Monday, July 29, 2013

July 28, 2013, 7:21 AM, local tıme

Istanbul. I made it! I made it.
4 paırs of shoes, 14 countries, 17 weeks, 120 days, 3,240 mıles (100 more than my N. Amerıcan trek).

I am here.

And I am ın recovery mode now.

When I last blogged I was in Greece. I left the country that same day, I wanted no more problems with border crossıngs and I had none. But Mr. Patrol was waiting for me at the exit. I could tell because he mentioned my walking a long distance when I got to his depot so I could tell he'd be forewarned of my coming. Despite the glitch at the border I very much want to go back to Greece someday and really see the country. I could tell from my brief stınt there that the people are very warm and fun, unlike ın Bulgaria. They had that genuine spark of life and the graciousness of welcoming a stranger.

Turkey was no different. I walked long that day from Greece to Edirne. Along the way I followed a stretch of shaded, cobbled street with old trees and restaurants lined on the banks of a river. A man stopped to inquire where I was goıng and I explained to him what I had been doing. He said, "you are Superman" and I said, " no, I am crazy man" to which he countered, " no, you are beautiful man". Beautiful is a word they use in Turkey to say something is very good. To me it was like a congratulations for all my hard work and a shot of elation soared through me. I felt like Sissy Spacek as Carrie on prom night--well, at least until the bucket of pigs blood was dumped all over her. I was beaming.
I came to a brıdge which crossed over the river and there in the distance was a huge, four-minaret mosque looking like a Muslim Magic Kingdom. It was gorgeous. I got a room at a hotel. Then I  walked out to explore, turned a corner, and before me was a stone, pedestrian street with fountains and statues and lots of people out, all smiling, kids on bikes saying, WELCOME to me. It felt so wonderful to be there....and in my last country. A nice way to usher in the final days.
I got food at a small restaurant and a mother and daughter invited me to sit wıth them to eat. Very rare on this trip for women to do that. I asked about the Turk's friendliness and the daughter said, "we like tourists".

I wısh I could say that the days that followed, my final days, were as glorious. They were not. In fact, they were horrible and my worst. The yellow road I got on through the towns of Kirklareli, Pinar Hisar, Vize, Saray was mostly flat, unshaded, very hot (I left one morning at 5AM and it was already over 90 degrees), and without decent food. The road got so hot that my shoes squished atop the soft tar. When vehicles drove by it sounded like it had just rained as the black mass of melted goo liquified. So I did what any abnormal person would do....I walked my ass off with very little stopping. I skipped my stretching, I skipped eating, I skipped resting. I just walked. I walked so I could be done as soon as possible. The scenery was ugly, mostly sunflower fields and cut hay meadows but with very hazy skies and a dirty horizon my eyes were not pleased with in any way. After a few sunflower fields I just barely noticed them.
Top things off wıth a lot of garbage, cowcrap everywhere, and the stray-wild dogs and I was not very happy in europe anymore. Except to know I was almost done.

There was one bright light of good news. Folks started to tell me that Istanbul was such a large cıty that its borders extended out far and that I would not need to walk as far as I thought to reach the borderline. That was exciting to hear. Then, in Saray, at a mom & pop hotel where I decided to bunk for the night, the father told me that Istanbul started in the next village, the one I planned to walk to the next day! HUH? But he said there was no sign there. So his friend offered to drive me in another directıon about 20km to where there was a sign that said Welcome To Istabul. There I could make pictures but still go the route I wanted to in the morning. So that's what I did. Only, when we drove we went in the direction I was going to walk the next morning. Was he confused? We drove and drove and drove and when I tried to stop him he waved his hand for me to wait (he spoke no English). We got to the village Safaalan but still no sign. Then, after the village was a big sign that said ISTANBUL with something in Turkish underneath. I had the driver use his cell to call the hotel owner's son (who spoke english and in fact had spent three months working at Cleveland Hopkins Airport in 2006 as part of an exchange program. Talk about how small the world is gettıng.....well, on second thought I just walked a continent and it doesn't really seem that small) and he translated the sign as ISTANBUL BEGINS HERE.
I had the driver take some photos of me. I was ecstatic. I would finish so many days earlier than thought. I'd get off the road.
I had little sleep that night, not from excitement but from the man in the room next to me talking loudly all night and smoking incessantly. Then, at 2AM some guy with a snare drum walked up and down the streets banging it mercilessly. I decided to leave and walk in the dark. The driver had written down for me that the distance we had covered to sign was 35km (he had made some motion with his fingers which looked like 17 but 35 seemed more realistıc). It was cool at 3AM and there were stars. This was the way to end my walk, not like my hellish day before when I was getting ready to throw myself over the edge. A pack of 9 dogs tried to attack me but I managed to escape from them with my crazy yelling and throwing of rocks. Otherwise it was quiet and peaceful. The road was unlike the earlier yellow roads. There were trees. No villages for miles and miles. And hardly any traffıc.

But then a weird thing happened. Dawn came and before I knew it I was in Safaalan. There was no way I could have walked 35 km and then it hit me--O/W was 17km and R/T was 35. I had walked 17KM. What was so weird was that, in the car the day before, the distance seemed so much longer as a drive than it was as a walk. 17km in a car seems to be much longer than 17km! I came to the sign where I'd made my photos and completed my ceremonious crossing. But something didn't feel right. I had the feeling that this sign delineated where the DISTRICT of Istanbul started, not the city because I was still very much out in the sticks. Was that good enough for me? I thought it would be ok but I also didn't feel like stopping. It was such a peaceful morning I wanted to absorb the ending a little more. My surroundings were bucolic with rolling hills and much green.
I got to a little village called Binkili and some Turks were pulled over, obviously not locals but probably Sunday drivers from Istanbul out enjoying the countryside. I asked them if I were in Istanbul. They had a map. And that map showed the borders of the city. I was not there. But I wasn't too far either. It meant I would need to walk a long day and then some the next day. I was OK with it. And things went well until sleep and food deprivation crept up, the heat soared, and traffic picked up. I pushed myself too hard on Saturday. I was cracking. I was ready to throw myself in front of a car. I took 15 minutes to stop and find enough reason and strength to make a best decision. Someone had told me a hotel existed ın Subasi. I recovered my solace and went for it. I walked 60KM that day and got to that hotel dead tired. Catalca was to be my destination the next morning. That was a border to Istanbul according to the map (A lot of Turks said the border was here or there, it was never entirely clear until I saw that map).

Ten km was all I walked the next morning to Catalca. It was very UNceremonious. And I felt virtually no triumph. In fact, I tried to block out the reality of finishing because when I thought about it it was too much to comprehend. I got a bus and in no time I was whisked to a very urban environment which got more and more urbanized with each passing mile. I had NO IDEA where I was going so I got off at a place I thought might be close to the city center but not terribly far away. HA! I picked so far away....this city is massive. But I didn't care either. I found a hotel and was ready to collapse. I needed food and sleep; my body wanted me to make good on my promises. So I delivered. I got food, then went to my room, turned on the AC and slept much of the day and then all night. I have rested more today too but I did go to a nearby mall and have never been more happy to shop for new clothes in my life.

I have eaten a lot today. Tomorrow I venture into the old part of the city where a new hotel awaits me. A tour guide I met at the Albanıan border will pıck me up and take me there. And there I will continue to eat and rest and explore Istanbul. I will be ready to start this tomorrow. Slowly.

I leave Turkey on August 9th. My friend Rachel helped facilitate my return ticket. Little did she realize that I now leave to fly back to the US exactly 5 months to the day I left SF in March. And then I start to readjust to being back in the States. It's bizarre but already my walk seems so very far away. How can that be? Maybe I just need to remove myself from it for awhile. And in time let it all sink in.

Some of you may ask, "well Stevyn, have you gotten it out of your system?" To that I say, the "IT" you refer to IS a part of my system. It's as vital as my heart. But one thing I told myself throughout this journey was, if I finish safely then everything else in life will be considered a bonus. I still plan on having more excellent adventures but if they don't work out, for whatever reason, I will always have the string of 120 long, epic, adventurous days of 2013 to reflect upon. This has been one grand journey.

I regret not having pictures posted on this blog. Rest assured I have taken between 5-6,000 photos and there are some very precious ones. I plan to make a slideshow with select pictures which I expect will take me months to finish. But if you are interested in receiving the link to it when I'm done then drop me a note at: happywandererineurope@gmail.com and SLİDESHOW in the heading.

I also really want to thank those of you who took the time to send me notes or post on my blog. I have been negligent ın responding back but your words of support and care really have meant very much to me.

This blog will remain active for awhile. For those interested, I will post some post-reflectıons during the upcomıng weeks. I invite you to read how the after-effects transpire.

Four months seems like a short amount of tıme. But try walking it sometime. I guarantee your idea of time will expand.

On a final note: I bought a tee shirt at the mall that reads, NOT ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST. It's true. I'm in Istanbul.
Peace,
STEVYN

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Here I Come Constantinople

OMG, I cannot believe how close I am. I left Bulgaria this morning by the skin of my teeth. I simply do not get the whole European Union (which Greece and Bulgaria are members of) and something called Schengen which Greece is not part of. But border patrtol was not going to allow me passage into Greece (I am in the very tiptoe of the country) because it was not an official border for folks from Australia, USA...basically, non Europeans. I waited over an hour. I was told 7 times I could not cross. I asked what I could do since I was on foot (and they knew it).  My prospects were grim. Eventually, the female border patrol who saw my tear-welled eyes came to the rescue and made phone calls and a fax and, well, she told me I could NEVER cross here again. Believe me, I will not! AND THEY LET ME GO INSIDE WITHOUT A STAMP.

I am going to keep this a bit shorter again though there is much to write. Macedonia really came through after my last blog from there. The people were very friendly from Prilip onwards. I had an overnight stay offer in Karvadarci. I was hugged by a man from Strumica in a grocery store to congratulate me and wish me well. But poor Macedonia is living in the stone age. When it was part of Yugolslavia it was the center of agriculture. It still is poor rural farmers, all with donkey pulled wooden carts. I came into Kavadarci after descending a mountain for 6 HOURS!!!! All down. But I really found a soft spot for the country. My last encounter before crossing the border was from a farmer picking watermelons in his field. He called me over to give me a huge melon but I refused because it weighed too much. Nonsense, he would not have it. He threw it on the ground, busted it open, and had me eat the fruit pieces.
I was glad to exit Macedonia though because the vehicles are in bad shape with things rattling off the sides, tires looking about to fall apart, things  not bolted down. At one point a sheet of tin metal flew off a car roof and missed me by about 15 feet. That could've hurt sever-ly!

Bulgaria had not been so friendly. Folks were not smiling, were non-inquisitive, shifty-eyed, hardly a beep or honk. It was fine, I needed the break. And don't let the EU status fool you; once you leave Bulgarias spiffy principle roads with their nice signs and shiney guardrails you're back to being in the non-EU Macedonia. I thought Bulgaria would be different but when I saw the dead horse next to the wooden cart having just been electrocuted from an open wire,  I started to get suspect. And then it was all too apparent. Bulgaria is as run down and 3W as where I'd come from. The EU disguise. I have gone from Petrich to Goce Delchiv, Dospat, Shiroka Laka (pronounced Sure-Rocka-Locka), Smoljan, Kardzjalia, Momchildgrad, Krumovgrad and last night, Ivaylovgrad. It has all been mountains up and down. And I have done 30 miles or more each day. Yes, I have overextended myself but it is what I need to do now. There are many reasons but one reason is I did not feel very safe sleeping out at night because there are people everywhere in the woods and nooks and crannies. One night I thought I was perfectly hidden but a big boot walked by my tent just before dark. There have been gypsy hagglers and gypsy squat camps in the hills and they are not friendly people, only wanting money, cigarettes, etc, At one point I was being surrounded by children asking, asking, asking for things so I pulled out my whistle and blew it, startling them. They then left me. I saw these babooshka clad, long coat phantom hags with their backs turned to me in the middle of nowhere mountains. I kept imagining that if I turned them around I'd find a face with glowing red eyes and a blood-soaked dagger under their garments. OK, maybe too many horror movies. Regardless, I pushed myself to the next village or town with a hotel for a good night sleep. And with prices around 6-15 bux a night, they were treats well deserved.

I have taken three rides in Bulgaria. Let me explain. One was on a very bad day, my worst maybe of the whole trip. I was getting sick and strung out. I was climbing a mountain that went on and on forever. I got up high and it got cold. Then some rain. I simply could not be cold and wet. A person offered a ride and I took it (about 5 KM) til I was out of the rainshadow/cloud. It was what I had to do at that moment. To save myself.
At another time a suspicious car with two young guys kept driving by me slowly, looking at me, pulling off ahead, waiting for me to pass and then doing it again. I had a bad feeling. Then another car pulled up. It was a woman I had said 'hello' to earlier while taking a photo. Her english was so-so. She offered a ride 3 KM to the next village. I said NO. Then, she looked ahead to the car pulled off, then looked at me and said, "you should come". I understood. I've wanted no trouble and afterwards I never saw that car again.
The last ride came yesterday. I told myself if I was offered a ride by one of these I would not pass it up. It was a horse drawn wooden cart in the mountains by a barefoot handsome young farmer and his 3 year old son. We probably went a mile...I could have gone all day. So peaceful and slow. Life slowly unfolding without the hustle bustle and chaos of life in a city, in the modern world.
Yesterday was a 35 mile day in the mountains with no food, nothing, and little water. I just walked. The gnats were unbearable. Do you know how much fun it is to walk 35 miles waving a leafy twig in front of your face to swish the swarm of bugs away? Not!

I am in Greece and on my way to cross the border at Edirne, Turkey. I think I am supposed to be out today (part of my border deal). Then I go north onto yellow roads to slide into Istanbul! My body has asked a favor of me (usually I ask my body for favors like, can we go an extra 10KM?). It wanted to know if we could continue full steam ahead and even finish this walk BEFORE July 31st? What can I say, my body has been so good to me. But the truth is I am oversaturated at this point. My cup is full of experience and I cannot take any more. My whole essence of being craves nothing more right now than silence and stillness. I know Istanbul is not the place for that but a nice hotel room will be and I can spend as much time there as I need.

Again, a huge thank you to everyone who have sent emails or posted comments on this blog. They have meant so much to me, esp during the rougher times.

Well, I am in the final stretch now. I am super motivated. Here I come Constantinople!!!!

Thursday, July 18, 2013

A Bulgarian Quickie

I have no time to blog since I have been given 5 minutes on this computer in the middle of nowhere mountainville. I am ok. I am surviving. But I have had some rough days. Feet are holding up but are in bad shape. I am eating. But I am in mountains with a lot of up and down walking, some of it steep.
Spent last night in Dospat which is one of my favorite villages this whole trip. A village poised high with small windy lanes and crumbling houses from the 1500s. These mountains have scarecrows, abandonded gypsy carts, lots of dark forests, and animals. A fox this morning. I am still hoping for a July 31 finish. I have sorta promised my body this (YES, we are separate entities now). I control the mind, the stomach, the feet the legs, etc. I have to talk with each at different times in different ways.

I have also read all recent emails but once again cannot respond becuz of this computer. THANK YOU to all!!!! Very sorry for you CW. My thoughts are with you and the family.
A big shout to my friend Taylor who I think is still on his big protest walk against the Keystone Pipeline. He said my walk partly inspired him to leave Japan (and his pregnant wife, who supports him:YES!) to join the movement. I am thrilled. Good luck.

Must go now, arghhhhhhh. I need all good thoughts now. Thank you!!!!!

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Cinderella And The Storm

Last I posted I was about to enter mountain yellow roads in Albania. They proved to be beautiful and quiet. But the best part was that every time I went through a village the Albanians welcomed me with the widest open arms and hospitality. I had more more honks, hand-waves, ride offers, invites for beer, a coffee, food, a rest, water, conversation from the Albanians than from any other country thus far. They love Americans and they love to share their lives with others.

From Milot I went towards Burrell and that whole morning was hard to get anywhere because everyone wanted me to "come here". At one place in the mountains, a farmer and his son were bringing in an unbelievably overstuffed tractor of hay from the field. I went to make a picture and they invited me to the house for water. The son got me a glass then left me in the hands of the women while he and his dad went back to work. The mother and younger daughter spoke no english. But the older daughter did speak some and her name was Cinderella. I swear, that was her real name. CINDERELLA. They had me sit on the porch; it was very hot out. They got me cold juice. Then the mother brought out food: a bowl of fresh watermelon, grilled peppers, fresh yogurt, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, homemade bread, and even a meat stew (of course I did not eat that). So sweet. And when I went to leave they packed up food for me to go.

At another point I passed a small roadside restaurant (the mountains are a summer refuge for folks living in the capital of Tirane) and had a plate of fresh caught river fish by a ten year old boy who served it to me. Small fish but delicious (with rice).

Water gushed everywhere so having fresh aqua was no problem in all that heat and climbing. The Albanians have made fountains along the road all throughout the mountains. And sleeping was peaceful.

Bulqize was not a very exciting place. It is nestled in a pretty valley but made ugly by strip mining and gravel pits. However, when I got to Shupenz things got really strange. Albania really is, in many ways (for lack of a better term. Not sure what the pc word is these days) a 3rd world country. In Shupenz I walked into town and everyone, and I mean everyone stopped what they were doing to watch me walk by. In the store the commotion stopped and all eyes were on me. The kids came out with  "how are you", "what is your name" (those that have been to 3rd world countries know how those questions are asked incessantly by the children). Then I was even asked for money.
Animals butchered and skinned roadside, dust and garbage all over the place (no trash pick up). In an eatery the owners' elderly mother came up to me. The older women have usually avoided contact with me but not this one. She reminded me of my Polish great grandmother, Bopche. It was relayed to me that she thought walking to Turkey was no good, I should take a "macina" (machine....it's what the mountain people call cars). And when I left she gave me a kiss on each cheek.

I crossed into Macedonia late on Monday. Another weird border. Then I slept at a gas station in Debar (they had beds above it for 6 Euros a night) and took off for Izvor in the AM. Izvor, I was told, was not possible to get to by car along my proposed route. Both my maps showed it as a small but viable road. I actually skirted Manrovo National Park part of the way up; it was so beautiful. Then the pavement stopped and I could not find my way so I walked to Gari, a small village way up in the nook of a mountain. No one came out when I called several times so I blew my whistle. No one. So I went to houses and then some folks came out but still no one spoke english so it was difficult for them to explain things to me. Eventually, a grandfather and his two small grandkids grabbed walking sticks and walked me up a mountain trail until it connected with a larger one. This would be my "road" to Izvor. OMG.

And so it was, like being on a Ntl. Park trail way up in the mountains. It was quiet and lonely. I got to a junction and did not know which way to go so I chose the one that looked more like a road. I chose wrong. But I did not go very far when an ancient, rumbling truck plodding thru the forest came by with a load of logs. The driver told me to take the other road. It did not look like a road at all. But I listened and climbed further up. moments later, after a morning of evil, wicked, thunder ruptures bellowing through the mountains, a big storm came by. All I could do was cover myself in plastic under some trees and wait it out. I got cold. I was wet. And my trail became a river of mud and bogs.

I was on that trail the rest of the day, it never ended. I thought I was lost for sure. I did panic. My descent took forever until I eventually hit a small road....but no village. I sat on the road deflated and confused. About 15 minutes later a truck came so I waved him down to get clarity on where I was and where I needed to go. When he realized how hungry I was he opened up the back of his truck to reveal its contents: food and drinks that he was delivering to a tiny village in the mountains. He let me purchase what I wanted and then pointed to the direction I needed to walk. I'm not sure what happened but about 3 km down this overgrown, rock-filled paved road was the very tiny, hicksville village of Izvor. I  do not know if I had been on the right "road" or not because in Izvor was a sign for Debar (40KM). But no one else knew of a paved road the whole way through the mountains and that sign looked ancient (as does most things in Macedonia so far. Talk about 3rd W! This place is falling apart. Crumbling. )

I have walked a yellow road through small places like Brod on my way to Prilep, where I am now. The walk through a valley of tobacco and wheat this morning was wild. It was 1910 all over again. Peasant workers in peasant-like clothing (women in babooshkas, aprons, skirts) hunched over picking tobacco leaves by hand and putting them in giant wicker baskets. I have learned these leaves are for Marlboro cigarettes. Yes, your Virginia tobacoo is grown in Macedonia....largest producer of tobacco for Marlboro.

Old homes are mud brick. Newer ones are red brick and all look half finished. Giant haystacks. Stray dogs in packs. Garbage, garbage everywhere. But lovely mountains. I have to say, Macedonia is not stacking up but Albania is a very tough act to follow. The folks here seem a bit colder and smile less. True, many do not speak english either which can make a difference.

From here I go to Kavadarci and then on another small road which connects to a red road down to Strumica and then the Bulgarian border. I have also been warned of the Bulgarian gypsies.

Three weeks left to walk. My body is holding up but I have to have conversations with it and promise it things to keep carrying on. I am growing tired but also maintaining myself even though I will admit feeling going in and out of THE ZONE. Now I really have my heart set on finishing and not too much else. Food is less appealing. But I am trying my hardest to not go over the edge or overdue things. I know the body is strong but also fragile. I am just recovering from blisters on both heals. A baby toenail has fallen off.

And I have passed the 100 day mark.

Not sure if Bulgaria will have email. Once I enter the rest of my roads (about 90 percent) to Istanbul will be white or yellow roads.

OK, I am ready to move on. Keep me in your thoughts. Until next time.

Friday, July 5, 2013

Greetings From Another World

Albania.

What a trip. It just keeps getting weirder and wilder. When I hit the town Tuvi, still in Montenegro but close to the border I thought, man, what am I walking into? It was so not like the rest of Europe. It was grittier, rougher, earthier, definitely more Middle Eastern-like. I have been to many poor parts of the world and this was but another page ripped from it.

On the way to the border the road got very quiet again. I had feared the red road, major border-crossing, to be busy but it was not. In fact, I skirted a National Park that reminded me of the Everglades with mountains. The frogs were a croaking. Then once I crossed the border it felt like another world, more litter, open sewers, burning smells of refuse....but a gorgeous new paved red road to the city of Shkroder. Light on traffic and a wide shoulder. My red road fear thwarted again.

The mountains were very pretty but the road had no shade. Walking on pavement in 90 degrees all day in open sun is tough. My surroundings changed again with nice, new modern homes all painted very whimsical colors. I was trying to figure out just what Albania was. Most of the day I could see Lake Albania to my right and the mountains (the Albanian Alps?) to my left. Not much to eat but I found enough to get by.

It was a long day to reach Shkroder, a much bigger town than I imagined from looking at the map. Maps can be so deceiving. This place was big, dirty, chaotic animals in the road, giant gashes in sidewalks, cafes filled with men only, vegetable squatters selling their produce laid out on the street, beggar women with their uncleaned children on alley corners, beat up transport vans running to and fro looking for another customer to fill a seat. I was now somewhere very new and different from the places I'd walked prior.

But I have to tell you it's only been two days now and the Albanians have proven to be the most friendly people this whole journey. They are real, genuine, down to earth. Folks have treated me with open arms of kindness as a welcome visitor to their country. Many speak english and I have seen an American flag flying next to an Albanian flag at several establishments. People have gone out of their way to help. A man today invited me to sit under the shade of his roadside shack to eat watermelon he was selling. Another man yesterday insisted I come to his shop and drink any cold beverages I wanted on the house. Even tonight, in Lezhe, (where I am) a cook was absent from the restaurant I went to. I was going to find another place to eat but a customer told me to sit. He went in the kitchen to help prepare me a good meal. People have honked their horns more, flashed their car lights and given me a thumbs up more than in any other place. Men in cement mixer trucks and families in their sedans. It's all such a weird amalgam of stuff going on and I still haven't wrapped my head around it all.

Today was tough though. The red road was much busier. I expected trials along my way to Macedonia and knew to endure some pain. It was inevitable. Everyone, and I mean everyone from Slovenia to Montenegro had insisted I do not go through Kosovo so my only other choice was Albania. Both routes had big cities to tackle and red roads to deal with. I was mentally prepared. Going through Albania has proven to be not as bad as I thought. But the heat, traffic, shadeless walking, the dirt and lack of amenities has worn me down. Tomorrow, a yellow road leading to the mountains will hopefully offer a respite from some of these challenges. I am excited.

A couple funny signs:
Today, a town here called PUKE
And a petrol station called Kastrati (all I can picture is a severed hose pumping fuel)
In Bosnia there was GLOBTOURS.
And BOSSGAS

Yesterday I had to see a dentist too. I bit into a banana in the AM hours and a filling got wedged in the fruit. So at nearly 8 PM I found a dentist still open. He agreed to help. What a sweet man. He was only to have one patient that day because the next day (today) he was going on a little outing. I was his fourth patient. Again, the Albanians go out of their way to help. Today my dentist passed me on the road as he headed to meet his friends at some lake. He stopped to say hello and take some pictures. And he laughed but offered me a ride knowing I'd refuse. The offer, however, was serious.

After the morning tomorrow I will leave the west side of this part of Europe and head EAST and keep going in that relative direction until I come to Turkey when I descend down to Istanbul.

But I MUST sleep now so it's off to beddy bye bye.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

The Dark Mountain

I am gonna keep this on the shorter side becuz I am on an ipad and am finding it doing weird things. Such is life in the third world. Or so it seems here in Montenegro, translated means, Dark Mountain.  It's not really dark here and it is not really third world but there sure are a lot of mountains.

My time in Bosnia has ended. Oh the great divides in this broken up place. If it is confusing here in the Balkans for the locals imagine an outsider trying to get it. For example, in Bosnia I found myself in the mountains on my way from Mostar ( trying to reclaim it's former glory) to Nevesinje and in the middle of nowhere I came to a sign that read, " Welcome to the Republic of Srpska". Even Bosnia is a divided country. I thought I had entered the more Muslim part, especially after a man spat at me and called me satan after I had told him i was from the US ( I am now a Canadian living in Vancouver). But it turned out to be an isolated case....kind of. In Glacko a very nice man told me the locals in the area blamed the US for their problems. Somehow I had left the more Muslim part of Bosnia and was in a more Xtian and Orthodox part. I couldn't tell.  Here in Montenegro there is no problem. They are super laid back and great people. But you can really feel the tension in Bosnia.

The mountains during my last days in Bosnia were excellent beauties. What a treat, so 'out there', so remote. Again, no food or water available and even a few more landmine signs. On one ridge flank an impossibly perched Moorish castle ruin sat on a thin fin away from mostly everything. It was one of my favorite castle ruins this trip. No doubt there were more but were destroyed in the civil war.

My goal was to leave Bosnia via a smaller border crossing down a white road. I was told I could find the road by going to this village, finding the bridge, crossing it, turning right, then left and going through the field. Those were my instructions and you know, they worked. But I was out there. And once I got to the border it was in nowheresville. I was super nervous. And then my worst fears became true: they would not let out. Border patrol told me it was a small crossing for locals only, not foreigners. I begged, I pleaded. I got teary eyed. Fortunately both guys were into my whole story. They looked at my map. One even picked up my bag to check the weight and went 'whoa'. They hemmed and talked with each other. Neither could speak english. Eventually, they held their hands over their faces ( I see nothing) and told me to go. But they would not stamp me out and they were not sure Montenegro would let me in. I held my breath and went forward.

The border patrol in MN was so cool. He was watching some Discovery channel show about the brain. He took my passport, scanned it, asked which way I was going ( coming or going) and stamped me in. YES! And for the next 40 miles I walked this super remote one lane road with nearly nothing but mountains and the occasional home. It was absolutely wonderful, so silent and still, a car maybe once an hour. And the people living back there were living it like folks had for eons. This one old man was walking down the road all in black with a huge sickle and he looked like death coming for me. His sickle was handmade and worn smooth from use. It felt like Appalacia meets sherpers from Nepal meets Eastern Europe. That road was a gem. There was one rock I sat on near a 3,000 foot pass overlooking a valley with panoramas of the mountains; I was in heaven. Just a few red roof homes nestled in this huge expanse, living the life of one with nature. All I heard was a lone bird in the forest, an ocassional distant cowbell and the wind blowing through the ripe flowering trees around me perfuming the air . I told myself I would sit there until a car came by. Seventy-five minutes later I left, no car had passed.

On my way to the capital, Podgorica, taking back roads, I stopped in Danilovgrad for food and met some wonderful guys. I will be in their newspaper tomorrow. The capital, as well as their second largest city, Niksic, were very small. It has been hard to find the city center. Niksic had three restaurants. Fortunately, a very sweet, young couple helped me navigate getting around. And to avoid a main thoroughfare route the husband took time from his day to walk several miles with me in order to get me on a small backroad that would parallel the busier road heading south. Here in the capital I saw a man riding a wooden cart with his horse down a main street. You get it, right? The people are proud to be Montenegrons but are embarrassed by what they lack. They are, however, trying hard to be a part of the EU.  They have a little way to go. And so do I.

I am now down to 29 days. Tomorrow I cross into Albania, head south and then cross W to E from Milot to the border of Macedonia near Debar. I should be there in about 5 days. There is so much more to say but this will have to do for now. I am holding up. Got new shoes in Mostar. The heat has returned after a cool to coldish time in Bosnia. But the humidity is not as bad as Croatia nor are the bugs which were in swarms a few weeks ago.

Time to hit the rod again. I am super excited and motivated to DO IT.