9th September - Sailing to Sweden

Beep, beep, beep.

Groggily I woke and left the apartment, helping myself to last nights left overs before I eased the door shut. The northern german streets strongly rejected my presence at 5am, making themselves cold, grey and very uninviting. Some long tram rides later and I would myself feeling slightly ridiculous, hitching at the ferry terminal with no traffic whatsoever. One truck arrived, but wasn't very interested in taking me along. So, bought a ticket, hopped on board and spent an uneventful 6hrs crossing the Baltic to Sweden.

However, my arrival to Sweden had been eagerly awaited for much longer than 6hrs. I was finally catching up with Anders & Carina! I hadn't seen them in over a year and to catch up with them in Sweden was going to be awesome!

They were waiting for me at the ferry terminal and it was simply so awesome to see them again!!! They showed me around Trelleborg, we had an ice-cream on the Swedish seaside and then headed of to Carina's parents place for an absolutely delicious dinner. Washed down with a couple of beers during a soccer game. Nice day :-)

7th & 8th of September - Italian Alps to German Seaside

Where? When? What? 

You know that microsecond of amnesia that you may be afflicted with when waking up in a strange/new locale? Well, picture that for a good 10 to 15 seconds. Disorientating. Once I had figured I was in the storage room of the bar, I packed up my gear, leaving behind the Lonely Planet guides, no use to me now. I found some food which had escaped the clean up from the night before and then wandered to the internet cafe, printed my flight ticket for that evening (or so I thought), slipped on the backpack and hoisted the snowboard bag across my back and wandered to the train station (45 sweaty minutes). After some hours of the train, struggling with my unwieldy gear, I managed to get the right Milan airport. After I tried to present my ticket to check in, I realised I hadn't printed the right part of the ticket. So, my flight went from costing $20 to $80, as they charge exorbitant fee's to simply print a ticket. Fuck you Ryanair. Arriving at Felix's place in Berlin at around 11pm, I said a quick hello showered and slept like a log...

Felix woke me as left to go to work, I threw the pack on my shoulders on off I went again. To have breakfast with another German friend, the guy who I started my hitchhiking adventure with, going from Berlin to Istanbul, via Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Moldavia and Bulgaria. Who, confusingly for you, is also called Felix. Anyways, we caught up briefly and talked all about our respective adventure which had ensued since we separated in Bulgaria. After a delicious breakfast cooked by Felix, he lent me his map and gave me instructions for an awesome hitchhiking spot in north Berlin. My plan was to get to Rostock and catch the ferry to Sweden the following day. I had a CSing host lined up in Rostock, so off I went. 

I caught the S-Bahn to the north of Berlin and hopped off, wandering down gorgeous leafy streets, large houses of varying designs framing the view. It was quiet and really beautiful. I was pretty excited about this hitchhiking spot as I was required to locate a path and wander through a forest. For a bit. This is how it was described to me. Awesomeness. Actually found the path, wandered the forest, surprised some Germans and got to the petrol station. 2 lifts later I found myself dropped to the door of my host, so many kind and caring people you meet when you hitchhike. So, I hung out, got some food and cooked dinner. My host Karina kindly helped me organise the tram route I would need to take the next day. I would have loved to have stayed up later chatting, but 5.30am was the waking hour...

6th September - Party in the Alps

I woke up and left Max's place at 9 am. I would have loved to have stayed longer, but I had been invited to a party by Adam, the rafting guide who I had come to see when I first arrived in Italy.  He had just gotten married in Scotland (easier than in Italy) and was have the reception at his bar. When a rafting bar owner invites you to his party, nestled amongst the most beautiful scenery in Europe, there really is no question of accepting.

Due to the difficulty of hitch hiking in Italy, I decided that I would just catch the train. Having already been up to see Adam before, I knew what to expect in terms of scenery. Didn't matter. I was still blown away. Something magical happens as the train winds it's way up the valley. I don't know what it is exactly, perhaps the valley narrowing, the apple orchards, the castles, the camaraderie of the rafting guides, I'm not sure. I'll return one day, this I know.

After waiting some time, everyone started to arrive to the party. Seeing the caliber of clothing (this is Italy, after all), I madly rummaged through my backpack and managed to find a clean white shirt. Miraculous! There was delicious food on offer and some very nice wine. I got talking to a Dutch couple, the woman spoke Dutch, German, English, Italian, Spanish and French. Fluently. 

The evening progressed very pleasantly, with enjoyable conversation. People started to congregate inside the bar and so I wandered over to investigate. Turns out it was time for awesome MTB (mountain bike) stunts. A young Italian man was bunny hopping over a volunteer from the audience. It was the style of MTB which was seatless. He then did the same trick with two people, three people. He actually brushed the shoulder of the third person lying down with the rear wheel, pretty close call. He called for a fourth person and one actually came forward. However, from the way she snuggled with the person beside her, she seemed to be immediately regretting her decision. I waited with baited breath, but no carnage occurred, disappointingly. I spoke with the fourth person afterwards and it turned out the MTB stuntman was her hairdresser. Only in Italy. Further into the evening I was speaking German with this old German guy who was dressed in lederhosen. Alcohol started to have it's effect and sleep overtook and settled down for sleep on the mattress in the storeroom...

5th September - Vicenza Villa

In the morning, after tasting some delicious local wine, I departed the house to check the sights and sounds of Vicenza with Linda, one of the Couchsurfers staying at the house. Passed first through a carnival, this was pretty much the same as they have back in Australia. Sound, sugar and suckers. Hearing it in Italian did somewhat muffle the effect the carnies had, although I thought that I could still detect the faint smell of cabbage issuing from their small hands, even at a distance.

After this diverting stroll, we ended up wandering through a rather affluent area. I was however, unable to judge the quality of the houses and ended up admiring many a well constructed wall. The well-heeled of Vicenza would seem to be experts in constructing quality, view obstructing walls.

creepy villa

After the wall viewing extravaganza, we decided to follow a path into the forest, without any ideas of neither how far it ventured nor indeed if it would lead us even remotely back in the right direction. With such obvious points in its favour, it was impossible to resist letting my feet led me amongst the trees. The foreboding air permeating the forest increased rather severely, as I spotted a building nearly completely obscured through trees. As we walked closer, the origin of the building became clearer. It had at some distant point in the past, been a hotel, the dilapidated exterior and plant penetrated interior betraying it's age. Intending to plumb the darkened depths, I grabbed a sturdy branch lying nearby and ventured in. However, once inside, my bravado was countered by both my powerful imagination and the signs of semi-recent habitation. Deciding that backing slowly and turning that into a run would be the best way out, I executed said plan perfectly.

Back on the path and in the brighter light of the afternoon, my actions did seem slightly silly...Anyway, the path twisted sinuously down the hillside, small patches of distant houses appearing intermittingly through the network of tree branches. Eventually the path guided us around the other side of the hill and into the town. It was an enticing glimpse into the side streets of Vicenza, just the sort of activity that lures me to path less tread...

4th September - Italian Encounter

Trieste

Rijeka appeared out of the mist as the ferry approached the Croatian coast. Disembarking, I saw 2 hitchhikers trying to hitch a lift with the exodus. Good idea, but I was committed to coffee with Toby and Kathrin. So, we wandered into Rijeka under a leaden sky, the drizzle dampening more than just my clothes. However, finding an umbrella left at the coffee shop did lift my spirits. Somehow, with a combination of wandering and asking we found ourselves on boat. Which had computers, free internet and a lot of polished wood. Cheap, tasty coffee. Ah, bliss for the traveler. Sent an emergency couchsurfing request, did some shopping, said my goodbyes to Toby and Kathrin, hopped on a bus to Trieste. Quite a nice city. However, I didn't have such a long time to look around. Was wondering around the seafront, met some nice people and then checked the internet. Someone had responded to my request, so I printed out the directions and hoped on a train to Vicenza! It is pretty close where I needed to get to so, no worries.

Although I did forget to validate my ticket! Freaked out a bit, but then met an Italian hitchhiking guy called Elia, who had also forgotten to validate his ticket! So, together we went and talked to the controller and everything was sweet. Had a great talk with Elia and he gave me his personal recipe for vin brulé.

I arrived in Vicenza with the memory of the Google Maps street layout and some printed directions. At 9pm. I found my way, navigating overpasses and back streets. I get there only to find Robino! He was one of the guys who organised the 789 meeting in Odessa! Was even more funny, because the host wasn't there, just all his guests! So, Max (the host, but don't let him hear you call him that) has pretty much one of the most open houses in CSing. Usually hosting 4 people, but has hosted 17 in the past! He gives you a set of keys and says "The house is yours". Truly fantastic. We even used my recipe for mulled wine that night. Met Linda and Charles, couple of cool CSers. Slept on a bed for the first time since Greece...

3rd September - Crossing Croatia

I open my eyes. Pure, azure sky welcomes me back in the world. I look around. Where am I? Ah yes, Croatia. It all comes back to me. I sit up in my sleeping bag, surveying the scene. Tucked away, hidden from view I can see the bay, in all it's glory. Feeling rather satisfied with myself, I decide to celebrate by eating. The previous day (or was it the day before?) I purchased a loaf of bread, which I proceeded to eat, washed down with flat carbonated water. Ah, the simple joys of travelling on a shoe string budget. So, hampered in my desire to shower, by the distinct lack of a shower, I packed up and walked to the highway.

I crossed the bridge, finding a rather small (read: exactly large enough for a small car to stop, if said car was outfitted with rally brakes) pullover area, decided to stand in/on/beside the railing and try my luck. Whilst I was waiting for someone with exceptionally good brakes, I noticed a cruise liner doing a 180° turn. After approximately 1 hour (I travel without phone or indeed a watch), I managed to get a lift with a driver going all the way to the Bosnia and Herzegovina border. Didn't know that Bosnia and Herzegovina had a 'small' strip of the coastline? Well, neither did I until the driver informed me that he was turning off just before the border. Ah. Well, as Felix and I had looked at a map of Moldova just a few weeks before, where we were able to discern that it was only 2km to walk, I decided that this distance was also the same. Little did I realise that the map I now had was at a much larger scale. Blissfully unaware of this, I set off. First, tried to hitch in the border area, but got moved on the guards. An interesting feature of hitchhiking north along the Croatian coast is that there are no rest areas for traffic. Like none. They don't exist. So, walking in the wrong lane, or more frequently, teetering on the side of the railing which offered protection from the traffic and trying to avoid falling down steep slope. Once I walked along an overgrown pipeline. After about 5hrs I ended up walking to a supermarket thing. Lucky for me they accepted my Croatian money in return for a delicious chocolate coated ice-cream. So, so hot outside...

More walking later, I found myself at a service station. Little traffic. I have made it about 50km. I walked about 10 of those kilometres. Feeling like I may not make it to Italy on time (all explained in future posts). Fairly dispirited, waiting in the 32°C sun. About 1 hour later, I actually get a car to stop. Who should be driving it but a Kiwi? Not only that, but an interesting one, who gave me a crash course in the troubled history of the Balkans. He had been here 17 years ago as a war photographer and stayed, now speaking Croatian and even had a Croatian passport. Actually, he was on his way to a funeral. This wouldn't be the last time that I would be picked up by someone on their way to a funeral. Strange, but also a testament to the kindness of humans, irrespective of their country of origin. So, he wasn't going any further north and so he ended up dropping me on the highway.

Further walking, I found a reasonable place to hitch from. After a brief wait I got a ride with two Croatian guys. They were both drinking a beer (the European 0.5L kind of can. Once you have had it you can't go back). However, based upon my observation of no other beer cans, a working seatbelt (still a novelty) and my extreme desperation for a lift led me to feel pretty relaxed about the situation. Especially when we dropped in to visit a friend of theirs and they gave me a beer (they also partook of another). Interesting guy, an artist. Was invited to go walking the mountains around the next day (implicit in this, the offer of accommodation and food. For a random guy. I am coming back as soon as I can Europe), but due to my rather tight schedule I had to refuse. We ended up back on the road, now taking some amazing country roads. So that it would be quicker? Not at all, was purely to show me the Croatian countryside. Fantastic winding roads. They had told me previously that they were heading to Split, which mean I had in 12hrs of hitchhiking gotten 150km. In conversation, it turned out that there might be a ferry leaving for Rijeka, 400km more north. He called and it would all work out! So, we stopped for more beer, the driver informing me that he wouldn't drink any more. "Good idea, could maybe affect your driving", I suggested. "No no", he replied "If I have anymore, I will stay partying in Split and won't catch my ferry to my island". Ah, of course, I thought. Anyways, we parked and I changed money, bought a ticket and walked on as the last passenger, before they departed. Perfect timing!

So, I walked around, wrote in my journal, but still felt restless. Walked outside and felt the cool spray of saltwater on face. I spied a group people, who looked like travellers. Were. Two were couchsurfers. Broke out the raki. Good chats and would end up going on to stay with Tobias and Kathrin in Heidelberg, Germany towards the end of my trip.We all chatted into the early hours and then turned in. The distant rumbling of the engines and the gentle rocking of the Mediterranean waves lulling me to sleep...

2nd September - Stealth Camping King

After trying to pretend for some hours that Budva was my home for life, I eventually got the bus to Kotor. A beautiful town, with some amazing architecture. There is a stone wall which goes straight up the side of a mountain, impressive. However, the sense of wonder was hampered by the large amount of rubbish blowing around in the streets. After a failed hitchhiking attempt, I ended up getting the bus to Dubrovnik with other 'travellers', people going from hostel room to hostel room, going via organised timetables. Not for me. Arrived in Dubrovnik in the early evening, the soft light of the afternoon sun enhancing the fading colours of this beautiful town. I wandered the backstreets, amazing to see that people really live their life in such an amazing setting. Wrote in my journal in the main square, listening to street performers just around the corner and relaxing. I hadn't organised any accommodation and after having a few beers with a new friend, was no closer to a bed. It was 1.30am. I said my goodbyes and jumped on the bus, to go back to the bus station and sleep there the night. That was the plan....

I woke up to the bus winding it's way up a mountain. 'Hang on', I thought to myself 'I don't remember this on the way in'. For the very good reason that I had slept well past my stop and was now about 20km in the middle of somewhere else. Fortunately, I was able to recruit an English speaker to get the bus driver to drop me off on the way back. Unfortunately, the bus stop was completely closed. Plan B. Time to stealth camp. So, as I was already on the outskirts of the city, I proceeded to walk along looking for a suitable place. Glancing over to my right I spotted a narrow staircase, winding up into the Croatian mountain side, into darkness. Why not? So, I wandered up the mountain, getting nearly 3/4 of the way to the highway, right beside a huge cable bridge. To my left, after a few metres scree like of steep slope I spied a rusty railing, skirting the steep incline. Perfect. Safety schmafty. A short slide later I found myself on a narrow path, cliff face one side, rusty railing on the other. I pushed through some scratchy bushes and found the most perfect of stealth camping spots. Halfway up a cliff, hidden from view (but with an amazing view). I lay down my sleeping bag, drifted off to the sleep, content...

28th August to 1st September - Refreshment of the Soul

I awoke around 1 or 2 pm, which would turn out to be a fairly standard affair. Zeljko cooked a really tasty breakfast and prepared a fantastic coffee (which seemed to be a Balkans take on the Greek/Turkish coffee). Naturally (to Zeljko) he also served up a shot glass filled to the brim with my raki alongside the coffee. And let me tell you, nothing says "Lets have a great day" better than homebrew raki, strong coffee and tasty breakfast! Sent a few emails and chatted, was actually well into the afternoon before I made it down to the beach. Superb. I had one of those moments where you think "This is like a dream, I can't believe I am really here". This is the Europe of your dreams. The "Stari Grad" (translation: walled city) which I was staying in, is 2,500 years old and laced with narrow streets and overhead balconies. As I type this entry up back in Australia, I can easily reflect that it is probably the most beautiful place I visited in Europe. The water is perfectly clear, the rays of sunshine rippling over the rounded, aqua-marine rocks, which stud the sea floor. Greeting your salt stung eyes, as they break the surface of the Mediterranean is the intriguing architecture of the stari grad, with the Montenegrin mountain range rising steeply in the background, bald patches of rock staining the slopes, betraying their age.

Today I woke a tad earlier and had the same coffee/raki/breakfast, today washed down with some beer, before the sun had crossed the yardarm. Whatever, i am holidays. Hmmm, this does ring somewhat hollow though as I realise that I have been on holidays for about 18 months. Satisfaction. I was feeling very contemplative, something that is rather easy when you have only two things to "do". One was lying on the beach. The other was wandering through the alley ways and alcoves. Spent some hours down on the beach, was very enjoyable.

After that I spent some time just wandering aimlessly, but not without aim through the backstreets and alleys. Fantastic.

Wandered around in the early evening with Teresa and Zeljko, got an awesome sandwich and went to a bar for a beer. Or more accurately, went and sat in a vine covered alley, and were served beer. Relaxing. After a few beers I wandered towards the end of the unlit alley, peering into backyards. The curved alley revealed an archway, which I was somewhat surprised to find led only to a 2m drop onto rocks. No signs. Nothing to stop you. Simply stunning views greet the eyes, imprinting themselves directly onto my brain, as these were the sights I had dreamed of. Some days pass...

Was planning to leave this morning, but the sensually relaxing lifestyle seduced me into staying for another day (I slept in). We all went down to the beach, swum and sunned ourselves. As we returned to T and Zeljko's apartment, we met a couple of fellow travelers. Actually, there was already another CSer hanging out, so that meant 6 people in a 1 room apartment. Interesting, but we somehow managed to position ourselves with no worries. The two travelers were called Florian and James, couple of cool guys who had met on the road and decided to travel together for a while. We went for some beers and I slept my last night in enchanting Budva...

27th August - Road to Montenegro

Ah, getting up and leaving is getting a little harder to do each time, compounded I suspect by the lack of sleep. So I packed up my worldly goods, Beti and I wandered into town, to pick up some homemade raki that I had asked one of Beti's Albania friends for. So, he presented me with 1.5L, free of charge! This would prove to be a social lubricant for the next two countries (I conservatively estimate the alcohol content at 60%. A conservative estimate, remember). So, whilst walking out of Lezhë I had a quick espresso and then assessed my hitching options. Frankly, they didn't look too good. So I paid for transport, dammit, the princely sum of $2 to be crammed into a minibus and driven over what qualifies as a 'road' in Albania, to Shkodër. Unfortunately for me, I had forgotten to print a map. So, after getting lost, find a net cafe, and getting lost again, I found myself in what appeared to by the centre. I judged this by the large amount of taxi drivers heckling me for 'cheap' €20 rides. I was wondering how the hell i was going to get to Budva, my target for the day. Still a border crossing away. Somehow, I remember exactly, I bumped into 2 Czech guys (brothers) and then bumped into them again 10min later, only this time they had managed to secure a ride with some guy to Ulcinj, in Montenegro. I asked if I could come along too, and for the grand sum of €3 I quickly become sandwiched between the 2 brothers in the back seat. Turns out the drivers command of English was much like that of his car, poor at best. So, as he could speak a little German, i got the main job of translator, as task to which I was ill matched, but as our German was equally bad, we seemed to understand each fine. So we get to the checkpoint, which was quite new, only being open for a year or something (as Montenegro only declared independence in 2006). This is evident in that it is the same building, just different windows, for Albania and then Montenegro. I wish this was more commonplace, would have saved me quite a few kilometres walking. While we were waiting, I somehow got talking to a 60 year old guy who had been living in Sydney for the last 40 years. Was an interesting chat. So, I then got dropped off in Ulcinj and wandered to the outskirts. Where I stayed for a good 2 hours, in a great spot. I did eventually get a lift to Bar. I could smell the most delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and without even thinking, started to look around the car (I hadn't eaten in 9 hours). He noticed and mentioned that I should take some bread, which I promptly did. He said it he was on Ramadan and as it was still daylight, I surmised he wasn't going to eat it just yet. The scenery along the coast of Montenegro is simply stunning. It is a series of tight bays, with the mountains rising directly out of the water. So, I was then dropped at a bus stop, from which i tried unsuccessfully to hitch from for over an hour. Darkness was falling, so I hopped on a bus to Budva. I arrived at Budva at 8.30 with these instructions:

"Find Caffe Jef and Caffe Greco, 2 outdoor bar/cafes well known to the locals inside Stari Grad (means Old City). The entrance is through 2 big plain white painted wooden doors set in a stone wall next to the cosmetics shop Bingo - which has no identifying marks... Go through the doors and up the stairs to the large vine-covered patio that can be seen when standing outside of Caffe's Jef and Greco. Go through the open door on the and up the blue stairs. We are the door at the top"

These directions were duly followed and I found myself in the Europe that I had dreamt of. A stone balcony, with over hanging grapes, ripe and Delicious. I knocked on their door and meet my couch surfing host 'T' and her boyfriend Zeljko. I felt at home immediately. I whipped out the raki in short order and finished the evening drinking rakia with T, sitting in the the edge of the balcony, dangling our bare feet and watching the people dancing the night away below us...

Check out the plates (you will need to click on the picture to get full size), only in Albania can you get away with that!

Is the implication in this photo that, after a visit, your vagina will be able to played like a violin?

26th August - Lezhë

12 hrs of sleep later, I was feeling surprisingly refreshed, despite the quantities of rakia ingested the previous evening. Beti apparently was working today and so I should go look for her in certain cafe. This is what the note she left for me said. So, as I wandered out the door, I was struck by the rather nice views from her apartment. I found it also heartwarming (well, throat burning would be more accurate) that there were several long rows of grape vines, who only purpose as far as I could ascertain, was the production of rakia. Hmmm, Albanian has a way of growing on you. 

 And then you are forced to use one of these 'toilets'. Unfortunately, I have become somewhat of a veteran of these things, having pooed (or as I now prefer to say "laying a deuce") my way from the Italian Alps to the Ukrainian lowlands. So, left to wonder what stupendously pyroclastic bowel movements could have possibly cracked a piece of the ceramic off, I headed further into town. I quickly realised though not large by any means, Lezhë was large enough to prevent me from chancing upon the cafe in which Beti was apparently ensconced. My plans foiled I resorted to asking a passerby, who (instead of stabbing and robbing me, as people who have never visited Albania are wont to describe the tendencies of its inhabitants) took the time to lead me directly to the cafe in question. Thank you random Albanian man. So, after finding Beti, we went back to the head PC office. 3 computers and perhaps it was just my newness to the scene, but it didn't seem like a whole lot of work was being done. But that is my general impression of Albania, so perhaps they had just smoothly slotted into how things were done (or not) here. So, after some time we dropped into a local bar, invited for some rakia (what else?) and I decided that it would be impolite to refuse an offer for my new favourite drink.

After the drinks ,as we headed home, picking up a few ingredients for dinner, I noticed an interesting  phenomena, which Beti explained to me and it cultural ramifications. So, a little bit of brief history first for context. Cue wikipedia link here: Albania. So, rather incredibly attractive women wander the streets (rather like the Italians and Greeks do in the evening, albeit in more picturesque settings), dressed in an extremely revealing manner. However, Albania is still very conservative, so they wont actually sleep with anyone they don't intend to marry. One one hand sucking at the teat of the American media and on the other retaining cultural values from 200 years ago. Makes for strange viewing in the evening, no wonder the men are having some problems. Anyways, we went back and had some food and proper European Absinthe (with wormwood). Have you heard that you are supposed to somehow filter it through sugar and then add some fire? Well, it still tastes bad...

25th August - 25th Birthday.....twice

As I find myself sitting at the front of the bus, watching an Albanian music video clip (quite possibly choreographed by a 5 year old) playing on the small tv screen, I start to realise I may be welcoming in my birthday in a distressingly uncomfortable manner. Its 8pm and I have a 10hr bus journey, that will crest the mountains between Greece and Albania. I abandon all pretense of sleep, instead just watch out of the window as the bus starts to climb, the far reaching views hidden under the cloak of darkness. As the bus the nears the top of the range, the temperatures plummeted, a fact I am awoken to as I step wearily down and am startled to see my breath readily forming clouds in front of my face. As I avoid the group of men offering "great rates" on the Albanian currency, the lek, I check the time and notice that I may be able to perform a nifty trick. As the border formalities take quite some time, the clock ticks 12.01am and I suddenly become 25! However, we then proceed about 30 min later through the Albanian checkpoint and since it is an hour behind (if only that was all) I suddenly become 24! I have managed to legitimately have my birthday separately in two countries!

Tirane at 5am

As the bus wound back down the mountains, sleep becomes impossible, as the approach of the bus drivers closely resembles that of the World Rally Championship drivers. We arrive in Tirane at 5am. It looks exceedingly dull in the grey light of dawn, an effect amplified by the communist architecture. For some reason there was an English family having an argument. I could identify from their poor command of English that they were as we say in Australia, 'bogans'. Can't escape them anywhere it seems. After being told to get in a minibus which did nothing for 30min, I was then bundled into another one, which took me part of the way, stopping in Laç. I then managed to secure another to Lezhë, my final destination. We bump over, for want of a better name, the 'road'. This consists of asphalt, cunning pockmarked with a rather large number of potholes. Then a section of dirt, of varying lengths, seems to appear. And so on. I arrive in Lezhë, manage to call my CSing host, Beth and met her. She works for the PC (Peace Corp), and they are having a once year get together of all the children they have involved in their volunteer work. I do manage to score a T-Shirt. After their presentations, we all head down in a rickety bus to the beach for the afternoon. The kids love dancing. As you can see in the clip, it’s not especially complicated. But they did it for hours. Pretty cool.

 

So, Beth and I went for a swim in the late afternoon, realised that there was no more buses. So, we were forced to climb fences, teetering on the edge between falling into a shitty hole on the road on one side and a hole full of shit in a pig pen on the other. Ah, you shall long remain in my memories, sweet Albania. We hitched the short distance back into town on the fading light. Picked up ingredients for dinner on the way home, dropping into a bar for a shot or two of Rakia, you can see the effect upon humans in the first picture of this entry. Firewater made from grapes. Powerful...

Shoe repair man

24th August - Thievery in Thessaloniki

So, after yesterday returning to Thessaloniki 11 hours after I left the day before, I had researched a way to get to Albania. There was an overnight bus leaving today at 8pm and damn the expense of €32, I had been nearly a week in one place and felt the urge to get going. On the way to the bus station, I had decided to meet with John (a rather unlikely name for a Greek) a CSing host who I had communicated with prior to my arrival in Thessaloniki. So, we met up for a an excellent 'Greek' coffee (its a Turkish coffee, but due to tensions between the 2 countries you have to call it a Greek coffee in Greece. Damn Greeks) and had a good old chat. We covered quite a diverse range of subjects, as he was a good conversationalist. He was what is know as a Pontian Greek , a interesting group of Greeks that experienced a forced Diaspora due to a massacre buy the Turks 100 years ago. Check out the hyperlink for the history lesson. Actually, my host is also a Pontian Greek. There is also a Pontian Greek community, not very large. I am rather surprised that there is any Pontian Greeks in Thessaloniki at all, as it is the birthplace of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk , who gave the order for massacre of the Pontian Greeks. Actually, he is responsible for much more than that, but I don’t have the space for the many things he did here. The reason I am surprised (after all, it was 100 years ago) is that the Pontians act like it was yesterday. Anyway, we had a great chat and I was sorry that I didn’t have more time to spend with him.

So, I hoped on a bus to go to the main bus station, in order to buy my ticket. I was just standing on the bus, near the door. Some random dude got on, but of course I paid him no attention whatsoever, other than to notice he was carrying a newspaper. Bumpy roads which weren't effectively compensated for by the suspension, meant that I paid no attention to a bump on my leg, figuring that I just bumped someone or something. However, not too long after the first bump on my leg, I noticed another. This time i wondered what had happened and looked down at my thigh. WTF? What should I see but the hand of the newspaper guys, in my pocket trying to get my wallet. FUCKING THIEF! I decided that I should remonstrate with this man and clearly and succinctly communicate to him my feelings on the matter. Perhaps I was too succinct? No, on second thoughts, I believe the words "What the fuck are you doing?! Are you fucking right?! Get the fuck off this bus, you fucking thief! FUCK OFF!' communicated just the right mix of feelings, my thoughts on his actions and a suggested future action. So, after this interesting interlude, I arrived at the main bus station. After waiting, I proceeded to the ticket counter to purchase a ticket. "What’s that, you need my passport?" I said, clearly unprepared for this technicality. Maybe you hoity toity European types knew that a passport is required for booking a seat on a inter country bus, but not me. Damn it! So, I reserved a seat, returned to the apartment say my goodbyes and hopped on the bus to Albania....

19th to 23th August - Thessaloniki to.....Thessaloniki

Another day, another beach awaking. I mean less that I woke a beach to consciousness (a rather nifty trick, had I achieved it), but rather I woke up on a beach. Anyways, I ate some rather lacklustre breakfast, which was possibly 2 days old. So, I meandered out of town, encountering yet another LIDL (god bless the Germans and their aggressive expansion strategy. Hang on, isn’t there a German word for that? Ok, I should probably stop before I make this any worse) and stocked up on supplies. I walked for quite a way, waited for a little and scored a direct lift to Thessaloniki, 300km away. I was quite tired and ended up sleeping for most of the way, instead of soaking up the views along the coastline, as I had planned. Ah well. After being offered the drivers ham and cheese burger for the umpteenth time, I accepted it. Hmmm, kinda tasty and kinda tasty is more than I need. I got a bus into town and hung out there for a little while, then called my CS host (called George, rather incongruously) and organised to meet up. Interesting guy, speaks 4 languages (Estonian, Russian, Greek and English), comprising 3 alphabets. Always, we walked back to his place and had some beers and some retsina (Greek rosé) with coke. Sleep was inevitable...

Got up late, wandered into town for a frappé, which is essentially is a foam-covered iced coffee drink made from spray-dried instant coffee (thank you wikipedia). It’s the most popular drink in Greece, which is interesting as it tastes like bad. I mean, when did it become cool to drink instant coffee that was left for half an hour to cool down? Anyway’s, after paying the exorbitant price (like everything in Greece) we went further into town and wandered along the esplanade, which had a multitude of bars. No one (except for in Berlin and Copenhagen’s Christiania) knows about uncool being the new cool. So, what you get is ultra modern, ultra expensive bars filled with ultra attractive ultra rich people. Damn you and your good looks and full wallets. Prices in theses bars commonly hover around €10 ($16) for a beer. My daily budget. So. I contented myself to wandering past and wondering by which path does one take to find themselves sipping cocktails and looking like a douche bag in the beachside bar in Thessaloniki? Oh, and my beachside I am of course referring to the 20km long completely cemented, no beach or sand allowed, esplanade. You do get used to cement in Greece. So after this foray into the lives of the rich and douche baggy, we returned to his apartment and I ended up talking to his parents over Skype, with him. He translated (in Russian) to his parents. Interesting. After that I ended up joining him at his night shift for the apartment block, hung out all night and just talked...

After the late night, we slept quite a lot of the day. I went into town and walked up the rather steep hill, to the castle over looking the city. Some interesting contrasts, such as almost slum like houses, having multi-million dollar views. It would appear that at least here, views are not the purely the realm of the rich. I then wandered over to another part of the castle, which was completely deserted. Ate some of the grapes growing on a vine. Deliciously illicit. Next thing on the list was an internet cafe (far to much to organise for my liking).

Not everything is what it seems...

 So after some intensely aimless wandering, passingly some rather politically incorrectly named shops (I also noticed that in Greece there is no such thing as a normal bakery. it would appear that Greeks are only partial to a variety of sugared snacks, not loaves of bread) I happened across a shop with the words "Internet Cafe" in big letters (as you can see in the photo). Strangely, I took this to be a place where I might be able to use the internet. No David, no. As soon as i went in I noticed the interior had a hushed feel to it. I was presented with a bar and a velvet partition. Not a nerd in sight. Hmmm, somethings not quite right here. Presently, an attractive girl appeared wearing a low cut top. "What is this place?” I think. When I asked her wether they had the internet here, as advertised outside and she replied in a dreamy, seductive voice "No, its something else" I started to realise that perhaps what they offered didn’t cost only €2 per hour. So, I left. As I re-examined the "cafe" from the outside, I realised that perhaps the velvet curtains which didn’t even let a sliver of light in, should have clued me into the nature of the place. I was later informed by a local that it was most likely a illegal casino. However, I have chosen to disregard this information and stick with my initial, more exiting theory that I had stumbled into a disguised brothel.

The next day I left early, as I had an extremely ambitious day ahead of me. I wanted to hitch hike from Thessaloniki to a small town in Albania, north of the capital Tiranë, called Lezhë a distance of some 400km. And having heard about the poor quality of the Albanian roads, this was going to be quite a challenge. I caught a bus to actually another little village, on the far outskirts of Thessaloniki. As usual, I was following directions from Hitch Wiki, a free resource updated by hitch hikers with good hitch hiking spots and how to get to them. Hence my appearance in the middle of nowhere, following directions to a big toll station. As I am wandering through this town of no more than 2,000 people, I glance to my right and see an Ostrich. WTF? A goddamn Ostrich! Just wandering around in someone’s yard. Previously I had thought myself starting to become immune to being amazed my completely random, completely un-understandable things (there are so, so many in Eastern Europe, I love it). I would appear not, as I stopped dead in my tracks and gazed dumbfounded. Anyways, Albanian was still pretty much all of those 400km away... A walk though bushes and a jumped fence later (I would have taken more care in those bushes had I known as I walked through them that they were largely used as public toilets by the people pulling over in the stop area after the toll station) I found myself in front of a huge toll station, 5 lanes going in each direction. With a large pull over lane and plenty of traffic. "This shouldn't be too hard", I thought. 2 hours later, still standing in the same spot in the hot sun, I was starting to doubt the wisdom of that thought. Eventually I got a lift with a Greek guy, who spoke only Greek and German. Well, another chance to polish the scrap of brass that is my German to a high sheen. So, we ended up going a little different path to the one I had planned, but sometimes that happens. However, you should be careful that it doesn’t lead you into the Greek countryside, in the middle of the day, without any water. Hot. No lifts. Hours pass. I decide to walk to the highway that leads to both Thessaloniki and a town further south. Just as I am contemplating the decisions that led me here, a car reverses and asks in English "Where are you going?” I cunningly reply with another question, also in English "Where are you going". He says "Thessaloniki" and saying "OK", admitting defeat...

Politically incorrect much?

18th August - Bye in Bulgaria

Woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed after 5 hours drunken sleep on cold concrete, softened only by the sleeping bag. Had some watermelon for breakfast. Antinos arrived as we had organised (with not one word of the other persons language) and although he didn't bring the schnapps like he said he would, there was a bottle from the night before with a quite a bit in it still and he decanted it into 2 .5L bottles, one for each of us. I must wait until I return home before i am allowed to open it, a promise I shall have no problems keeping, as the taste of the schnapps from the previous nights drinking was lingering in my mouth. Went a short way before dropping Felix off on the 'highway' leading to Sofia, fitting that the last sight I would have of him before catching up in Berlin is from the wing mirror of a car. It was as a hard as I thought it would be, as we had grown quite close, spending 24hrs a day together for 2 weeks. So many emotions and laughs shared from sleeping next a petrol station, crammed into a Ukrainian mini-bus with 30 other hitchhikers, hitchhiking in the Moldovan countryside, the brooding Bulgarian forest, problems at borders, 47 lifts and too many more to list.

First attempt ever at sign writing

So, Antinos dropped me at the Bulgarian/Greek Border. I walked through with no worries and proceeded to walk to the Greek border. Hmm, WTF? There was just a road. Man, with new borders, the checkpoints are right beside each other. This one was bloody kms apart! In the hot sun. Took a photo of that sign to prove how cool I was and then noticed a guard in the distance. Shit, so I pretended to be just turning the camera off. Sucker! Anyways, got to the next border eventually and asked if they had a toilet. I was presented with a pamphlet. Ah, I was looking for countries in which people couldn't speak English, wasn't I? So, I put my stuff down in the shade of the border checkpoint roof and wrote a sign for Alexandroupoli. I quickly realised that I had been rather wise to leave the sign writing to Felix as it is actually more difficult than it looks. Which I think you should be able to discern from the quality of the sign I ended up writing. Got a few laughs from onlookers and then I hitchhiked a lift about halfway. Although there was a suspiciously placed Playboy on the centre console, it was otherwise a pretty good ride. High up and good views on a hot summer day...

So, I got dropped out. The spot didn't look good and I felt confident that just a little further up the road a better spot would appear. Just a little further...There is something liberating about making your own bad decisions and recognising this and saying 'Whatever, I do what I want'. So, 5 km down the road I realised that I had been dropped at the only place people could possibly stop for quite a while. However, a LIDL (Germany discount supermarket, are everywhere) appeared like a mirage out of the baking midday heat. So in I trooped to stock up on water, bananas and bread. As i was going in and having some problems getting a trolley out (I just like pushing trolleys around) some old lady started talking to me in Greek and gave me a  yellow token and to this day I have no idea what the hell it is for. I tried it in the money slot, didn't fit. I think it is a discount for chicken. Why the hell would I need uncooked chicken when I was quite obviously hitchhiking? Old people are a mystery to us all. So, off I walked again. I think i walked another 5 km before I came to a spot. And waited. For over an hour. there was heaps of traffic and I was slightly dying in the sun, having adjusted to European temperatures and also perhaps foolishly had no hat. I did eventually get a lift with a pretty cool Greek guy going all the way to Alexandroupoli. Sweet. So he was talking about religion for some reason, and by this stage he knew I was a Australian guy hitchhiking around the place. So, he says 'Everyone is my brother' an endearing, if not paradoxical statement. He then asked me if i was Greek Orthodox, like him. I mean, what the fuck did he think the chances would be? Did he think they would be good? Anyways, when I replied in the negative, he did grunt in disapproval. I enquired as to whether it is OK to not be Greek Orthodox and he said it was. But it did take some time for the conversation to get started. He dropped me right in the middle of town and here I was. But I didn't have anywhere to stay and wasn't about to part with the coin for a room in a hostel. Tried to get a place to stay with CouchSurfing, no luck. So I went for a swim for my first time in the Mediterranean, was OK. The wandered around town, was very beautiful at night, with many people eating out at restaurants, walking around and such. I went to a place on the beach that I had identified earlier and got ready for sleep. All I had to was ignore the overly amorous couple who had settled down 10 metres from me. Easier said than done...

17th August - Don't fall alseep at the wheel (Turkey to Bulgaria)

Why?

So, packing and trying to figure out how the hell we were going to get out of Istanbul dominated our morning. Cem had actually left in the morning for work before we got up, so we missed our chance to say goodbye. After a while of checking the satellite imagery on Google Maps (we are high tech hitchhikers nowadays), we identified an on-ramp that led onto the highway we wanted to take. We knew which bus to take from talking to Cem last night. OK, so everything was planned. So, on the first bus, we got talking to this Turkish guy. Nice guy, he gave us an apple each, which had come from his tree at home. Then we changed for the Metro Bus. Pretty impressive system and brand new. There are two lanes, one going in each direction, in the middle of a brand new highway separated from the car lanes by a fence and the only access is from underneath. And the buses are as new as I have seen in Europe. So what this means is no congestion. However, most countries would build a train/tram system. Anyways, as we getting off, I was a bit slow the doors were closing. So, I for some reason thinking that bus doors are like elevator doors, stuck my arm in between the doors to stop them from closing. Hmmm, not my best idea. So what happened is that I am stuck in the bus with one arm up to my shoulder sticking out and the bus driver about to take off. Lots of yelling in the Turkish people on the bus prevented me from leaving like that and he opened the doors! I wandered off, feeling extremely foolish and wearing a rather sheepish grin on my face. Stupid westerners was the main though running through the heads of the Turkish people on the bus I guess. So, after another bus ride we ended up at the end of the line. However, it was looking a bit more difficult on the ground to find where we needed to get to. And there is no sidewalk. So some highway walking and we found ourselves in a part of Istanbul which I estimate receives visits from tourists every 10 to 15 years. Mainly because it is incredibly shit. But as everywhere in Turkey, the people are unfailing polite and helpful. However, this doesn't stop people giving retarded advice. Like how we asked for the way to the highway at two separate petrol stations and received instructions for exactly opposite directions from each place. Hmmm, well we ended up at an Internet cafe and figured out where we were and got ourselves heading in the right direction. On the way a young child wandered up to me, just wanted to talk and practise his English (he was 12). Cool little dude. Whilst he was walking with me he found 1 lira. Seemed to make his day (1 lira is one Australian dollar, €0.50 cents).

Eventually we located the on ramp (mainly due to Felix's unerring sense of direction) and were chatting with a guy nearby who was telling us that we wont be able to get a lift when a semi-trailer stopped. It was the day of the truck for us, and it turned out in the end we nearly only got lifts with trucks. Our 3rd lift was with a truck driver who spoke intermediate German (better than me) and so we were having a great time chatting away. Then suddenly, we all got jerked forward and then the truck driver hit the brakes hard. I wasn't sure what had happened and I saw a suspension coil rolling out from behind the truck in the rear view mirror as we stopped. I though initially that truck had suffered a catastrophic failure or something like that. I got out and saw bits of crap spread all over the road. Hmmm, I kept walking around the truck and saw a car crashed into bushes on the other side of the road. WTF? I really had no idea what the hell had happened, was thinking that the tyre blowing up had caused the crash. Then I walked right around the semi-trailer and all was clear. The car front right hand side of the car had slammed into the back left-hand side of the semi-trailer. It had done this hard enough that the wheel was ripped completely off the car and jammed up behind the wheels of the truck, which had caused the braking. Unbelievably, there were no fatalities or injuries. So it was OK to be pissed off. And we were, as that truck would have taken us all the way to the border. We had to get away from the accident before the police arrived as well, would have been tricky to explain away the 2 westerners with backpacks fitting legally into a truck with only one seat. We managed to get lift very quickly with a trucker who had pulled up to see if he could help with the accident. About 1 km we passed the burned out hulk of a semi-trailer resting against the side of the bridge. No clues as to why it had caught on fire. Unfortunately our driver dropped us in a shitty spot and we ended up walking for miles on the highway. Eventually we arrived at the Turkish/Bulgaria border at 9pm, got our last lift with customs officers on their way to work! Checked out duty free and some dodgy lady kept trying to get us to buy cigarettes for them. After the border crossing of Moldova/Romania, we were keen to keep quiet far away from that behaviour.

Such great guys (Felix on the left)

So, we then tried to hitch. For more than 2 hours. We were completely exhausted from our hitching. I wandered off to try lay deuce in privacy, but no luck. I was wandered along the road when i bumped into a border guard standing in the darkness who told me to go back. Dammit. So, at around 11.30pm, we decided to wander into Bulgaria to find somewhere to sleep. Again, a border guard appeared out of nowhere, this time asking for passports. Hang on a second, where is my passport? I couldn't find it for the life of me, all the while this border guard standing there with his flashlight. Eventually, I just emptied my pack, found the passport nestled in some corner. So, back on the road, albeit it foot powered. Looking around at the strange town, trying to see if there was somewhere to sleep. There was a rundown hotel, guarded on the inside by a loud barking German Shepherd, which we only discover as we were standing in front of the door. Big surprise! Anyways, they wanted €15 per person for the night which was daylight robbery considering the time, the location and that it was a piece of shit hotel. So, walking along we were passing this kind of store/bar thing (yeah, its pretty tough to describe it) and this old guy calls out to us (in English, always surprising in Bulgaria): 'Hello my friends, where are you going?'. Normally I would just kind off fob this off as attempt to get money out of me, but the combination of exhaustion, a sense that this guy was genuine and curiosity lead myself and Felix to wander over and start chatting. Good move on our part. This guy was really friendly and so were his two friends. He said we could sleep on the concrete behind his shop and he opened the toilet. At this stage, this was like the Hilton to us. Then he invited us over to chat and drink schnapps with his friends. Bulgarian Schnapps. Not be mistaken with schnapps from other countries. This stuff tastes really strong. And by strong I mean bad. One of the guys, called Antinos, who was sitting down was the maker and he was chasing the stuff down with fanta. Intense. Although, in typical Balkans style, you don't drink the whole shot, just sip at it. They also gave us more food than we could eat (and I was trying hard to eat it all). Weird combinations which actually taste great. For example, bread with watermelon and Bulgarian cheese. So, we chatted into the wee hours. Felix and I just couldn't believe our luck and ours grins split our faces from ear to ear. Eventually, we finished up and went to lay down on the concrete, which after 3 hours of drinking schnapps, felt like a feather filled mattress...

16th August - Lazy day in Istanbul

Woke lateish and had another fantastic long breakfast prepared by Cem. We did eventually head into town, we were meeting up with another two CSer people, to wander around the Archaeological Museum with. So, we wandered. And wandered. The place is massive! Got talking to Erdal, started a deep conversation and just went deeper. You got to be careful when talking to philosophy majors! So, we discussed deeply religion and nationalism. Was a very interesting chat. One thing I have learnt from my travelling, is that I would prefer to have an good intelligent chat rather than see some old building. People are what matters. Also, I tried to get into a children's version of the Wooden Horse of Troy. A security guard put a stop to that. Seems like he was indeed a member of the fun police. After some hours of wandering, we went and had some food.

And then the best part of the day. We headed to a graveyard cafe (you actually walk past some real graves with tombstones on the way into the cafe. It is laid out in inner courtyard, playing some very chilled Turkish music. So, you sit down on a comfy couch and within seconds a man is there to take your tea/coffee/hookah  pipe order. Well, when in Turkey do as the Turkish do. So, I got a tea and coffee and we all got a hookah pipe. Apple flavour. Felix and I passed the hours playing backgammon, checkers, smoking the hookah pipe and drinking tea. Incredibly enjoyable. We went for a long walk along the Phosphorus, facing the stiff breeze. Invigorating. After just missing ferries and buses, we ended up with a rather late night, not the ideal preparation for a huge day of hitchhiking the next day...

Just before I was told that I wasn't allowed to climb into the Trojan Horse, as it was 'just for children'