Tinned spaghetti bolognese with bread for breakfast, get packed up and throw my leg over. On my way out of the campsite I notice the swimming pool. "Bollocks!" My back has been stiffening up for sometime and I still haven't scratched my swimming itch. With my lazy morning I don't have the time to take a dip...miffed!
I have 70km to Budapest, since riding with Mihailo this seems like a half day - another aspect of our partnership I have benefited from. Accompanied by The Cat Empire the miles tick by easily as I tap out ryhthms on my handlebars. Hoze has kindly agreed to meet me out of town and ride into the city with me. I stop at a small airfield to watch a microlight take off, I've always been fascinated by such simple forms of flight....uh oh, I can almost feel a new hobby coming on....back to riding.
As we ride Hoze points out various lankmarks and fills me in on some of the country's history. He's very well informed, it's like having my own tour guide/escort. Though I doubt the average tour guide lets on about the corruptible police etc...The ride into Budapest take sometime and we go through a good 10km of suburbs - I'm glad to have Hoze's guidance. Hoze's trendy flat has been converted from a 100yr old hunters house, the dusty spiral staircase discloses little as to the sleek modern interior. I take a shower and relax behind one of his many laptops with Luna (his pet Labrador) at my feet. I meet Hoze's girlfriend Zsuzsanna and the four of us head into town. I sample some authentic Serbian food Pljeskavica coupled with a beer and then we head to a club. If you stumbled into this place you'd think you were really in the wrong part of town. It's on the top floor of a scabby concrete block building. No fancy facade to cloak the fabric of the building. Pipes, metal work and cracked render all on show, the dimly lit stairs are covered top to bottom in graffiti. The open air bar is packed enough, with a surprising amount of Johnny Foreigners. Hoze and I talk in length about the war, in which he served for 9 months (6 of which were front line). Due to my age/ignorance I know/knew little about the war so it's good to get such a comprehensive account. I try to imagine living in a country with National Service still occurs. He also tell me about life in Serbia and what I should expect. I learn about "inat" - finding the big guy in the crowd, and picking him to fight (NATO for example). A favourite quote from the night goes along the lines of.
"Serbs...we may have little dicks...but they are always erect!"
Back at his place we chat on the balcony until gone 05.00. Zzzzzzzz
Thursday, 9 September 2010
Dobrohost - Esztergom 13-08-2010 (Distance 147km)
Pleased we are to be on the road for 08:45. Though we stop almost as soon as we start, out of food we are in need of breakfast and a stock up. We get directions to the market, Mihailo is able to understand Slovakian, just as well as my sign language is still shit. We eat some great bread, the best so far infact, plus milk and sardines for a calorific protienous breakfast. I go hunting for a postbox, and after a 2km round trip discover the post office to be literally the next building along from the market, it was in my defense hidden behind trees! Then to a garage to fill the water bottles and toilet stop. Sorry Matt, the terrain does not lend itself to the "Wild Poo" and I'm yet to progress onto "Public Crimping". I'm disappointed to find Mihailo is not familiar with the WP, I hope to change this in the coming days. He pays much more attention to hygiene than I do, washing everything with water and not eating things off the floor etc. I on the other hand feel I retain my domestication by licking things clean and wiping it on my clothes, and drinking the water that I wash up in, bits and all...."Scumbag?....who me!!??"
We spent more time in Slovakia than intended. Riding various paths in a variety of directions, it didn't feel like the most efficient use of our time. Particularly when the road turned to gravel and road blocks appeared every 500m, which required riding over(bumpy) or around (detour). Mihailo admits to being pissed off by these factors, not to mention it's the hottest days riding since France, maybe the hottest day yet. I think it will be tough when things get really hot. The towns roll by slower than I'd like, due in part to Mihailos 20yr old map being 1:750,000 - logic really. I am in need of a break so elect we stop at a cafe. I rid myself of some Euros and buy us icecreams and Kofolo - which is somewhere between Coke and Dandilion & Burdock. We cross the bridge and enter Hungary, I'm slightly disappointed we don't get to snap any cheesy boarder photos. Once on the other side we make a quick food stop. Mihailo has a theory that Hungarians, when asked if they speak English just smile and look blankly, on serveral occasions he back up this theory with hard evidence. Atleast they smile! One of the many "road games" I play is the "Smile Game". All very simple stuff that aids the passing of less interesting cycling periods. I try to smile/say hello to everyone I pass. I particularly enjoy picking out the most sour faced individuals and forcing eye contact. Once achieved I unleash my cheesiest grin and most averagely pronounced "hello" in any given language, in the hope that the greeting will be returned. I'm currently sporting a negative kill to death ratio...apologies for the online gaming reference - small insight into a chapter of my past. For those not au fait with COD terms, consider it a smile to gurn ratio. So! back to the Hungarians, who are so far doing very well - best smiles per miles....
After 100km we are regularly standing on the pedals to rest our behinds. The last k's to Esztergom appear to elongate, thankfully the terrain is flat and the day is loosing it's sultriness. Hoze our host in Budapest has decided to ride out and meet us there. Due to a miscalculation we are two hours late. We meet him at the Basilica at the top of town, introductions done Hoze shows us around the 1000yr old building which has a great view of the town below. We sit with the town below us and take some time to rest and get acquainted. It's too late for the planned ride back to Budapest so the guys opt to take the train - not for me. Under extreme circumstances I'd continue my journey with motorized transport, but laziness/time do not constitute as such. I opt for a campsite and will continue the ride tomorrow. There's a wine festival on in town which ease the passing of the night. I throw the tent up, get showered and ride into town.
Stalls fill the main street offering clothes/rugs/jewelery, but the majority of stalls have regional/international wines. I somehow find the event organizer and get some tips on which wines to try. I start by sampling those on the list I feel I have best chance of pronouncing - Hungarian is not going to come easily methinks. With topped up glass I weave through the crowd towards the stage - pretty crazy sound. My friend Dan once had a band called ThrashMetalJazz....I could only describe this as ThrashMetalFolk. The band consisted of drums and bass (standard so far) Piano accordian which alternated with fiddle, and dirty distorted guitar (think the love child of Allan Holdsworth & Eric Johnson). A dainty girl dancing in front of the mic throwing in vocals, seemingly whenever the mood took her. It's a shame I didn't get to catch any other bands - my current view of Hungarian music being (perhaps unfairly) tainted. I sit of the edge of the fountain and write my journal as the night winds down. On my return to the campsite I sit on the riverbank and watch the strobing fury of an electric storm, not long after the clouds release an enormous amount of water and I dive into my tent to escape...
We spent more time in Slovakia than intended. Riding various paths in a variety of directions, it didn't feel like the most efficient use of our time. Particularly when the road turned to gravel and road blocks appeared every 500m, which required riding over(bumpy) or around (detour). Mihailo admits to being pissed off by these factors, not to mention it's the hottest days riding since France, maybe the hottest day yet. I think it will be tough when things get really hot. The towns roll by slower than I'd like, due in part to Mihailos 20yr old map being 1:750,000 - logic really. I am in need of a break so elect we stop at a cafe. I rid myself of some Euros and buy us icecreams and Kofolo - which is somewhere between Coke and Dandilion & Burdock. We cross the bridge and enter Hungary, I'm slightly disappointed we don't get to snap any cheesy boarder photos. Once on the other side we make a quick food stop. Mihailo has a theory that Hungarians, when asked if they speak English just smile and look blankly, on serveral occasions he back up this theory with hard evidence. Atleast they smile! One of the many "road games" I play is the "Smile Game". All very simple stuff that aids the passing of less interesting cycling periods. I try to smile/say hello to everyone I pass. I particularly enjoy picking out the most sour faced individuals and forcing eye contact. Once achieved I unleash my cheesiest grin and most averagely pronounced "hello" in any given language, in the hope that the greeting will be returned. I'm currently sporting a negative kill to death ratio...apologies for the online gaming reference - small insight into a chapter of my past. For those not au fait with COD terms, consider it a smile to gurn ratio. So! back to the Hungarians, who are so far doing very well - best smiles per miles....
After 100km we are regularly standing on the pedals to rest our behinds. The last k's to Esztergom appear to elongate, thankfully the terrain is flat and the day is loosing it's sultriness. Hoze our host in Budapest has decided to ride out and meet us there. Due to a miscalculation we are two hours late. We meet him at the Basilica at the top of town, introductions done Hoze shows us around the 1000yr old building which has a great view of the town below. We sit with the town below us and take some time to rest and get acquainted. It's too late for the planned ride back to Budapest so the guys opt to take the train - not for me. Under extreme circumstances I'd continue my journey with motorized transport, but laziness/time do not constitute as such. I opt for a campsite and will continue the ride tomorrow. There's a wine festival on in town which ease the passing of the night. I throw the tent up, get showered and ride into town.
Stalls fill the main street offering clothes/rugs/jewelery, but the majority of stalls have regional/international wines. I somehow find the event organizer and get some tips on which wines to try. I start by sampling those on the list I feel I have best chance of pronouncing - Hungarian is not going to come easily methinks. With topped up glass I weave through the crowd towards the stage - pretty crazy sound. My friend Dan once had a band called ThrashMetalJazz....I could only describe this as ThrashMetalFolk. The band consisted of drums and bass (standard so far) Piano accordian which alternated with fiddle, and dirty distorted guitar (think the love child of Allan Holdsworth & Eric Johnson). A dainty girl dancing in front of the mic throwing in vocals, seemingly whenever the mood took her. It's a shame I didn't get to catch any other bands - my current view of Hungarian music being (perhaps unfairly) tainted. I sit of the edge of the fountain and write my journal as the night winds down. On my return to the campsite I sit on the riverbank and watch the strobing fury of an electric storm, not long after the clouds release an enormous amount of water and I dive into my tent to escape...
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
12-08-2010 : Vienna to Dobrohost : 115km
Five week anniversary today!
Still enjoying the hospitality of Milans, we have a typically dignified start to the day. I stroll to the shops for breakfast and afterwards enjoy another shower. Packing up slowly, we are disappointed to find Milans is not around for us to say goodbye. Fortunately, he returns home just as we are about to leave. We give him a lift moving a 250 year old wardrobe from one room to another. Then it's thank yous and goodbyes and we're on our way.
Leaving the city is mildly frustrating. For the first time in a while we find ourselves slogging away into a headwind. Then, a little light relief. It appears the north bank of the river out of town is an area frequented by nudists. The sun is scorching and I'd quite like to join everyone for a splash in the river. But aware that I seem to have forgotten about my sun cream in recent days I decide it's best not to (really!).
Back on the proper Donau Radweg we are making a good pace. Then we encounter a stretch of path on the way to Bratislava that is dead straight. It must be 10km long. Cool to look at but it doesn't take long before the riding gets dull. Cue the iPod. Shuffle lets me down with a torrent of slow blues burners so I assert my will upon it by once again selecting the acoustic grooves of Martin Harley.
We cross the bridge and enter Bratislava - my first time in Slovakia. It's not long before I notice that Slovakian women are strikingly beautiful and I wonder at how such things occur. Can crossing a border really change appearance all that much? Not so sure. It's definitely changed the style of the graffiti though:
Mihailo has been told by friends that there isn't much to see in Slovakia. I have no such contacts so have developed my own system. It's an awful way to judge things but to figure out if it's worth hanging around, I often look at postcards. If the quality is good and the variety is huge, then I tend to figure there is much to see (weak I know). My first impression is that Bratislava is a place of opposites:
By early evening, we reach the centre of Bratislava. The food prices in Slovakia are known to drop distinctly so several days ago, Mihailo and I decided that while here, we would allow ourselves to eat in a restaurant just once. Suitable venue chosen, we eat well for around 7 euros and I take a humongous glass of Hogarden. An ice cream each wraps up the feast and we make our way out of town. Just before we get back to the Danube, I spot something which gives me an idea for my next holiday with Jess:
Heading east, the cycle path is the busiest I've seen. Active pastimes are clearly very popular here, especially when you consider that it's just a Thursday evening. Perhaps this is the reason why many of the people we've encountered are so slim? Cyclists, walkers, runners and Rollerbladers swarm along the path which is dotted with bars every kilometer or so. I'd love to stop for a few beers but sadly our time constraints don't allow us the luxury. To be more truthful, it's probably much safer for us to continue. Given the combination of sun, beer and music ... and the display of half dressed Lycra-clad Rollerbladers before me, I realise that if I lingered longer this time, I wouldn't ever leave!
As we ride through the hours, the bars drift by and we watch the crowds disperse. I suspect the revellers are now probably too drunk to roll on to the next bar. Wouldn't pub crawls back home be so much more fun if done on Rollerblades?
We leave and rejoin the Danube bank many times. I'm starting to weary but am well aware that the more ground we cover today, the easier our ride into Budapest will be tomorrow. Once back with the the river, the path ahead of us takes a long, gradual sweep to the left and this seems to go on forever. Once again, it's great to see - but as with the stretch into Bratislava, the riding is always harder when you can see for miles ahead.
I'm ready to pitch for the night but as yet we haven't come across anywhere suitable. Then, just as we're passing 115km for the day, one side of of the cycle path gradually drops away to reveal an open expanse of reasonably short grass. This is too good an opportunity to miss.
The mossies smell us coming so we unpack and get setup quickly. I decide to skip food and take a walk down the bank in the dark, thinking that it might pacify my protesting knee a little. I sit on the riverbank and stare up at the stars for a while. This is my first and last Slovakian sky (for now at least).
Back at camp, I stumble down the grassy bank. Mihailo is already asleep. Another good day. I climb into my sleeping bag. Instant oblivion.
Still enjoying the hospitality of Milans, we have a typically dignified start to the day. I stroll to the shops for breakfast and afterwards enjoy another shower. Packing up slowly, we are disappointed to find Milans is not around for us to say goodbye. Fortunately, he returns home just as we are about to leave. We give him a lift moving a 250 year old wardrobe from one room to another. Then it's thank yous and goodbyes and we're on our way.
Leaving the city is mildly frustrating. For the first time in a while we find ourselves slogging away into a headwind. Then, a little light relief. It appears the north bank of the river out of town is an area frequented by nudists. The sun is scorching and I'd quite like to join everyone for a splash in the river. But aware that I seem to have forgotten about my sun cream in recent days I decide it's best not to (really!).
Back on the proper Donau Radweg we are making a good pace. Then we encounter a stretch of path on the way to Bratislava that is dead straight. It must be 10km long. Cool to look at but it doesn't take long before the riding gets dull. Cue the iPod. Shuffle lets me down with a torrent of slow blues burners so I assert my will upon it by once again selecting the acoustic grooves of Martin Harley.
We cross the bridge and enter Bratislava - my first time in Slovakia. It's not long before I notice that Slovakian women are strikingly beautiful and I wonder at how such things occur. Can crossing a border really change appearance all that much? Not so sure. It's definitely changed the style of the graffiti though:
Mihailo has been told by friends that there isn't much to see in Slovakia. I have no such contacts so have developed my own system. It's an awful way to judge things but to figure out if it's worth hanging around, I often look at postcards. If the quality is good and the variety is huge, then I tend to figure there is much to see (weak I know). My first impression is that Bratislava is a place of opposites:
By early evening, we reach the centre of Bratislava. The food prices in Slovakia are known to drop distinctly so several days ago, Mihailo and I decided that while here, we would allow ourselves to eat in a restaurant just once. Suitable venue chosen, we eat well for around 7 euros and I take a humongous glass of Hogarden. An ice cream each wraps up the feast and we make our way out of town. Just before we get back to the Danube, I spot something which gives me an idea for my next holiday with Jess:
Heading east, the cycle path is the busiest I've seen. Active pastimes are clearly very popular here, especially when you consider that it's just a Thursday evening. Perhaps this is the reason why many of the people we've encountered are so slim? Cyclists, walkers, runners and Rollerbladers swarm along the path which is dotted with bars every kilometer or so. I'd love to stop for a few beers but sadly our time constraints don't allow us the luxury. To be more truthful, it's probably much safer for us to continue. Given the combination of sun, beer and music ... and the display of half dressed Lycra-clad Rollerbladers before me, I realise that if I lingered longer this time, I wouldn't ever leave!
As we ride through the hours, the bars drift by and we watch the crowds disperse. I suspect the revellers are now probably too drunk to roll on to the next bar. Wouldn't pub crawls back home be so much more fun if done on Rollerblades?
We leave and rejoin the Danube bank many times. I'm starting to weary but am well aware that the more ground we cover today, the easier our ride into Budapest will be tomorrow. Once back with the the river, the path ahead of us takes a long, gradual sweep to the left and this seems to go on forever. Once again, it's great to see - but as with the stretch into Bratislava, the riding is always harder when you can see for miles ahead.
I'm ready to pitch for the night but as yet we haven't come across anywhere suitable. Then, just as we're passing 115km for the day, one side of of the cycle path gradually drops away to reveal an open expanse of reasonably short grass. This is too good an opportunity to miss.
The mossies smell us coming so we unpack and get setup quickly. I decide to skip food and take a walk down the bank in the dark, thinking that it might pacify my protesting knee a little. I sit on the riverbank and stare up at the stars for a while. This is my first and last Slovakian sky (for now at least).
Back at camp, I stumble down the grassy bank. Mihailo is already asleep. Another good day. I climb into my sleeping bag. Instant oblivion.
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