next week: On to Greece.
                                                          God bless.

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