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How insane you must be? Monday (10 days b. Dday) It’s 10 degrees C below zero. The wind is blowing and scattering snow that keeps falling. I’m rather tired of shoveling, even though I really love snow and winter, and they say it will continue snowing and it will get even colder… It’s the 17th day of my physio therapy, my shoulder is not getting any better, the comforting thought is that the rest of the body is coming back to shape (more or less). If not by swimming, exercising, electro therapy and laser, then at least by the shovel that I cannot avoid if I want to get to the listed stuff… It’s been a while since I wrote I good ‘wandering’ (some would say that it actually never happened), the last one is from 2016. And so, while my friends are promoting their books on moto-travelling, I use fountain pen and write some reminders and notes in hope that I will eventually have the will and inspiration to write something sensible. Last winter I’ve been following expedition diary written by the first Croat who hiked, alone and without anyone’s help, to the South Pole. I’ve admired his will, his struggle with morning demons, weather conditions, life decisions. Yes, I admit that I was waiting each new blog entry with eagerness of the passionate soap-opera viewer waiting for the new episode of his favorite series. With each new step he made, I kept in mind my business travel to Cyprus in March and kept dreaming of me being winter-resistant and wander to Cyprus on the bike. I even shared this idea with a few people. My mind is not set to it yet, but today I obtained international driver’s license. Let’s see what I have in notes until today. Until 23.02.2018 (when I started writing notes) THE bike The only one registered and capable of long trips is Gandalf the Gray (GtG or just Gandalf). Numerous praises have been casted on his behalf in previous wanderings, we’ve been through a lot together and I keep wondering whether I am in fact asking too much of him. He’s twenty yrs old, bought after the police has written him off, and passed more than 55000 kms with me since. I take really good care of him every winter, but my care has its limits and I cannot fully provide what I probably should. What did he get this winter? Besides regular oil change, he got NEW set of disc plates (the accent is on new as sometimes I tend to swap old ones for used, thank you Iggy). He even got the new front tire (again accent on NEW). While I was placing back the valve lid after calibrating, one of the threads in the block decided that it is enough, which gave me a chance to learn how to fix it with the spiral. Last year in Italy the daily mileage resetting wheel broke, and during Durmitor trip I noticed that RpM gauge is getting stuck once in a while. Thanks to the person who sold me Gandalf I managed to fix this, but I still did not pay parts. I took the exhaust from the same person as I got the feeling that the one that I have is coming to its end (thank you Valent). However, a friend, a fellow biker and exhaust doctor ripped my exhaust up to the end just to conclude that there is still some life left in it, so he sewed it back and repainted the stitches (thank you Željko). Cracked chrome I managed to cover with the color in spray. But before that I made mid girders that have not been there before, and I could write a small novel about making, setting up and welding. As I did not replace the exhaust and I had to change something, I changed the seals connecting to the block. The seals were NEW, from Tomić, BMW original…so someone does not say that I am stingy. When I finally started the bike, I realized that the sound I hear is not the valves but probably the chains…but that’s something that it’s not on my priority list so I hope it will do for a while. Also, I was not planning to fix the back shock absorber, but Štef made me to because he saw that it is a bit greasy and not easy to calibrate…he does not know that I never touched it and who knows for how long I’ve been driving around with that problem. And who am I supposed to take the it to? Another Štef who lives on the hill outside of Samobor, who owns a shop that you cannot stand strait without hitting the ceiling beam, in a blink of an eye realizes the problem of the spring calibration and the shock absorber itself. Spring calibration problem cannot be fixed so I got the remake and now it is mid-hard and cannot be any softer, just harder. I did not ask for the other thing. I could also write a small novel about taking over (thank you Flek). Ah yes, I almost forgot, the bike got a new spark plugs, even though the old ones were still great, I think I had them only for 2 years. About the test drive It took place on 19.2. in the conditions of 2 degrees C, without armor on bike, to Tokić in VŽ to get some oil for front telescopes. My legs and feet froze decently, not to describe in more inappropriate details. Cold for the head as well, as I did not have undercap nor scarf. Heated gloves helped the hands even though they are on the verge of being usable. These gloves were purchased from China of course in the moment of lucidity in the middle of day-dreaming, and in my head, they were the only thing that I need for driving long distance in below zero. I ordered ones powered with AA batteries and able to heat for 8 hours, and if that’s not enough, the batteries are easily obtained anywhere. However, the battery duration tests proved that the heating cannot last for more than 2 hours, the manufacturer admitted, so the seller apologized and returned the money fearing low rating. Two hours can be a lot, but driving, slipping off hands, annoying battery block and similar small details are the reason for saying that the usability is on the verge. How insane you have to be to believe in Chinese product specification? About irrelevant things The Ferry. I spent some time searching, emailing, contacting friends and shaman in order to find a ferry that could take me to Cyprus. Mid-March is not the season, and even though there was only one connection in the beginning, the second one appeared later on. Twice is twice ? Anyway, I cannot really be sure about this information, and it would be really great if I manage to reach the harbor just to realize that the ferry does not exist or that it left earlier. I sent two emails to the carrier (they even sell tickets online), one of them got answered to 7 days later, and the other was not replied to for the time being. I found even the ro-ro boat from Greece, but this option was too expensive both time-wise and financially. How insane you must be to believe Turkish ferry timeline? CPD. HAK webpage states that CPD is required for all vehicles going to Turkey and asking them to tell me how to get it the reply was that – I do not need it. Just in case I used some jockers and it turns out that it is not required (thank you Boris). One thing less. Visa. Required, but easily obtainable online. Not yet done. Therapy. Operating two-stroke appliance last year while not using proper handling equipment left some traces on my hand and shoulder. The pain would not go away for months; finally (being convinced by others) I went to check it, and then second, third and fourth time (without much delay – thank you Vikica) and ended up with 15 days of physio therapy (pool, gym, electro therapy, laser, cryo therapy). As all of it did nothing for the shoulder and I could not oblige myself to 5 weeks of shock wave therapy, I got additional 9 days of the previous. I asked that the last day of therapy would be a day before Dday (failing to mention why). As I was not on sick leave from work, it was set that all sessions start at 7 a.m. and end up to 9.30 a.m. (thank you Marija). But, this meant that I was the first to leave the house yard with the car, and with continuous snow and shoveling my therapies were actually starting at 6 or even earlier. Weather forecast. The only certain thing in life is change. I was checking long-term forecast for larger towns along the route couple times a day. My mood changed accordingly: bad if the temperatures were around zero, and desperate if they were in minus. I gave up planning at least ten times, left everything aside for a day or two…and then I would check forecast again and it would look less desperate with the glimpse of hope… What is dD (b.dD)? While pausing between work and shoveling, I realized that I need to know at least approximately when I should leave in order to catch the last ferry that would take me to Cyprus on time. It turned out that I have to be on the ferry that leaves Turkey on 11th March. There is way over 2000km to get to the harbor, the distance that I could do in 3 days in better weather and my own physical condition. With a day of reserve, it turned out that I should leave on 8th March and that was named the day D (dD). I also set the approximate time-frame: day 1-950km! , day 2-750km, day 3-650km… how hard can it be? There was a lot of snow, shoveling… I realized that my helmet does not fit into my new topcase. Nevertheless, we worked and made carrier for carrier. I even complained to the manufacturer (new model, according to web specs larger, advertised for two helmets, and my one does not fit). Changed oil in front telescopes… There were some days that I could do some push-ups, but there were many more when my shoulder could not handle a single one so I quit trying. I reassembled armature to the bike without washing it previously (dirt and salt everywhere), it was just too cold. 99% of planned pre-works finished. The temperatures are two digits in minus, testing new equipment is impossible as it is impossible to get to the road. It keeps snowing, real blizzard, we even use garden cart to take the snow from the yard down to the field. On BMW meeting I shyly admit that I might not be present for Rakel’s book presentation, and the reason came as a surprise to some. When the sun finally appeared on minus 12, I shoveled my way to the garage to fetch side cases. The forecast keeps changing constantly, from bad to worse to acceptable. There are no more notes at this stage. Anxiety for replaced by panic. Day D was moved to Saturday, then to Friday, all because of ferry. I have no idea how much of white I sniffed (snow) so the information that the route Mersin-Kyrenia lasts hour and a half. The last plan is to undertake suicidal drive from Friday to Sunday, on Sunday taking the ferry from Tasucu and arrive to Cyprus a day earlier. If this option does not work, then got to Mersin and catch a ferry on Tuesday and after the night on the ferry go directly to the gathering. I have the visa. White stuff sniffing damaged my nostrils, my nose is bleeding every once in a while, for no obvious reason. After –20 the temperatures are slowly raising, everything looks good…it can’t be…the last day of therapy done, I got bundled and took a ride to Zagreb just to see whether the bike is in order, and whether it’s possible to drive with additional layer of clothes. Who am I fooling, I went to get some food for Rubi. How insane you must be to plan moto-trip on a meter of snow and –20 C? Friday The day has arrived. I struggled with my sinuses all night. Around 5 I could not sleep any longer (partially due to therapies as I had to get up early). Made myself some proper breakfast but I could not finish it, a bit because of my sore throat, and a bit for anxiety. Medical Team (MT) is sending instructions – use nose drops and granulated anti-inflammatory medicine. Will not! This is the first trip that I am taking all kinds of medicines with me, I’m not getting any younger, half of paracetamol is not enough. Threw two salami sandwiches into back case, with some canned food and long duration bread. I dress in a load of clothes – socks, longjohns, long sleeve Tshirt from Lidl, additional white socks, undershirt, short sleeve z Tshirt, another long sleeve layer, then on top BMW suit, BMW boots, Lidl undercap, and then on top of it all thermo waterproof XXL suit and Nolan helmet. For a start I take ordinary warm gloves (from Lidl of course), and there are heated ones in the case and one summer pair from China. I load the bike with different stuff, only chargers are a decent pile… Laptop, a couple of cameras, clothes, etc. In addition to all previously collected lucky charms I add one more. Otherwise, day after day some bad news (workwise), office server conveniently broke, there are some games played around family heritage… I cannot and I do not want to think about it while on the bike. At 8 sharp I leave the yard. I forgot to take the picture on the start, I guess the urge to drive and get away from everything was too strong. Around Paka, the temp. on the highway shows 0.9. Well, as long as it is in plus, even though I planned not to start if below 3. On reserve until the first gas station, first photo, first FB post. Later on, the sun shines directly and it is not so bad in these conditions. Without stopping I drive to the last gas station in HR (280km). The first sandwich is gone, some communication, some acrobatic peeing (with the suit on) and off again. Serbia! Temperatures are now around 8, the sun is shining, I drive around Belgrade even though the GPS leads me straight through it. I have occasional crises (I’m thirsty, it’s hot, my fist and my butt hurt) and just when I am close to the gas station or landing the crisis is finished and I just keep on. I keep looking at the helmet reflection in the RpM gauge glass, and I keep thinking how come I did not notice this before… Do I really have to clean it to have such a nice feature? I did not clean it, of course, I just replaced it last winter. Second stop is before Niš, without stopping falls 330km, this time I pour some liquid into myself as well, not only the bike. 2/3 of the planned daily route. I’m surprised how well the bike reacts, it looks like treating him nicely has left some mark on it. Maybe the new topcase is more stable. The weather is beautiful, I have internet connection on the landing, so who needs anything more? I’m taking off waterproof thermo and warm gloves and changing into summer. Let’s do the last third. The route to and from Pirot is interesting, the canyon part is wonderful, but unfortunately gray and filthy at this time of the year. The only color is the one of traffic signs. The trees are leafless, the water murky. Even when there are some buildings along the road, they are quite neglected. And just when you think it cannot get worse, I reach Bulgarian border. On the crossing, some stray dogs are testing each other. I’m wondering when they will smell my second salami sandwich. The cue is not long so I am patient, it’s up hill so keep the brake or turn off the engine. Bulgaria! I see containers with vignettes, I stop, check photos, and someone from the inside of the container is showing me that I do not need it. That’s great, there are no toll boots and I do not need the vignette, and the last 200km seem easy. Right… The term traffic security is somewhat different here, the term proper driving space as well, the speed limit is respected only on the radar locations… While driving around Sofia I am really hungry, it’s getting cold, and my shadow is getting longer. I stop briefly, just to swallow the sandwich and put full gear on again. The last 100km I drive in the dark, in hard conditions, the bike lights are not really something special, dirty visor is not helping, and traffic in both ways is quite heavy. Then I realized the mystery of the shining gauge glass – the light under is not working so it reflects stronger during the day. With the 340km part I call it a day in a small place a bit off the highway. Tired and happy that I missed some big holes on the road while I was still able to see something. How insane you must be to make your bike and yourself to a 1000km almost directly from the workshop? The consequences will be known tomorrow. MT says fists and joints are to be cooled under gradually cooled water. Will not! Statistics: 953km (GPS) / 75,4 l of fuel / spent 880kn Saturday Morning sickness somewhat weakened, I managed to pass Croatia and Serbia and stepped into Bulgaria, but still there is enough of it remaining to wake me up before the alarm. I am looking through the window, there are still patches of frost on the cars outside. Though, the sun is showing up and changing dark spots into drops of water. As it is weekend the breakfast is served a bit later, but I still sneak much earlier into the restaurant. The staff is here, setting tables and they let me in. The average offer of spreads, salamis and similar articles that you can usually find in such locations. Nice change is the selection of tomatoes. I make myself a tea, and while somewhat reluctantly I watch the food selection, there comes a question: an omelette? Great, yesterday I did not enyoj the eggs much, good to see that my appetite is back. The omelette is filled with salty cheese from heaven, and I eat it greedily with loads of super-tasty cherry tomatoes. I’m glad that I have much better meal than yesterday, after all, I plan to cross to Asia today. While paying with the credit card the lady got confused a bit, so I help her and that was the last obstacle in continuing this madness. Until I get to the bike, the frost is gone and left enough water to spread it over vacuum press of the tank bag. Every time I look at myself in full gear I am reminded of some fictional character from some movie, I cannot remember which one. Mondoshawan from the ‘5th Element’, or Vogon, or someone third, the image is in my head. I place a post on FB so everyone knows that I did not give up yet. I look for the way to get back to the highway and seeing it in light makes my heart jump that everything went well yesterday. The real test of suspension comes in this part of the road, and while on my left side I can mostly see the views similar to Windows XP (Bliss for the advanced ones), only here I can see the scarce trees. The suspension keeps up bravely. After Dimitrovgrad, when the first sign for Istanbul turned us to Svilengrad, the road changes completely…it becomes black, smooth and sparkling so kilometers pass on with more ease. I remembered (funny, as I tend to forget things) that the friend described that the new section brought the problem of filling fuel before entering Turkey, the country of expensive fuel, so I choose Shell while the border on Garmin is dangerously close. I would not mention refueling if due to strong spiral on the hose and my negligence some fuel is spilling over Gandalf. Full of energy and smelling on top quality fuel we fly to the border, and it turns out that this was the last fuel station, even though somewhere between the queue of trucks, I think I can see the fuel station on the old road. I pass Bulgarian side quickly, but there is some more crowd on the Turkish side. I stand a bit in the queue and wait for black and white angel to stop negotiating. The white yells ‘you have the time, wait in the queue, do not stir trouble’ and the black one is whipping it with the tail ‘are you insane to wait in the sun, look at the shade in front, if they kick you back you can always return’…guess which one won. With some eye-blinking we are already in the line for police check up, which goes on super-fast (contrary to my expectation) – like give me the passport, the bike papers, the visa and off you go. Really, after he already let me through, the police officer leans through the window and waves at me to jump the queue to the customs. Who am I to not obey? At the customs I get first ‘we have a problem’ on the road. I am ashamed that I passed those couple of cars, and the guy is typing my data, but he gets some error message (or that whatever he is looking for does not exist). Once and twice. I am puzzled as I have no idea what he is looking for. He calls someone, asks something, spills the full cup of tea over the desk, looks at me in the manner of ‘this is all your fault’, and I begin to see myself on the prison cell with the floor toilet. Finally, in the third attempt the result appears and everything is OK, I can pass…but only after his colleague checks all my cases… I could see that he is looking at the tools compartment, but then he stops and waves to pass. Even though seeing the mosque made me think that I am finally in Turkey and there are no more checkups, I was wrong, there is one more required. The queue is long as there is only one office working, so I don’t consider waiting any more, but to go direct. And so I pull up the bike, but the uniform yells something, hands are showing me to turn back…you got to be joking, look how handsome, young and blond I am. He keeps on yelling, not only on me, so I move aside and wait for the outcome. He was just pushing everyone as someone did not pass the control and has to come back. I’m relieved, I can keep pushing. Turkey! Finally, the country I have never visited before. While I take the photo of welcoming sign, the first word I hear on Turkish soil is ‘Varaždin’. It cheered me up that someone recognized the plates, it’s not the first time and it is usually the good omen. As I’ve never been here before, and as my hopes of even starting this trip were rather low, not to mention reaching Turkey at all, I was actually not well prepared. I have no idea how the toll is paid, and I cannot speak a word (I only know that if you want to say that something is really good it should sound like ‘Muka mi je’, which on Croatian means ‘I feel sick’ , it’s like that when you are thought Turkish by Boris). I stop at the gas stop to ask, and the man says (if I understand correctly), vignette 20km ahead. After 20km I see toll boots, no barriers, two kinds of electronic payment and I have nothing. The trucks are separated, I see two drivers and ask them and they say that I should just go on until Istanbul (if I understand correctly again). And the road is amazing, wide, empty. And so I ride, and the two angels keep on mumbling to each other…one of them is sure that I have to pay, and the other ‘who cares, just keep going’. I stop on another gas stop, the answer is that until Istanbul the toll is free. Two out of three, I have no intention of stopping again to ask about it, so I study Turkey. Enormous pillars with huge and obviously heavy flags lazily waving, early fruit trees blooming, late fruit trees pruned, the factories smoking… It seems that they are doing something here. They obviously have no eye for decoration and cleanliness, but I respect treated fields and fruit trees. The road is still wide, slowly curving both horizontally and vertically, and it keeps on filling. And then suddenly, just around the curve, surreal image…vast space filled as long as you can see with houses, skyscrapers, business offices. Huge skyscrapers are swallowing minarets, and the mosques you can barely see. And while my low processing power can cope with the scenery, the traffic just stopped and I am forced to stop as well. Istanbul is not far, but according to GPS this is the detour far away from downtown. I’ve heard horror stories about this section (chaotic driving 100km/h) so I listened to white angel and study the situation. Go…stop…go…stop… Only the ending right track, obviously forbidden, is somewhat livelier. But again, as soon as the car or two shows on it, there is an official (or whichever) car with rotation light running after them. They simply spring out of somewhere. I slowly pass through when all tracks stop. It’s hot. It’s hot to Gandalf as well. I cannot help myself, but I turn on the fan for the bike. I am hungry and thirsty. Gandalf’s fuel indicator keeps dropping. There is no end on sight, and the right edge of the road is full of broken cars and tow trucks, there is no way I can stop here. The bridge! Huge, beautiful, 4 tracks each direction…that must be it, it can’t be anything else. I would love to take a photo of the bridge and the traffic but no way. I would like to take a photo of the sign ‘Welcome to Asia‘ on the other side, but no way. I stole this photo from the net, it shows the bridge and the flags, like the ones I mentioned before. First time in Asia, but I cannot enjoy the moment too much. I’m still in stop-go regime and I let the flow lead me with its rhythm, maybe a bit chaotic but not at all fast, way below 100km/h. Probably Saturday 3 p.m. is not the ideal time to cross over Bosporus. After almost of two hours of this torture I finally see the gas stop. First filling in Turkey, I am not prepared for this either. Employee writes something, fills the bike, gives me the paper and I pay inside with the card. I bought a sandwich that I nibble on the landing and I am trying to cool down. I look around and cannot help but notice enormous billboard showing the combat-ready soldier. The time is passing, I am now 2hrs before Croatian time, I don’t want to be caught in the dark so I quickly move on. Bridge again! Far away, big. I have no idea whether it is pretty, but the scene itself is for National Geographic. The tick, white fog is rising from the sea level, and carried by the wind it spills over the bridge while its pillar tops are sticking out to unreal clear and blue sky. This has to be marked, the scenery is here, and I am here, but there is someone missing to hold the camera and take the shot. Deeply disappointed that I cannot take this photo I lazily drag across the foggy bridge. Toll boots, of course, you always have to pay for pretty things. Still disappointed, I give the card to the employee and wait for the bill while gazing away, and the second ‘we have a problem’ hits me. PIN problem. What PIN problem, there is no PIN…PIN problem…ok, I have no liras, I have only euros. Ok for euros, I show 10, he is shaking no…20? You got to be joking…ah well…he gives me back the papers, I don’t even look what it says, I’ve spent all eternity here already…he gives me back some liras as well and shows me to take the card on the boot??? OK, whatever you say, just let me go. The road is still wide, but new with traffic signs. You have to pay for it, of course. This one asks whether I have the card, of course I have, what kind of question is that, like I’m here for the first time? There are enough liras, and there are still some remaining. At one moment I was driving towards west, the sun was on the wrong side, but GPS is self-assured so I am not bothered. No idea why, Halid’s (Bosnian folk musician and singer) song is playing im my head ‘First Kiss Long Forgotten, First Party Who Knows Where, Steps Like Clouds Lead Me Wo Knows Where’ . I guess I’m spending too much time in local bars. And maybe in a few years my first entry into Turkey and Asia will be long forgotten like a first party. The last section is not the highway, 4 tracks, 110 speed limit switches abruptly with 50 when passing through the inhabited areas. There is steep climbing at one moment, something Gandalf and I like, black angel leads this section so we fly up to 1000m above sea level. I am not resting, even though the look ahead leaves me breathless, someone is missing again to snap the photo…overheating and torments around Istanbul surface, I’m getting caught up in fatigue and pain, but still in daylight I reach the city of Eskisehir as planned. The name was not written in big letters on the map, but the entering sign states 734.000 of something (wiki says 850K souls in 2016). I pass huge university buildings, open-air airplane museum and I find the hotel…everything is OK, everything is just fine…30 euros. I put the bike in the garage and block everyone else, irrelevant as I will leave first. The room is warm, LCD with loads of channels all in Turkish, there is more than I need. There is even room service with lots of options and acceptable prices, but it is Saturday – a day to go out. Wherever I turn, big cafés, full of life, young people drinking coffee/tea or eat something or smoke nargilas… I look and I have no idea where to go… I choose a restaurant that looks a bit fuller with families…speaking English is not a problem as long as they find someone who is in charge of it. I drew enough attention to become interesting to two guys in the corner, and the questions start…where are you from, how long are you staying for, etc. They ask me to join them, and I would even consider it if I showered before dinner. Lamb shashliks (I guess), shepherd’s salad and the Coke – 5l of fuel. Why 5l of fuel? Well, my impeccable trip preparations did not include Turkish lira exchange rate, so I am calculating in liters of fuel. I tried to buy a phone card in order to have Internet on the road, but I gave up as they do not have a tourist prepaid cards with net traffic only, they asked for the passport and way too many liters of fuel. The evening is passing by in typing and correspondence, and outside is Fast and Furious. Loud engine noises, flying fast, the crowd cheering even louder, the basses are on, the tires are burning… Asia-Turkey, it’s all one big global village. Later on, I found out from the Macedonian colleague who comes here for work, that the city has ‘only’ 200K students. That explains it…MT discreetly says ‘rest’. Will not! I’ve been meditating a lot on the road whether to write this or not. Why am I writing it and if it’s of any use? What can anyone learn from me? Not too much, I’m not that smart nor well-read nor informed. I even don’t know how to describe experience in an objective manner. And by day I keep forgetting things. Maybe that’s the whole point. Maybe by writing I want to show that you don’t have to be super smart nor well-read nor informed in order to travel. You just need to have courage. Travelling will not make you a great human, but lesser and lesser, but definitely more complete. How insane you must be to attack Turkey without preparation and try to cross to Asia at 3 p.m.? Statistics: 742km (GPS) / 30,16l fuel / 635kn spent All night Fast and Furious, in the morning jets, that’s the sound of this city. But it is not the jet fighters who wake me up, but my aching stomach. I do the toilet session. Even when I am home, too much onion causes stomach problems, but I cannot help myself when I LOVE IT. Sheperd’s salad was full of it, and the shashlik as well. How insane you must be to even consider that the stomach will react differently to onion in Asia? I have no idea what time it is exactly. GPS was showing +2 yesterday to HR time, the phone keeps showing +1, there is +1 on TV, I still think that it should be +2, but I have the time today, this is the shortest section, one hour here/there. There is almost no one at breakfast, the only guest beside me is an Asian guy, what are you doing in Turkey I keep thinking? And the guy might as well be at home. I put the tea bag in the cup and turn one of the two handles on the container. The tea is pouring out…for crying out loud… I ask where is the hot water? The other handle on the same container. There is no visible marking on nor below the container, I suppose it is understood that you know the difference. Whatever, it did not happen once that we mixed to kinds of red vine instead of Coke. While I try to force myself to eat something nutritious I watch TV (I think this one shows +2 time). OK, they are showing the scenes from the war zone. And then military analysis. Some commercials. Then the report from the infantry training, young soldiers running in full gear. Some war scenography again. Some more military analysis. If by any case I was born in some other time I probably would not even notice all of it, but this kind of TV program is familiar and it makes me nervous. Or it is the stomach? I return to my room, new session. Hm, good onion, yesterday it was ‘I feel sick’ in Turkish and today it is ‘I feel sick’ in Croatian. The medicine is in the bike case, I do not need MT’s assistance on this, and the medicine is not even approved. After third session I begin worrying that maybe I am catching some signals from the force I do not understand. It would not be the first time that family and friends are hiding something from me not to affect me while on the road. I managed to pack and solve paperwork; kind porter is carrying stuff and leads me to the bike that I somehow manage to turn around in the narrow passage to be able to manage steep exit. I thank and greet him, and like an addict I take a few gulps from the flask. I should have taken it with me and done it already. The flask is the new addition to my equipment, I’ve been carrying medicine in all kinds of plastic bottles so far, and now I have a metal flask with engraved Budapest emblem and my name, souvenir and birthday gift received in some other life. I put on rain suit as the morning is rather chilly, as it is supposed to be on 1000m height above sea level. My drinking, or my dressing, or maybe Gandalf’s dirty face bring attention of the man returning from the morning shopping. We even managed to chat a bit. I’m a bit late with everything but who cares, it’s just as well that the temperature is rising into positive, we skip over 600km like nothing. We are back on the road rather quickly, there is some fuel left, ideal for warming up. And the road is still wide, fast and empty. We keep riding on 1000-1300m above sea level. Gandalf is purring. Everything ideal but not good. I cannot find the proper motivation. Crossing Bosporus and entering Asia were great step for me, and I am out of initial enthusiasm. It’s even not interesting watching people working in the field, I have no idea what they are doing, it looks like they are picking potatoes, and some of them are plowing. I get somewhat entertained by the local biker. Even though I wear number of layers I can still feel the chill in the air, and he is riding without a helmet in some wool sweater, and without gloves (of course) because he cannot hold the cigarette in gloves. Gandalf feels I’m being lethargic and conveniently, as always, light a reserve indicator just after we passed gas stop. As soon as he saw another gas stop behind the curve, he shuts off the indicator, but too late. The rule is, after reserve first gas stop, no matter what. I take some water as well as I lost a lot of liquid during the sessions. I turn on the bike, it works OK, I start closing the helmet and Gandalf changes the rhythm and the rpm drop. Well, well, it can’t be that you knew this and tried to tell me. I cannot help you now, you’ll have to swallow what we bought. I continue riding without mind and sense (the question is do I have what’s needed to ride differently?), I find the lost motivation while looking at the mountains ahead. They are beautiful, big, white caps on them, but GPS has a different plan today, and when we were close to them, it turned us to the left and the mountains stayed on the right. GPS does not know about ‘don’t go left on the path crossing, no one goes there and is beware of beasts’ (lyrics from song written by Thompson – Croatian heavy metal band), and it seems the others do not know about it as left side is full of restaurants with large billboards showing kaymak, lokum and similar delis… Smart and experienced biker would stop in order to try different delicatesses, rest and then continue. But I am neither smart nor experienced, I’m afraid of changing rhythm and dropping rpms… Even though Gandalf uses whatever he got without complaining for the time being. I am the weak link today and I keep going down…the suit keeps slipping on the seat so I have only one acceptable position that causes back and ass pains, my arm hurts, everything hurts, I’m in allover pain, I’m carrying the while world on my back…the third day riding demons are catching up with me and feed on my deteriorating physical and psychological condition. No f… way! Today’s goal only a fuel tank away. When the GPS turned 12 I stop, I cannot do it any longer. The fact that I am over half the road makes me feel better. I know that my folks are at my sister’s place so I risk the bear (5kn) and send SMS that everything is OK, I take out the bread, the can and I go on. In order to have some fun I take a picture of us pretty ones and I notice that the exhaust color is peeling off, the very same one I was so dedicatedly painting on last winter… What a great couple we are, old and shabby. Just for the FB…clean, handsome and polite…whose mother would not love us. I am not alone on the landing, Mercedes is resting while his boss is praying in the boot nearby. There is another Turkish village with 1 mil. villagers ahead of us. I’m trying to figure out what the warning sign (yavas) means. I see school kids running over 3-4 tracks, even though they have other possibilities, but I don’t think this is it. It can’t be that I am lousily prepared? While I glaze around, I manage to miss one turn, and with a couple additional maneuvers I am back on the traffic light in order to come back on the right way. On my right side, on the pavement, there is a case full of fish. Immediately I remember the hamster that not even Rimac Concept One could not run over, and his troubles with fish and the bike in Mozambique. I know that it is all top-production, and there is a real MT with him all the time, and he will get generously paid for it, but the thought somehow cheered me up and chased away the demons. Well, it’s not like I am riding on mud, falling off the bike, and I came really far for the time being, and what I am getting with every km no money can buy. The plan is to get out of this fuel tank as much as I can, so when I fill up again it should be enough to reach the ferry, ride around Cyprus and to come back. Kilometers are passing by, the counter keeps turning, Tasucu is getting closer… and Gandalf is silent. Somewhere around here we are passing the highest point on this section…and Gandalf is silent. We pass by the area decorated with flags, number of busses are parked on the side (reminding me of the paid audience), there is some security, limos, you name it, the road does not look new but maybe it’s some kind of gathering, I slow down a bit, maybe someone will offer some alcohol or something sweet. But when the cannon shot (it sounded like 105mm), Zagorje experience in running away comes to surface, we are not easy to hunt down, severely on the gas pedal and zig-zag… Gandalf is still silent. I have no idea what’s in that fuel, but it seems that he is OK with the local stuff. We are already starting coming down in the canyon (it’s good that it is downhill, remember what they say about what is rolling down the hill? from the Bucharest wandering) … Gandalf keeps on being silent. I watch from afar three local bikers, light clothes on, middle sized bikes. When they get some courage (or cool down wild machines) they lean forward to decrease air resistance and test the boundaries of their capabilities – they remind me of the Seagull (not Oliver, but Jonathan L.), and of my own biking beginnings. When I got bored of them, I pass them by without any effort for Gandalf, I drop my leg down to greet them and one of them even returns the greeting. The air is more and more filled with the smell of burned breaks of local heroes who expect too much of their vehicles (like me), and if they are not properly taken care of, they hope for the help from heaven. Unfortunately, for a lot of them the help from heaven is shaped as tow truck… Gandalf keeps on being silent. I’m beginning to worry, I pat Gandalf gently on the tank…we are so far, don’t be so silent…if you are starving just say so, we’ll find something. I’m worried that the on/off reserve indicator was the sign of some failure (indicator for example), and now there is no more reserve indicator? It would not be impossible on such an old bike. The indicator blinked once, it has been a while now, but this time I respect bike’s will and I am not stopping. All lines from the gauge are gone, but the reserve is not lighting yet, and it should be there already. The last thing I need is to stay out of fuel here. I see the gas stop afar, on the wrong side though, 440-450km from the last refueling and Gandalf is still silent. The fear is growing, I am not going to wait for the sign any more… I will stop risking that he will be mad at me. I am pouring cold tea into myself, and instead of refreshment I get warning signs from indigestion. The road ahead is really bad, bumpy asphalt, curves, road works, dust, trucks passing by. Yes, it’s Sunday and the works are at the peak, on the road, on the field, the fumes are rising from the factories as well…almost the same as 4 years ago in Marrakesh, it was Sunday as well, the only thing missing are dusty playgrounds and the kids running after some ball. And just when there is 10/20 kms left to Tasucu, and when I already thought nothing could go wrong at this point, GPS decides to turn right. Turning does not make me feel good, but I see some extra traffic signs, I trust my GPS, but all for nothing. He has no idea where he is going…one end road, one maybe one-way street in the wrong direction, the dog is chasing me off his territory, steep hill that I am barely managing to turn the bike around…such pleasure. Driving back to the road I came from I see the car passing by and GPS would follow it…last chance GPS…and there is a real fun, we are entering narrow passage between two cliffs, wide enough for one car, obviously in the wrong direction, the car in front is showing his reverse light, I run as fast as I can, squeezing to the side of the cliff waiting for the traffic from the opposite direction to stop. All of this to use a shortcut, and even so MAYBE. The black angel is killing himself laughing. You just keep laughing, this is all your fault, you’ll get it back somehow. By entering Tasucu after 5 p.m. I spent all my preparation time, but I still have enough time so I am not worried. I stumble around trying to find the ferry port as I see it and somehow, I manage to reach it, but only to the official entrance. That was the closest to any boat/ferry that I could. Two guys appear, one in official uniform and one without. They know what I am looking for (ferry ticket) and I realize that I cannot buy the ticket here but in town (sales office), our communication is less than nothing. I am not sure that I understood directions properly, they wrote the name of the office on the piece of paper…thank you, I still have the time, I’ll find it. I go back to the city, one track is blocked by various merchants, I spot the parking place in the shadow, that’s it, I don’t feel like driving any more, it’s too hot, I have to get comfortable and walk a bit. I ask some wrapped-up girls for help, in hope they will know some English, but alas. They do however recognize what is written on the paper and it turns out that it is not far, they want to take me there but I have too much clothes to take off…thank you, I have enough time, I’ll find it. While undressing three young lads approach, probably returning from school, one of them is particularly curious…he gathers courage, asks…when we finally reached the point of understanding ‘Mandjukić, Modrić’, the other two drag him away. There is still some hop left for this world, football is the universal language, not Esperanto. The office was just so far that I stretch my legs walking. As I pushed rain suit into the topcase I have to carry the helmet. That’s not so bad, I can use it in self-defense, and I don’t have to explain too much what kind of vehicle I have. The office is spacious, suitcases and bags all over the place, two of them are looking at me behind the glass and just as I wanted to say something, there is a side attack…in the manner of top fixers from Morocco one character appears. My first impression is caution…rise the walls, get ready for defense…but he is persistent, takes the business card from the counter and shows – he is the boss, he is the head of the office. Those two are silent, I look at them in a cry for help, some sign from them, but they neither speak English not look disturbed. I drop the walls and the negotiations start. Of course I want to go to Cyprus today, of course I need the return ticket, but my info says that there is no ferry back until the 16th and the ferry to Mersin goes in the evening. Forget about preparation, he claims that there is one ferry on the 15th and it goes in the afternoon. I ask for some time to think and ask for the internet, he gives me official Wi-Fi password, that’s great, at least I can write home for free. I check all online timetables and the reservation application, no one is mentioning Mersin on the 15th, but he stands firm. Not only that, he is showing me the pictures of the cabin, it all shines, colors are warm (yellow), with the shower. While planning the trip I was thinking to take the cabin on the Mersin ferry that goes longer, but now I will travel during the night, I am not too fresh, and the photos look so warm…to hell with it, I like the idea, gimme all. Give me the ticket to and from Mersin on 15th. Cabin both ways, give me the card as well, if something goes wrong I will find you, just so you know. I’m sitting in front of the office, using deserved free internet, I write home and so on. MT recommends rest and granulated brufen, even though it is known that I am against it. Will not! I look around curiously. The manager is a real character, his maxi scooter blocks parking spot for his friends, every once in a while he starts it and makes a circle, I guess he is luring new clients, or moves it an inch and turns it off, I guess that’s the special ritual for seeking attention and new clients…he is on the phone, negotiates, looks worried…a real manager. Addition: upon return home, I found the card, the guy’s name is Ali BARUT, just in case someone needs it, and the name is appropriate. As he knows everything I ask him to recommend me some food, I am not picky, fast food will do as well. Even though the restaurant is next to the office, he even takes me in, shows the selection, coordinates with staff. Of course, I do not want fast food any longer, give me some mixed meet, season salad (no shepherd today) and Fanta. There are no guests, it a bit off the season but still it is not a good sign. There comes the water I did not order, the bread and some spreads, the salad. I lazily chew on what I got, but I want the real stuff and then finally – the smell of chicken, mee mee and unrecognizable meat products, the portion is not too big or I am too hungry. Slowly (in the manner of combat-ready SEAL from Niš) I finish all those weird tastes, I pour Fanta and water over them, and the sun is slowly disappearing. Just when I was ready to pay the guy shows up with the bowl full of different sliced fruit (bananas, kiwis, apples…). After my morning experience and all warnings I got I should probably skip this…but the day was long and the fruit is healthy (well, before the meal) … I munch on fruit and pour the remaining Fanta over it…if nothing did it so far, this could be the last nail in the coffin of my indigestion. It’s dark, I drag the bike to the office, I sip the medicine once or twice, I try to pack rain suit in the garbage bag and tie it to the back seat. It has enormous volume and it kills my cargo space, but I suppose I won’t need it now, I am on the coast. Barut appears as well, he shows respect to Gandalf, he understands that this is one heavy bike, big wheel…how much dollars? He cooled off when I told him that the bike is 20 yrs old, he obviously considers that only new stuff is good stuff. I gave up trying to place the suit, I play on the phone and I catch some weak internet…the time drags. Finally, something is happening, I see one rather disturbed lady, more and more guys in vests appear. I raise my head asking whether this means that it is allowed to the port (thinking that the ferry is already there and they will let me aboard and into the cabin to finally take everything off and have some rest). Sure, you can go, do you know the way? Of course, I’ve been here the whole afternoon, I am practically native, I know how the things are working here. For being proactive I do not get the reward but a duty to be a guide for the lady. She is going by car and does not know the way… I gulped, well she at least knows the language…go on, I suppose we will find it easier together. I drive towards the port in dark, there are not too many signs or I don’t see them, but it’s really a piece of cake, we are the first on the entrance. The gate opens, they let us through, and then the paper shuffling starts. I am glad I have someone who speaks the language, but soon I realize that I would manage without it as well… I understood well what I should do and where to go. We are the first on the parking, there is no living soul around, two ferries are anchored but with wrong names. We sit in the waiting room, I don’t have to ask anything, the lady is the teacher and one of those people who have to ask everything. She is ideal for breaking up controls and check-ups. After her everyone is happy with someone who keeps his mouth shut and blinks his eyes. It is interesting that aside of the fact that I had to lead her here, I have to show her where the toilet is even though it is in front of her and marked in her own language (thank you Boris for one more important Turkish word-tuvalet). After some more sitting in empty waiting room, we do police check-up. He even stamps my printed visa and not only the passport. The customs have their own questions, but here they have a young lady with a sharp look who is guiding young subordinate, my impression even though I don’t understand what they are talking about, with solid English. The truth is I would like that I cannot understand her…as she says that the ferry will dock until 23h…and adds MAYBE. It’s mine now to wait by the bike, they stamped something and wrote down the registration, the colleague will come to check. And so, I wait, and wait, and wait…other cars are slowly arriving…and finally I get that the colleague just signs off my passport without checking and now I can go back to the customs. Who was first now is last, I understand it while collecting last signatures, stamps, something. It’s good that the procedure is finally over, we are ready for boarding, the only thing missing is the ferry. I again entertain myself with studying the surroundings, looking at ferry leaving for Tripoli (or somewhere), I talk to the curious, I blankly look at the people asking me for help in Turkish (I don’t get what they see in my appearance)…the temperature is dropping, there is some dew. I am slowly running on reserve when the ferry starts with the entering maneuver that lasts a while. Then they are disembarking people, trucks, people again, trucks on reverse through the narrow ramp, a few cars, more trucks…more trucks…then there is level two…now the trucks can turn inside the vessel so they come out faster…and before you know it, it’s not even midnight, the ferry is empty. The people who left it are crowding around the staff and nothing is happening. One passenger, let’s name him Brada (as he reminds me of someone) is anxiously walking back and forth. We talked earlier, he drove through Croatia and Slovenia on the way to Germany, but he is worried as the trucks should have already started embarking. I stare sadly towards the boat, the passengers are already there, and the beautiful pictures of the cabin I saw this afternoon are turning in front of my eyes. No vehicles are entering, the others are warming in the cars, I don’t feel like playing memory on the phone any longer, the iron bench I am sitting on is getting colder. It does not help watching a stray dog who is trying to impress his man in uniform. He chose him obviously, probably not today, and he is overjoyed to see him. He swings on his shoulders left and right, he would jump on him, put his paws on his shoulders, but he knows he mustn’t. He bows to him, animates him, and as soon as the guy reaches with the hand he turns on his back and surrenders completely. The man is trying to explain to him that he does not want this from him, but the dog cannot help it. I look at their small show and I miss Rubi (to sneak behind my back while I do something like now when I am writing this). Statistics: 618km (GPS)/ 40,4l fuel / 1712kn spent (225kn hotel + ferry 1050kn) Monday It was way past midnight when they finally started loading lorries at such speed that I snapped… I’m the only biker here, I suppose it counts for something. With bravery I walk to the guy with the shipping logo on the reflective vest and I explain my situation, eyes blinking, blond hair flipping…and guess what, no problem…he takes ticket parts, yells to the rest of the crew and I can board. Here it gets really interesting as not everyone is ready to accept me and the bike. They force me to squeeze it sideways so much that the cases are scraping some barrels that are standing there. I raise it on the trestles with difficulty and get out…but no, it is not good, put it on the side. I drag in again, I put the side trestle down (I fixed it with the hammer last winter), I hold the front of the bike and the guy is holding the back…we drop it carefully…it holds for 1 second and then drops suddenly, but we are still holding. It’s not the side trestle but the hole in the floor we managed to hit. We give up on the side trestle, drag in again, raise on the middle one…and the floor is greasy and slippery… I wait to flip over. When I saw in which manner he secured the bike, all hopes were gone, but who am I… I give up and leave for the cabin. People are already sleeping in the salon, shoes with no owners all over the place. The waiter, or whoever he is, has not much to offer, the shelves are empty and in order to get the cabin key he takes away my passport and I am not thrilled with it. I’m trying to find out when should I wake up, but I don’t like the answers so I pretend not to understand. The cabin – the air is sticky despite the huge fan on the wall. I am happy to see the toilet even though I do not need it (surprise!), the medicine is helping. Shower is also here but I don’t stink as much yet. I think I fell asleep before I took off the suit and most definitely before I touched the pillow. I have no idea when we took off and how long the boarding lasted. I was awakened by some serious swinging and the light that was breaking through the window filthier than Gandalf (and I thought that’s impossible). I finally discover the secret of warm pictures. The rust on window frames gives the color, and the dirt on the glass disperses it nicely, no need for Photoshop nor special photo filter. It’s still not waking up time. I am not concerned about swinging for sickness, I have all medicine, but somewhere on the bike… I’m worried about Gandalf. He just became the member of the family, he got noted into my passport as a child. I dress slowly, put on the boots and off to investigate. Lady teacher is still fresh like yesterday, but the waiter’s eyelids are getting heavy. She immediately explains that we are still travelling, and disembarking won’t start before 11…are you joking? OK, that’s according to Turkish time, it should be 10 according to Cyprus time, I guess. I get out, I see no Turkey, but there is Cyprus ahead…two fat exhausts are blowing thick black smoke… I can’t do anything but take I couple of photos with the phone and back to bed, I missed the sunrise…there is no signal of any kind. After an hour or two I get out again, it’s livelier now, people are outside, inhaling their morning doses of nicotine, it’s warm, Cyprus is well seen…that’s it, it is time to get anxious again, especially as I receive SMS congratulating me on the achieved goal…and I’m not on the firm ground yet, not even close to paperwork. I don’t like to buy the mountain pass sticker before I actually pass it. Until we started docking I have my passport again and I watch tying live. The teacher is here again to ask me something (when am I going to the vehicle?) but some other Brada is saving me the trouble of answering and he is also good in English. When the ramp started downwards I go down as well to the lower deck, I find Gandalf upright and it makes me happy, the parking space is so narrow that he would not fall far but still. The lorries are on the move, the one parked next to me is scraping the case with the side light. I can see that this would not end well, but the next one is already approaching, there is no mercy, everyone wants to get out. I drag the employee by the sleeve, take off this cable of yours and help me put the bike down. In the meantime, they managed to spill some more oil around the bike and covered it with the sawdust… I can barely stand as the metal floor is so slippery nor I can stand up straight with the bike. He looks at me blankly, but still holds the right handle. It’s so slippery that the trestle slip without resistance so we have to use our feet to block it and somehow we managed to put the bike down…start immediately, run between the lorries and get the hell out of there…outside, somewhere, to freedom… I am passing through the loads of lorries on the dock, some of them are from the earlier ferry, and I finally get to the front, even the staff is surprised, but I get the parking spot, right next to the wrack that did not earn the freedom and got stuck here in no man’s land. I have no idea about the procedure, I can see only the truck drivers, and civilians are left way back. I see the name of the carrier on one of the containers so I guess I should ask for return, and they immediately stuck some papers in my hands, I can see some info about the bike, and something that looks like my signature. The girl-employee is looking at me…do you have insurance? Of course I have…but for here? Well, I guess not. 25 Liras for papers plus the insurance that you might not need…well, 25 it is. The card is declined by the machine so I give the last liras I have, the same ones I got on the Istanbul toll. I get no instructions so I go to the customs. Truck drivers are looking at me, one takes the papers, stamps it with some stamp that I sign. When it was my turn lady customs officer is checking it and the first instructions are here. First to the police to verify the passport, then pay for the insurance and then back to customs. No problem, but the passengers from the ferry are slowly arriving and it is getting crowded. I get the visa for Turkish part stamped into my passport without any questions besides is 90 days enough? It’s enough. I get 6 days insurance, even though it was the month minimum initially, and I pay with the second card… I realized finally, some card terminals are having problems if the card is not requiring PIN…cash direct card passes without any problems. I get the last stamps on the customs, with the question from Brada2 ‘do you require so many stamps in Croatia?’. Right, why do you think I am so calm? The original Brada is leaving just before me. So, with the earlier start I am not any slower in paperwork. They all had one thing in common…when realizing that I am here for the first time, I could see pity in their eyes and good luck on their lips. Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus! Just one more paperwork signature by the employee on the exit, and just one more checkup and mumbling that I do not have the plates on the front of the bike and I can get out of harbor…uh, uh…am I ready for this? Not really… I did not expect to arrive at all the least to arrive so fast, it’s a surprise ?. Whatever, the road is a road, bikers are taking over from the right and the left side. I am taking on the first kilometers rather gently, I did not wash out flattened flies from the visor so I have to ride with opened helmet, it seems that I am following the directions by the GPS. But this is too much even for him, the route is lost, he is calculating. And if that’s not enough, he turns off the BT module and does not want to turn it on again, I am losing voice guidance. There is some roadworks, two way traffic, there is no turning back even if I have to. We are obviously on the old part of the road as GPS manages to create the route. The bike warmed up just enough so I can hear it tinkling (either the valves or the chains), as long as the flip is up, and when shifting into first gear you can hear some bumps coming from the differential…how to solve it? You ignore the fact that there is no voice guidance, you close the helmet not to hear the bike, and you start riding as expected from the weekend biker. Cyprus! Thanks to my impeccable preparations I was not at all surprised to reach tampon zone so quickly, to exit unacknowledged country and enter the other country. The exit runs fast, there is a queue on the entry so I try to fix GPS. First by turning off, then by accidental dropping down on asphalt to bounce a couple of times…nothing helped, still does not want to talk to the helmet. I hope I am not raising suspicion by playing football with GPS. On the entry, the lady employee is taking my passport, she does not see it that often, and calls another to put me aside. While I was parking he already returns the passport, you can pass, I turn to the bike, he whistles to come back, a problem… I did not return properly, now he’s waving no problem, you can go… I look at him for 3 seconds more…is this your final answer? On the customs check point I don’t stop at all, I just turn my head, nod and pass… I know everything is OK…and we’ll see whether I should have stopped when upon return. And I am back to the EU…it’s nice to be home and yet so far. I ride so vividly that everything behind remains in dust, the traffic lights, turns, roundabouts, highway… I’m flying…the GPS feels better too, Greek part maps are much better and the navigation is easier. The white angel keeps repeating ‘left, left’, and the black one is silent, sure that I will make some mistake. And I am like born upside down, and like I’ve been riding like this all my life. Just before the center of Larnaca I manage to spin a bit due to early turning, but nothing serious. A bit of monkey business on the closed part of the road and the GPS says you have arrived (the address of the hotel was already entered back home, just that someone does not think that I’ve arrived so far unprepared). There is a wall on one side and the parking and garbage on the other, you can catch some sea between the buildings, I’m convinced that I am on the back entry. It turned out that I was wrong, there is a front entrance 20m ahead…our gathering hotels are not as they used to be. I run into the hotel, looking for room and parking. The person on the other side of the counter looks at me weirdly, I am not exactly the typical guest, not that every mother would like me. I can park next to the garbage container or the fence, or in front of the hotel, or somewhere at the parking lot. Gandalf is OK in front, everyone can see him. But no room for the moment, hotel is full, you can check in at 2 p.m… I was a bit surprised, but the fact is that I was 2 hours early, my fault. Being all sweaty and dressed too warmly at least I have all the time to think about what I’ve done, contact friends and family, snap a few likes on the FB. I am so proud of myself. The room is nevertheless ready earlier, but I can go in only after I pay for it. I’ve never seen such system anywhere, I hope they did not invent it for me. If you want me to pay, I’ll take a photo of you. Whatever, I will give you anything to let me take off all clothes, lie on the belly, shower. I do not mind lousy view, but I am a bit bothered with the sockets. I get on with work, step by step, solving what I can. And only after that washing off road dust. First from the body and later from the throat. As there was a lot to do I have ignored my hunger and it was rather late to start food hunting. And the promenade is filled with KFC, McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Starbucks, all of them within 200m…but I don’t like the names… I would like something simple, something local, but among these big shots I do not see anything like it. I chose big but unknown. It tempts me with 700g of pork steak. The waiter did not even judge me properly I have already placed an order…soup of the day, whichever…pork steak and some salad with it…and beer, some good one and big. The soup is of interesting taste and texture, topped with olive oil and served with the toast cubes is huge. I immediately understood that this was a mistake and that the soup would have been enough. I like the chance to at least taste the pork, and I leave half portion. The waitress is worried and asks if everything is OK. It’s all fine, the soup is great, you’ll understand when the main course arrives…and she understood. I had to do my best for the main course. It remained just enough for the cats who circle around the table but are neither offensive nor untidy. The beer is also great, some local kind, it filled all holes if there were any and reached the throat. It’s official, I passed from the over hungry state to stuffed…but I had to celebrate my success somehow. The celebration follow-up and dusting off continued later on, on location with 87 types of beer, bartender who speaks 7 languages (we tested some) and brings beer testers, and most importantly they work longer than others. There were all kinds of beer, we even mixed some combinations, wheat, dark, even darker, strong, light, fruity. Some of them were really good obviously as I got a praise that my English improved a lot. And the fact is that this was only alcohol and joy at the end of the successful voyage that spoke out of me. And the travel shot I did not really need, as well as the one offered by others. How insane you must be to order more than you can eat (or drink)? Statistics: 76,6 km (GPS) / 0l fuel / 1353kn spent (hotel 450kn and 550 kn travel round) I never wrote about official part of the cruising so far, but I have to do it now as it affected my return. It is relevant to mention that the director of our small region, was fired a few days before gathering. As it is common practice with big ones, one day you are, the other you aren’t. He was sacked by someone from the higher position who, as I’ve heard is of Bosnian origin. Why am I mentioning this? Well, certain Bosnian messed me up once, so somehow I think I understand his situation and I sympathize with him. The most important reason is that he, in all different roles he played in the last 6 years, influenced directly (or indirectly) all my cruisings (from the first one to Rovinj to the most famous one to Marrakesh). Who knows, maybe this is my last crusing with the official background. If it was written somewhere that it’s his time to go, then I am sorry that me (and my distributor) were not the ones to take him down. We managed to take down a lot (if not all) of his predecessors, as they say ‘it’s better for nation to disappear than the tradition’. Anyhow, I was happy and in a good mood on Monday. The trip went well, the weather was inspiring, the rest of the crew is either here or on their way. It was celebrated. Tuesday I was expecting that this will finally be the day to sleep or rest as the MT keeps recommending for days, but first thing in the morning I was awakened by the sound of the industrial vacuum cleaner, coming outside of the hotel. My head is blank, it was probably not such a good idea to try all those beers yesterday, especially as I have a headache after two (the same ones). This was such a moment, I did my best, I even asked for travel Zivana, the popular local alcohol which I meet for the first time. During the day I work as much as the situation allows me. The mess at work is significant, one of the important servers I installed a long time ago crashed. There is so much depending on the reviving the latter, I am trying to help with some advice but I am too far to do anything substantial but keep the positive vibe. I am trying to rest my butt as much as possible so I am working by lying on my stomach. That, and weak WiFi signal have as a consequence additional straining to my neck so the headache is getting stronger. I am caught up by the fatigue as well, I am not forcing anything but still I am trying to write down as many details as possible about the days on the road. I was so into it all that the day flew by, and I would not even notice it if the stomach did not start protesting. I leave the room quickly, it’s late, I’ll get some fast food just to keep me going until the official welcome dinner scheduled that evening. To avoid names, I go into some cypriot-indian-asian restaurant. It’s not really promising when dark skinned Indian is preparing Cypriot gyros but that was the best I could do. Dinner is taking place in the same restaurant I feasted in yesterday, it seems that even I can hit a good one. The portions are smaller than yesterday (luckily), everything is delicious. I could not kepp up for long, the head was still aching, and I had cramps as well, probably due to indian-cypriot gyros, and it could also be a late post-travel reaction. Wednesday All said about the official part should serve as introduction for today. Going to bed early results in clear head. I even manage to take some city photos before the official part. The official part goes as expected, I got a nice present, it should fit into my new topcase. In the middle of lecture I got the information that the server in the firm is finally working in virtual surrounding (this by itself is exclusive news). It’s already a common practice that I take a couple of photos and by this decreasing the costs of the organization. So I take the photos of awarding ceremony to partners and distributors. It never crossed my mind that the one for the ‘most proactive partner in 2017.’ would be given to me. If I knew I would dress for the occasion. That’s the second exclusive news. The third thing that that sweeps me off my feet is a short comment on my yesterday’s writing, on BMW forum where I publish first versions of wanderings. ‘kolekcija is back’ wrote a friend whose opinion I appreciate (and who is guilty of some of my wanderings). That gives me additional kick. In the free time before dinner I work 200 per hour. Loads of backlogs. I barely manage to run and buy some souvenirs for the family and MT. Throughout a day I was glancing at the weather forecasts, but I did not like them so I’ve chosen to ignore them. I stole some time to check some km on the way back, and I mark the Black Sea area as a goal for the second day of return. The first day is a ferry trip to Turkey of course. The three things I mentioned before are each for themselves a reason to celebrate., and when you add to it the fact the joy that I even reached the place (that still holds me) and the karmine* for the director, it comes to the breaking point that white angel cannot handle. Lesley Eldridge (if anyone remembers the only non-Japanese ninja) would fall on the third obstacle, how can I not fail the 5. And as my folks would say ‘and you would not drink?’. *karmine (hm , hard to translate op.transl. lat. carmen: song, singing), the Balkan (or Zagorje) ceremonial feast for the deceased that is held in the house of the deceased, usually after the funeral… It was thought that the deceased will that night visit his home for the last time, dine and bless all in the house so often the food and drinks were left on the table. For dinner itself I brought the trousers I wore at Marrakesh gathering, it was the only worldwide gathering that I was invited to, and so thanks to the person that we have the wakening for, even though he thought that the last dinner will be there in Africa, and he was wrong. As I was wrong about his lasting, he lasted much longer than expected. Usually my clothes recycling is commented loud and clear by some, but alas not tonight. The dinner location is, to my horror, excellent. The crew at the table even better. Red wine was out of heaven. Zivana visits us every once in a while. I can see the others are failing, but I’m not bothered and give my best. On both food and drinks. And food keeps coming, some mention some thirty courses. I have to try everything, snails especially. Everyone is avoiding them, and for me this is the first chance that I take with eagerness and I enjoy, at least while they were warm. They were not good cold. And so some Zivana, some food, some red, some food, some Zivana…and then Zivana, Zivana, Zivana… I remember I stole a cigarette, took a photo with the girl who was performing some local dance (thank you Emina), the owner, some unknown people and at the end I tried to dance. I probably took a wrong step so I was out of film, but that was after reaching higher spiritual state. Nirvana! The fight between black and white angel (I keep calling them so in my writing, different cultures and religions have their own names and symbols, but it is the same in fact, the fight among dual forces of nature) keeps on going even tonight. It’s easy to do anything when you are alone (like being on the bike you make your own decisions and bear the consequences). A problem (that probably bothers everyone) is find the balance between your urges and socially acceptable behavior. We all want to find a perfect balance between giving into your passions and strict penance, as that is the situation that uses the least energy. Buddhists believe that there is a state where you feel complete joy, happiness and peace – nirvana. The Buddhist meaning of life is to reach nirvana. A lot of people are putting an effort to it, many falsely claim that they managed to achieve it, and just a few really manage. I think I reached nirvana. I have no wishes, no passions, no thoughts, no ideas. Complete nothingness. The photo I found in the phone later on is a proof. Thursday (return) How insane you must be to consciously poison yourself night before return trip? I have no idea what woke me up. I have no idea what time it is. I even have no idea how I reached my room. I have no idea where my phone is. I cannot walk straight to the toilet. The clothes I was wearing last night are scattered on the floor between door and the bed. I notice the genius layout of the bathroom as I can rest my head on the sink while sitting on the toilet. I cannot hold it. I’m sick in Croatian terms. I’m really sick. I have poisoned myself, and the poison is still running through the veins, everything is up in my throat. The thought of food makes me even sicker. I am covered in cold sweat while the body is shaking of weakness. I find the phone, and the interesting photo on Viber chat, I have no idea that I was the one to send it. I scroll through the photo gallery, there are a few more interesting ones that I have no recollection of. This is surreal, I must be dreaming, it’s like being in the Hangover movie and every new scene is revealing a new obscenity. Half-smart watch says that I went to bed at 2 and slept 5 hours (it sounds great but I don’t feel it). I look for the angels. There is no black nor white today, just the two of sick green color that cannot fly and in order to stand they have to lean on each other. I’m pleased to see that the black one is sick too. I cannot write that I am parting with my soul as I don’t have it today (some would say that I don’t have it at all). I’m trying to find a film. I know I am not violent when drunk, but I can be brutally honest, which can be worse than physical violence. Keeping my head down I go to breakfast. There are not too many people, I gently check the situation, no one is hitting me so far. I don’t manage to drink the tea even though I mixed a nice jasmine combination. Food – no chance. I am almost crawling. A ghost*. *ghost – in original text the word used is AVET, coming from Turkish afet (bad luck), in folk superstition the deceased or unnatural being who shows itself to the people and fears the hell out of them just by the way it looks; wraith, phantom I go back to my room. I switch from the ghost state to the zombie* state. *zombi is voodoo creature shown as a human corpse that was returned to life by magic or other unnatural ability. This word in Haiti represents a man without his own conscience, the people who are in trance, under someone else’s mental control, mindless slaves of some wizard. I don’t know how to describe how I feel. I believe many of you are familiar with the aftermath of excessive drinking, I am, but like this just a few times in life, surrounded by the confident people who would make sure to leave me at my mother’s doorstep and run away if nothing else. I guess I felt the same confidence and trust yesterday if I am so ruined. Today it is just me, Gandalf, Homeboy and two half-dead angels, 2500 km of the road and some sea away from home. MT recommends shower. Will not! I don’t have the time. The next advice is to force myself to throw up. Will not! I have put so much effort in eating and drinking yesterday, no way I will throw it away now. The last advice is to call toll service. Are you trying to offend me? As I don’t know when I’ll be able to do it again, I inform sis-in-law about the situation, her advice is rehydration. I know I need to be in the port by noon (at some time zone), and that’s great, I have a goal and we’ll see about the rest. There are easier and harder goals, and even though this one looks easy it is not easy to me. I cannot squeeze all the stuff in the bags, there are too many even though there is something missing all the time. Every move is a struggle. Some weird force is leading me, somehow I manage to pack the bags and close side cases, I cannot figure out how come they are so full. I checked out of the hotel, I’m trying to get ready for the ride, I’m missing undercap. I can’t find it. I go back to the hotel, asking for the room card, I check the room again but it’s not there. One undercap from Lidl (grocery store op.transl.) should not be so relevant, even for me, but if this is missing now who knows what else might be missing when I need it? I check out for the second time, I open the topcase and the undercap is the first thing I see. I still have no idea what kind of force is at work, who is helping me but I know I would not be able to do it without help. Text on picture says: “You would not be alive if you would not be dying of something” (Bob Rock to Jeremija) I sit on the bike, I ask GPS to behave today, and the colleague is suspiciously asking ‘do you know where are you going to?’. I know where and when I should get there, that’s something. As walking straight did not work, I am surprised that the curbs are not throwing themselves under Gandalf’s wheels. I am really focused, it’s great that everyone’s stirring wheel is on the right side so I am often horrified by seeing a car without driver and that keeps me awake. There is some garage firm in Croatia (Rimac) that brags about the new concept with level 4 of autonomy. Mate (Rimac), all vehicles here are autonomous, people are sitting in passenger’s seat and enjoy the view. It is really hard, but in my shiny armor and on my faithful stallion I feel safer than on foot. I am not time-pressed. If I miss the ferry or I don’t manage to drive this short section it is not the end of the world. Tomorrow is a new day, and all of it can still be measured by money. I get out of Larnaca, I ride on the slower left lane today, no speeding. All important maneuvers are performed with caution and after each one I do a quality check. Have I turned enough? Have I turned first to the right side? Is my speed estimate of other drivers good, etc. I do this usually (if anyone is interested), but not with such meticulous way. I even notice recommendation sign ‘drive on the left side’ that I did not notice while arriving. Quality check does not point at any major mistake and I am happy about it. I would not want Gandalf to get crashed for me and my angels getting wasted. I managed to find the crossing to the occupied side, I have no problems nor delays in any checkup. Actually, I am pleasantly surprised how I managed to find insurance papers when asked about them. On the occupied side I stop to take some photos, I remember the people on the south side kept asking me how the other side looks like. The photo is blurry, how can I blame a phone for it today? Ferry port is on the other side of the hill. I found the section with works and I continued driving down to Girne. That’s the part which is impossible to stop at. And what happens? I have to sneeze. I raise the flip, move undercap, put my hand and sneeze. I feel something warm in my hand (I ride without gloves as it was probably too difficult to put them on, no way I would remember to cool fists and wrists), I look and I see yellow-green mucus, sticky, dense and foamy…is someone else reminded of the last night’s snails or is it just me? I don’t know where to put this. I pull the clutch with the tip of my fingers, without counter balance on the steering wheel so I conveniently wobble. No way I will wipe it off on Gandalf or any other part of equipment. Entering the city I stop as soon as possible. I use my other hand to open side bag, it seems that here might be some wipes. And there are disinfection wipes, a present from a friend prior to Marrakesh trip (thank you Kiki). Still wet, after passing through three continents with us. I don’t remember whether I had any difficulties in finding the port, but I know that in the port itself, no matter how small it is I managed to take a wrong turn so I wandered around it a bit. I could see the sunlight when I recognized the gate that I passed through the other day, but obviously I was blinded by it as I tried to enter on the right door (the left ones were closed). The uniform is raising stop sign and approaches. I stop. He is asking something I don’t understand. English? In fine English he is asking me whether I am English? Neither am I he says, so why would we speak English? I don’t have an answer to this. If he asked me this tonight during nirvana I’m sure I would have answered it, as I would know all answers about Life, Universe and Everything, but please not today blue friend, just not the head. Anyhow, the entrance to the port is closed until 11 (time of conversation 10.50) and when it’s opened, left side is the right side. Uh, it’s OK, no hitting. I park close by, it’s hot, I take off some clothes and leave the jacket over the front. Only then I notice that it is terribly dirty, greasy and oily. The aftermath of squeezing into ferry upon arrival. For the first time in 4 years I washed it and try to impregnate it, if I am in better psycho-physical condition this would upset me, but here and now, who cares? I rehydrate with the water from the stash, Jana survived the whole trip to here and here it fell. In the shade I found there is a strong stench of sewage even though I cannot figure out from where. And while I look where to move us I realize that I am parked in front of a big building with my carrier’s office. I feel the hands of some higher force in everything. I thought the office is inside, where I was solving entry paperwork. I am not first on the counter, but when the employee raised her head she recognized me and smiled warmly, almost motherly. I knew I will have no more problems here. And there were none, the ferry is scheduled to sail, Barut rocks. And the tickets are here. Alah is great (or whichever is in charge here). I could not find the information about arrival time to Mersin, we reached the limits of our communication capabilities. I was a bit worried as I was not sure whether I solved all paperwork. I can see that some are entering the neighboring building, I have the time, I make enquiries, they send me around some offices until I end up in one where they understand me and they answer on (so, so) understandable language that I have everything that is required. That’s excellent news, to ferry we go, everything else from here must me milk and honey. Not today. I am blocked by trucks and I cannot move from parking. I check climbing up on a curb, I would check it even sober, how can I not now when I can barely walk. The fears are to be held by the horns, one obstacle, one more, some slalom and here am I at the entrance, on the left side. The doors are still closed. Some of drivers I recognize, but some others are curious. That’s good, I also have some questions. We solve communication problems with the phone who is translating English-Turkish. I roughly know the duration of the trip and the arrival time to Mersin, and they are asking where am I from, how long I am on the road and where am I going to. I have no problems at the entrance, I enter among the first, the only problem is the blue officer with impossible question. Even though he is free he does not want to check my papers but he sends the colleague for whose communication problems he obviously knows. He waves, I look askingly, and he yells ‘Ship! Go!’ And the other one is dying of laughter. I am the first on the ship! I am trying to hide Gandalf among different stuff and barrels by myself in hope I will protect him somehow, and not to get filthy to the end. The employee is new, he demands raising him on the side trestle. I pull out my small wooden board and obey. This time it looks more secured. I barely manage to pull out everything I might need in the next 12 or so hours (food, photo, laptop, chargers). I am so early that there are no employees at the bar, and the official doors are opened. It might be better if I did not see this. The cabin key still costs the same. It looks exactly like on Barut’s photos. Warm, airy, even smelly comparing to the breath. I take off the excess of equipment but I don’t throw myself on the bed immediately even though I deserved it, it is time for photo session. Empty boat is my playground and I play, act vomiting, I don’t act that my head is heavy, the hearts are falling for Girne (and Cyprus, now that I am sure that I’ve survived). I put the camera on the different parts of the boat in hope that the photo will turn out well, I need someone to help. I take panoramic shots, I stick my nose in some more official areas, I am all over the place. Maintenace crew is pampering this greybeard tired vessel, I cannot say that I do not understand. If I need it, I am sure that they would help me pamper Gandalf. I lose the energy quickly so I retreat to the cabin. For the first time I am trying to fall asleep. I wasted a lot of time but saw no sleep. I take the laptop and have some fun in arranging the photos. There are a couple good ones and that makes me happy. In all relevant things today I was led by some weird force. I feel it again. It tries to tell me that it would be smart to put together some return trip plan, at least think about the next step after leaving the ferry. I risk the bear (5kn) and ask MT about the forecast for Istanbul, Sofia, Niš and Croatia, from Saturday to Monday. I read the answer a couple of times. From left to right, then right to left. No matter how I read it, the Sunday is challenging, and Monday even more. Wait a minute, is it possible, the weather is somewhat acceptable for the next two days. I am dying here and the Old Man is giving me an option to return in two days. Who is insane here? Do I have what is required to do it? I check in ‘scratch with the reason’ manner and I conclude that nothing has grown. MT is additionally point out the Old Man and hope that he will arrange for better weather than the forecast. I do not expect that he will do that for me, I am grateful on the nice weather I had so far, but still, when already mentioned, I answer and ask MT to ask him for a calm sea, we are on the move, the ferry is decently rocking from side to side, I am sick even without it. I promise I will behave and will not waste myself again in any recent future. MT is saying that Reglan tblts (Metopran) is helping with the sickness and decreases the urge to vomit. Will not! Even though I would now take both blue and red pill just to relieve me of my misery but with similar pill I took once in my life while sailing, I had a bad experience. The situation is horrible. The sea is rocking the ship in such a way that I am sliding on the bed and I am leaned on my feet and on my head on and off. You can hear the unclosed doors slamming, the plastic cover from the lamp in the bathroom falls down, and the crew is pampering the ship for hours with a big hammer so it all bangs (are those bells for me?). I am dying. I look at the camera thinking to record all this, to make a videoblog and my last will. If I die I want it to be known that I left traveling, doing what I love. And that I am not sorry about anything and no one should feel sorry about me. How insane you must be to hope that the nausea will pass while sailing by ferry? I give up the idea of writing the last will as it is actually too much of a dark side. I’m trying to sleep again, but it is only torture. I know I should it so I force myself. It’s really hard. I have no more water. Money box shows 3 Turkish liras. The waiter is asking 2 for half-liter, a double price than on the gas stop. Give me one for now, and give me Euro exchange rate…3TL for €? It was almost 5 on the road. How can you price a medicine? Ask pharmaceutical industry. A new laptop session. Eaten food sits in my throat. I still feel nauseous, I’m not sure any longer is it the hangover, rocking boat or food. The only perfect thing is the toilet session. Yesterday’s snails obviously helped, I should check it once again. Or Zivana perhaps? No, it’s not her, even thinking of it makes me sicker. A new round of trying to sleep, successful as two previous attempts. Colors of the cabin are becoming warmer…well, well, the sun is going away. I rushing to open the window (as taking photos through it would be pointless) and I break my nail. I should have clipped them in the morning but I had no time nor strength for it. I manage to take a photo of the sunset. Some fresh air flows into the cabin. I need something to warm to cover myself. The mystery of side cases and bags is resolved (I suppose), it must have been that the long sleeve layer of clothes ended up inside and crowded it. It’s dark, I have no communication with the outside world for hours, I cannot look at laptop any longer, the idea of speeding up return trip is buzzing around my head, am I going to find any accommodation in Mersin and where, maybe it was a mistake not writing the last will? I’m still dying even though there is no more rocking and no works on the boat. Somehow it seems feasible to turn 1000km each day for two days, and then the last section would be in HR, so if it is impossible to drive it will be easier to figure something out. We are sailing along the Turkish coast and you can see the distant settlement lights. I’m out of water again. I take out half Euro and half lira, by the crook’s rate it’s just enough for one more bottle, not even a cent more. I eat everything else I brought into cabin. There is only some lembas bread remaining. There are no health improvements, I still cannot walk straight, but it must be the boat. I lost will for everything, I look through the window, always the same view, it takes ages to arrive. And just when I was about falling asleep, the staff bangs on door, we are arriving soon, they return the passport and tell me to leave the key in the door. Otherwise, the cabin lock is interesting, it has its own life, sometimes it would open immediately, and sometimes ten key turns were not enough. It took me almost two trips to realize when to use the force. Then it opens right away. Statistics: 79,1km (GPS)/ 0l fuel / 2 bottles 0,5l of water Friday Arriving soon is more than enough for zombie to get dressed, pack all things, watches docking and takes a photo of a ship that reminds him of past life. We are deep into the new day. Gandalf did not run away, and he also did not lay down (luckily). As much as I was trying to leave some space, they parked the trucks even closer. I cannot open side case to pack the stuff. I’m waiting in front of the truck for the driver and ask him to be careful when leaving the boat. In the current situation there is no way I can get off the boat by bike so I wait with the truck drivers for service buses to take us to customs and police checkups, in hope that the procedure will therefore be faster. The bus is taking ten minutes, there is no way I can memorize the route. I have no problems with the procedure as surprisingly I have all required papers, I only miss the bike in order to finish. While I was trying to explain this to the customs officer while he was eating, all buses were already gone. The time passes by. I am waiting hoping that the promised drive will show up. Cyprus passenger control starts. It not that they will sail away with my bike? The officer is asking one of the passengers to translate, they are not sure that they understood what I’m saying. Yes, I arrived by ferry, my bike is blocked inside, I’m here to solve paperwork while the trucks free my bike and I have to go back to the ship now. Which dock? I have no idea. Which boat, where from? This I know. It turns out that the passenger is going to the boat by car and he will take me there. I’m waiting for him to finish his paperwork. The time is passing. Range Rover, newer, leather seats, I’m so embarrassed thinking that I will stain the seats, so they will be greasy as the owner’s hair pulled up in the topknot. Weird feeling. He does not know the right way to the boat, neither some fierce Audi SUV in front of us, so I keep wandering around with them. I finally see the boat ahead. The trucks are blocking the way in so I thank for the ride and continue on foot. Gandalf is the only one on the lower deck, I’m asking the staff to untie him so I can take off finally. Where to? Well, cunningly I had GPS in my pocket all the time and it memorized customs office position. It took me some time to find it even though I did not miss turn anywhere. Almost 3km. There are 3 persons in customs. I go in, the officer is dozing off. First I interrupted him while eating, now while sleeping, it cannot end good. I already see myself watching the sunrise here. He tells me to wait by the bike, he’ll be back in 10 minutes. The three outside are asking whether I have the problem too. As far as I know no, I just need the bike checked. The time is passing. I clean the visor and the lights. The officer returns, first dealing with the three, I don’t understand much but it does not look good, I think their car will not get out tonight. I have no such problems, all inside. A bit more paperwork and computer entries. It seems that the three have no insurance valid for Turkey. All out again, the gate is opening, I am free, I can go. And where to go at 2.45 a.m.? Is there any point in looking for a place to sleep? I sit on the bike, still in the state of zombie, and I take off, I hope in the direction of home, towards the Black Sea. I drive without gloves, I look around, and if something catches my eye I stop. If I feel sleepy, I stop. Nothing caught my eye and I am not sleepy. I get on the highway and I follow GPS. There is some lightning ahead, I’m not sure whether this is on my route, it’s dark and I have some difficulties to orientate. Slowly it becomes too cold for bare hands so I stop at the gas stop. I fill in even though there was no reserve lamp yet. I organize stuff in the right places in the cases. I take some rehydration fluid as well. I put on full gear even though it is not cold enough. Invisible force is still leading me. I keep on driving; the highway starts turning towards the mountains, it’s starts raining, the temperature is dropping. It’s great that the lightning is getting closer so I occasionally see something ahead, neither long nor dipped lights are of much use in these conditions. I am warm in my armor, I don’t pay too much attention to gas stops and rest stops. I have no idea about the temperature but I can feel that it is still dropping. The rain is passing into snow. I have a feeling that someone is testing how insane I really am. Driving at 4 a.m., on the mountain road I can barely see, while it keeps snowing more and more and I have no idea what the temperature is? I’m not that insane and I am slowly trying to reach the first gas stop or rest stop. Finally there are some lights ahead, I leave the highway and park in front of a big restaurant. I get the negative answer asking for some accommodation, but they allow me to rest there. I have no choice. The conditions are not for the bike. Either we have problem in communication or they do not accept credit cards. For the second time I have to use cash, and I change 10 euros. Actually, it’s not me who is changing, but the employee of the restaurant goes to change it for me while I try to choose some soup. I have to come back to life and I don’t know how. I don’t understand the descriptions so I take any. He fills my portion and throws away the rest, the soup is as fresh as I am. I manage to get the net password, now we are talking. I check the forecasts. I check the communication of the rest of the crew that was parting from their souls yesterday or took off where we left or went home. Too early (or too late) is to contact the family, but I send a message to the crew. No answer, that’s weird. I am trying to fall asleep at the table but I cannot get the right position. Not even Zagorje Superman position* helps, the table is too low, the gear is pressing my tummy (*Zagorje Superman position – arm stretched and the head is resting on the upper arm, common position at the bar of the local inns, it is used to regain the energy in case of temporary weakness). Leaned on the chair is unstable. I even set the alarm. The torture lasted for two hours, it began dawning. The mountains are covered in snow, Gandalf is covered in snow, but the road is black. There is some hope, it should just warm up a bit. The staff is making me some tea, I know it is too early in HR but I have no idea when I’ll be able to communicate again so I send a message that I am alive and traveling, it’s been a while, I know everyone is worried. 7.30 local time. I gently remove some snow from the bike. The thermometer is showing 2 in plus. Some guys are trying to start a van whose fuel is frozen. If Gandalf starts we go on, and if not, I’ll wait some more. In all our wanderings in the last 6 years I can count on one hand the situations where he started at the first key turn as now. Rough sound, due to rich fuel mixture required in such conditions, it shakes off the remaining snow. I think Gandalf has stated his opinion pretty clearly, like a hasky who drags himself from the snow ready for the slides. Another good thing is that during the night, in all darkness and torture we managed to cross the big part of the mountain range. Just a bit more and then we continue on the plateau. The snow stopped, it is cold but it does not pass through the armor. The toll boots, like many so far, opened… I pass through and I hear the siren wailing. I pull over in the right, I look around, there are some building around but not too appealing. There is some employee of something not interested in me at all. There is a uniform showing up from behind the fence and barbed wire. Just drive he says. I realized by now that the siren is wailing when the others are passing by as well. The bike is not heating enough so I don’t have too much heating for my hands, but stretching fingers occasionally is enough to decrease the sense of cold. The temperature keeps changing, more or less positive, in the rhythm of signs for mandatory winter gear to cessation. I don’t have winter gear on the bike. Fresh air and the cup of tea keep me awake, I’m still nauseous, but the rhythm gets better. It seems that the peak of weakness has passed. What Zivana, is this the best you can do? See me, I’m still alive, and I wander. Nothing without haw stake (or ax, op.transl.). 50kms from Nowhere (Niğde is very similar to nigde which on Croatian means nowhere) and 25 hrs from the last sleep, watching GPS showing the next turn in 300km, I’m curious. Tell me GPS how long to reach home? It’s not an easy question, he keeps on calculating, and calculating…he’s faster than Deep Thought computer…and says lousy 2050kms to home, and if you start driving without a pause, you would be home until 2 a.m. the next day. Silly, being 50km from Nowhere and 2050km from home it does not scary at all. I keep GPS to navigate to home and check the accommodation offer along the road, if I’ve been nuttier this morning, they were ‘just’ 150-200km away. From there, 50km from Nowhere, and half way to Ankara I use all fuel. Now already intentionally I spot a small, unsightly pump, in hope to find Gandalf what he likes. I did not switch him off yet and I knew what I will buy to me. A full shelf of stuffed teddy bears. The employee looks at me puzzled, are you sure you want that white bear, brown eyes, in ultra-dirty nylon cover hanging here for days (years)? Yes, I’m sure, I want this one as it is the smallest, and I don’t know whether I could fit it at all. I finally have someone with me. I was so happy about this and I wanted to share with all my FB friends, but no internet. The gas stop has it, but in order to use it you need to type a phone number to get the access code, and the phone number has to be local. The locals notice my suffering, and one of them plugs WiFi hotspot on his phone and gives me the internet. It shows again, the smaller (poorer) the man is, the sooner he will help you. And perhaps he felt merciful seeing me crunching energy bar that was still partially frozen loudly. This is my first stop at daylight after the ferry, and while I was doing some reorganizing to fit the teddy in, I notice deep scratch on the right-side case. The ferry left a trace nonetheless. If I was in a better pscyho-physical state this would disturb me, but here and now, who cares? It’s easier now, I have someone with me, I managed to squeeze him into topcase. I go around Ankara, I need some food, but still have no real stimulus. It’s even better while I am hungry as nothing is stuck in my throat. I rolled off 500km, I can almost smell the Black Sea, I could use some rest but I keep on pressing. I stop just before noon. Big restaurant, a lot of entries, exists…and when I enter one of them, again a big restaurant left and right… I don’t get it, but there is a kind young employee who does not seem to be bothered by my Mondoshawan appearance, he sees tired traveler who needs food and drink. He is showing me the offer but I see only one thing…chicken in some sauce…and not the white meat (wood), but the real stuff, with skin. Chickeen! I gasp, like Leeloo in the 5th Element when she bones chicken legs. With the choice of pickled salad and plain rice, heavenly feast. Considering that everything is still stuck in my throat, MT says chamomile tea, ginger tea or baking soda. Will not! I drank the tea that I got without asking for it, I have no idea what kind but it’s good. I know my sister finds it strange that at 10 a.m. her time I am answering that I am not sure about Istanbul, even though I keep thinking about it, but there is still 400km to the bridge. Let’s go on and we’ll see. Some 200km from the bridge, 550km from Nowhere and 1550km from home, 37 hrs from the last Zivana, I am finally revived. The color finally turned into my face, the knot is left from the throat, I feel reborn. It’s over, the body had disposed of toxins, one life cycle had ended, and like Phoenix, the new life is born from the ashes. Stronger, more determined and more focused than before. The head roars with ‘Zivana (Greek woman in original) you should know, it’s all over, goodbye and never come back…she wounded my soul…she took everything’, the song that some time ago we played so loudly and kicked the membranes out of cousin’s speakers. I’m conscious. I am not zombie any longer. To hell with the Black Sea and taking photos of jerks in front of the water, straight home on the wings of euphoria. Angels are finally taking off as well, buzzing around, probably enjoying the resurrection. I’ve been trying whole day to find a rabbit, a vehicle that would drive at acceptable speed and I would rest behind. I managed to do it on every trip so far, but in Turkey not today nor when arriving. Everyone is far below the speed limit or far above. How insane you must be to hope for the normal Turkish driver? 120km before the bridge, on the stop situated next to some lake (unfortunately it is not Black nor Marble Sea) I start preparing for the attack on Istanbul (actually going around it from both sides of the bridge that leads to Europe). My wounds from the last attack are still fresh, now I have to be smarter, I underestimated it in the opposite direction. It’s not early to prepare, the traffic is already denser and is not decreasing far after the bridge. To avoid the heat I take off the last layer of clothes, I pack it on the seat, I take out summer gloves. All vent holes on the suit are opened to the maximum. To avoid hunger, I much on energy bar. To avoid stopping in order to pee, I go to the toilet. But of course, the one outside is closed and I have to go inside. There is a small market inside, baskets full of food, fruit, spices…hundreds of colors and smells… I know if I would let my mum in she would not get out for a week, but someone had filled my back space so I have no trouble in getting out. I had to buy ‘just’ one nut cracker. 800km and 12hrs after leaving the port, I am ready. Gandalf, GPS, someone, me and my angels, against all. There is nothing in this world that can stop us. To spice up my challenge, I put one more demand on myself. Not that I don’t want to turn on Gandalf’s oil cooler, I don’t want to raise a single line of temperature. That’s the challenge. The road is ours, all tracks. As soon as it gets tricky on allowed tracks, there is a spare right track. In front of interceptor, behind the interceptor, crossing over 5 tracks, slalom, if need be on the on the get off tracks. They don’t even have the time to honk. But I am not the only one, there are more, so I am a rabbit for a while, and then someone else takes over. Their craziness I make up with agility and narrow width. I turn my head as an owl, almost 360 degrees, the eyes see and the brain is processing, I feel the traffic, I am the traffic, even Trinity from Matrix would not be ashamed by this driving. If it happens that something is not in my sight, there are angels who are controlling from above and notify. Not even the black one is messing up. Nothing can stop us or slow us down. We are not the fastest, there is one faster category, so called Japanese-Turkish kamikaze, half-geared riders of narrow and fast bikes, roaring so loudly so everyone can hear them. The black one gathers courage, pulls out the sword and foaming from his mouth yells ‘525 years ago you were ravening Zagorje, the revenge is sweet…press more, press more’. And the white one seems to be OK with it as well. Drele (Croatian singer) goes through my head ‘let’s go bold tires, Zagorje roads are awaiting, maybe some crazy Turk gets drunk and kills us with the Record camper’ so I am extra careful about Opel drivers. The bridge is behind us, the temperature stabile, excellent team work, but by the end we lose our breath a bit and join the flow that gets livelier. The temperature reacts immediately. No way you b…! One more attack and we are done, Istanbul and surroundings are behind. The advanced can compare speed graphs for first and second crossing. After 16hrs on the road, dying and resurrection, snow, wind, sun and fat 1000km behind, it was the time to think about a place to sleep, I guess. I say I guess as the body is not showing any signs of fatigue, the bike as well, someone is silent. We are stopped by the reserve lamp. It seems that it works when needed. In the pump’s annex I see some buildings, so let’s see what they are offering. And there again ‘Chickeeen’! The answer on my question about accommodation is Edirne, city 120km away. Chewing on chicken not as good as the previous one, I check the map on GPS, and selection of accommodation on the phone. It makes no sense to sleep in Turkey when Svilengrad in Bulgaria is 150km away, there I am practically home. I find some location, it says opened until 20h, and the watch says I have an hour and a half. In the brewing euphoria that is still holding me that is so feasible and I am back in the saddle. The first thing that started deflating my euphoria is creeping darkness. The second thing was disgustingly long queue of trucks, the body maybe shows no fatigue but the sight becomes blurry and I am afraid to drive fast past them, just in case that I miss some driver walking along. I am pushing through on the Turkish border, a bit scared that they will lock me up when they see that 18hrs ago and 1200km away I entered Turkey and already trying to get out of it, but nobody seems to be bothered. The third thing that pounds the last nail into euphoria is Bulgarian border. A number of queues, all standing still, people are socializing. Of course, straight ahead. I inquire about the reasons for queues and the answer is changing shifts. Bulgarians, not again. During last year’s wandering, upon return from Bucharest, the computer system crashed. Now the computers are working, but there are no officials. Half an hour of waiting I spend talking to other drivers. They shake their heads a bit hearing when I started and where from I arrived. Lady official are back! I have all papers. But she has a brother customs officer. Open the topcase. He is not falling on the brown eyes of someone, just pushes him aside. He savagely opens the backpack, pushes the hand in, force-opens the box and finds the reward proudly like he found something forbidden. ‘What’s this bro?’ Reward bro. Disappointed, he just waves, we are no longer brothers, go. Bulgaria! Thick darkness at the entry to Svilengrad is broken by the glittering hotel and casino adds. I am not interested, I drive to the approximate location of the accommodation. The holes are big, GPS is not reliable, but there is no much traffic so we slowly progress. On the approximate location I find the hotel, small, well-lit, with interesting name, but it is not the one I am looking for, the price is almost double. They did not hear about the one I want. I switch on the telephone navigation, I am not sure whether I am on the Greek or Bulgarian network, I just hope I am not on Turkish. Driving through some dark alleys I reach the dirt road with enormous holes, this should be it. I pass the last 50m. The light is on, but I see no entrance. I turn the bike around, trying to find the part of the road that is flat enough to pull it on the central trestle, part of it breaks, it’s good that we did not flip over. I put it on the side, I turn, the light is off. Twilight zone. I am finally tired enough that the price difference does not make a difference and I don’t feel like searching any more, the other one I know where it is and I that it works, for this one was a bad choice even to Gandalf. 1050km from Nowhere and 1150km from home, after 1250km marathon in one day, I settle in London. Who of the bikers can say that they drove Mersin-Ankara-Istanbul-Svilengrad-London in one day? As my friend temporarily in Germany (I think he is in Germany) would say ‘I tore Turkey as sow greasy bag’. I broke my own record in kms in one day. I spread the news loudly. All pores on my nose are black from the glass frame. I flood the bathroom as the shower has no curtain, and it’s small. I plug the electronics to chargers, it’s been a long day. There were two days bound together in fact. I feel suspiciously just some small pain. I mix one granulated brufen without MT’s recommendation and without a real need for it. The forecast is not any better and for the home they show snow starting tomorrow at 18.00, and there is everything along the way, sun, heat, rain and thunder. MT says rest. Will not! Until midnight I do who knows what on the laptop. Statistics: 1223km (GPS) / 77,14l fuel / 795,98kn spent On the picture below I marked and counted all stops longer than 10 minutes. The time on the graph is according to HR time, not local. You can see Nowhere as well. Saturday Euphoria kept me attached to the laptop (too) long. I simply could not help it, I guess I passed the edge of a regular fatigue. No sleep for two days, actually I slept too little in the last 5 days and the body seemed to adapt to it. I entered unknown and unexplored state and I have no idea what to expect. In such situation there is no rush. Alarm was set but just in case I oversleep. Of course, it was not needed, I think I was even awakened by a rooster. There is no breakfast in the hotel so I emptied everything that remained in the personal stash and reinforced it with the flask medicine. I’m lying, there was some bread left. I feel (much) better than expected, more or less equally in pain as when I went to bed. I have no idea whether this was influenced by the soluble medicine from yesterday. It would be a shame to return everything. And again, if I was taking the medicine at every MT’s suggestion, I would stay out of it half way through. I am taking stuff out in tranches as the staff kindly asked me yesterday to remove from the bike everything that can be taken away, even though they have lit parking and video surveillance. What would happen if I’ve left it in that dark alley last night? As a goodbye I get free tea, not much but at least something warm and against fatigue. I even take out the camera. Svilengrad at daylight does not look any better than last night, at least what I can see. I’m trying to come up with some inspiration to push me through the day, but I cannot find any…been to Asia and came back…been to Cyprus, drove on the wrong side and came back…moved ahead the number of total kilometers per day…achieved a lot, much more than expected. And there are even no mountains covered in snow in sight. But, the forecast is for snow at homeland for 6 p.m. so let’s try to see this one at least. Highway speed limit is 140km p/h, and that’s sort of the top speed for Gandalf long distance. He uses fuel faster, and I get tired faster. The road does not glitter today, probably due to the position of the sun, but black and smooth is quickly left behind. GPS and the helmet are having arguments today again so I take the last ace out of my sleeve. I connect the phone to the helmet and I run random music flow. Random my a… Usually I don’t listen to the music from the phone (except when trimming to diminish the noise) so there is no fresh or adopted choice. More some songs that by accident were at hand at a given moment, a couple of foreign bands and more or less everything from Hladno Pivo. The first song running was Adele’s…and the song that every once in a while, there is a pitched Crazy. I admit, I am crazy for driving and the road. I realized this yesterday, after the resurrection. I realized that driving is healing me better than the physio-therapy, vineyard and pharmaceutical products. I don’t really care about the location and destination. Gandalf, the road and the accidental encountering (talk) with the ordinary people along the way, this is what matters. I was not even aware how I needed to cleanse body and soul. I was not aware how difficult the idyll can be. Everyone sees some idyll in my life. The married ones see my freedom, the ones living in the concrete city blocks see my green, my friends are convinced that I do nothing, my parents see that I do nothing, FB friends are seeing the nice photos I post occasionally, some others see my other oldies…the grass is always greener somewhere else. I have nothing to hide, I live idyllic life, but it obviously can be difficult in its own way. As the phone chooses song by song randomly but ideally, I fall into trance even more and start daydreaming. Even though there is till 1000km to go, the trip is over for me, the only remaining thing is driving to the box routinely. I dream that Mate will assemble touring electro-bike, that we will not tank fuel on the stations but change batteries, that maybe in the adopting period the batteries will be assembled instead of cases, what could be the advantages of having the front drive, how could he sort out the amortization to generate power so it has comfort adjustment as an additional convenience. I dreamt about my vineyard and sweetness of raspberries. The words kept flowing like a river, it’s been a long time since I experienced this. And then, without obvious reason and with no need whatsoever, the Bulgarian plates car driver is slowly going into left (mine) track. And he won’t stop. Suddenly, all dreams have disappeared, I forgot the words and the ideas, and the film rewind. No way! I avoid without decreasing the speed, I choose a couple of modest words that I emphasize by honking. I know it is not the driver’s fault, that’s the message from above about fragility of existence and how unrealistic is to think that you are in control. I drive around Sofia a bit longer as I spent time singing rather than following GPS. The road is not bumpy as the other day or I am already used to it. There is no traffic in my direction today, nor some speeders. Or it’s the music that makes it all nicer? Even Bulgaria that slowly disappears. The police is on the same spot, I can’t say I memorized it, but I remembered when I saw them. They are not interested in me. Border. Queues. Just to see a bit what’s happening and hop to the front. Just behind the car with the neat problem solution sticker. Even though my crew has grown out of this solution and switched to the off-road vehicles. If someone recalls, one was it was up-hill, so it’s down-hill now and it is easy to move. Not even customs have problems in letting me pass. Serbia! Welcomes me with a big welcome. If I can say that I am at home in the EU, I can surely say that for Serbia as well. I have collected many personal and professional connections throughout the years. I have an open invitation for accommodation for today, but as I am advancing it seems I will not use the offer. Due to this I am home feeling I switch part of security energy to the steering energy. Now I see that this section is scarcely described when arriving, only one small piece. I realized that the section is a bit longer than 10km of Sisevac canyon only by driving with the little fuel in tank. I really wanted better photo of the bike from this location but the pieces did not fall into place, next time. The first stop and rest today I take on the Belgrade highway. Even though the employee is offering a better fuel option, I choose less octanes, the bike will in any case swallow whatever it gets. I treat myself with a triangle sandwich. I talk nicely and show the turkey one, but the guy is diving me the other…no, turkey and Coke. There is a space for eating and drinking, but it makes no sense to sit as I’ll be doing it the whole day. I walk around the bike and chew on turkey, talking to the employees and inquiring about the forecast. It should have been raining already, I am in maximum gear, but the sun and heat are killing me. The local phone shows that it is currently raining in Belgrade. Acrobatic peeing, music on loud and straight to Belgrade. The sign above highway shows ‘Someone loves you’. Well of course, if no one else, then mother for sure, at least by obligation. Kilometers and tolls are passing by routinely, this time I follow GPS through Belgrade center. Saturday around 1 p.m., after rain, I expect traffic jam. Road works that were not expected are adding to the crowd. I switch on to easy Istanbul mode of driving and it turns out that it is faster to pass through the city than to go around. I run over some glass remains on Gazela (bridge in Belgrade), remained after some small crash, unavoidable. And it runs through my head, as so many times already on the return trip, the question by a Bosnian colleague – what do you do when you have a flat tire? I never had it so I have no idea, bite your thong, every ‘lastik’ shop in Turkey and Bulgaria reminded me of it. Up to the Croatian border the road is getting more and more wet, but no rain, like we are above the clouds. I adjust the speed and rhythm to the fuel so I can make it to HR. The phone is choosing the right song for the situation ‘above the clouds, there is no lying…’ Serbian police officer asks ‘isn’t it too cold for the bike?’. Not even close as it was and it seems as it will be soon. Croatia! Spacva stop was my goal for today that I dreamed of on the Girne-Mersin ferry, on the last strings of life. I’ve been driving without gloves since the border so I cool off hands and wrists, and I get the first feeling about the conditions. Spacva is after 9 hours of driving achieved goal. The sky is getting darker, the temperature is dropping. I spend 20 minutes of pause to tank up to the top of the finest fuel there is (as I stopped on the place where they have no other), I’ve learned to tank while sitting on the bike, the central trestle is broken and I cannot tank fully while leaned on the side. I proudly send around the message about where I am, I check the remaining communication from Cyprus crew, I walk left and right as Balthazar trying to stretch a bit. I drank whatever liquid I had in the case and protected it with additional cover. It makes no sense to look for accommodation here. I change BT modul on the helmet, listening to music had used the battery but it’s not big deal as I have one more in reserve. At 3 p.m. we are ready for another attack. The start was on 10 Celsius and weak rain. As the rain kept on beating the helmet louder and stronger and the temperature kept dropping I would raise the speed and turn on music louder. There are none faster than us on the highway. Not even passing through big deep puddles is slowing us down. We are running on the edge of the speed that angels can achieve in these conditions, they are also slowed down by this cold and heavy rain (and you know that you should not be driving faster than your guardian angel). The cars and trucks are raising thick curtains of water that we pass through half-blindly. Driving along the truck wheels is a special treat, maximum shower even the most hidden parts. The wind is blowing significantly now. Just keep kicking, you did not break through my armor yet. And phone again finds appropriate music which mentions wind, driving wrong side, doing things differently etc etc. And someone will say that there is no higher force that is involved in music choice, like it is random… The sign above highway says ‘don’t drive tired’. Who is tired, I am just warming up. I am happy, there is no other place in the world I would rather be in this moment, but right here on the road, with wind and rain are washing out all insects and dirt collected while wandering. I don’t mind the water that begins dripping into my gloves, actually I expected that the shoe impregnation I used quickly will fail sooner. The next sig shows that the temperature fell to 7, and the phone is conveniently playing Vivaldi’s season, guess which, the pitched sounds of violins in almost heavy-metal style are announcing the storm, snow and ice. It can’t be random. And it is the right kick for me, I am not backing off for a mm. Half-smart watch on the hand since I entered HR (actually since it caught domestic network and internet) keeps on vibrating. The lagged and new messages are arriving, congratulations on the achieved and so on… One of them is from MT ‘you are not driving on the rain, are you?’. Luckily, I cannot see it, I am sure I would have stopped if I did (Will not!). Until Ivanic no one is taking over, and then there is some SUV nervously signaling me to move just to set right in front of me and spill over me some more. I did not congratulate him on the fantastic maneuver. Of course, on the toll I have the problem of taking off and opening the gear pin order to pay, the employee is understanding, everything is dripping from us. I even manage to put wet gloves back on. Hard conditions and merciless rhythm burned the best fuel from the tank so I need to save to get to the next gas stop, the same one where all this madness had started. For the last section I put summer but dry gloves. I even thought of turning to the old road to avoid two more reassembling for the toll, but now I would drive home barefoot and naked. The temperature drops to 5, the rain is merciless and every drop is harder and harder making everything feel harder than the temperature suggests, but it is manageable. Pushing Gandalf as the devil pushes sinful soul does not help any longer in keeping the hands warm. This cold rain cools him off as well. I was afraid of such conditions while planning the trip. The vision of homeland gives me some immunity to it. To spice it up a bit, the phone chooses Nola and Day song, the refrain is brutally true: Day, completely ordinary, as every other day, completely ordinary’. I cannot help not to agree with it. One more, completely ordinary but everything but dull wandering for official purposes is approaching its end. To me, this is a bit more of ordinary day then to the others. My grass is greener. I refuse to end this madness without a dot to I. I assemble a new nirvana sight in my head, similar to the one from Cyprus. There is someone on one side, and on the other there is staff from the local pub. There is no dot on I for me. I get rejected under explanation of being (un)photogenic. Who in the whole world can look bad next to us today? Tamika, you disappointed one tired traveler. How insane you must be to expect dot on I in the pub? Whatever, there is no dot. Passing by the MT’s location I honk twice to signal that the shift is over. I switch off the engine in the house yard. There is no one in sight. Not even snow. I open the garage, park, strip off the first layer of wet gear. No one in sight. The house is locked. I enter, Rubi is not here to greet me. She appears on the third call. It is great that someone is happy to see me, even if she thinks that I brought some food or treat. One more proof that this is just ordinary day. How insane you must be to turn 1100km with two pauses? Statistics: 1120km (GPS) / 80,78l fuel / 1212,88kn spent (hotel 305,82kn) Conclusion (sort of) Everyone should pull out their own opinion about what was insane on this trip and what was even more insane. I’ve died for this wandering several times even before it started. It required a lot of ‘medicine’ (Medicine for body and soul bottle). It is interesting that in similar situations the body would by default loose fat, but this time not a single gram like it knew what was lying ahead. To what limits my insanity stretched? Well, I did not want to shave hoping that the beard will provide some additional warmth. And then someone will tell me that I was anxious for no reason. I cannot help it, it’s the genes, if I am not here the whole world would be gone. It’s time to draw the line and mention some things that were neglected or missed. On the whole trip I’ve spent 30 Euros and 50 cents of cash. Everything else was paid by card. I wanted to try 100% no cash, maybe it is possible, but being inexperienced costed me some. Heated gloves were not used the whole trip, I’ve been saving them for extreme conditions that never occurred. I’ve been helped from all sides, family, friends, colleagues and casual acquaintances. The MT had endured the most of mine psycho-physical wits. I’ve often thought about Boris and his ‘best wife in the world’ Ksenija. They’ve been having hiccups for sure. If someone of their caliber tells you that Turkey is high and the port is huge, you should take it more seriously than I did. On the other hand, of I’ve listened to Boris’ words ‘the A students would maybe go from Varaždin to the port of Tasuku in three days, but that would be a great run’ and taken them seriously, I would not even try to drive Mersin-Varaždin in two days. Those are the only two days in the past X years during which I’ve neglected my job completely. What suffered during the trip? Nothing on my side, I cannot count the broken nail, and it happened before that I lose the part of the film. Some get more injured by moving the sofa. On Gandalf’s side the central trestle piece got broken, the one we welded 20,000 km ago. Obviously, the job was not well done so we have to do it again. There is a scratch that I will not mend but emphasize with a sticker. So, almost nothing on Gandalf’s side. Were the preparations adequate? It depends. Physical preparations were excellent, all those walks through the snow to vineyard, climbing Ivanšćica, shoveling, swimming and therapies along with quitting smoking prepared by body for efforts far larger than needed or planned. The poisoning was not a part of the plan. Preparations involving necessary information about the countries I’ve travelled through were not as they should’ve been. Not Gandalf nor I are perfect, and far from being good, but we gave our best and picked one extraordinary wandering. The stubbornness required to plan and realize this trip I learned from my dog Rubi. She never gave up her attitude, not even for the comfort or the treat. Perhaps I was a bit influenced by the movie ‘Eddie the Eagle’ and the tears he had evoked from me after jumping from 90m high ski jump on the Olympics, for the first time in life. And Davor that dragged slides last winter. Was I making the right decisions at the right time? Except the one about Zivana, well maybe even her, all of them were right. They were not easy to make, not easy to go through with, but they were right. It was snowing the next day, the temperatures dropped to negative. Even now, after return, I still feel euphoric and I make decisions easier, I see more clearly what I want and what needs to be done, no matter if it is pruning apples or work. Unfortunately, this is not so good news for my darts crew. I used to be more considerate. And if Master Yoda is right (and he is the one with the best understanding of Force), stating that the failure is the best teacher (The greatest teacher, failure is.) then I did not have a good teacher. Seriously, I learned nothing, I would do everything the same again. Until the next wandering, stay fat and happy, pull out everything from yourselves and guard your angels… There is more! You can leave the comment below. Answer to some or all ‘how insane you must be’ questions. Write if you like it, write if you don’t like it. All comments are being looked over, but rejected are only ones that have no connection to above, promote cheap loans or similar…just leave some trace so I know you’ve been here. Thank you!
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Koliko lud moraš biti? 26.02.2018. ponedjeljak (10 dana pr.dD) Vani je 10 stupnjeva ispod nule. Puše vjetar i raznosi zadnji snijeg koji pada i trenutno. Čak i ja koji volim snijeg i zimu sam pomalo umoran od lopatanja. A kažu da će još padati, i da će biti još hladnije. 17. mi je dan fizikalnih terapija, rame nije niš bolje nego u startu, ali tješim se da barem ostatak tijela vraćam malo u formu. Ako ne plivanjem, vježbanjem, strujom i laserom, onda barem tom lopatom bez koje ne bi mogao doći do prije navedenih stvari. Dobro lutanje nisam napisao već duže vremena (neki bi rekli da nisam nikad), zadnja su negdje iz 2016. I tako dok moji prijatelji hodaju okolo po promocijama svojih knjiga koje govore o moto putovanjima, ja držim naliv pero i zapisujem si natuknice…u nadi da će me doći volja i inspiracija da nešto napišem. Pratio sam zimos svako jutro ekspedicijski dnevnik prvog hrvata koji je pješice i sam, bez ikakave pomoći, došetao na Južni pol. Divio sam se njegovoj volji, borbi s jutarnjim demonima, vremenskim prilikama, životnim odlukama. Da, priznajem, čekao sam svaki novi blog kao što pasionirani pratitelj sapunica čeka novu epizodu omiljene serije. I sa svakim njegovim novim korakom, znajući da me u 3. mjesecu čeka poslovna obaveza na Cipru, sanjario kako bi i ja mogao biti otporan na zimu, i odlutati na Cipar motorom. S vrlo malo ljudi sam tu misao podijelio. Iako još neznam da li putujem motorom, danas sam izvadio međunarodnu vozačku. No, ajmo vidjeti što imam na natuknicama do danas. (tad sam počeo pisati natuknice) O motoru Jedini motor koji imam registriran, i koji je napravljen za duže pruge, je Gandalf the Gray (GtG ili skraćeno samo Gandalf). O njemu sam spjevao već mnoge hvalospjeve u dosadašnjim lutanjima, prošli smo mnoge krize zajedno, i stalno se pitam ne tražim li previše od njega. Dvadeset mu je godina na leđima, samo sam ja napravio više od 55.000km na njemu, a kupio ga nakon što ga je policija otpisala. Tetošim ja njega svake zime, ali i moje tetošenje ima svoje limite, ne mogu mu sve dati što bi možda trebao. Što je ove zime dobio? Osim redovne zamjene ulja, dobio je čak i pokoji novi set disk pločica (naglašavam novi, jer sam znao mijenjati i s rabljenim, hvala Iggy). Dobio je i novu prednju gumu (opet naglasak na novu, jer sam znao trošiti i rabljene). Dok sam vraćao poklopac ventila nakon štelanja, jedan od navoja u glavi je odlučio da mu je dosta. Prilika da naučim kako popraviti spiralom (pužem ili kako se već zove postupak kad se narezuje veći navoj i u njega stavlja specijalno napravljena spirala kako bi se dobio isti navoj kakav je bio inicijalno). Prošle godine u Italiji sam slomio kotač za resetiranje dnevne kilomtraže, a putem po Durmitoru sam primijetio da brojač okretaja zapinje. Zahvaljujući osobi koja mi je prodala Gandalfa, uspio sam to riješiti, ali još nisam napravio obračun. Od iste osobe sam uzeo i auspuh, jer sam stekao dojam da je moj na zadnjim snagama (hvala Valent). No, prijatelj, kolega motorista i auspuh doktor je moj auspuh ne baš doktorski rasporio do kraja, da bi zaključili da ima još u njemu života, pa ga je zašio nazad i šavove prekrio bojom (hvala Željko). Kasnije sam ja i ispucali krom bojom iz spreja prekrio. Ali prije toga sam još na njemu napravio središnje nosače koje nije imao, a o izradi, postavljanju i varenju bi se mogla kratka priča napisati. Kako nisam zamijenio auspuh, a morao sam nešto, zamijenio sam dihtunge na spoju grana/glava. I to novima, iz Tomića, original BMW…da netko ne veli kako štedim na motoru. Kad sam konačno upalio motor, shvatio sam da ne čuju ventili, nego vjerojatno lanci…ali to je nešto što mi nije još u planu, nego se nadam da će izdržati još. Isto tako nije mi bilo u planu nositi na popravak zadnji amortizer, ali eto Štef me nagovorio, jer je vidio da je malo masni i da se neda štelati tvrdoća…a nezna on da ja to nikad nisam ni dirao i pitanje koliko dugo ja to tako već vozim. I kome se to nosi? Drugom Štefu koji živi na brijegu iza Samobora, i koji u radionici u kojoj se ne može ispraviti a da glavom ne zapne u gredu, u tren oka dijagnosticira kvar i na podešavanju tvrdoće opruge i na samom amortizeru. Podešavanje tvrdoće opruge se ne može popraviti pa sam dobio preradu i sad je srednje tvrda i ne može biti više mekanija, samo može još tvđe. A za ono drugo nisam ni pitao. O preuzimanju bi se isto mogla kratka priča napisati (hvala Flek). Eh, da, skoro zaboravih, dobio je i nove svjećice, iako su stare bile još super, mislim da su samo dvije godine odradile. O test vožnji Napravio sam i test vožnju 19.02. u uvjetima oko 2 stupnja plusa, bez oklopa, do Tokića u VŽ po ulje za prednje teleskope. Noge i stopala su mi se smrzla pošteno, da sad ne opisujem živopisnije ali neprikladno. Hladno i za glavu, ali nisam imao ni potkapu ni maramu. Grijane rukavice su pomogle rukama, iako su na rubu upotrebljivosti. Ove rukavice sam nabavio iz Kine naravno, u nekom od svojih napada lucidnosti u toku sanjaranja, i bile su u mojoj glavi jedina stvar koja mi treba da mogu voziti duge pruge na negativi. Naručio one koje se napajaju s AA baterijama i mogu grijati 8h, a ako to nije dosta, barem tih baterija ima lako za kupiti. No, testovi trajanja baterija su pokazali da više od 2 sata nije moguće, što je i proizvođač priznao, pa se prodavač u strahu moje negativne ocjene ispričao i vratio novce. I dva sata mogu značiti puno, ali upravljanje motorom, sklizanje s ruku, smetanje kućišta baterija i slične sitnice su razlog zašto sam napisao da je ovo na rubu upotrebljivosti. Koliko lud moraš biti da vjeruješ u specifikacije kineskog proizvoda? O nebitnim stvarima Trajekt. Potrošio sam nešto vremena u traženju, pisanju elektronskih poruka, kontaktiranju prijatelja i šamana, u potrazi za trajektom koji bi me mogao dovesti na Cipar. Sredina trećeg mjeseca nije baš sezona, i iako je u početku postojala samo jedna veza na tjedan, kasnije se pojavila i druga…znate onu, Fata je Fata, ali dvaput je… Uglavnom, u to što sam saznao ne mogu biti siguran i bit će veselo ako ja uspijem doći do luke, a trajekta nema ili je otišao ranije. Kompaniji koja jedina vozi (i prodaje karte online) sam poslao dvije poruke, na jednu sam dobio odgovor nakon 7 dana, a na drugu zasad nisam. Našao sam ja i ro-ro brod koji vozi iz Grčke, ali ta varijanta bi bila preskupa i vremenski i financijski. Koliko lud moraš biti da vjeruješ u vozni red turskog trajekta? CPD. Na stranicama HAK-a stoji da treba CPD za sva vozila koja idu u Tursku, na moje pitanje kako se to vadi, dobio sam odgovor…ali i da mi ne treba. Za svaki slučaj iskoristio jocker zovi (u stvari piši) i ispada da to ne treba (Hvala Boris). Jedna stvar manje. Viza. Treba ali nije problem izvaditi online. Nisam još. Terapije. Upravljanje dvotaktnim strojem prošle godine korištenjem ne baš prikladne opreme za nošenje je ostavilo traga na ruci i ramenu. I to nikako da prođe mjesecima. Uz nagovor otišao sam na pregled, pa uz puno veza na drugi, treći, četvrti pregled (Hvala Vikica) i završio s 15 dana terapija (bazen, dvorana, struja, laser, krio). Kako to nije pomoglo ramenu, a nisam mogao garantirati da ću idućih 5 tjedana biti u mogućnosti dolaziti na terapiju udarnim valovima, dobio sam produljenje 9 dana. Prešutio sam zašto, ali zatražio sam da zadnji dan bude jedan dan pr.dD. Obzirom da nisam uzeo bolovanje, sredili mi da krećem s terapijama u 7 ujutro i do pola 10 sam gotov (Hvala Marija). No, to je povuklo za sobom da ujutro prvi izlazim iz dvorišta, naravno kad prvo zagrijem lopatu, pa bi moje terapije obično kretale u 6 ili ranije. Prognoza. Jedino stalna mijena jest. Pratio sam više puta dnevno, dugoročne prognoze, za nekoliko većih mjesta putem. I malo bi bio loše raspoložen (kad bi bila oko nule), a malo očajno (kad bi temperature bile u negativi). Odustao sam od planiranja sigurno desetak puta, stavio sve na stranu na dan/dva…pa bi onda pogledao i izgledalo bi manje očajno i donijelo tračak nade. Što je dD (pr.dD)? U nekoj pauzi od posla i lopatanja sam ja krenuo napraviti plan, ili barem saznati kada bi trebao krenuti da ulovim zadnji trajekt s kojim bi stigao na obaveze na Cipru. I ispada da moram stići na trajekt koji ide 11.03. Do trajekta ima debelo preko 2000km, što bih u toplije vrijeme i u boljoj kondiciji mogao odraditi za 3 dana. Uz jedan dan rezerve ispada da bi morao krenuti 08.03. i to je dan D (dD). Okvirno sam složio plan puta – prvi dan 950km!, drugi dan 750km, treći dan 650km…sitnica. Bilo je tu svega, puno snijega, puno lopatanja, puno Muje u Kanadi. Shvatio da mi u novi topcase ne stane kaciga, recimo. Ali svejedno radili i napravili nosač za nosač. Požalio se i proizvođaču da sam razočaran (novi model, veći po svim dimenzijama dostupnim na netu, reklamira se za dvije kacige, a moja jedna ne stane). Zamijenio ulje u prednjim teleskopima…Bilo je dana kad sam mogao napraviti koji sklek, ali bilo je više onih kad nije rame podnijelo ni jedan pa sam odustao od isprobavanja. Oklope sam vratio na motor bez pranja istog, prljav je i pun soli, ali prehladno je. 99% planiranih radova gotovo. Temperature su dvije cifre u negativi, test nove opreme nije moguć jer nije moguće doći do ceste. Snijeg i dalje pada, prava mećava, sad ga već tačkama izvozimo na polje. Na sastanku BMW moto kluba stidljivo priznajem da možda neću prisustvovati promociji knjige od Rakela, a razlog je neke iznenadio. Kad je konačno granulo sunce na -12, lopatao do garaže da izvadim bočne kofere. Cijelo se vrijeme prognoza mijenja, od loše na lošiju pa na prihvatljivu. Ovdje više nema natuknica. Nervozu je zamijenila panika. DanD je pomaknut na subotu, pa na petak, sve zbog trajekta. Neznam koliko sam ja tog bijelog posnifao (snijega) pa mi je skoro normalna bila informacija da Mersin-Kyrenia plovi sat i pol. Zadnji je plan voziti suicidalno od petka do nedjelje i u nedjelju uloviti trajekt iz Tasucu, pa stici dan ranije na Cipar…a ako ne uspije ova varijanta onda u utorak na trajekt u Mersin i direkt nakon noći provedene na trajektu motorom na okupljanje. Vizu sam izvadio. Snifanje bijelog mi izgleda nagrizlo nosnice, krv svako malo i bez razloga krene. Nakon -20 počele su i temperature rasti, sve izgleda dobro…nije valjda…odradio zadnji dan terapija, zabundao se i skočio do Zagreba, samo da vidim vozi li motor i jel moguće voziti s dodatnim slojem odjeće. Ma koga je zavaravam, išao po hranu za Rubi. Koliko lud moraš biti da na metar snijega i -20 vjeruješ prognozi i planiraš moto putovanje? Stigao je taj dan. Cijelu noć su mi se sinusi cijedili u grlo. Oko 5 više nisam mogao spavati (dio zasluga ide i terapijama, pa mi je sad rano buđenje navika). Doručak si složio kako treba ali nisam uspio pojesti…nešto jer boli grlo a nešto nervoza. Medicinska ekipa (ME) šalje upute, nakapaj nos i popij brufen u granulama. Neću! Ovo je prvo putovanje na koje nosim raznovrsne lijekove, godine idu, više pola Andola ne pomaže. Ubacio dva sendviča s parizerom u gepek, uz nešto konzervi i kruha produžene trajnosti. Ogromnu količinu opreme navlačim na sebe – čarape, duge gaće i majica dugih rukava iz Lidla, dodatne bijele čarape, potkošulja, majica kratkih rukava, još jedan sloj dugih rukava, pa na sve to BMW odijelo, BMW čizme, Lidl podkapa, i onda na sve to termo kišno odijelo XXL i Nolan kaciga. Za početak uzimam obične toplije rukavice (naravno, pogađate, iz Lidla)…a u koferima imaju još jedne s grijanjem i jedne ljetne, iz Kine. Na motor trpam puno opreme, samo punjača raznih ima cijela vrpa…laptop, nekoliko foto aparata, odjeća itd itd…Uz dosad skupljene amajlije za sreću , dodana je još i jedna nova. Inače, dan za danom, samo neke loše vijesti (poslovne), prigodno krepao i server na poslu, igraju se i neke igre oko djedovine…ne mogu i ne želim o tome razmišljati na motoru. Točno u 8 izlazim iz dvorišta. Zaboravio se poslikati na startu, valjda je želja za vožnjom i bježanjem od svega bila prejaka. Oko Pake temperatura na autoputu 0.9stC…bitno da je pozitiva (iako sam u planiranju razmišljao da ne krećem ispod 3). Na rezervi do prve benzinske, i prva slika, i prva objava na FB. U nastavku sunce udara direkt i u ovim uvjetima to nije loše. Bez pauze vozim do zadnje benzinske u HR (280km). Prvi sendvič tu pada, malo komunikacije, malo akrobatskog pišanja (bez skidanja opreme) i tjeraj dalje. Srbija! Temperature su sad već i oko 8 stupnjeva, sunce grije, obilazim Beograd iako bi navigacija kroz njega. Povremeno me lovi kriza (žedan sam, toplo mi je, boli me šaka i guzica) i taman kad bude neka benzinska ili odmorište, kriza popusti i ja nastavim. Cijelo vrijeme gledam odsjaj vlastite kacige u staklu brojača okretaja, i sve razmišljam, zašto to nisam dosad primijetio…pa zar ga treba očistiti da bi imao taj zgodan feature? Nisam ga ja očistio, da ne bude zabune, zamijenio sam ga zimos. Druga pauza je pred Nišom, bez stajanja pada i 330km, ovaj puta točim i u sebe nešto, a ne samo u motor. 2/3 okvirno planirane dionice. Iznenađen sam kako dobro se motor ponaša, izgleda da je tetošenje ovjesa ostavilo pozitivan trag. A možda je i novi topcase stabilniji. Vrijeme je divno, Interneta ima na odmorištu, pa što će čovjeku više? Skidam termo kišno i rukavice mijenjam u ljetne. Ajmo još tu zadnju trećinu odraditi. Dionica do i od Pirota je zanimljiva, dionica u kanjonu je divna, ali u ovo doba godine siva, prljava…jedina boja je ona na znakovima…drveće je golo, voda mutna. Kad ima kakvih građevina uz cestu, većinom su zapuštene i oronule. I kad misliš da ne može gore, eto granice s Bugarskom. Na graničnom prijelazu nekoliko pasjih lutalica međusobno se koška. Baš se pitam kad će namirisati moj drugi sendvič od parizera. Nije veliki red pa strpljivo čekam…uzbrdica je pa ili gasi motor ili drži kočnicu. Bugarska! Vidim kontejnere s vinjetama, stajem, pročavam slike, lik iz nutra maše da ne trebam. To je super, nema naplatnih a ni vinjetu ne trebam, preostalih 200+km se čini laganim. Da nebi…pojam prometne sigurnosti je nešto drugačiji ovdje, pojam ispravne vozne površine također, ograničenje se poštiva striktno, ali samo na lokacijama radara…na obilasku Sofije mi je već lagano hladno i gladan sam, a i sjena mi je sve duža. Radim vrlo kratko stajanje, da požvaćem sendvič i vratim punu opremu. Zadnjih 100km vozim u mraku, uvjeti su teški, svjetla mi nisu nešto, prljavi vizir ne pomaže, a promet je u oba smjera gust. Tu sam i shvatio misteriju zrcalnog brojača kilometara – ne radi rasvjeta u njemu pa kroz dan jače zrcali. S dionicom od 340km završavam dan u nekom mjestu malo odmaknutom od autoputa. Umoran i sretan što sam promašio par ogromnih rupa na cesti dok sam još nešto i vidio. Koliko lud moraš biti da prvi dan, direkt iz radione, natjeraš motor i sebe na 1000km vožnje? Posljedice ćemo vidjeti sutra. ME javlja zglobove i šake hladiti pod mlazom sve hladnije vode. Neću! Statistika: 953km (GPS) / 75,4l utočenog goriva / 880kn potrošeno Jutarnja mučnina je nešto slabija, ipak sam uspio proći HR i SRB, i zagazio u Bugarsku, ali je ima dovoljno da me digne prije budilice. Gledam kroz prozor i na krovovima auta se još vide smrznuti dijelovi. No, i sunce pokazuje zube i pretvara tamnije dijelove u fleke s kapljicama vode. Radi vikenda doručak je danas kasnije, ali ja svejedno i prije vremena guram glavu u blagovaonu. Osoblje je tu, slaže stolove, i pušta me preko reda. Prosječna ponuda namaza, salama i sličnih artikala koji se inače nalaze na ovakvim lokacija. Malo odskače ponuda paradajza, kojeg ima u više varijanti. Kuham si čaj, i dok nešto nevoljko gledam ponudu, dolazi pitanje: Omlet? Super, može, jučer mi jaja nisu legla, prilika je vidjeti da li se apetit vratio. A omlet punjen pojače slanim sirom ko iz raja, i uz njega tamanim prefine cherry rajčice. Sretan sam što primam hranu bolje nego jučer, ipak mi je plan danas ući u Aziju. Kod plaćanja karticom se malo gospođa zbunila u redoslijedu pa joj sufliram i rješavamo tu zadnju prepreku za nastavak ovog ludila. Dok sam ja došao do motora već je mraz prošao i ostavio dovoljno vode da namažem vakum držaljke tank torbe. Svaki put kad se pogledam u punoj opremi sam sebe podsjećam na fiktivni lik iz nekog filma, ali ne mogu sjetiti kojeg. Jel to Mondoshawan iz 5. elementa, ili Vogonac, ili netko treći, a slika mi u glavi. Javljam se na FB da svi znaju da nisam još odustao i tražim povratak na autoput, koji tek sad vidim u pravom svjetlu i tim više mi srcu drago što je jučer prošlo super. Pravi test ovjesa slijedi u ovoj dionici, dok se s lijeve strane (većinom) izmjenjuju pogledi kao pozadina Windows XP (Bliss za one napredne), jedino ovdje ima i rijetkog drveća. Ovjes se hrabro drži. Nakon Dimitrovgrada, kad nas je prvi znak za Istanbul skrenuo i prema Svilengradu, cesta se u potpunosti mijenja…postaje glatka, crna i svjetlucava pa nam kilometri lakše prolaze. Sjetio sam se (što je čudno jer inače sve zaboravim) da je prijatelj opisao da je nova dionica donijela problem tankiranja prije ulaska u Tursku, zemlju skupog goriva, pa ja odabirem Shell dok je na Garminu granica opasno blizu. Ne bi tankiranje trebalo posebno spominjati, da zbog jake povratne opruge na crijevu i moje nepažnje mali dio goriva ne polijeva Gandalfa. Puni energije i namirisani vrhunskim gorivom dolijećemo na granicu, ispada da sam ulovio zadnju benzinsku, ali između kamiona koji stoje u podugačkoj koloni, mislim da vidim i benzinsku na staroj cesti. Bugarsku stranu prolazim brzo, ali na turskoj je veća gužva…stojim malo u koloni i čekam da završi pregovaranje bijelog i crnog anđela…bijeli viče, imaš vremena, čekaj u redu, ne izazivaj nevolje…a crni ga mlati repom, nisi lud da stojiš na suncu, vidi naprijed hladovine, ako te potjeraju uvijek možeš nazad…pogodite koji je pobijedio. Uz malo treptanja okicama već smo i u redu za policijsku provjeru koja prolazi super brzo (za moja očekivanja) – ono tipa, daj putovnicu, daj papire od motora, daj vizu i tjeraj dalje. Ali stvarno, kad me već pustio, policajac se naginje kroz prozor kućice i maše rukom, preskači red do carine. Tko sam ja da ne poslušam? A na carini prvi “imamo problem” na putu. Mene sramota lovi jer sam preskočio tih par auta, a sad još i problem. Ukucava on moje podatke, ali kad traži neki rezultat dobiva poruku greške (ili da toga što traži nema). I prvi i drugi put. Ja blijedo gledam jer neznam što traži. Zove on nekog, pita nešto, prolijeva si kablom od telefona punu šalicu čaja po stolu, gleda me u stilu vidi što si napravio, a ja se već vidim u ćeliji s čučavcem. No, u trećem pokušaju rezultat dolazi i sve je OK, mogu dalje…ali tek nakon što je njegov kolega zavirio u sve moje kofere…vidio sam da gleda i poklopac pretinca za alat, ali tu je ipak stao i maše, ajde. Iako sam ja vidjevši džamiju pomislio da sam u Turskoj i da nema više provjera, prevario sam se, još je jedna potrebna. Red je velik jer samo jedna kučica radi pa sad više ni ne razmišljam o čekanju nego direkt. I taman digao motor na nogare a uniforma viče nešto, ruke pokazuju nazad…pa nećeš valjda, vidi me kako sam lijep, mlad i plav…ali viče on dalje, ali ne samo na mene, pa se mičem dio i čekam rasplet. On je samo tjerao sve jer netko nije prošao kontrolu i mora nazad. Laknulo mi, mogu se nastaviti gurati. Turska! Konačno zemlja u kojoj još nisam bio. Dok ja slikam tablu dobrodošlice, prvu riječ koju čujem na turskom tlu je “Varaždin”. Razveselilo me što je netko prepoznao oznaku grada, nije prvi put i obično je dobar znak. Kako nikad nisam bio ovdje, i kako nisam baš previše nade imao ni da ću krenuti na put, a kamoli stići do ovde, tako se nisam ni dobro pripremio. Nemam pojma jel se plaća autoput a neznam ni beknuti (znam jedino da ako želiš reći da ti je nešto ekstra dobro da to treba zvučati kao “muka mi je”, to ti je tako kad te Boris uči turski). Stajem na benzinskoj da pitam, kaže čovjek (ako ga dobro razumijem) vinjeta nakon 20km. Nakon 20km su naplatne kućice, nema rampi, dvije vrste elektronske naplate, a ja nemam ništa. Odvojeni su kamioni, vidim dvojicu, pitam njih…kažu do Istanbula samo peri (ako ih dobro razumijem). A cesta divna, široka, prazna. I vozim ja, a ova dva anđela se stalno nešto domunđavaju…jedan je siguran da se plaća, a drugi, što te briga, samo vozi. Stajem na još jednoj benzinskoj, odgovor je do Istanbula besplatno. Dva od tri, više ne mislim radi toga stati i raspitivati se, proučavam ja malo Tursku. Ogromni stupovi na kojima se lijeno vijore velike i očito teške zastave, rane voćke u cvatu, kasne voćke obrezane, tvornice dime…izgleda da se ovdje radi nešto. Nemaju baš oko za uređenje i čistoću, ali poštujem obrađena polja i voćnjake. Cesta i dalje široka, krivuda lagano i horizontalno i vertikalno, ali se popunjava…i onda iznenada, iza zavoja, nestvaran prizor…ogroman prostor popunjen, dokle pogled seže, kućama, neboderima, poslovnim prostorima. Ogromni neboderi gutaju minarete, a džamije se jedva naziru. I dok moja mala procesna moć pokušava izaći na kraj s ovim prizorom, promet je samo stao i prisiljen sam i ja naglo stati. Istanbul nije daleko, ali po navigaciji bi rekao da je ovo obilaznica daleko od centra. Čuo sam horor priče o ovoj dionici (kaos vožnja 100 na sat) pa slušam bijelog anđela i proučavam situaciju. Kreni…stani…kreni…stani. Samo krajnje desna traka, koja je očito zabranjena, nešto življe funkcionira. Ali opet tamo čim se pojavi auto/dva već za njim leti auto pod rotirkama (civilni, službeni, nekakav – samo izviru). Polako se probijam kad kolone stanu. Vruće mi je. Gandalfu je vruće. Sebi ne mogu pomoći, ali motoru palim ventilator. Gladan sam i žedan. Gandalfu padaju crtice goriva. Kraj se ne nazire a uz desni rub ceste sve vrvi od pokvarenih auta i šlep službi, nema šanse da se tu zaustavim. Most! Ogroman, lijep, 4 trake amo 4 trake tamo…to je to, nema što drugo biti. Slikao bih most i promet ali nema šanse. Slikao bih ih i tablu “Welcome to Asia” s druge strane, ali nema šanse. Sliku sam ukrao s Interneta, prikazuje i most i zastave kakve sam spominjao ranije. Prvi put u Aziji, ali ne mogu previše uživati u trenutku. I dalje sam u kreni/stani režimu i prepuštam se da me bujica nosi svojim ritmom koji možda je malo kaotičan, ali nikako brz, kamoli blizu 100 na sat. Vjerojatno subota u 15h nije baš idealno vrijeme za pregaziti Bospor. Nakon skoro dva sata ovih muka ugledah benzinsku. Prvo točenje u Turskoj, ni za to se nisam pripremio. Djelatnik nešto upisuje, toči, daje mi papir, plaćam na kasi normalno karticom. Kupio i sendvič koji glodam na odmorištu i pokušavam se malo rashladiti. Gledam oko sebe, za oko mi zapinje ogroman billboard koji prikazuje vojnika u spremnom stanju. Vrijeme neumitno prolazi, sad sam već dva sata ispred HR vremena, ne želim da me ulovi mrak kao jučer pa brzo krećem dalje. Opet most! U daljini, velik. Neznam da li je lijep, ali sam prizor je za National Geographic. S razine mora se diže gusta, bijela magla. I nošena vjetrom se prelijeva preko mosta kojem samo vrhovi nosača strše vani u nerealno čistom i plavom nebu. Ovo treba slikati, scena je tu, ja sam tu, fali samo nešće da usmjeri fotić i stisne okidač. Jako razočaran što nisam u prilici slikati lijeno se vučem po zamagljenom mostu. Naplatne, naravno, čim je nešto lijepo, plati. I dalje razočaran, samo guram karticu djelatniku i gledajući u daljinu čekam račun a kad ono u rebra dolijeće drugi “imamo problem”. PIN problem…ma kakav PIN problem, nema PIN…PIN problem…ok, nemam lire, imam samo eure…može euri, pokazujem 10, klima ne…20? ne zezaj…ajde…vraća mi papire, ne gledam što piše, ionako sam već vječnost tu…vraća i nešto lira i pokazuje da uzmem i karticu na kućici??? OK, sve što kažeš, samo me pusti. Cesta u nastavku i dalje široka, ali nova i s tablama. Naravno, i to se plaća. Ovaj pita imam li karticu, pa naravno kakvo je to pitanje, ko da sam prvi put ovdje? Lira ima dovoljno, i još ostaje. U jednom trenu sam vozio i prema zapadu, sunce je bilo s krive strane, ali Zemo samouvjeren pa se ne zamaram. Neznam zašto, ali u glavi mi se vrti Halidova “Prvi poljubac davno zaboravljen…prvi dernek ko zna gdje je…Koraci, k’o oblaci…vode me, ko zna gdje ” Valjda sam previše u birtijama. A možda će za koju godinu ovaj moj prvi ulazak u Tursku i Aziju biti isto tako zaboravljen ko i prvi dernek. Zadnja dionica nije autoput, 4 trake, 110 ograničenje koje se naglo izmjenjuje s ograničenjem 50 kad cesta prolazi kroz naselja. U jednom trenutku kreće žustro penjanje, a to je nešto što i Gandalf i ja volimo, crni anđeo vodi ovu dionicu pa dolijećemo na nekih 1000 mnv. Odmor ne radim nikakav, iako povremeno pogled na cestu u daljini oduzima dah, fali nešće da okine…pregrijavanje i muke oko Istanbula izlaze na vidjelo, lovi me umor i bolovi, ali za dana dolazim u planirani grad Eskisehir. Na mapi ime nije bilo nešto velikim slovima napisano, ali na tabli piše 734.000 nečega (wiki kaže 850.000 duša u 2016.). Prolazim velike zgrade fakulteta, neki avio muzej na otvorenom i nalazim hotel…sve može, sve dobro…30eur. Motor spuštamo u garažu i blokiramo sve ostale, ali nije bitno jer prvi idem. Soba topla, LCD s brdom programa ali na turskom, ima više nego treba. Ima čak i ponudu hrane u sobu koja je više nego bogata i prihvatljivih cijena, ali subota je…dan za izlazak. Kamo god krenuo, ogromni kafići, živo u njima, puni mladih ljudi koji ili piju kavu/čaj ili nešto klopaju ili puše nargile…gledam i neznam gdje ću…biram restoran koji izgleda nešto popunjeniji i ljudima s djecom…engleski nije problem samo dok nađu onog koji je za to zadužen. Izazvao sam dovoljno pažnje da postanem zanimljiv dvojici u uglu, pa kreću pitanja…odakle si, koliko ostaješ i slično…zovu da se pridružim i možda i bih, da sam posjetio tuš prije večere. Ražnjići od ovce (valjda), čoban salata i Cola – 5l benzina. Zašto 5l benzina? Pa moje sjajne pripreme za put nisu uključile tečaj turske lire, pa sad računam u litrama goriva. Pokušao sam kupiti karticu za telefon, da imam Internet putem, ali sam odustao jer mi se nije sviđalo što nemaju turističke prepaid kartice samo s prometom, tražili su putovnicu i previše litara goriva. Večer mi prolazi u tipkanju i dopisivanju, a na cesti se odvijaju brzi i žestoki. Turira se žestoko, prolijeće brzo, ekipa navija još glasnije, basovi tuku, pale se gume…Azija-Turska, ma sve je jedno globalno selo. Kasnije sam saznao od kolege iz Makedonije, koji ovdje dolazi poslom, da grad ima “samo” 200.000 studenata. To objašnjava puno. ME nenametljivo piše odmori. Neću! Razmišljao sam danas dosta putem da li bi trebao ovo pisati. Zašto ja to pišem i ima li kakve koristi od toga. Što može netko naučiti od mene? Ne baš puno, nisam ni nešto pametan ni načitan niti informiran. Neznam ni objektivno prenositi doživljaje. A svakim danom i sve više toga zaboravim. Možda je u tome stvar. Možda pisanjem želim pokazati da ne treba biti ni pametan, ni načitan, ni informiran da bi se putovalo. Treba samo biti odvažan. Putovanje vas neće učiniti velikim ljudima, nego sve manjim i manjim, ali potpunijim osobama. Koliko lud moraš biti da bez pripreme napadneš Tursku i pokušaš prijeći u Aziju preko Bospora u subotu u 3 popodne? Statistika: 742km (GPS) / 30,16l goriva / 635kn potrošeno (hotel 250kn) Noćas brzi i žestoki, a jutros mlažnjaci, to je zvučna kulisa grada. Ali ne bude me borbeni avioni, budi me želudac. Radim seansu na WC-u. I kad sam doma, ako pojedem previše crvenog luka, imam trbušne probleme, a ne mogu si pomoći kad mi je fini. Čoban salata ga bila puna, a bilo ga još i uz ražnjiće. Koliko lud moraš biti da misliš da će želudac drugačije reagirati na luk u Aziji? Neznam ni koliko je točno sati. Zemo je jučer pokazivao +2 u odnosu na HR vrijeme, telefon i dalje pokazuje +1, na televizoru je +1, sve mislim da bi trebalo biti +2 ali imam danas vremena, najkraća je dionica, sat amo/tamo. Na doručku praznjikavo, jedini gost osim mene neki azijat, pa što ti radiš u Turskoj, mislim si ja? A čovjek možda doma. Stavljam vrećicu čaja u šalicu i okrećem jednu od dvije slavine na spremniku…izlazi čaj…daj me nemoj…pitam gdje je vruća voda? Ona druga slavina na istom spremniku. Nikakve oznake nisam vidio ni na ni ispod spremnika, to se valjda podrazumijeva da znaš. Nema veze, nismo jednom pili bambus od dvije vrste crnog vina. Dok se pokušavam natjerati da pojedem nešto kalorično gledam televiziju (i mislim da je na ovoj bilo +2 vrijeme). I ok, prikazuju scene iz ratom pogođenih područja. Pa ide vojna analiza. Pa malo reklama. Pa ide malo izvještaj s prašinarske obuke vojske koja trči pod punom ratnom spremom. Pa opet malo ratna scenografija. Pa još malo vojne analize. Da sam se rodio u neko drugo vrijeme vjerojatno ne bi ni primijetio, ali poznat mi je ovakav program i to me čini nervoznim. Ili je to želudac? Vraćam se u sobu, nova seansa. Hm, dobar luk, jučer je bilo “muka mi je” po turski a danas je “muka mi je” po hrvatski. Lijek ostao na motoru, ne treba mi pomoć ME oko ovoga, a ni lijek nije medicinski odobren. Kod treće seanse me počinje brinuti da ne lovim neke signale iz sile koje ne razumijem. Ne bi bilo prvi put da mi familija ili prijatelji skrivaju nešto u strahu da to ne utječe na moje lutanje. Uspio sam se spakirati i riješiti papirologiju, uslužan nosač nosi stvari i vodi me do motora kojeg nekako uspijevam okrenuti u uskom prolazu kako bi mogao svladati strmi izlazak. Zahvaljujem i pozdravljam nosača, i ko ovisnik potežem lijek iz pljoske. Trebao sam ju ponijeti sa sobom i to već ranije učiniti. Pljoska je novi dodatak u opremi, do sada sam nosio lijek u kojekakvim plastičnim flašama, a sada u metalnoj pljoski koja ima ugraviran grb grada Budimpešte i moje ime, suvenir s putovanja dobiven za rođendan u nekom drugom životu. Navlačim kišno odijelo jer je jutro svježe kako i treba biti na 1000m nadmorske visine. Moje cuganje, ili moje oblačenje, ili pak Gandalfova prljava njuška izazivaju radoznalost čovjeka koji se izgleda vraća iz jutarnje kupovine. Uspjeli smo malo i popričati. Malo kasnim sa svime, ali koga briga, taman je i temperatura naglo krenula u pozitivu, 600km riješimo časkom. U tren oka smo već nazad na cesti, goriva ima nešto, idealno za zagrijavanje. A cesta i dalje široka, brza i prazna. I stalno na 1000-1300mnv. Gandalf prede. Sve idealno a nije dobro. Ne mogu si naći pravu motivaciju. Prelazak Bospora i u ulazak u Aziju su bili veliki korak za mene, ponestalo mi početnog entuzijazma. Čak mi ni pogled na ljude koji rade u polju nije interesantan, neznam što rade, izgleda kao da vade krumpir a ima i onih koji oru. Malo me ipak zabavio lokalni motorist. Ja ispod brojnih slojeva odjeće osjećam svježinu zraka, a on eto, bez kacige i u nekoj vunenoj vestici, i naravno bez rukavica jer kako bi baratao s cigaretom. Osjeća Gandalf da sam letargičan, pa prigodno, kao i uvijek, nakon benzinske pali rezervu. Ali čim je vidio sljedeću pumpu iza zavoja, gasi lampicu, no kasno. Zna se pravilo, nakon rezerve prva benzinska, pa kakva bila da bila. Danas već znamo proceduru, djelatnik prvo upisuje registraciju, odabire pištolj (za točenje, ne onaj na metke), prislanja svoju karticu i tek nakon toga se oslobađa gorivo. Uzimam si i vodu, jer sam jutros u seansama puno tekućine izgubio. Palim motor, radi normalno, krenem zatvarati kacigu a Gandalf mijenja rad i okretaji padnu. Opa, nije valjda da si ovo znao i pokušao mi reći. Ne mogu ti sad pomoći, morat ćeš progutati što smo kupili. U nastavku vozim bez uma i razuma (pitanje je imam li potrebno za drugačije?), izgubljenu motivaciju nalazim u pogledu na planine. Lijepe su, velike su, bijele kape ih krase, ali Zemo danas ima drugačiji plan i kad smo im već bili jako blizu, okreće nas lijevo a planine nam ostaju s desne strane. Nezna Zemo za onu “Nemoj ići lijevo, na križanju staze, tu ne ide ni’ko svi se zvijeri paze.” a bome čini se ni drugi nisu za tu čuli, jer je lijevo sve puno brojnih restorana na čijim velikim reklamama piše (ili prikazuju) kaymak, lokum i razne slične delicije. Pametan i iskusan motorist bi stao, probao razne delicije, odmorio pa nastavio dalje. Ali ja nisam ni pametan ni iskusan, mene strah da mi se ne promijeni rad i padnu okretaji. Mada eto Gandalf bez pogovora zasad guta to lokalno što je dobio. Danas sam ja definitivno slabija karika i sve više popuštam…skliže mi se termo odijelo po sjedalu pa samo jednu pozu imam i to povlači za sobom bol u leđima i bol u guzici, ruka me boli, sve me boli, teško mi je, sve me smeta, cijeli svijet je legao na mene…demoni vožnje trećeg uzastopnog dana me love i hrane se mojom palom fizičkom i psihičkom spremom. Nećeš razbojniče! današnji cilj je samo tank goriva udaljen. Kad je Zemo okrenuo debelih 12 na satu stajem, ne ide više. Raduje me da sam prebacio polovicu. Znam da su mi starci kod sestre pa riskiram medu (5kn) i šaljem SMS da je sve ok, vadim kruh, konzervu i udri. Da se malo zabavim slikam našu ljepotu te primijećujem da se guli boja s auspuha koju sam vrhunski i predano nanosio zimos…baš smo lijepi par, stari i ofucani. Idealno za fejs…čisti, lijepi, dobri…koja nas majka nebi htjela. Na odmorištu nisam sam, Mercedes odmara dok mu gazda klanja u kućici nedaleko. Pred nama je prolazak kroz još jedno tursko selo (Konya) s milion seljana. Tu pokušavam dokučiti što bi znak uporenja (yavas) mogao značiti. Vidim da školarci pretrčavaju 3-4 trake, iako imaju i druge mogućnosti, ali mislim da nije to. Ma nije valjda da sam loše pripremljen? Dok ja tako zujim okolo, uspio sam i promašiti jedno skretanje, i uz par dodatnih manevara, evo me na semaforu da se vratim na pravi put. A meni s desna, na podu, kašete s ribama. Istog trena mi pada na pamet hrčak kojeg ni Rimac Concept One nije uspio zgaziti, i njegove muke s ribama i motorom u Mozambiku. Znam ja da je sve to lijepa produkcija, i da za njim ide prava ME, i da će njemu biti to plaćeno masno, ali me misao nekako oraspoložila i potjerala demone. Pa ne gazim po blatu, ne padam s motora i došao sam jako daleko (zasad), a to što ja dobijam svakim kilometrom ne može nikakva lova kupiti. Plan je iz ovog tanka izvuči koliko ide, pa kad natočim, to bi trebalo biti dosta do trajekta, po Cipru i za nazad… kilometri idu, brojač se okreće, Tasucu je sve bliže…a Gandalf šuti. Tu negdje prolazimo i najvišu točku na ovom cijelom potezu…a Gandalf šuti. Prolazimo dio ukrašen zastavama, brojni autobusi sa strane (podjećaju me na plaćenu publiku), ima tu osiguranja, limuzina, svega, cesta ne izgleda baš nova ali možda je kakav dernek, usporavam malo, gledam hoće li netko kakvu zdravicu ponuditi ili nešto slatko. No, kad je opalila neka topčuga (zvučalo je ko 105mm) pokazuje se zagorsko iskustvo u bježanju, nije nas tako lako oboriti ni uloviti, žustro po plinu i cik-cak…Gandalf šuti i dalje. Prošli mi već 400km s tankom…Gandalf šuti i dalje. Neznam što je u onom gorivu, ali izgleda da njemu odgovara domaća kapljica. Krenulo već i spuštanje u kanjon (dobro da je spuštanje, sjećate se one što se sve kotrlja nizbrdo? iz putopisa na putu prema Bukureštu)…Gandalf šuti i dalje. Iz daljine promatram troje lokalnih motorista, lagano obučeni, motori srednje veličine. Kad se ohrabre (ili ohlade paklene mašine) onda se saginju kako bi smanjili otpor zraka i ispitivali granice svojih mogućnosti te me podsjećaju na Galeba (ne onog Oliverovog nego Jonathana L.) ali i na vlastite moto početke. Kad su mi dojadili, obilazim ih bez i najmanjeg napora za Gandalfa, spuštam nogu u pozdrav svoj trojici a jedan čak i uzvraća. Zrak sve više ispunjava smrad spaljenih kočnica lokalnih heroja koji, poput mene, previše očekuju od svojih vozila, a ako možda i nisu najbolje održavana uzdaju se u pomoć s nebesa. Nažalost, za dosta njih je pomoć imala oblik šlep službe…Gandalf šuti i dalje. Sad se već lagano brinem, nježno mazim Gandalfa po tanku…daleko smo, nemoj šutjeti…ako si gladan reci, naći ćemo nešto. Brine me da ono paljenje/gašenje rezerve nije bilo znak kakvog kvara (lampice recimo) i sad više nema indikacije? Nije to nerealno na ovako starom motoru. Blicnula je rezerva još jednom, ima sad već i tome dugo, ali ovaj put poštujem volju motora i nisam stao. Nestale su sve crtice s pokazivača, ali rezerve nema i nema, a trebala bi doć. Baš bi mi trebalo da ovdje bez goriva ostanem. U daljini vidim benzinsku, istina s krive strane, 440-450km od zadnjeg tankiranja a Gandalf šuti i dalje. Strah je prevelik, ne čekam više na znak…stajem pa makar se naljutio na mene. Točim i hladni čaj u sebe, i umjesto osvježenja dobijam zvučne signale iz probave. Cesta u nastavku je baš loša, grbav asfalt, zavoji, radovi na cesti, praši se, kamioni voze. Da, nedjelja je i radi se punom parom, i na cesti a ne samo u polju, dimi se i iz tvornica…sve skoro isto kao prije 4. godine prema Marakešu, isto je bila nedjelja, mislim, fale samo mala prašnjava igrališta i klinci koji natjeravaju loptu (u odnosu na Maroko). I taman, kad je ostalo još deset/dvadeset kilometara do Tasucu, i kad sam mislio da ništa po zlu krenuti ne može, Zemo odluči da bi desno. Skretanje ne daje dobar osjećaj ali vidim neke ekstra table, uzdam se u Zemu, no uzalud. Nema on pojma kud je krenuo…jedan kraj puta, jedna možda jednosmjerna u krivom smjeru, pas me tjera sa svog teritorija, velike kosine na kojima jedva okrećem motor…milina. Vraćajući se putem kojim sam došao vidim da neki auto prolazi a Zemo bi za njim…zadnja šansa Zemo…e sad tek zabava, ulazimo u usjek izmedju stijena širok za jedan auto, očito u krivom smjeru, auto ispred pali svjetlo za vožnju natrag, bježim brzo koliko mogu, stisli smo se uz rub i čekamo da stane promet iz suprotnog smjera…sve ovo da bi skratili put, i to možda. A onaj crni anđeo valja se od smijeha. Neka neka, smij se ti samo, to je tvoje maslo, vratit ću ti. Ulaskom nakon 5 popodne u Tasucu potrošio sam i to malo priprema što sam imao, ali sam debelo prije vremena pa se ne brinem. Bauljam i gađam smjer luke jer ju vidim i nekako dolazim do ulaza koji je izgleda za službeno osoblje To je bilo najbliže nekom brodu/trajektu što sam mogao. Izlaze dva lika, jedan službena uniforma a jedan bez uniforme. Oni znaju što ja tražim (kartu za trajekt) i ja shvaćam da to nije ovdje nego u gradu (ured za prodaju), ali jezična komunikacija nam je nikakva. Za upute smjera nisam siguran da sam najbolje razumio, napisali su mi na papir ime ureda…hvala, vremena imam, naći ću. Vraćam se u mjesto, jedan smjer blokiraju prodavači, vidim parking mjesto u hladovini, to je to, ne vozi mi se više, vruće je, moram se raskomotiti i malo prohodati. Pomoć tražim od nekih zamotanih curica, u nadi da će barem mladi znati engleski, ali ništa od toga. Ali prepoznaju što piše na papiru i ispada da to nije daleko, hoće me povesti ali imam ja previše za skidanje…hvala, vremena imam, naći ću. Dok se ja raspremam prilazi troje derana, valjda na putu iz škole, i jedan je posebno radoznao…ohrabruje se, ispituje…kad smo konačno došli do sporazumijevanja “Manđukić, Modrić” druga ga dvojica odvlače. Ipak ima još nade za ovaj svijet, nogomet je univerzalni jezik a ne esperanto. Ured je bio taman dovoljno udaljen da se malo razgibam hodajući. Zbog toga što sam kišno odijelo nagurao u topcase kacigu moram nositi u ruci. Nije to ni loše, može poslužiti u samoobrani a ne treba puno ni objašnjavati s kakvim si vozilom. Ured prostran, kofera i torbi na sve strane, dvije me gledaju iza stakla upitnim pogledom i taman da bi zaustio nešto, napad s boka… u maniri vrhunskih fiksera iz Maroka ulijeće lik. Prvi dojam je oprez…diži bedeme, pripremi obranu…ali uporan je on, uzima vizitku s pulta i pokazuje – on gazda, on šef poslovnice. A ove dvije šute, pogledom tražim pomoć, neki znak od njih, ali niti one pričaju engleski niti izgledaju uznemireno. Polako spuštam bedeme i kreće dogovaranje, pregovaranje. Jasno je da želim danas na Cipar, jasno je da trebam i nazad, ali moj info (ipak sam se ja pripremio) govori da do 16. nema nazad i da je tad za Mersin uvečer. Zanemari pripremu, on tvrdi da ima trajekt 15. i da ide popodne za Mersin. Tražim da razmislim i pitam za internet pa mi upisuje šifru poslovnog wifi, to je super, bar se mogu javiti besplatno doma. Provjeravam online vozne redove i aplikaciju za rezervaciju, nitko ne spominje 15. Mersin ali je on nepokolebljiv. I ne samo to, sad već on pokazuje slike kabine, sve se sjaji, boje su tople (žute), ima i tuš. U planiranju putovanja kabinu sam mislio uzeti na dionici za Mersin koja duža, ali sad ću ploviti noću, nisam baš svjež, slike izgledaju toplo…ma znaš što, sviđa mi se ideja, daje sve. Daj trajekt i tamo i za Mersin 15. Daj kabinu u oba smjera. Daj i vizitku, ako nešto pođe po zlu, naći ću te, samo da znaš. Sjedim pred uredom, koristim mukte zarađeni Internet, javljam se doma i slično. ME preporuča odmor i brufen u granulama, iako zna da sam protivnik toga. Neću! Zabavljam se proučavanjem okoline. Menađer je stvarno faca, njegov maxi skuter blokira parking mjesto za njegove prijatelje, svako malo upali pa napravi krug, valjda skuplja klijentelu, svako malo upali, pomakne se 3 cm, pa ugasi, to je valjda poseban ritual za privljačenje pažnje i klijentele…telefonira, pregovara, pravi se zabrinut…pravi menađer. Dodatak: po povratku doma našao sam vizitku, menađer se zove Ali BARUT, ako nekome zatreba a i prikladno ime ima. Kad sve zna, pitam da mi preporuči neku hranu, nisam izbirljiv, može i fast food. Iako je restoran odmah do poslovnice, vodi on mene i unutra, pokazuje izbor, koordinira s osobljem. E sad ja više nebi fast food, daj ti meni miješano meso, sezonsku salatu (danas neću čobansku) i fantu. Gostiju nema, nije baš sezona ali svejedno nije baš dobar znak. Dolazi voda koju nisam naručio, u flaši, dolazi kruh i namazi, dolazi salata. Lijeno glodam to što imam ali hoću pravu stvar i onda konačno, miks piletine, mee mee i nepoznatih mesnih proizvoda, nije baš velika porcija, ili sam ja gladan. Polako (brzinom niškog specijalca u stanju pripravnosti) rješavam sve te čudne okuse, zalijevam ih i fantom i vodom, dok sunce polako nestaje. I taman kad bi ja platio donosi lik punu zdjelu raznog očišćenog svježeg voća (banane, kiwi, jabuke…). Nakon jutarnjeg iskustva, i svih upozorenja koje sam ikad dobio, to bi trebalo preskočiti…ali dan je dug a voće je zdravo (istina, prije jela)…glodam ja još voće i zalijevam ostatkom fante…ako ništa do sada to će zabiti zadnji čavao u lijes mojoj probavi. Mrak je pao, dovlačim motor do ureda, povlačim lijek jednom/dvaput, pokušavam kišno odijelo spakirati u vreću za smeće i zavezati na zadnjem sjedalu. Ogromnog je volumena i ubija mi tovarni prostor, a sad mi valjda više neće trebati, na moru sam. Dolazi i Barut, ima respekt za Gandalfa, vidi on da je to težak motor, veliki volan…koliko dolara? Ohladio se kad sam rekao da je 20 godina star, očito je za njega samo novo dobro. Od montiranja odijela sam odustao, igram se na telefonu i lovim tanak internet…vrijeme sporo ide. Konačno, nešto se zbiva, vidim ja neku gospođu da se uznemirila, sve više ima ekipe u prslucima. Dižem glavu, pitam jel se to možda može u luku (misleći da je trajekt tamo nadam se da će me pustiti na njega i u kabinu, da se skinem i odmorim). Može naravno, znaš li put? Kako da ne, pa ovdje sam od popodne, već sam domaći, shvatio sam sve kako funkcionira. Za svoju proaktivnost ne dobijam nagradu već zadatak biti predvodnica za gospođu. Ona ide autom ali nezna put…progutah knedlu, ona bar zna jezik…ajde, valjda ćemo zajedno lakše pronaći. Mrak, vozim se prema luci, nema baš nekih previše znakova ili ih ja ne vidim, no stvarno nije problem, iz prve smo na ulazu. Otvara se kapija, puštaju nas unutra i tu kreće papirologija. Drago mi da imam nekog tko zna jezik, ali brzo kužim da bi i bez toga išlo…shvatio sam sve dobro što treba i kamo krenuti. Prvi smo na parkingu, nigdje žive duše, dva su trajekta tu, ali krivih imena. Sjedimo u čekaonici, ne moram ništa pitati, gospođa je učiteljica i to onaj tip koji sve živo mora pitati. Idealna je za razbijanje kontrola i provjera. Nakon nje svi sretni s nekim tko šuti i trepće okicama. Zanimljivo da osim što sam ju morao dovući ovdje, i ovdje joj moram pokazati gdje je wc iako joj se nalazi pred nosom i iako je označen na njenom jeziku (hvala Boris na još jednoj bitnoj turskoj riječi – tuvalet). Nakon još malo sjedenja u praznoj čekaoni, radimo policijsku provjeru. Sad mi čak lupa i žig na isprinatnu vizu a ne samo u putovnicu. Carina ima svoja pitanja, ali tu je mlada teta oštrog pogleda koja podučava mlađeg podanika, rekao bih ne razumjevši što govore, i koja solidno govori engleski. Istina je da bi mi bilo draže da ju ne razumijem….jer kaže da trajekt dolazi do 23h…i dodaje možda. Moje je sad da čekam kod motora, oni su udarili neki žig i upisali registraciju, doći će kolega u provjeru. I tako ja čekao i čekao i čekao…polako sad već dolaze i drugi auti… i dočekao…da mi se kolega bez ikakve provjere potpiše u putovnicu pa sad mogu nazad na carinu. Tko bi prvi sad je zadnji, shvaćam u skupljanju tih zadnjih potpisa, štambilja, nečeg. Dobra je stvar da je procedura gotova, spremni smo za ukrcavanje, sad nam samo još trajekt fali. Opet se zabavljam proučavanjem okoline, gledam odlazak trajekta za Tripoli (ili nekamo), pričam s radoznalima, blijedo gledam ljude koji od mene traže pomoć na turskom (ne kužim što oni vide u mojoj pojavi)…pada temperatura, pada rosa. Lagano mi se već pali lampica rezerve kad je trajekt krenuo s manevrom ulaska koji traje. Pa kreće iskrcavanje ljudi, pa šlepera, pa ljudi, pa šlepera na rikverc kroz usku rampu, pa pokoji auto, pa još kamiona…još kamiona…pa krenula druga razina…sad se već šleperi mogu okrenuti unutar broda i izlaze brže… i eto, ni ponoć, a on prazan. Ljudi koji su izašli sad rade gužvu kod osoblja i ništa se ne zbiva. Jedan putnik, nazovimo ga Brada (jer me jako podsjetio na nekog) nervozno hoda lijevo desno. Pričali smo već ranije, vozio je on kroz Hrvatsku i Sloveniju prema DE, ali sad ga brine jer su već morali kamioni krenuti. Ja gledam tužno prema brodu, pješaci su već gore a meni se pred očima vrte one divne slike kabine što sam gledao popodne. Nikakva vozila ne ulaze, ostali se griju u autima, meni se više ne igra ni memory na telefonu, željezna klupa na kojoj sjedim postaje sve hladnija. Raspoloženju ne pomaže ni gledanje psa lutalice kako pokušava impresionirati svog čovjeka u uniformi. Izabrao si on njega, očito ne danas, i presretan je što ga vidi. Ljulja se u ramenima lijevo desno, sve bi mu skočio u zagrljaj, stavio šape na ramena, ali zna da ne smije. Klanja mu se, animira ga, a čim ovaj rukom krene, baca se na leđa i predaje u potpunosti. Čovjek mu pokušava objasniti da to ne želi od njega, ali ne može si ovaj pomoći. Gledam ja tako njihov igrokaz i fali mi Rubi (da smuca iza leđa dok ja nešto radim kao sada dok ovo pišem). Statistika: 618km (GPS) / 40,4l goriva / 1712kn potrošeno (hotel 225kn + trajekt 1050n) Ponoć je debelo prošla kad su konačno krenuli šleperi i to takvom brzinom da mi je pukao film…pa jedini sam motorista ovdje, valjda to ima kakvu težinu. Hrabro odlazim do lika s oznakama brodara na reflektirajucem prsluku, i objašnjavam svoju situaciju, trepćem okicama, zabacujem gustu plavu kosu….i gle, no problem…uzima dijelove karti, viče nešto ostatku ekipe i mogu na brod. Tu postaje malo zanimljivo jer nisu baš spremni za mene i prihvat motora. Tjeraju me da ga stiskam uz bok toliko da stružem koferima po bačvama koje tu stoje. Jedva ga dižem na nogare i izvlačim se van…ali ne, nije dobro, stavi na bočnu. Zavlačim se opet, spuštam nogaru (koju sam čekičem zimos malo popravljao), ja držim za nos motora a lik za desnu stranu…spuštamo lagano…stoji 1s i onda pras, naglo propada, ali nas dva još nismo pustili. Nije problem nogara nego rupa u podu koju smo pogodili. Odustajemo od bočne, zavlači se opet, diži na centralnu…a pod mastan, sklizak…sve čekam kad ću se prevrnuti. Kad sam vidio kako ga je povezao, sve nade su mi potonule, ali tko sam ja…podvijam rep, odlazim prema kabini. U salonu ljudi već lijepo spavaju, cipela bez vlasnika na sve strane. Konobar, ili što je već, nema neku jaku ponudu, police su prazne a za ključ kabine mi otima putovnicu što me ne veseli. Pokušavam saznati za koliko da si budilicu složim, ali mi se odgovori ne sviđaju pa se pravim da ne razumijem. Kabina – zagušljiva, s velikim ventilatorom na zidu. Radujem se WC-u iako mi iznenađujuće ne treba, lijek pomaže. Tuš kabina je isto tu, ali toliko još ne smrdim. Mislim da sam spavao prije nego sam odijelo skinuo sa sebe i definitivno prije nego je glava dodirnula jastuk. Nemam pojma kad smo krenuli ni koliko je trajao ukrcaj. Probudilo me solidno ljuljanje broda i svjetlo koje se uspjelo probiti kroz prozor koji izgleda prljavije i od Gandalfa (a mislio sam da je to nemoguće). Otkrivam i tajnu toplih slika. Hrđa na okviru prozora daje boju, a zamazanost stakla ju lijepo raspšuje, ne treba tu Photoshop ni poseban filter na objektivu. Još nije vrijeme budilice. Ljuljanje me ne brine radi mučnine, imam ja lijekove, istina negdje na motoru…brine me kako je Gandalf. Taman je jučer postao službeni član obitelji, upisali mi ga u putovnicu ko dijete. Lagano se oblačim, uskačem u čizme i u izvid situacije. Gospođa učiteljica još uvijek svježa ko jučer, ali konobaru su kapci jako teški. Odmah ona meni objašnjava da još putujemo, i da iskrcavanje neće još do negdje oko 11…ono, šališ se? ajde, to je po turskom vremenu, po ciparskom je to ipak prihvatljivih 10, valjda. Izlazim van, Turske ne vidim, Cipar se nazire…dva debela auspuha rigaju crni dim…ne mogu ništa osim par slika mobitelom i nazad u krevet, izlazak sunca mi pobjegao…signala nikakvog nema. Nakon sat/dva izlazim ja ponovo, sad je već sve puno življe, ljudi su vani, udišu svoje jutarnje doze nikotina, toplo je, Cipar se dobro vidi…to je to, vrijeme je opet biti nervozan, posebno jer mi dolazi SMS čestitka na uspješno ostvarenom cilju…a ja još ni na tlu, ni prismrdio papirologiji…ne volim ni naljepnicu planinskog prijelaza kupiti prije nego ga prođem. Do samog manevra pristanka sam ja nazad u posjedu svoje putovnice i gledam privezivanje uživo. Opet je tu učiteljica da me nešto pita (kad idem do vozila?) ali me muke odgovaranja rješava neki drugi Brada za kojeg kužim da mu i engleski super ide. Kad je krenula rampa dolje spuštam se i ja na donju palubu, nalazim Gandalfa uspravnog i to me jako raduje, tako je usko parkiranje da nebi daleko ni pao ali svejedno. Šleperi su krenuli, ovaj parkiran do mene gabaritnim svjetlom struže kofer na odlasku. Vidim ja da to nebu dobro, ali idući već nailazi, nema tu baš milosti, svi bi van. Dovlačim za rukav djelatnika, pokupi tu svoju gurtnu, i pomogni mi ga spustiti. U međuvremenu su oni prolijali još neka ulja oko motora i posipali piljevinom…jedva stojim kak je sklizak metalni pod, a ne mogu ni uspravno stati uz motor. Blijedo me gleda, ali ipak prima za ručku s desne strane. Toliko je sklisko da se nogare voze bez otpora pa ih moramo blokirati nogama i nekako smo prizemljili mrcinu…odmah pali, provlači se kroz šlepere i bježmo odavde…van, nekamo, na slobodu… Probijam se na molu kroz more kamiona, kojih ima i s nekog drugog broda ranije, i izbijam naprijed, iznenadio i osoblje, no dobijam mjesto za parking, odmah pored olupine koja očito nije zaslužila slobodu i tako zapela ovdje na ničijoj zemlji. Nemam pojma za redoslijed, samo su kamiondžije tu, a civile sam pretekao. Vidim ime brodara na kontejneru pa reko da pitam za povratak, a oni meni odmah neke papire u ruku, vidim ja tu podaci o motoru, čak i nešto kao moj potpis. Gleda me djelatnica…imaš osiguranje? Pa naravno da imam…ali za ovdje? Paaaa, mislim da nemam baš. 25 lira za papire plus osiguranje, koje možda ne trebaš ipak…ajde plati 25. Karticu mi pos odbija, pa dajem zadnje lire koje su mi ostale, one još koje sam dobio na naplatnoj kod Istanbula. Upute ne dobijam pa idem na carinu. Vozači kamiona me gledaju, uzimaju papire iz ruke i jedan štambiljaju nekim štambiljem kojeg potpisujem. Dok sam došao na red djelatnica pregledava i stižu prve upute. Prvo na policiju ovjeriti putovnicu, nakon toga platiti osiguranje i onda tek kod nas. No problem, ali sad već lagano pristižu i pješaci s broda pa je gužva. Dobijam vizu za turski dio u putovnicu a da me ništa nije pitao osim jel 90 dana dosta? Dosta je. Dobijam osiguranje na 6 dana, iako je bilo da je mjesec dana najmanje, i plaćam drugom karticom…shvatio sam konačno, neki POS terminali imaju problem ako kartica nema PIN…maestro prolazi bez problema. Dobio sam i zadnje štambilje na carini, uz pitanje Brade2 “Jel toliko pečata i u HR trebate?” Joj, a što misliš zašto sam tako smiren? Originalni Brada taman izlazi prije mene. Dakle, uz raniji start, nisam ništa sporiji u papirologiji. Jedno je svima bilo zajedničko…kad bi shvatili da sam ja prvi put ovdje, sažaljenje bi im bilo u očima i sretno na ustima. Turska Republika Sjeverni Cipar! Još samo jedan potpis u papirologiju djelatnika pred izlaznim vratima, i još samo jedna provjera i gunđanje što nemam tablice i na prvoj strani motora i mogu van luke…uh, uh…jesam li ja za to spreman? Pa ne baš…nisam očekivao da ću uopće a kamoli tako brzo stići, iznenadilo me :). Ma kaj god, cesta je cesta, mi motoristi ionako pretičemo i s lijeve i s desne. Prve kilometre radim nježno, razmazane mušice po viziru nisam oprao pa moram voziti otvorene kacige, čini mi se da pratim upute od Zeme. Ali i za Zemu je ovo previše, gubi on odjednom rutu, izračunava. I nije mu to dosta, gasi BT modul i ne želi ga više upaliti, gubim glasovne upute. Radovi su na cesti, dvosmjeran promet, nema sad okretanja da i treba. Očito smo došli na komad stare ceste jer Zemo uspijeva napraviti rutu. Taman se i motor malo ugrijao pa ga čujem kako lijepo zvoni (ili ventili ili lanci) dok imam dignuti flip, a kod ubacivanja u prvu brzinu sve jači udari od diferencijala dolaze…i kako to onda riješiti? Zanemariš nedostatak glasovnih uputa, zatvoriš kacigu da ne čuješ motor, i kreneš voziti kako se to od vikend motoriste i očekuje. Cipar! Zahvaljujući vrhunskim pripremama uopće me nije jako iznenadilo da sam već pred tampon zonom, izlasku iz nepriznate i ulasku u drugu državu. Izlazak brz, kolona je na ulasku pa pokušavam popraviti Zemu. Prvo gašenjem, pa onda nehotičnim ispuštanjem iz ruke da par puta lijepo odskoči od asfalta…nije pomoglo, i dalje ne želi pričati s kacigom. Nadam se da nisam postao sumnjiv radi mojeg nogometa s Zemom. Na ulazu mi djelatnica uzima putovnicu, nije to baš česta tipa, zove drugog koji me stavlja na stranu. Dok sam ja parkirao već vraća putovnicu, možeš dalje, krenem prema motoru, fućka da se vratim, problem…pa još se nisam ni vratio već maše, no problem, možeš…gledam ga još tri sekunde…jel to konačni odgovor? Na punktu carine ne stajem uopće, samo okrećem glavu, kimam i prolazim…znam ja da je sve OK…a na povratku ćemo vidjeti da li sam trebao stati. Evo me u EU nazad…lijepo je biti doma a tako daleko. Pičim da se sve praši iza mene, semafori, skretanja, kružni tokovi, autoput…letim…i Zemi je bolje, mape grčkog dijela su puno bolje pa lakše navodi. Bijeli anđeo cijelo vrijeme viče “lijevo, lijevo”, a crni šuti, siguran je da ću nešto pogriješiti. A ja kao da sam rođen naopako, i kao da ovako vozim cijeli život. Prije samog centra Larnake uspijevam se malo izvrtiti radi preranog skretanja, ali ništa dramatično. Malo majmuniranja radi zatvorenog dijela ceste i Zemo kaže stigao si (adresu hotela sam ukucao još doma u pripremama, da nešće ne pomisli da sam do ovdje došao nepripremljen). S jedne mi strane zid a smeće i parking s druge strane, more se nazire kroz prolaz između zgrada, uvjeren sam da došao na zadnji ulaz. Ispalo je da sam krivo uvjeren, 20 metara dalje je prednji ulaz…nisu više hoteli okupljanja kao nekad. Ulijećem u hotel, tražim sobu i parking. Nisam baš tipičan gost, izgleda da nas nebi baš svaka majka poželjela, čudno me gleda osoba s druge strane recepcije. Parkirati mogu uz kontejner za smeće i ogradu, ili pred hotel, ili negdje na parking…ma sasvim je OK Gandalfu pred hotelom, nek ga svi vide. Ali od sobe ništa zasad, pun je hotel, od 14h je prijava…malo me iznenadilo, ali 2h sam uranio, tko mi kriv. Barem imam vremena sav znojan i predebelo obučen razmisliti što sam napravio, javiti se doma i prijateljima, izvući pokoji like na Facebook-u. Sav sam si ponosan. Soba je ipak ranije spremna, ali u nju mogu kad ju prvo platim. Nisam se dosad susreo s ovakim sistemom, nadam se da nije upravo uveden radi mene. Ako ti hoćeš da platim ja ću tebe slikati. Ma dam sve, samo me pusti negdje da mogu skinuti sve sa sebe, legnuti potrbuške, otuširati se. Ne smeta me loš pogled kroz prozor, ali malo me ometaju utičnice za struju. Primam se posla, lovim korak, rješavam što mogu. I tek nakon toga ispiranje putne prašine. Prvo s tijela a kasnije i iz grla. Kako je posla bilo dosta tako sam ja opet pregladnio i kasno krenuo u lov na hranu. A na šetnici KFC, McDonald’s, Pizza Hut, Starbucks, svi živi u 200m…ali ja ne volim imena…ja bi nešto prosto, sad bi nešto domaće, ali među ovim velikanima ne prepoznajem. Biram veliko ali nepoznato. Mami s 700g teškim svinjskim odreskom. Još me konobar nije uspio pošteno odmjeriti već ja imam narudžbu…juhu dana, kakva god bila…svinjski odrezak i malo salate uz njega…i pivo, neko dobro i veliko. Porcija juhe zanimljivog okusa i gustine, prelijana maslinovim uljem i poslužena uz kockice dvopeka je bila ogromna. Odmah mi je bilo jasno da je to greška i da sam možda samo juhu trebao uzeti. Da imam barem šansu probati svinjetinu, ostavljam pola porcije…i to je zabrinulo konobaricu pa pita da li je sve u redu. Sve je OK, fina je juha, shvatit ćeš zašto sam ostavio kad dođe glavno jelo…i shvatila je. Za glavno jelo sam morao dati sve od sebe. Ostalo mi taman za ove mačke koje hodaju oko stolova ali nisu ni napadne ni neuredne. Piva je isto super, neka lokalna sorta, taman je popunila sve rupe, ako ih je bilo, i došla do grla. Sad je službeno, prešao sam iz stanja pregladnio u stanje prejeo…ali nekako sam morao proslaviti uspjeh. Nastavak proslave i ispiranja prašine se dogodio kasnije, na lokaciji koja 87 raznih piva ima, konobara (u stvari barmena) koji govori odlično 7 jezika (isprobali smo mu neke) i donosi testere za pivo, a najbitnije rade duže od drugih. Piva je bilo raznih, miješali smo razne kombinacije, pšenično, crno, još crnije, jako, lagano, voćno. Očito su neka jako dobra jer sam dobio pohvalu da mi se znatno poboljšao engleski. A to su samo alkohol i veselje na kraju uspješnog puta govorili iz mene. I ona putna žestica koja mi nije baš trebala, kao ni ona tuđa druga koju sam popio. Koliko lud moraš biti da naručiš više nego možeš pojesti (ili popiti)? Statistika: 76,6km (GPS) / 0l goriva / 1353kn potrošeno (hotel 450kn i 550kn putna runda) O službenom dijelu koja budu sklopu lutanja nisam nikad posebno puno pisao ali sada ću morati jer je značajno utjecalo na moj povratak. Bitno je spomenuti i to da je direktor ove naše male regije, par dana prije okupljenja, dobio iznenada otkaz. Onako kako to i biva kod velikih, danas jesi-sutra nisi. Došla ga glave osoba višeg ranga koja je eto, koliko sam čuo, porijeklom iz Bosne. Čemu to spominjati? Pa, eto i mene u jednom trenutku došla glave bosanka, pa si donekle mislim da razumijem njegovu situaciju i suosjećam s njim. Najvažniji razlog za spomen je ipak u tome da je on, u raznim ulogama koje je igrao proteklih 6 godina, direktno (ili indirektno) zaslužan za mnoga moja lutanja (od lutanja na prvi susret u Rovinj pa do najpoznatijeg u Marakeš). Tko zna, možda je ovo zadnje lutanje s poslovnom pozadinom. Ako je već negdje bilo zapisano da mu je vrijeme otići, onda mi je žao što ga ja (i moj distributer) nisam došao glave. Skinuli smo mnoge (možda i sve) njegove prethodnike, ima ona “bolje da izumre narod nego običaji”. Uglavnom, u ponedjeljak sam bio sretan i dobro raspoložen. Put je prošao odlično, vrijeme je poticajno, ostatak ekipe je tu ili dolazi. Proslavilo se. Očekivao sam da će ovo konačno biti dan za spavanje i odmor kako ME već danima preporuča, ali odmah ujutro naprasno me budi zvuk industrijskog usisavača, koji dolazi izvan hotela. Glava mi tupa, vjerojatno nisam baš trebao sve one pive jučer isprobavati, posebno jer me i inače boli već nakon dvije (makar i iste). Bio je to takav trenutak, dao sam sve od sebe, čak sam i pozvao putnu Živanu, popularno lokalno žestoko alkoholno piće, koje eto prvi put upoznajem. Kroz dan radim posao onoliko koliko mi situacija dopušta. Havarija na poslu je velika, ugasio se jedan dosta važan server kojeg sam davno postavio. O oživljavanju puno toga ovisi, pokušavam pomoći savjetima ali sam ipak malo predaleko da bi mogao išta konkretnije od pozitivnog razmišljanja. Pokušavam što bolje odmoriti guzicu pa radim potrbuške. To, i slab Wifi signal, imaju za posljedicu dodatno opterećenje vrata pa se bol u vratu i glavi pojačavaju. Sustigao me i umor, ne forsiram ništa ali pokušavam zapisati što više detalja o proteklih par dana na cesti. Toliko sam se unio u sve da mi je dan samo proletio, i ne bi ni shvatio koliko je sati da se želudac nije pobunio. Na brzinu izlazim iz sobe, kasno je već, prigrist ću neku brzu hranu da izdržim do skore službene večeri dobrodošlice. Da izbjegnem imena, ulazim u neki ciparsko-indijsko-azijski restoran. Nije baš obećavajuće kad ti tamnoputi indijac radi ciparski gyros ali nisam se bolje snašao. Večera je u istom restoranu u kojem sam se jučer častio, izgleda da i ja nekad pogodim dobar. Porcije su manje nego jučer (srećom), sve je fino. Na samoj večeri nisam dugo izdržao, glava me i dalje boljela, a imao sam i grčeve, vjerojatno od onog indijsko-ciparskog gyrosa, a možda i zakašnjela reakcija napora putovanja. Sve ovo dosad napisano o službenom dijelu bi trebalo poslužiti kao uvod za danas. Rani odlazak na spavanje rezultira bistrom glavom. Uspijevam prije službenog dijela i malo poslikati grad. Službeni dio protiče očekivano, lijep poklon je tu, trebao bi stati u moj novi topcase. U tijeku predavanja dolazi vijest da je server u firmi proradio u virtualnom okruženju (ovo samo za sebe je izvanredna vijest). Već je nekako uobičajeno da ja par slika opalim, i smanjim troškove organizacije. Tako ja slikam i dodjelu nagrada partnerima i distributerima. Ni na kraj pameti mi nije bilo da bi ona za “najproaktivnijeg partnera u 2017. godini” mogla završiti u mojim rukama. Da sam znao, obukao bi nešto prikladnije. To je druga izvanredna vijest. Treća stvar koje me izbacuje iz takta je vrlo kratak komentar, na moje jučerašnje pisanje, na BMW forumu gdje objavljujem prve verzije lutanja. “Kolekcija is back” je napisao prijatelj čije mišljenje cijenim (i koji je kriv i za neka lutanja). To mi je dalo dodatna krila. U slobodnom vremenu prije večere radim 200 na sat. Brdo zaostataka. Jedva uspijevam otrčati i kupiti pokoji suvenir za familiju i ME. Kroz dan sam bacao pogled na prognoze, ali mi se nisu sviđale pa sam ih odlučio ignorirati. Krao sam i malo vremena da vidim neke kilometraže na povratku, pa određujem područje Crnog mora kao cilj za drugi dan povratka. U trećem do kraja Bugarske, i u četvrtom do kuće. Prvi dan je naravno trajekt do Turske. Ove tri prije navedene stvari su svaka za sebe dovoljan razlog za slavlje, kad se na to još doda sreća što sam uopće stigao do ovdje (koja me još drži) i karmine* za direktora, dolazi do kritične mase s kojom se bijeli anđeo ne može izboriti. Lesli Eldridž (ako se netko sjeća jedinog ne-japanskog nindže) bi pao na trećoj zamci, gdje ja neću na njih 5. Kak bi rekli moji zagorci “I onda neš pil?” *karmine (prema lat. carmen: pjevanje; pjesma) ili podušja, obredna gozba za pokojnika koja se održava u kući umrloga, obično nakon pogreba…Smatralo se da će pokojnik te noći posljednji put posjetiti svoj dom, blagovati i blagosloviti ukućane pa se često za njega na stolu ostavljala hrana i piće. Za samu večeru sam ciljano donio hlače koje sam nosio i na okupljanju u Marakešu, to je bilo jedino okupljanje svjetskog ranga na koje sam bio pozvan, i to zahvaljujući osobi za koju su karmine, iako je on mislio da će nam posljednja večera biti tamo, u Africi, prevario se. Kao što sam se i ja prevario u njegovo trajanje, potrajao je puno duže od očekivanja. Obično bi moje recikliranje odjeće bilo popraćeno glasnim i jasnim komentarom od strane nekih, ali eto večeras nije. Lokacija večere je, ko za vraga, odlična. Ekipa za stolom još bolja. Crno vino je izašlo iz raja. Živana nas svako malo posjeti. Vidim ja da drugi štrajkaju, ali to mene ne smeta, ja dajem sve od sebe. I kod hrane i kod pića. A hrana samo dolazi, spominje se nekih skoro trideset slijedova. Sve moram probati, a posebno puževe. Svi ih izbjegavaju, a meni je to prva prilika koju objeručke prihvaćam i uživam u njima, barem dok su bili topli. Hladni nisu valjali baš ništa. I tako red Živane, red hrane, red Živane, red crnog, red hrane, red Živane…i onda Živana, Živana, Živana. Sjećam se da sam užicao cigaretu, slikao se s djevojkom koja je izvodila lokalne plesove (hvala Emina za sliku), gazdom, nekim nepoznatim ljudima i na kraju pokušao plesati. Tu sam vjerojatno nezgodno poskočio pa mi ispao film, ali to je bilo nakon dostizanja višeg stanja duha. Nirvana! Borba bijelog i crnog anđela (ja ih u tekstu tako nazivam, razne kulture i vjere imaju svoja imena i simbole, ali u osnovi to je isto, označavanje dualnosti sila u prirodi) vodi se i večeras. Lako je što mi radimo kad smo sami (kao ja na motoru kad sam donosim odluke i snosim njihove posljedice). Problem (koji valjda muči i druge) je pronaći balans između nagona i društveno prihvatljivih normi. Svi mi želimo pronaći savršenu sredinu između robovanja strastima i stroge pokore, jer je to stanje koje najmanje energije troši. Budisti vjeruju da postoji stanje gdje se uživa potpuna radost, sreća i mir – nirvana. Smisao života za budiste je postići nirvanu. Mnogi se trude, mnogi lažno tvrde da su je postigli, a samo rijetki uspiju u tome. Mislim da sam u nirvani. Nemam ni želja, ni strasti, ni misli, ni ideja. Potpuno ništavilo. Slika koju sam kasnije našao na telefonu je dokaz. 15.03.2018. četvrtak (povratak) Koliko lud moraš biti da se svjesno otruješ noć prije povratka? Neznam što me probudilo. Neznam koliko je sati. Neznam kako ni kada sam dospio u sobu. Neznam gdje mi je telefon. Ne mogu ravno hodati ni do WC-a. Stvari koje sam jučer imao na sebi leže na podu od vrata do kreveta. Genijalnost projektanta kupaone uočavam kad mi kupaonski element u koji je ugrađen umivaonik idelano služi za odmor glave dok sjedim na školjci. Ne mogu je držati. “Muka mi je” po hrvatski. “Muka mi je” pravo. Otrovao sam se, a otrov još uvijek kola mojim žilama, sve mi stoji u grlu. Pomisao na hranu mi se gadi. Oblijeva me mrtvački znoj dok tijelo drhti od slabosti. Pronalazim telefon, i zanimljivu sliku na Viber chatu, uopće ne kužim da sam je ja poslao. Gledam u galeriju slika, ima još zanimljivih kojih se ne sjećam. Ovo nije stvarno, mora da sanjam, kao da se nalazim u Hangover filmu i svaka nova scena otkriva neku novu gadost. Polupametni sat kaže da sam legao u 2 i spavao 5 sati (to se čini sjajno ali se ne osjećam tako). Gledam gdje su mi anđeli. Nema danas ni bijelog ni crnog, samo dva bolesno zelene boje koji ne mogu letjeti a da bi stajali moraju se međusobno pridržavati. Veseli me da je i crnom muka. Ne mogu napisati da se od duše rastajem jer je danas nemam (a neki bi rekli da je nemam ni inače). Pokušavam pronaći film. Znam da kad popijem nisam fizički nasilan, ali znam biti brutalno iskren, a to može biti i gore od fizičkog nasilja. Pognute glave se spuštam na doručak. Nema puno ljudi, nježno ispitujem situaciju, zasad ne tuku. Ne uspijevam ni čaj popiti, a finu kombinaciju s jasminom si napravio. Hrana nema šanse. Bauljam. Avet*. *avet (tur. afet: nesreća), u narodnom praznovjerju, pokojnik ili natprirodno biće koje se priviđa ljudima i svojim nakaznim izgledom izaziva strah; sablast, utvara, prikaza. Vraćam se u sobu. Prelazim iz stanja aveti u zombi* stanje. *zombi je stvorenje u vuduu prikazano kao ljudsko truplo koje je vraćeno u život putem magije ili drugog natprirodnog umijeća. Ova riječ na Haitiju označava čovjeka bez vlastite svijesti, osobe koje su u transu tj. pod tuđom mentalnom kontrolom, bezumni robovi nekog čarobnjaka. Neznam kako bi opisao kako se osjećam. Vjerujem da ste mnogi iskusili posljedice neumjerenosti u piću, jesam i ja, ali ovako samo nekoliko puta u životu, okružen ljudima od povjerenja, koji bi se pobrinuli da me izbace na mamin prag i pobjegli, ako ništa drugo. Valjda sam se i jučer osjećao sigurno da se ovako sredim. Danas smo ostali samo Gandalf, Zemo, ja i dva polumrtva anđela, 2500 km ceste i nešto mora udaljeni od kuće. ME preporuča tuš. Neću! Ne stignem. Idući savjet je da izazovem povraćanje prisilno. Neću! Jako sam se trudio da ono jučer sve pojedem i popijem, nema šanse da sad to bacim. Zadnji savjet je zovi šlep. Nećemo se valjda vrijeđati? Obzirom da neznam kad ću biti opet u prilici, javljam situaciju i šogici, njezin savjet je rehidracija. Znam da do podne (po nekom vremenu) moram biti u luci, i to je super, imam neki cilj, a za dalje ćemo vidjeti. Postoje lakši i teži ciljevi, i makar ovaj izgledao vrlo jednostavan meni to nikako nije. Stvari ne uspijevam ugurati u torbe, previše ih je iako mi stalno i nešto fali. Svaki pokret je naporan. Čudna sila me vodi, nekako uspijevam nagurati torbe i zatvoriti bočne kofere, ne kužim odakle takva gužva u njima. Odjavio sam se iz hotela, pokušavam se opremiti za vožnju, fali mi podkapa. Ne uspijevam je pronaći. Vraćam se u hotel, tražim karticu za sobu, pregledavam još jednom sobu, nema ničega. Jedna podkapa iz Lidla nije nešto što bi trebalo biti značajno, pa čak ni za mene, ali ako mi fali ona sada što će mi još sve faliti kad zatreba? Odjavljujem se drugi put, otvaram topcase, podkapa je prvo što vidim. I dalje neznam kakve me sile vode, tko mi pomaže, ali znam da bez pomoći nebi uspio. Sjedam na motor, Zemu molim da bude dobar danas, a kolega s nevjericom u očima pita “Znaš li kuda ideš?”. Znam kamo i kada moram doći, i to je nešto. Obzirom da mi pravocrtno hodanje nije išlo, čudim se činjenici da mi se rubnjaci ne bacaju pod Gandalfove kotače. Jako se koncentriram, sreća da ovdje svi imaju volan na pravoj (right) strani pa se često preplašim vozila bez vozača i to me drži budnim. Tamo neka garaža firma iz HR (Rimac) se u najnovijem konceptu hvali autonomijom razine 4. Mate, pa ovdje su sva vozila autonomna, ljudi lijepo sjede na suvozačkom mjestu i uživaju u pogledu. Teško mi je, ali u svom sjajnom oklopu i na svom vjernom konju, osjećam se sigurnije nego na nogama. Ne stavljam si nikakav vremenski pritisak. Ako zakasnim ili ne budem u mogućnosti odvoziti ovu kratku dionicu nije kraj svijeta. I sutra je dan, sve se to još može mjeriti u novcima. Izlazim iz Larnake, autoput danas vozim sporijom (lijevom) trakom, ništa od jurcanja. Sve bitnije manevre radim jako oprezno i nakon svakog radim procjenu kvalitete. Jesam li se dovoljno okrenuo? Jesam li se prvo okrenuo na pravu (right) stranu? Da li mi je procjena brzine kretanja ostalih sudionika dobra i slično. To i inače radim (ako nekog zanima), ali ne s ovakvom pedantnošću i zalihošću. Čak uočavam i znak preporuke “vozite lijevom stranom” koji nisam uočio u dolasku. Procjena ne uočava velike greške i to me veseli. Ne bi želio da Gandalf nastrada jer smo se ja i moji anđeli opili. Uspio sam pronaći prijelaz na okupiranu stranu, nemam nikakvih problema ni zastoja ni na jednoj provjeri. U stvari, ugodno sam iznenađen kako sam na pravom mjestu pronašao osiguranje motora kad su me tražili. Na okupiranoj strani čak stajem kako bi je slikao, sjetio sam se da su me stanovnici južne strane ispitivali o tome kako izgleda ova. Slika je mutna, kako da to danas zamjerim telefonu? Luka je s druge strane brda. Pronašao sam i onu dionicu s radovima i spuštam se prema Girne. To je onaj dio gdje se nije moguće zaustaviti. I što se događa? Kiše mi se. Dignem flip, maknem podkapu, stavim ruku i kihnem. Neki topli osjećaj u ruci (vozim bez rukavica jer mi je vjerojatno bilo preteško ih staviti, teško da bi se sjetio hladiti šake i zglobove), pogledam i ugledam žuto-zelenu sluz, ljepljivu, gustu i pjenastu…jel još nekog podsjetilo na puževe od noćas ili samo mene? Nemam kamo s tim. Kvačilo povlačim vrhovima prstiju, bez kontra oslonca na volan, pa prigodno lelujam po cesti. Nema šanse da to obrišem ni u Gandalfa ni u bilo koji dio opreme. Ulaskom u grad stajem prvom prilikom. Drugom rukom otvaram bočni pretinac tank torbe, čini mi se da bi tu moralo biti nešto za brisanje. A tamo vlažne maramice za dezinfekciju, poklon kolege još za put u Marakeš prije 4 godine (hvala Kiki). I još vlažne, a prošle 3 kontineta s nama. Ne sjećam se da li sam imao kakvih problema s pronalaskom luke, ali znam da sam u samoj luci, koja je mala, uspio skrenuti krivo pa sam malo lutao i po njoj. Sunce mi se ukazalo kad sam prepoznao kapiju kroz koju sam neki dan izašao, ali me očito i zabljesnulo jer sam krenuo ući na desna vrata (lijeva su bila zatvorena). Uniforma diže dlan u znak stop i prilazi. Stajem. Pita nešto. Ne razumijem, može engleski? Na finom engleskom pita da li sam englez? Nisam. Nisam ni ja, kaže, zašto bi onda pričali engleski? Nemam odgovor. Da me pitao noćas, u stanju nirvane, sigurno bi znao odgovor, kao što bi i znao ultimativno pitanje Života, Svemira i Svega, ali nemoj danas druže plavi, nemoj samo po glavi. Uglavnom, ulaz u luku je zatvoren do 11 sati (vrijeme zbivanja 10:50) i kad bude otvoren, lijeva strana je prava strana. Uh, dobro je, ne tuku. Parkiram u blizini, vruće je, skidam se i jaknu prebacujem preko prednjeg kraja. Tek sada vidim da je očajno prljava, masna i zauljena. Posljedice zavlačenja po trajektu u dolasku. Prvi put u 4 godine ga oprao i pokušao impregnirati, da sam u boljem duševno-fizičkom stanju ovo bi me jako uznemirilo, ali sada i ovdje, kome je to bitno? Rehidriram se s vodom iz zaliha, Jana je preživjela cijeli put do ovdje i ovdje je pala. U hladovinu koju sam našao dolazi jak i neugodan miris kanalizacije iako ne kužim odakle. I dok ja tako gledam kuda da nas preselim shvatim da sam parkirao ispred oveće zgrade u kojoj se nalazi i ured brodara kojeg trebam. Osjećam prste neke više sile u svemu. Mislio sam da je unutar kruga, tamo gdje sam rješavao ulaznu papirologiju. Na šalteru nisam prvi, ali kad je djelatnica digla glavu i prepoznala me, nasmijala se toplo, skoro majčinski. Znao sam da tu više neće biti problema. I nije bilo, trajekt stvarno ide, Barut je zakon. I karte su tu. Alah je velik (ili koji je već ovdje glavni). Informaciju o vremenu dolaska trajekta u Mersin nisam uspio saznati, došli smo do ograničenja naših komunikacijskih sposobnosti. Malo me to zabrinulo jer nisam bio siguran ni da li sam riješio svu potrebnu papirologiju. Vidim ja da neki ulaze u susjednu zgradu, imam vremena, raspitujem se, malo me vozaju par ureda, dok nisam završio u onom gdje me razumiju i na meni razumljivom (recimo) jeziku odgovaraju da imam sve što treba. To je izvanredna vijest, ajmo na trajekt, sve dalje mora biti med i mlijeko. Ne danas. Zablokirali me kamioni i ne mogu s parkinga. Mjerkam penjanje na rinzol, mjerkao bi ga i trijezan, kako neću sada kad još jedva hodam. Strahovi su da se prime za rogove, jedna prepreka, pa još jedna, pa malo slaloma i evo me na ulazu, s lijeve strane. Vrata su još zatvorena. Neke vozače prepoznajem, ali kod nekih moja pojava izaziva znatiželju. To je dobro, imam i ja pitanja. Problem komunikacije rješavamo telefonom koji nekako prevodi engleski-turski. Ugrubo sam saznao trajanje plovidbe i vrijeme dolaska u Mersin, a oni odakle sam, koliko dugo sam na putu i kamo idem. Na ulasku nemam problema, ulazim među prvima, jedinu spačku radi onaj plavac s nemogućim pitanjem. Iako je slobodan, ne želi mi pogledati papire, nego šalje kolegu za kojeg očito zna da ima jezične probleme. Maše on, ja upitno gledam, viče “Ship! Go!”, a ovaj sa strane umire od smijeha. Prvi sam na brodu! Sad već sam pokušavam što bolje sakriti Gandalfa između raznih stvari i bačvi, u nadi da ću ga tako zaštititi, a opet da se ne usvinjim do kraja. Djelatnik je novi, zahtijeva postavljanje na bočnu nogaru. Vadim svoju drvenu dašćicu i pokoravam se naredbi. Ovaj puta mi izgleda sigurnije privezan. Jedva uspijevam izvaditi iz kofera sve što mislim da će mi trebati u idućih 12 ili više sati (hrana, foto, laptop, punjači). Toliko sam rano došao da još nema ni djelatnika za šankom, a vrata u službeni dio broda otvorena. Možda bolje da to nisam vidio. Ključ kabine još uvijek isto košta. Kabina danas izgleda baš kao s Barutovih slika. Topla, prozračena, pa čak i mirisna u odnosu na zadah iz usta. Skidam višak opreme ali se ne bacam odmah na blagodati ležaja, iako sam ih zaslužio, vrijeme je za foto sesiju. Prazan brod mi je igralište i glupiram se, glumim povraćanje, ne glumim da mi je glava teška, padaju srca za Girne (i Cipar, sad kad sam siguran da sam preživio). Foto aparat postavljam na razne prljave dijelove broda i nadam se da će slika uspjeti, fali nešće da pomogne. Radim slike za panoramu, guram nos u još pokoju službenu prostoriju, ima me na sve strane. Ekipa održavanja tetoši ovog umornog starca, ne mogu reći da ih ne razumijem. Da mi treba siguran sam da bi mi pomogli tetošiti i Gandalfa. Energiju gubim brzo pa se povlačim u kabinu. Prvi put pokušavam zaspati. Potratio dosta vremena ali sna nisam vidio. Uzimam laptop pa zabavu nalazim u obradi slika. Ima nekoliko solidnih i to me veseli. U svim bitnim događajima danas me vodila neka čudna sila. Osjećam je opet. Pokušava mi reći da bi bilo pametno neki plan povratka složiti, barem razmisliti što je idući korak nakon iskrcavanja s trajekta. Riskiram medu i šaljem pitanje ME vezano uz prognozu za Istanbul, Sofiju, Niš i HR, od subote do ponedjeljka. Dobiveni odgovor čitam više puta. Slijeva na desno, pa s desna na lijevo. Kako god čitao, već nedjelja je izazov a o ponedjeljku ne treba ni razmišljati. Čekaj malo, jel moguće, vrijeme je donekle prihvatljivo iduća dva dana. Ja ovdje umirem a Stari mi daje opciju povratka u dva dana. Tko je ovdje lud? Imam li ja ono što je potrebno za to? Provjeravam u stilu “Počeši s razlogom!” kampanje i zaključujem da ništa nije naraslo. ME dodatno potencira Starog i nadu da će posložiti bolje vrijeme od prognoze. Ne očekujem da će on baš radi mene to raditi, zahvalan sam na lijepom vremenu koje sam dosad imao, ali svejedno, kad ga već spominje, odgovaram nek ga zamoli da umiri more, krenuli smo, trajekt se pošteno ljulja, muka mi je i bez toga. Obećajem da ću biti dobar i da se u skoro vrijeme neću opet ovako otrovati. ME javlja Reglan tbl (Metopran) protiv mučnine smanjuju nagon na povraćanje. Neću! Iako bi trenutno popio i plavu i crvenu tabletu da si skratim muke, s tabletom protiv mučnine koju sam samo jednom popio u životu, na jedrenju, nisam imao dobra iskustva. Situacija je očajna. More valja brod tako da ja skližem po krevetu i malo sam oslonjen na noge, malo na glavu. Po brodu se čuju kako udaraju nezatvorena vrata, ispada plastika s lampe u mojem WC-u, a ona ekipa tetoši brod već satima nekim velikim čekićem, tako da sve odzvanja (jesu li to zvona za mene?). Umirem. Gledam kameru i razmišljam da ovo snimim, da napravim videoblog i oporuku. Ako umrem da se zna da sam otišao putujući, radeći ono što volim. I da ne žalim za ničim i da nitko ne žali za mnom. Koliko lud moraš biti da se nadaš prestanku mučnine za vrijeme vožnje na trajektu? Od ideje oporuke odustajem jer mi je to ipak previše izazivanja mračne strane. Pokušavam drugi put odspavati, samo se mučim. Znam da moram nešto pojesti pa se prisiljavam. Teško ide. Vode više nemam. Kasica prasica kaže da imam 3 turske lire. Konobar traži dvije za pola litre, dupla tarifa nego na benzinskoj. Daj jednu zasad, i daj mi tečaj eura…3TL za €? Pa na cesti su dali skoro 5. Da li se može staviti cijena na lijek? Pitajte farmaceutsku industriju. Nova runda laptopa. Hrana stoji u grlu. Muka mi je i dalje, sad više nisam siguran, jel od mamurluka, ljuljanja broda ili hrane. Jedino što je savršeno je seansa na WC-u. Očito su oni puževi jučer pomogli, morao bi to još koji put provjeriti. Ili možda Živana? Ne, nije ona, samo spomen imena mi poveća mučninu. Novi pokušaj spavanja, uspješan kao i ona dva prije toga. Kabina postaje sve toplijih boja…ček, ček, sunce nestaje. Žurno pokušavam otvoriti prozor (jer slikanje kroz njega nema smisla) i lomim nokat. Trebao ih odrezati ujutro, ali nije bilo ni snage ni vremena. Uspijevam slikati zalazak. Svježi zrak ulazi u kabinu. Fali mi nešto da se utoplim. Misterija torbi i bočnih kofera riješena (valjda), mora da je sloj odjeće dugih rukava završio unutra i radio gužvu. Mrak je pao, komunikacije s vanjskim svijetom nemam satima, laptop mi se više ne gleda, vrtim u glavu ideju o ubrzanom povratku doma, hoću li i gdje naći smještaj u Mersinu, jesam li pogriješio što nisam napisao oporuku? Umirem i dalje iako se brod smirio i nema tetošenja broda. Nekako mi se čini ostvarivo da probam okrenuti dva dana po 1000km, a onda bi zadnja dionica trebala biti u HR, ako neće biti moguće voziti, ipak će se lakše nešto smisliti. Plovimo uz obalu Turske i u daljini se vide svjetla naselja. Ostao sam opet bez vode. Vadim pola eura i pola lire, po lopovskom tečaju to je točno koliko mi treba za još jednu flašu, i ni centa više. Jedem i sve ostalo što sam ponio u kabinu. Ostalo je samo nešto lembas kruha. Nikakvog zdravstvenog napredka nema, i dalje ne mogu hodati ravno, ali to pripisujem brodu. Izgubio sam volju za sve, svako malo gledam kroz prozor, stalno isti pogled, nikako da stignemo. Taman kad sam bio na rubu sna, lupa osoblje na vrata, uskoro stižemo, vraća mi putovnicu i objašnjava da ključ ostavim u bravi. Inače, zanimljiva je ta brava na kabini bila, svoj život ima, nekad bi se otvorila odmah, a nekad ni deset pokušaja (okretaja) nije bilo dosta. Trebalo mi je skoro dvije plovidbe da shvatim kako i u kojem trenutku treba primijeniti silu. I onda otvara od prve. Statistika: 79,1km (GPS) / 0l goriva / dvije flaše 0,5l vode Ono uskoro je više nego dovoljno da se zombi obuče, spremi sve stvari, uživo gleda ulazak u luku, te slika brod koji ga podsjeća na prošli život. Već smo duboko u novom danu. Gandalf nije nigdje pobjegao, a izgleda da nije ni on prilegao (srećom). Što sam ja pokušao više mjesta ostaviti to su ovi kamione bliže parkirali. Ne mogu otvoriti bočni kofer da vratim stvari. Čekam ispred kamiona da se pojavi vozač i molim ga da pazi kad će izlaziti. U trenutnoj situaciji nema šanse da siđem s broda motorom pa zajedno s vozačima kamiona čekam servisne buseve da nas odvezu na carinske i policijske obrade, u nadi da ću si ubrzati proceduru. Bus vozi desetak minuta, nema šanse da zapamtim rutu. S procedurom koju mogu napraviti nemam nikakvih problema jer nekim čudom imam sve papire kod sebe, jedino mi fali motor da mogu završiti. Dok sam ja to uspio objasniti djelatniku carine kojeg sam prekinuo u hrani, svi busevi su već otišli. Vrijeme ide. Čekam u nadi da će se pojaviti obećani prijevoz. Kreće kontrola putnika za Cipar. Neće mi valjda odvesti motor? Carinik moli jednog od tih putnika da bude prevodioc, nisu ni oni sigurni da su me razumjeli. Da, stigao sam brodom, motor mi je blokiran, došao riješiti dio papirologije dok čekam da se kamioni maknu, i sad bi trebao nazad na brod. Na kojem ti vezu brod? Nemam pojma. Koji brod, odakle? E to znam. Ispada da taj putnik ide autom na njega i da će me povesti. Čekam da završi svoju proceduru. Vrijeme ide. Range Rover, noviji, kožna sjedala, sve mi neugodno da ih ne zamažem, da ne budu masna kao vlasnikova kosa vezana u konjski rep na vrhu glave. Čudan osjećaj. Nezna ni on put do broda, a ni neki bijesni Audi SUV ispred nas, pa lagano lutam i s njima. Konačno vidim brod u daljini. Kamioni blokiraju prilaze pa se zahvaljujem na prijevozu i dalje pješice. Gandalf jedini na donjoj razini, tražim da ga odvežu i da mogu konačno krenuti. Kamo? Pa lukava pušćica je imala Zemu u džepu cijelo vrijeme i spremila si poziciju carine. I s tim mi je trebalo vremena da nađem iako nisam nigdje zalutao. Skoro 3km vožnje. Kod carine čekaju 3 osobe. Ulazim unutra, carinik drijema. Prvo sam ga omeo u hrani, a sad u snu, to ne može na dobro. Već vidim kako gledam izlazak sunca ovdje. Neka čekam kod motora, dolazi za 10 minuta. Ovo troje vani pita da li i ja imam problem? Koliko znam, nemam, fali mi samo pregled motora. Vrijeme ide. Čistim vizir kacige i svjetlo motora. Carinik stiže, ali prvo nešto s ono troje, ne razumijem puno ali ne izgleda mi dobro, mislim da njihov auto neće noćas van. Kod mene nema takvih problema, ajmo svi unutra. Još malo papirologije i unosa u računalo. Ono troje izgleda nema osiguranje koje vrijedi za Tursku. Nazad svi van, otvaraju se vrata, slobodan sam, mogu ići. A kamo da idem u 2:45? Ima li smisla tražiti prenočište? Sjedam na motor, i dalje u zombi stanju, i krećem, nadam se u smjeru doma, prema Crnom moru. Vozim bez rukavica, gledam okolo, ako mi nešto zapne za oko, stajem. Ako mi se prispava, stajem. Ništa meni nije zapelo za oko a ni ne spava mi se. Ulovio sam autoput i slijedim Zemine upute. U daljini sijevaju munje, nisam siguran da li su u mom smjeru, mrak je i teško se orijentiram. Lagano postaje prehladno za gole ruke pa stajem na benzinskoj. Punim motor iako se rezerva nije upalila. Organiziram stvari na prava mjesta po koferima. Uzimam i tekućinu za rehidraciju. Oblačim punu opremu, iako još nije baš dovoljno hladno. Nevidljiva sila me i dalje vodi. Vozim dalje, autoput kreće u planine, lagano počinje kiša, temperatura pada. Sreća da sijeva sve bliže pa barem povremeno nešto vidim, ni kratka ni duga svjetla nisu neka sreća u ovim uvjetima. Utoplio sam se u svojem oklopu, niti ne gledam previše na benzinske i odmorišta. Neznam koja je temperatura ali osjećam da i dalje pada. Kiša prelazi u snijeg. Imam osjećaj da nešće testira koliko sam ja stvarno lud. E, pa da vozim u 4 ujutro, planinsku cestu koju slabo vidim, dok sve jače pada snijeg i neznam kolika je temperatura? Toliko ipak nisam i oprezno se vučem do prve benzinske ili odmorišta. Konačno neka svjetla u daljini, skidam se s autoputa i parkiram ispred velikog restorana. Na pitanje da li ima kakav smještaj tu ili u blizini odgovor je negativan, ali eto mogu slobodno odmoriti kod njih. Nemam izbora. Uvjeti nisu za motor. Ili imamo problem u komunikaciji ili ne primaju kartice. Drugi put na putu sam prisiljen gurnuti ruku u keš, mijenjam 10€. U stvari ne mijenjam ja, nego djelatnik restorana odlazi promijeniti umjesto mene, dok si ja biram juhu. Moram nekako oživjeti a neznam kako. Ne razumijem opise, pa biram bilo koju. Taman meni napuni porciju a ostatak baca, svježa juha kao i ja. Uspijevam se dočepati i šifre za Internet, sad sam već na konju. Gledam prognoze. Gledam komunikaciju ostatka ekipe, koja se jučer ili rastajala od duše, ili nastavila gdje smo stali, ili krenula kući. Prerano (ili prekasno) je da se javim familiji, ali ekipi se ipak javljam. Nema odgovora, čudno je to. Pokušavam zaspati za stolom, ali ne mogu pronaći pravu pozu. Ne pomaže ni zagorski Superman poza*, stol je prenizak, oprema mi stišće škembu (*poza zagorski Superman – ispružena ruka a glava odmara na nadlaktici, česta poza za šankom zagorskih birtija, koristi se za prikupljanje energije kod privremene slabosti). Naslonjen na stolac nisam stabilan. Namjestio sam si čak i budilicu. Mučio se tako dva sata, počelo je svitati. Planine su pod snijegom, Gandalf je pod snijegom, ali cesta je crna. Ima nade, nek još malo ugrije. Osoblje mi kuha čaj, znam da je još turbo rano u HR, ali neznam kad ću opet biti u prilici pa šaljem poruke da sam živ i putujem, nisam se dugo javio, znam da svi brinu. 7:30 po lokalnom vremenu. Nježno skidam dio snijega s motora. Termometar pokazuje 2 stupnja u pozitivi. Ekipa nedaleko pokušava upaliti kombi kojem se smrzlo gorivo. Ako Gandalf upali idemo dalje, ako ne upali čekam još. U svim našim druženjima zadnjih 6 godina na prste jedne ruke bi se mogle nabrojati situacije kad je upalio na prvi okret anlasera kao sada. Grubi rad, radi bogate smjese goriva potrebne na ovim temperaturama, trese preostali snijeg. Mislim da je Gandalf prilično jasno rekao svoje mišljenje, ko haski kad se iskopa iz snijega i spreman je za vuču saonica. Druga dobra stvar je da smo noćas, u onom mraku i muci, uspjeli pregaziti poprijeko preko većine planinskog lanca. Još samo malo i onda nastavljamo po visoravni. Snijeg je stao, hladno je, ali ne probija oklop. Naplatne, kao i mnoge dosad, otvorene…prolazim a sirena zavija. Stajem skroz desno, gledam okolo, ima nekih zgrada ali ne izgledaju privlačno. Ima i neki djelatnik kojeg uopće ne zanimam. Pojavljuje se neka uniforma iza ograde i bodljikave žice jedne od zgrada. Kaže, samo vozi. Shvatio i ja već da sirena zavija i kad drugi prolaze. Motor se ne grije dovoljno pa nemam previše grijanja za ruke, ali malo razgibavanja prstiju povremeno je dovoljno da razbije osjet hladnoće. Temperatura oscilira, više ili manje u pozitivu, u ritmu znakova za obaveznu zimsku opremu tj. prestanak iste. Nemam zimsku opremu na motoru. Svježi zrak i onaj čaj me drže budnim, muka mi je i dalje, ali sve bolji ritam imam. Izgleda da sam konačno prošao vrhunac slabosti. Što je Živana, to je najbolje što možeš? Vidi me, još sam živ, i lutam. Bez glogovog kolca to neće ići. 50 km od Nigde i 25 sati od zadnjeg sna, gledajući Zemu kako pokazuje iduće skretanje za 300 km, znatiželjan sam. Reci ti meni Zemo koliko do doma ima? Pitanje nije lako, računa si on to, i računa…brži je od Deep Thought računala…i kaže pišljivih 2050km si od doma, i kad bi nastavio voziti bez pauze, doma si do 2 u noći idući dan. I to mi tamo, 50 km od Nigde i 2050 km od doma, uopće nije strašno zvučalo. Ostavljam Zemu da navigira u smjeru doma i gledam ponudu smještaja uz cestu, da sam jutros bio luđi, “samo” 150-200km su bili udaljeni. Od ondje, 50 km od Nigde, pa do pola puta do Ankare, trošim svo gorivo. Sad već malo i namjerno gledam neku manju, neugledniju pumpu, u nadi da nađem Gandalfu ono što voli. Još ga nisam ni ugasio a vidim što ću sebi kupiti. Puna stalaža plišanih medvjedića. Djelatnik pumpe me gleda u nevjerici, siguran si da želiš tog bijelog medu, smeđih očiju, u ultra prljavom najlonu što visi tu obješen danima (godinama)? Da, siguran sam, baš tog hoću jer je najmanji od svih, i za takvog neznam hoću li naći mjesta. Konačno je nešće sa mnom. Toliko me to razveselilo da sam htio odmah pokazati svojim fejsbuk prijateljima, ali nema interneta. Pumpa ima, ali da bi ga koristio, treba upisati broj telefona u aplikaciju kako bi dobio šifru, a broj telefona očito mora biti lokalan. Vide moju muku domaći, i jedan od njih, diže WiFi hotspot na svom telefonu i daruje mi internet. Još se jednom pokazuje, što je čovjek manji (siromašniji) to će prije od njega pomoć doći. A možda se smilovao kad je vidio kako glasno drobim energetsku pločicu koja se još nije odjužila. Ovo mi je prvo stajanje po danu nakon trajekta, i dok sam radio malu reorganizaciju stvari da napravim mjesta za medu, uočavam duboku ogrebotinu na desnom koferu. Ipak je trajekt ostavio traga i na njemu. Da sam u boljem duševno-fizičkom stanju ovo bi me jako uznemirilo, ali sada i ovdje, kome je to bitno? Sve je lakše, nešće je uz mene, uspio sam ga nagurati u topcase. Obilazim Ankaru, moram nešto pojesti, a pravog poticaja za to još uvijek nemam. Čak mi je i bolje dok sam gladan jer mi ništa u grlu ne stoji. Odvalio sam preko 500km, Crno more skoro da mogu namirisati, odmor bi dobro došao ali stišćem još malo. Stajem tek malo prije podne. Veliki restoran, puno ulaza, izlaza…i kad uđem na jedan, opet veliki restoran i lijevo i desno…ne kužim, ali zato je tu pristojan mladi djelatnik kojem moja Mondoshawan pojava uopće ne smeta, on vidi umornog putnika kojeg treba nahraniti i napojiti. Pokazuje ponudu, ali ja vidim samo jedno…piletina u saftu…i to ne vrbovina (bijelo meso) nego ono pravo, s još kožom na sebi. Chickeeen! ote mi se uzdah, kao Leeloo u 5. elementu kad oglaba nogice (škrample po zagorski). Uz izbor kisele salate i gole riže, rajska gozba. Obzirom da mi i dalje sve stoji u grlu, ME poručuje čaj od kamilice, đumbira ili soda bikarbona. Neću! Popio sam čaj koji sam dobio bez da sam ga tražio, nemam pojma od čega je ali je dobar. Znam da sestri zvuči čudno što ja u 10h po njenom vremenu odgovaram da nisam siguran za Istanbul, iako već neko vrijeme razmišljam o njemu, ali ima još preko 400km do mosta. Idemo dalje pa što bude. Nekih 200km prije mosta, 550km od Nigde i 1550km od doma, 37 sati od zadnje Živane, oživio sam u potpunosti. Boja mi se vratila u lice, knedla je otišla iz grla, osjećam se preporođeno. Gotovo je, tijelo je izbacilo otrov, završio je jedan životni ciklus, i poput Feniksa, iz pepela se rađa novi život. I to jači, odlučniji i fokusiraniji nego prije. U glavi tutnji “Živano (grkinjo) znaj, svemu je kraj, zbogom mi više se ne vraćaj…dušu mi ranila…sve mi uzela”, pjesma kojom smo u mladosti izbili membrane rođakovih zvučnika. Svjestan sam. Nisam više zombi. Ma kakvo mrklo Crno more i slikanje papaka pred vodom, pravac doma na krilima euforije. Poletjeli su konačno i anđeli, i zuje negdje okolo, vjerojatno i oni uživaju u uskrsnuću. Cijeli dan sam pokušavao pronaći “zeca”, vozilo koje bi vozilo odgovarajućom brzinom, a ja bi iza njega malo odmarao. To sam uvijek i na svakom putu dosad mogao, ali u Turskoj ni danas ni u dolasku. Svi su ili debelo ispod ograničenja ili debelo iznad ograničenja. Koliko lud moraš biti da se nadaš normalnom turskom vozaču? 120km prije mosta, na odmorištu uz neko jezero (nažalost nije ni Crno ni Mramorno more) kreću pripreme za napad na Istanbul (u stvari na njegov obilazak s obje strane mosta koji je prijelaz u Europu). Još me peku rane od prethodnog napada, sad moram biti pametniji, podcijenio sam to u suprotnom smjeru. Za pripreme nije rano, tu već promet postaje gušći i ne pušta do daleko iza mosta. Da izbjegnem vrućinu skidam zadnji sloj odjeće, pakiram na sjedalo, vadim ljetne rukavice. Sve ventilacijske otvore na odijelu otvaram maksimalno. Da izbjegnem glad, glođem energetsku pločicu. Da izbjegnem stajanje radi pišanja, obilazim WC. No, za vraga, onaj vani je zatvoren i treba ići unutra. A unutra prava mala tržnica, pune košare hrane, voća, mirodija…stotine boja i mirisa…znam da kad bi ovdje pustio majku, tjedan dana nebi izašla, ali nešće mi je popunio zadnji prostor tako da meni nije teško izaći. Morao sam kupiti “samo” jednu drobilicu za orahe. 800km i 12h nakon izlaska iz luke, spreman sam. Gandalf, Zemo, nešće, ja i moji anđeli, protiv svih. Ne postoji ništa na svijetu što nas može zaustaviti. Da si još zapaprim izazov, stavljam si jedan dodatan zahtjev. Ne da ne želim paliti ventilator hladnjaka ulja na Gandalfu, ne želim ni da mu jednu crticu temperature dignem. To je izazov. Cesta je naša, sve trake. Čim zagusti na dozvoljenim trakama, tu je rezervirana desna traka. Ispred presretača, iza presretača, prestrojavanje kroz 5 traka, slalom, ako zatreba dijelom i po trakama koje su za odvajanje. Ne stignu nam ni trubiti. Ali nisam ja jedini, ima nas još, pa sam malo ja zec, malo je netko drugi zec. Njihovu ludost ja nadoknađujem agilnošću i manjom širinom. Glavu okrećem kao sova, skoro cijelih 360 stupnjeva, oči vide a mozak procesira sve, osjećam promet, ja sam promet, vožnje se ni Trinity iz Matrixa nebi posramila. Ako slučajno nešto nije u mom vidokrugu, tu su anđeli koji s visine kontroliraju i javljaju. Ni crni se ne usudi raditi spačke. Ništa nas ne može zaustaviti a ni usporiti. Najbrži nismo, postoji jedna brža kategorija, tzv. japansko-turske kamikaze, poluopremljeni vozači uskih i brzih motocikala, koji glasno riču tako da ih svi čuju. Sad se već crni ohrabrio, izvadio sablju i s pjenom oko usta viče “prije 525 godina ste vi harali Zagorjem, osveta je slatka…stisni još, stisni još”. A čini mi se da ni bijelom nije mrsko. A meni u glavi Drele “hajdemo gume ćelave, čekaju nas ceste zagorske, morti neki turčin nori se napije pa nas hmori sa Rekordom karavanom” pa posebno pazim na Opel vozače. Most je već iza nas, temperatura stabilna, timski odrađujemo odličan posao, ali pred kraj već malo gubimo dah i uključujemo se u bujicu koja je već življa. Temperatura odmah reagira. Nećeš razbojniče! Još jedan napad i gotovo, Istanbul i okolica su iza nas. Napredni mogu usporediti graf brzine prvog i drugog prolaska. Nakon 16h na cesti, umiranja i uskrsnuća, snijega, vjetra, sunca i odvoženih debelih 1000km, vrijeme je razmisliti o traženju prenoćišta, valjda. Valjda je tu zato jer tijelo ne pokazuje nikakve znakove da treba odmor, motor ne pokazuje nikakve znakove da treba odmor, nešće šuti. Zaustavlja nas lampica rezerve. Radi izgleda kad treba. U nastavku pumpe vidim neke objekte, ne budi lijen, ajmo pitati što se nudi. A kad tamo opet “Chickeeen!”. Na pitanje ima li kakav smještaj u blizini, odgovor je Edirne, grad udaljen 120km. Žvačući piletinu koja nije fina kao ona prethodna, gledam malo mapu na Zemi, malo ponudu smještaja na telefonu. Nema smisla da spavam u Turskoj kad je Svilengrad u Bugarskoj na 150km, tu sam već opet doma. Nalazim neku lokaciju, kaže otvorena do 20h, a sat kaže da imam sat i pol. U euforiji koja me još drži to je sasvim normalno i ostvarivo i već sam nazad u sedlu. Prva stvar koja mi je spustila euforiju je polako padanje mraka. Druga stvar je odvratno duga kolona kamiona, možda tijelo ne pokazuje umor, ali vid se počinje mutiti, i bojim se voziti brzo uz njih, da mi kakav vozač pješak ne promakne. Na turskoj granici se guram, sve me strah da će me strpati u zatvor kad vide da sam prije 18h i 1200km ušao u Tursku i već pokušavam izaći, ali to nikome ne smeta. Treća stvar koja zabija zadnji čavao u moju euforiju je bugarska granica. Velik broj kolona, sve stoje, ljudi se druže. Naravno, direkt naprijed. Raspitujem se čemu zastoj a odgovor je smjena osoblja. Bugari, ne opet. U lutanju od prošle godine, kad sam se vraćao iz Bukurešta, bio je pao kompjutorski sistem. Sad kompjuteri rade, ali pao sistem “Mice ubice”. Pola sata čekanja kratim u razgovoru s ostalim vozačima. Malo vrte glavom na informacije o tome odakle i kada sam krenuo. Mica se vratila! Imam sve papire. Ali Mica ima brata carinika. Otvaraj topcase. Ne pada on na smeđe okice od nešće, samo ga gura u stranu. Divljački otvara ruksak, gura ruku unutra, nasilno otvara kutiju i prima nagradu s ponosom kao da je našao nešto zabranjeno. “Bratko, što je to?” Nagrada bratko. Razočaran samo maše, više nismo braća, idi. Bugarska! Potpuni mrak na ulasku u Svilengrad razbijaju blještave reklame hotela i kockarnica. Ne privlače me, ja vozim u smjeru odokativne lokacije smještaja. Rupe su velike, Zemo nije baš uvjerljiv, ali nije gužva pa se polako probijamo. Na odokativnoj lokaciji je hotel, mali, osvijetljen, zanimljivog imena, ali ne izgleda kao onaj koji tražim, cijena je skoro dupla. Nisu čuli za onaj koji tražim. Prebacujem se na telefon navigaciju, nisam siguran da li sam na grčkoj ili bugarskoj mreži, samo se nadam da nisam na turskoj. Po nekim mračnim ulicama dolazim do makadama s ogromnim rupama, tu bi to moralo biti. Prolazim tih zadnjih 50m. Svjetlo radi, ali ne vidim ulaz. Okrećem motor, pokušavam pronaći dovoljno ravan dio ceste da ga dignem na centralnu nogaru, puca dio iste, dobro da se nismo prevrnuli. Stavljam na bočnu, okrenem se, svjetlo ugašeno. Zona sumraka. Konačno sam dovoljno umoran da mi razlika cijene ne znači ništa i ne traži mi se više, za onaj znam gdje je i radi, a za ovaj je i Gandalf pokazao da je loš odabir. 1050 km od Nigde i 1150 km od doma, nakon maratona od 1250km u jednom danu, smjestio sam se u Londonu. Tko od motorista može reći da je odvozio Mersin-Ankara-Istanbul-Svilengrad-London u jednom danu? Kako bi moj drug na privremenom radu u Njemačkoj (mislim da je trenutno u Njemačkoj) rekao – poderao sam Tursku ko krmača masnu vreću. Oborio sam osobni rekord u prevaljenom putu na motoru u jednom danu. Na sva zvona javljam veselu vijest. Sve pore na nosu mi crne od okvira naočala. Poplavljujem kupaonu jer tuš nema kabinu, a mala je. Spajam elektroniku na punjače, dug je dan bio. U stvari su to bila dva dana spojena. Sumnjivo malo me sve boli. Miješam jedan brufen u granulama bez preporuke od ME i bez neke potrebe. Prognoze se nisu ništa popravile i za domaći kraj pokazuju početak snijega sutra u 18:00, a putem ima svega, od sunca i vrućina do kiša i grmljavina. ME javlja odmori. Neću! Do ponoći petljam po laptopu. Statistika: 1223km (GPS) / 77,14l goriva / 795,98kn potrošeno Na slici ispod su označena i pobrojana sva stajanja duža od deset minuta. Vrijeme na grafu je prema vremenskoj zoni kakva je u HR, a ne lokalno. Vidi se i Nigde. Euforija me jučer (pre)dugo zadržala uz računalo. Jednostavno si nisam mogao pomoći, valjda sam prošao granicu normalnog umora. Nisam spavao dva dana, u stvari, jako sam malo spavao zadnjih 5 dana i tijelo je izgleda prestalo tražiti odmor. Ušao sam u, dosad neistraženo, stanje i nemam pojma što mogu očekivati. Kad je takva situacija onda nema žurbe. Budilica je bila podešena ali samo za slučaj da gadno prespavam. Normalno da nije trebala, mislim da me čak neki pijetao probudio. Doručka nema u hotelu pa sam ispraznio sve što je ostalo u osobnim zalihama i armirao lijekom iz ploske. Lažem, ostalo je nešto kruha. Osjećam se (puno) bolje nego sam očekivao, otprilike jednako bolno kao i kod odlaska na spavanje. Koliko u svemu ima onaj šumeći lijek od jučer nemam pojma. Šteta bi bilo da baš sve vratim. A opet, da sam pio kod svake preporuke ME, ostao bih bez zalihe dotičnog na pola puta. Stvari moram iznositi u više navrata jer me ljubazno osoblje jučer zamolilo da maknem s motora sve što se može odnijeti, iako imaju osvijetljen parking i videonadzor. Što bi tek morao da sam ga ostavio u onoj mračnoj ulici jučer? Na odlasku čak dobijam gratis čaj, nije puno ali barem nešto toplo i protiv umora. Čak vadim i foto aparat. Svilengrad po danu ne izgleda ništa bolje nego po noći, barem ovo što sam vidio. U glavi si pokušavam složiti neki inspirativni razlog koji bi me trebao tjerati kroz dan, ali ne nalazim baš pravog…bio u Aziji i vratio se…bio na Cipru, vozio krivom stranom i vratio se…pomaknuo brojku ukupno prevaljenog puta u jednom danu…puno toga ostvario, puno više nego sam očekivao. A nema ni planina pod snijegom u vidokrugu. Ali eto, najavili su da snijeg u rodnom kraju počinje u 18h pa ajmo bar njega probati vidjeti. Ograničenje na autoputu je 140km/h i to je neka gornja granica za dugotrajnu vožnju Gandalfa. Em on brže troši gorivo, em i ja trošim energiju brže. Cesta danas ne svjetluca, vjerojatno ima veze s položajem sunca, ali crna i glatka brzo ostaje iza nas. Zemo i kaciga danas opet neke nesuglasice imaju pa vadim zadnji džoker iz rukava. Spajam telefon na kacigu i puštam muziku opcijom “Sve nasumično”. Nasumično možeš misliti. Inače ne slušam muziku s telefona (osim možda kod flaksanja da smanjim buku) pa u njemu nema neki svjež ili prilagođeni izbor. Više neke stvari koje su se našle pod rukom u nekom trenutku, par stranih albuma i skoro sve od Hladnog Piva. Prva stvar koja je krenula je bila Adele…i pjesma u kojoj ona svako malo povišeno krešti Crazy. Priznajem, lud sam za cestom i vožnjom. Shvatio sam to jučer, nakon uskrsnuća. Shvatio sam i to da me vožnja liječi bolje od fizikalnih terapija, vinograda i farmaceutskih pripravaka. Nije mi uopće toliko bitna lokacija ni destinacija. Gandalf, cesta i slučajni susreti (priča) s običnim ljudima putem, to je bitno. Nisam ni bio svjestan koliko mi je falilo da ispušem dušu i tijelo. Nisam ni bio svjestan koliko idila može biti teška. Svatko vidi neku idilu u mom životu. Oni oženjeni vide moju slobodu, oni u betonu velegrada vide moje zelenilo, prijatelji su uvjereni da ja ništa ne radim, starci vide da ništa ne radim, fejsbuk prijatelji gledaju lijepe fotografije koje povremeno stavim, neki vide moje druge starudije…uvijek je trava zelenija u tuđem dvorištu. Nemam što skrivati, živim idiličnim životom, ali i on zna očito biti težak na svoj način. Kako telefon bira jednu za drugom nasumično ali idealno, tako ja sve više padam u trans i počinjem sanjariti. Iako još 1000km ima, put je za mene gotov, ostala je samo rutinska vožnja do boksa. Sanjarim ja o tome kako će Mate složiti touring motor na struju, kako na pumpama nećemo ulijevati gorivo nego mijenjati baterijske ćelije, kako će možda u prijelaznom periodu baterije biti umjesto kofera, koje bi mogle biti prednosti ako složi pogon i na prvom kotaču, kako bi mogao složiti amortizaciju da generira struju pa kao dodatnu pogodnost toga ima podešavanje udobnosti. Sanjario sam o rodnom vinogradu i slatkim malinama. Riječi za ovakav putopis su samo dolazile, tekle su poput rijeke, to već dugo nisam doživio. I onda, ničim izazvan i bez ikakve potrebe, vozač osobnog vozila bugarskih registarskih oznaka, lagano kreće u lijevu (moju) traku. I ne staje. Odjednom su nestali svi snovi, zaboravio sam sve riječi i ideje, a film je krenuo unatrag. Nećeš razbojniče! Eskiviram bez spuštanja brzine, biram nekoliko skromnih riječi koje naglašavam sirenom. Znam ja da nije vozač kriv, to mi onaj gore šalje poruku koliko je ranjivo postojanje i koliko je iluzorno misliti da imaš kontrolu. Sofiju malo duže obilazim jer sam više pjevao nego pratio Zemu. Cesta mi danas nije tako drndava kao neki dan, ili sam možda već navikao. Nema danas ni velikog prometa u ovom smjeru, ni nekih jurilica. Ili mi se zbog muzike sve čini ljepšim? Pa čak i Bugarska koja polako nestaje. Policija je na istom punktu, ne mogu reći da sam zapamtio, ali sam se sjetio kad sam ih vidio. Ne zanimam ih. Granica. Kolone. Onako malo kao samo da vidim što ima i hop preko reda. Taman iza auta s zgodnom problem-rješenje naljepnicom. Mada je moja ekipa prerasla to rješenje i prešla na off-road vozila. Ako se netko sjeća, u suprotnu stranu je bilo uzbrdo, pa je sad nizbrdo i lako se pomicati. Danas ni Mica ni njen brat nemaju ništa protiv da ja prođem. Srbija! me pozdravlja s velikim dobro došli. Ako za EU mogu reći da sam doma, onda to sigurno mogu reći i za Srbiju. Kroz godine se skupilo puno privatnih i poslovnih veza. I danas imam otvoreni poziv za smještaj, ali po tome kako mi ide, ponudu neću iskoristiti. Zbog tog osjećaja da sam kao doma dio energije za sigurnost preusmjeravam u energiju za upravljanje. Tek sad vidim da sam ovu dionicu u dolasku dosta šturo opisao, i to samo jedan manji dio. Da je dionica nešto veća od desetak kilometara Sićevačke klisure shvatio sam vozeći s jako malo goriva u tanku. Jako sam želio bolju fotku motora s ove lokacije ali jednostavno se nisu poklopile kockice, drugi put. Prvo stajanje i odmor danas radim tek na autoputu prema Beogradu. Iako djelatnik nudi bolju varijantu goriva, ja biram manje oktana, ionako će progutati sve što dobi. Sebi kupujem paket trokut sendviča. I lijepo govorim i pokazujem onaj s ćuretinom, a lik vadi neki drugi…ne, ne, ćuretinu i Colu daj. Ima benzinska i prostor za jelo i piće, ali mi nema smisla da sjednem jer to radim i radit ću cijeli dan. Hodam oko motora i žvaćem ćuretinu, pričam s djelatnicima i raspitujem se za prognozu. Već sam trebao voziti po kiši, obučen sam maksimalno, a sunce i vrućina ubijaju. Lokalni telefon pokazuje da trenutno pada kiša u Beogradu. Akrobatsko pišanje, muzika na glasnije i tutanj za Beograd. Da postoji u telefonu sad bi sigurno izabrao: “Sviće zora u subotu dan doleće iz daljine siromasi ovog kraja čekaju da sunce sine Za Beograd, firmom Krstić upravo se narod sprema sve razloge za put ima samo sreće valjda nema nema joooj Nesrećnik sam od malena od sve muke pesme pevam voleo bih majko mila da sve ovo samo snevam joooj…” Znak iznad autoputa pokazuje “Someone loves you”. Pa naravno, ako nitko drugi onda barem majka po službenoj dužnosti. Kilometri i naplate prolaze rutinski, ovaj puta pratim Zemu kroz centar Beograda. Subota oko 13 sati, nakon kiše, očekujem gužvu. Radovi na dionici, koje nisam očekivao, ju dodatno potenciraju. Uključujem lagani “Istanbul” mod vožnje i stvarno ispada da je brže kroz grad nego okolo. Na Gazeli gazim ostatke stakla, ostale nakon neke sitnije prometne, koje nisam mogao izbjeći. I kroz glavu mi još jednom, kao i puno puta do sada na povratku, prolazi pitanje kolege iz Bosne postavljeno na Cipru. Što radiš kad imaš gumi defekt? Nisam ga nikad imao pa neznam odgovor, jezik pregrizao za to pitanje, svaka “lastik” radiona Turske i Bugarske me na njega sjetila. Do hrvatske granice vozim po sve vlažnijem asfaltu, ali bez kapi kiše da padne, kao da smo iznad oblaka. Brzinu i ritam podređujem tome da mi gorivo izdrži do Hrvatske. Telefon bira prigodnu pjesmu: Iznad oblaka Nema laganja nema skrivanja Sve je istina ajmo ja i ti nebom letjeti biti iskreni voljeti Srpski policajac me pita jel nije hladno za motor? Nije ni blizu kako je bilo a čini mi se ni kako će biti. Hrvatska! Spačva je bio cilj za danas koji sam sanjao na trajektu Girne-Mersin, na zadnjim strunama života. Od granice vozim bez rukavica pa hladim ruke i zglobove, i dobijam pravi osjećaj uvjeta. Spačva je nakon 9 sati vožnje ostvaren cilj. Nebo je sve bolje crno, temperatura pada. 20 minuta pauze trošim na tankiranje do vrha najfinijeg goriva (jer sam stao na mjestu gdje drugog nema), sad sam već naučio tankirati sjedeći na motoru, centralna nogara je slomljena a na bočnoj ne mogu natočiti punog. Ponosno javljam okolo gdje sam, proučavam zaostalu komunikaciju ekipe s Cipra, hodam lijevo-desno ko Baltazar i pokušavam bar malo razgibati tijelo. Popio sam sve što je tekuće još bilo u tank torbi te ju zaštitio od kiše dodatnom navlakom. Nema smisla da sad tu negdje tražim smještaj. Mijenjam BT modul na kacigi, puštanje muzike je potrošilo bateriju ali nema veze jer imam još jedan u rezervi. U 15h smo spremni za još jedan napad. Polazak je bio na 10 stupnjeva i laganoj kiši. Kako bi kiša sve jače lupala po kacigi i temperatura padala to bi ja dizao brzinu motora i glasnoću muzike. Nema bržih od nas na cesti. Ni par ulazaka u velike i duboke lokve nas značajno ne usporava. Vozimo na granici brzine koju anđeli mogu postići u ovim uvjetima, i njih ova hladna i teška kiša usporava (a znate onu da ne treba voziti brže od svog anđela zaštitnika). Auti i kamioni dižu guste vodene zavjese kroz koje na pola slijepo prolazimo. Vožnja uz kotače kamiona je poseban gušt, maksimalno tuširanje i najskrivenijih dijelova. Puše sad već i značajan vjetar. Udaraj samo, zasad mi nisi probio oklop. A u oklopu tutnji Elemental: Bacili smo sve u vjetar – žongleri… Nije lako, okolina, gledat će te prijeko Ako radiš nešto drugo što već nije netko Najbolji si kada šiješ sam po svome planu Okreni se oko sebe – jesi li sretan Suze sina razmetnoga liješ na šanku Zgrnuli ste pare ko da to je put do sreće ali pare nikada u grob ponijet nećeš A mi, imamo samo vjetar u kosi Osmijeh na licu što prkosi Vozili smo krivom trakom i u kontra smjeru Izbjegli da slupamo se u prvu banderu Pratili smo svoje snove, zatvorili oči Spavali smo danju, izlazili smo po noći Napravili nešto da se pamti godinama Rekli ste da nije neš u redu sa nama Nemamo sve odgovore, al sve nam je jasno Pali smo od alkohola i od lake droge Pljunuli smo krv i opet ustali na noge Plesali smo “Happy” dok se svijet krenuo rušit Život naš je bez iluzija Stojimo čvrsto na nogama Sanjamo u žarkim bojama To smo mi, to smo mi. I onda će mi netko reći da nema više sile koja odabire pjesme i da idu nasumično. Znak iznad autoputa sad govori “Ne vozite umorni”. Ma tko je umoran, ja se tek zagrijavam. Sretan sam, i nigdje više na svijetu ne bi želio biti ovog trena, nego ovdje, na cesti, gdje vjetar i kiša ispiru kukce i prljavštinu skupljenu lutanjem. Ne smeta me ni voda što polako probija kroz rukavice, ionako sam očekivao da će ranije probiti impregnaciju za cipele koju sam navrat nanos nanio prije puta. Idući znak pokazuje da je temperatura pala na 7 stupnjeva, a telefon prigodno odgovara s Vivaldijevim godišnjim dobom, pogodite kojim, visoki tonovi violina u skoro heavy metal stilu najavljuju oluju, snijeg i led. Ne može to biti nasumično. Ali meni to daje pravi poticaj, ne puštam ni milimetra. Polupametni sat na ruci od ulaska u HR (u stvari od kad je telefon ulovio domaću mrežu i Internet) neprestano vibrira. Dolaze zaostale i nove poruke, čestitke na odrađenom i slično…jedna među njima je i od ME “Ne voziš valjda po kiši?” Sreća da ju ne mogu vidjeti, sigurno bi stao da sam vidio. Do Ivanić Grada nas nitko nije prestigao, a onda se našao neki SUV koji me svjetlima nervozno tjera da bi se prestrojio tik ispred mene i još malo zalijao. Nisam mu čak ni previše čestitao na sjajnom manevru. Na naplatnima imam naravno problem skidanja i otvaranja opreme da odradim plaćanje, djelatnik ima razumijevanja, sve se cijedi s nas. Čak uspijevam i mokre rukavice navući ponovo na ruke. Teški uvjeti i nemilosrdan ritam spalili su najfinije gorivo iz tanka pa je štednja potrebna da stignemo do iduće benzinske, iste one na kojoj je ovo ludilo i počelo. Za zadnju kratku dionicu stavljam ljetne ali suhe rukavice. Mislio sam čak skrenuti na staru cestu da izbjegnem još dva raspremanja radi cestarine, ali sad već da sam i gol i bos dovezao bi do doma. Temperatura pada na 5 stupnjeva, kiša nema milosti i svaka kap je sve teža stvarajući ukupni osjećaj puno teži nego što temperatura sugerira, ali može se. Stiskanje Gandalfa kao što vrag stišće griješnu dušu odavno ne pomaže za grijanje ruku. Ova hladna kišurina i njega hladi. Ovakvih uvjeta sam se bojao u planiranju puta. Vizure rodnog kraja mi daju imunitet na njih. Da malo zapapri, telefon bira Nolu i pjesmu Dan, refren je brutalno istinit “Dan, sasvim običan, kao svaki drugi dan, sasvim običan”. I ne mogu se ne složiti s tim. Još jedno, sasvim obično ali sve osim dosadno, lutanje u službene svrhe je pri kraju. Meni je ipak ovo malo običniji dan nego drugima. Moja je trava zelenija. Ovo ludilo odbijam završiti bez točke na i. U glavi slažem novu nirvana sliku, sličnu onoj s Cipra. S jedne strane nešće, a s druge strane osoblje iz lokalne birtije. Nema točke na i za mene. Dobijam odbijenicu pod izgovorom (ne)fotogeničnosti. Tko na svijetu može loše ispasti pored nas, danas? Tamika, razočarala si jednog umornog putnika. Koliko lud moraš biti da u birtiji očekuješ točku na i? Nema veze, nema točke na i. Kod prolaza pored lokacije ME s dva kratka rafala sirene objavljujem da je gotova smjena. U 17:58 gasim motor na dvorištu. Nigdje nikog. Pa ni snijega. Otvaram garažu, parkiram, gulim prvi sloj mokre opreme. Nigdje nikog. Kuća zaključana. Ulazim, nema ni Rubi da me dočeka. Stiže tek na treći poziv. Ajde da mi se nešće obraduje pa makar mislila da sam donio hranu ili kakvu poslasticu. Još jedan dokaz da je ovo sasvim običan dan. Koliko lud moraš biti da okreneš 1100km s dvije pauze? Statistika: 1120km (GPS) / 80,78l goriva / 1212,88kn potrošeno (hotel 305,82kn) Zaključak Svatko za sebe neka odgovori koliko je ovdje bilo nešto ludo a koliko još luđe. Ja sam za ovo lutanje umro nekoliko puta i prije nego je počelo. Koštalo me ono puno “Lijeka za srce i dušu”. Zanimljivo je da bi inače u takvim situacijama tijelo gubilo masne naslage, ali ovaj puta ni grama, kao da je znalo što ga čeka. Do koje granice je moja ludost išla? Pa do toga da se nisam htio obrijati u nadi da će mi brada dodatan sloj topline pružiti. I onda mi nešće nakon puta kaže da sam se bez razloga nervirao. Ne mogu si pomoći, to je genetika, da me nema cijeli bi svijet propao. Vrijeme je podvući crtu i spomenuti neke stvari koje su možda zanemarene ili promakle. Na cijelom putu sam potrošio 30 eura i 50 centi gotovine. Sve ostalo je išlo na kartice. Želio sam probati 100% bez gotovine, što je možda i moguće, ali me neiskustvo došlo glave. Rukavice s grijanjem sam provezao cijelim putem, njih sam čuvao za bezizlaznu situaciju, u koju eto nisam došao. Imao sam pomoć sa svih strana, od familije, prijatelja, kolega i usputnih poznanstava. Medicinska ekipa je podnijela najviše mojih psiho-fizičkih mušica. Često sam mislio na Borisa i njegovu najbolju ženu na svijetu Kseniju. Štucalo se njima sigurno. Kad vam netko njihova kalibra kaže da je Turska visoka i da je luka velika, onda to shvatite ozbiljnije od mene. S druge strane, da sam Borisove riječi “Odlikaši bi možda iz Varaždina do luke Tasucu (Tašuku, al’ ne znam kako da napišem ono tursko Š) mogli stići za tri dana, ali bi to bilo veliko jurcanje” shvatio ozbiljno, nebi ni pokušao odvoziti Mersin-Varaždin u dva dana. To su i jedina dva dana kada sam zanemario posao u zadnjih X godina. Što je stradalo putem? Kod mene ništa, jedan napukli nokat ne mogu baš računati, a filmove sam znao i prije izgubiti. Jače se neki ozlijede premještajući kauč. Kod Gandalfa je pukao dio centralne nogare kojeg smo prije 20.000km varili. Očito nismo dobro i treba ponoviti. Dobio je i ogrebotinu, koju neću sanirati nego naglasiti naljepnicom. Dakle, skoro pa ništa i kod Gandalfa. Da li su pripreme bile dobre? Kako koje. Fizičke pripreme su bile odlične, sva ona pješaćenja po snijegu u vinograd, penjanje na Ivanšćicu, lopatanje, plivanje i terapije uz prestanak pušenja pripremilo je tijelo za napore i veće nego je realno bilo potrebno i planirano. Ono trovanje je bilo izvan planiranog. Pripreme oko potrebnih informacija o zemljama kroz koje sam prolazio nisu bile na nivou. Ni Gandalf ni ja nismo savršeni, daleko od toga da smo dobri, ali dali smo sve od sebe i ubrali jedno vrhunsko lutanje. Tvrdoglavost koja je bila potrebna za planiranje i realizaciju sam naučio od psa Rubi. Ta nije odustala od vlastitih stavova nikad, posebno ne pod cijenu komfora, a kamoli radi kakve poslastice. Možda je malo na sve utjecao i film Eddie the Eagle i suze koje izmamio nakon skoka s 90 metarske skakaonice na Olimpijadi, prvi put u životu. I onaj Davor što je teglio sanjke zimos. Da li sam donosio prave odluke u pravo vrijeme? Osim one o Živani, mada možda i ona, sve su bile na mjestu. Nisu bile lagane za donijeti, nisu bile lagane za provesti, ali su bile prave. Snijeg je pao idući dan, temperature su otišle u negativu. I sad, nakon povratka, još osjećam euforiju i puno lakše donosim odluke, jasnije vidim što želim i što treba napraviti, bilo to kod obrezivanja voćaka ili poslovnog dijela. Na žalost, to nije dobra vijest za moju pikado ekipu. Prije sam imao više obzira. Ako je Master Yoda u pravu (a on najbolje razumije silu) s izjavom koja kaže da je neuspjeh najveći učitelj (“The greatest teacher, failure is.”) onda ja nisam imao dobrog učitelja. I stvarno, nisam ništa naučio, ja bi sve opet isto. Do idućeg lutanja, budite mi debeli i veseli, izvucite sve iz sebe i čuvajte svoje anđele…Za kraj Detour i Zaljubila sam se: Mijenja me zaljubila sam se zaljubila sam se u sebe u hladnim noćima opet osjećam u zraku miris novog putovanja Jer mi smo putnici putnici kroz vrijeme tu nema stanica opet osjećam u zraku miris novog putovanja Ima još! Na dnu se skriva mogućnost ostavljanja komentara. Odgovorite na neko ili sva pitanja Koliko lud moraš biti…? Napišite ako vam se sviđa, napišite i ako vam se ne sviđa lutanje. Svi komentari prolaze proces odobravanja, neće biti odobreni samo oni koji nemaju veze s ovim, reklamiraju jeftine kredite i slično….ostavite trag da znam da ste bili ovdje. Hvala!