Bamboo Odyssey » Serbia | Bamboo Odyssey

What I think about when cycling

Jules — Tue, 25 Jun 2013 10:28:31 +0000

What I think about when I am cycling

….seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven…..seventy two, seventy three….it’s an incline and its like a furnace, my mind wanders I don’t remember beginning to count, seven, eight,nine, ten, eleven…..eighty eight…..counting the repetition of the pedals. I never finish counting and seams I never remember starting, my mind can go in circles like the pedals…..then I’m chasing a butterfly, racing it, it flies alongside for a while, I am not longer counting, distracted by the beauty and absurdity of racing a butterfly.
I am a bit delirious so Li cycles behind, it should not be far before we locate a camp site, exhausted and so very hot but not overly noticing the discomfort. Better not to think about.
There is comfort all around.
I start a song, we start a song, don’t know the words, too exhausted to make one up…..Fresh, start a song…..don’t know the words, new words to get over the next hill.
Giggle at nothing in particular. Giggle a lot, at reaching a crest, laughter at the animation during brief encounters with creatures I do not recognise, and they do not recognise me. You are staring, staring, laughter at self, then long periods of blankness and then more laughter.
Sadness, missing You…….Look at the computer, 6 kilometres an hour….. Eighty eight, eighty nine……seven, eight……the computer, 23 kilometres an hour, are we going down hill, or flat? You say, flat……startled that I have found some energy again. Maybe it was the effect of picking up the tortoise I rescued from the middle of the road. I am excited and want to keep it. I think about the tortoise and ones I encountered in my youth. The road kill can make me cry…or the effect on my senses….recoil in revulsion….and just the fragility of life.
I reflect on my bike mishap, not wanting another… concentrating on the road, the potholes, sand, gravel, the well travelled tracks, cars, trucks, horse drawn carts. But it was a an impressive somersault, You said I landed on my head, too fast, track just a fraction wider than the tyres and grooved. I watched the river, slow amazement that my feet unclipped from the pedals, that I rolled, up again smiling and unhurt. But thinking I don’t want another.
I cry a lot…..I cry at the full moon, it is…. beyond description. I cry when I meet you, I leave you. I cry because I am receiving far more than I can give.
Country number nine,…….ten, eleven…..is this real…I am a fake, this is a dream, this is my dream, our dream….seven, eight, nine…..this is not so difficult….it should be. Maybe tomorrow it will be too much. I will go home….I do not know where home is. I miss You. I love You, I do not want to go home, this is my home. This small world is our home. This world is too big….I can not think about it.
One day at a time…..nine, ten, eleven, no idea where our legs will take us, take me, where my mind will take me. Do I remember correctly. It does not matter, I am so very happy. Nothing hurts so much and I will crest the next hill, even mountain, even if I have to push, and I am lucky…..
In the saddle I speak to myself, was it out load, everything is loud with only bird song and the whirr of the bike. Breath, heart pumping…it is all so loud.
I have questions, more questions by the day, more curiosity, no language, just signs, laughter and smiles. I can say no more, there is nothing profound to think about…..just emotion.

Tired…or maybe resistance at leaving Serbia

Jules — Thu, 20 Jun 2013 13:04:07 +0000

It has been 15 days since our last day of a complete rest without the bikes. Yes, there have been a few short days, including 2 whole days without luggage in Belgrade, but today my legs are protesting. Not sore, just not performing, sluggish, slow on the flats, even the down hills. Maybe my legs are as attached to Serbia as I am, hate goodbyes and are protesting.
From Belgrade, Serbia just keeps on giving. It’s damn hot, 36 degrees most days since we arrived. Our first day out of Belgrade we were rewarded with respite from the mid day sun, shade and our first dip in a river. Several dips, and fresh cherries…and mints..from a local also taking refuge from the sun. I made him a sandwich, and received an orange and help pushing the bike up the sandy slope back on our way. 30 kilometres on we camped by the water on a lake, cycling the final kilometres the sun set, bathing the road, houses and trees in beautiful pink ambient light.
Like many other evenings we had a local escorting us in their car to the location of our accommodation for the night.
The second day out of the city, fortress ruins, tempted to stay and camp the night but pushed on to another site right on the river. To beat the heat we went to bed early, first time without using the tent fly, setting alarm for 5am. We need to get going early as we are melting, finding it difficult to acclimatise after 2 months of much rain. (No more butter in the food hamper, no more melting it under our arm!)
So yes, today my legs aren’t performing, they are struggling to find a pace I am content with yes, on the flat, even the down hills…..and there are many hills, many up hills.
After 20 kilometres again following the Danube we diverted to find supplies, sugar, maybe guarana would help. We found the most perfect village, farm animals, vegetable gardens, ramshackle houses, rustic and bubbling with life. We had our guarana, and shared a at beer at 9.30am. The locals(inc. a fireman, off duty I hope!) did the same as we were all awake at 5am. We have cut down our beer in the heat of the day and sample anything local, anything sugary, cold. The man we asked to spray us with his hose yesterday offered us coffee, unfortunately we declined.
Back to today, our wonderful village, my favourite to date, Boljetin. We decided to continue through Boljetin, off the route but sure we would link up further down the road. The road, past pigs, dogs, fowll, bumps, more bumps, gravel, sand, I lost count of the streams, we rode, we pushed and pushed. The air filled with butterflies, orange, white, blue like confetti. Off the bikes so many times to walk through the streams, the incline increased and we stayed out of the saddle. We pushed to the summit, 7 kilometres, 500 meters, on a track fit for a mountain bike, not 50 kilos of bike and luggage, but we did it….and we loved it….well….almost all of it. Ha….and then our 10 kilometre descent, majestic, magical views. The Danube in the distance, Serbia and Romania in our sights. My legs are tired, I don’t care, they will recover, my heart is bursting, tears flowing, it’s 36 degrees, I should be worried about tomorrow, but I can’t. Today can’t isn’t really in my vocabulary. Visit Serbia and you will love it.

Back on Danube

Jules — Thu, 20 Jun 2013 11:56:23 +0000

Belgrade

Jules — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 12:38:03 +0000

Belgrade is not an aesthetically beautiful city, but there is beauty everywhere. As we crossed the bridge into the city we received many welcomes and statements to “enjoy Belgrade”. We certainly did. People smile, speak to each other and offer help, constantly.
We rode immediately to KC Grade Sava Mala, for the opening of the inaugral Belgrade bike festival which we had discovered was on 2 days previously. The bamboo bikes were a curiosity from the second we rolled up. Unlike other cycle communities I have encountered there were no cliques and everyone was welcome, communicating and enjoying the atmosphere. The bikes are frequently an icebreaker however this was different. In other cities people, tap, scratch and sniff, lift the bikes, lick?….and usually move on. We were accepted with open arms for 3 days with or without the bikes.
The Bike Festival had a political agenda, unfortunately day one was pro dominantly in Serbian so we just enjoyed meeting people, sitting in the sun and soaking up the atmosphere. Belgrade bike festival
Day 2 we had been invited to give a presentation. This terrified us both however this journey is about pushing our own boundaries and this was the perfect opportunity. Between too much fun, beer and a technical hitch we were unable to set up a PowerPoint presentation so just winged it. Oh my god….we had had to use a microphone!
Anyway thanks to the easy going people, it’s was actually fun and if the amount of questions that followed, maybe moderately interesting for the participants as well.
It’s worth having a look at the bike festival site as they are doing some great things and it is worth looking at what a cycle community can do while in their infancy to improve cycling and safety. Oh….and also a huge thank you, particularly the women volunteers….you work damn hard, are passionate about your goals, and are amazing!
Martin and Dunja invited us into their home for the 3 nights in Belgrade….invited us to stay longer but with a heavy heart we had to….must move on. We had the joy of a Serbian education, laughter, and a wee kitten, rabbit and beautiful boxer, a home, not merely accommodation for our stay in a beautiful city.
Belgrade, Serbia , is overflowing with half built, half falling down, half renovated building and life is everywhere. The shops open, cafes, the people out, the river, despite slight flooding, is in use, plank walkways to the clubs and bars on the river edge, all thriving and full of life. Trees, flowers, shrubs and city parks amidst decay and growth…..very slow, slow growth and more decay. The architecture is beautiful and it is horrible, but mostly it is beautiful and encased in greenery. The national museum is enshrouded in scaffolding, apparently enshrouded for 10+ years, Picasso and Monet hidden somewhere in its bowels. I love this city, maybe more than its inhabitants! There is a lot of work to do, including for bicycle infrastructure, safety, but with this maybe Belgrade will become just like any other European city? ……and maybe not…..because of the people.

Serbia, with love.

Jules — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 22:11:58 +0000

Bacsalmas, Hungary to Bajmok, Serbia. All research told us the border was closed, research conducted on line, once already in Bacsalmas. Thanks to Google translate and our welcoming bar tender we discovered it should be open and tried our luck. We are getting used to being turned away by raging rivers and prejudice road signs at major junctions. The unknown and detours not a problem.
Our first check since producing our passports upon leaving the UK, the Hungarian and then, Serbian guards briefly inspected our British passports, they were stamped and with a friendly wink, we were sent on our way…..chased by the first 2 dogs of the journey that were barking out our heals, not fenced in, into Serbia.
Our first village and beyond. Thumbs up, even thumbs from the police with whom omniscient Google, promised corruption and engaged our fear. Cheers and calls of bravo, whole school groups waving, even teenagers, passing motorists, words I don’t understand but said with a smile. This was great for our ego and as we speed past, invigorated, we felt like athletes, with my “beer muscle” wobbling gently about my middle.
Only 2 short days in Serbia and I have been successfully seduced. Small towns and villages, like a step back in time.
Farmers no longer in air conditioned tractor and harvester cabins, tractors a third the size, 3 times as rusty, small crops, mostly tended by hand, mowers replaced by scythes. Horse drawn carts with red corn, with grass, beautiful rusting creaking bicycles, rusty “yugo’s”, a bake lite phone in our rusty pipe filled hotel. Crumbling facades to buildings in tree and garden spaces, cafes, restaurants, queues for ATM’s and mini markets. People are outside and life is buzzing.
Day 2 after night in Vrbas, my hands began to numb and I stated a rest required in the next town. Li suggested resting hands around a beer, “pivo effect” as my speed increased, I almost missed the man blocking our path in the centre of the road….a man, arms outstretched, blocking our path, our path……with……beer!
Attila…..we sat, intelligent, interesting conversation, Serbian matriarchy!…and would have enjoyed sitting upon the grass all day if the rain, and soon after, torrents, thunder did not disrupt our sojourn.
Now in the city of Novi Sad, no less friendly than the rural areas, I am slightly stunned by it all, very content, very full, very very welcome. Serbia with love, I may very , very well not leave you. X