02.08.2010.

Zagreb-Novska-Slavonski Brod-Beograd-Mladenovac

03.08.2010.

Mladenovac-Sofija (COфия)

04.08.2010.

Smolyan (CMOляH), room 63, roommates Višnja (Šnja) and Valentina (Vale)

Finally arrived. Phew. This travelling business is a lotta stress. At times I thought, oh please god, let it be over (:teleport:) and at others I felt as a short resting time made me feel like a queen in her own lovely quarters napping away. I started on Monday. Woke up early after a short night’s sleep, a stressful one it was. Took the bus to the highway and waited for three hours for someone to pick me up. This was the first time I was ready to turn around and take the train straight to Sofia, but a truck stopped and a nice Bosnian guy took me for a few kilometers. He left me on a gas station in the middle of the highway and said there will be some truckers there. There was just one, a Bulgarian, sleeping away in his truck. As it was already 2 in the afternoon, I got worried and panicking tried to find a ride. I saw a guy normally dressed in a nice car and asked if he would give me a ride. The guy ended up to be a complete creep, putting his hand on my knee (only once). So the thing I did was completely freak out, but fortunately only in my head. I turned him down, and said that I must be a sort of a romantic, commenting on his attempt to smooth things down by saying that not all people like sex. I can fill you in with details, but I do not find it necessary. Finally out of his car, I was all shaky, depressed, scared and disappointed, so for the second time I wanted to ditch the hitch and take a train from then on. With some luck and some desperation I found a girl and a boy going on a business trip to Belgrade, they had no problem in taking me along, so I had a nice nap in the car. Belgrade. Hot, smelly, sticky, somewhat scary. I overheard a business deal between some Roma guys at the train station, one being referred to as the Paki (‘Pakistanac’) and the other one demanding if the Paki had had a price (‘Koja je tvoja cena? Jel imaš ti svoju cenu?’), ate a crappy pancake and took the train to Mladenovac. Where the nicest host picked me up and took me home to his family house and fed me fresh veggies from the garden and his mom made a cheese pie (‘gibanica’) and then I had a beer, a shower and fell into bed. He and his sister study to be a nutritionist and a biological pesticide expert. Very nice indeed. So, from Mladenovac a year of my life was left on the train to Sofia. It went 10 km per hour, if it was moving. Again, heat, sweat, this time including a drunken nationalistic homophobe, but also some Croatian friends (Nenad from Afion and Danči from LeZbor) who were going to Istanbul from Zagreb, so I was happy I had made this little 12 hour journey in comparison to the 36 hour sweating parade they had to endure. I met an artist on the train, and he did not only look normal, but was completely normal, and suggested to take me to town by tram, so I do not get robbed of my money by the taxi drivers or harassed by local juvies (*ekipa iz Popravnog doma). It was pleasant, but short, he left me with a safe feeling in my heart and his phone number in my pocket if anything went wrong. Soon enough my host picked me up, she was hosting another guy, from the States. We had a lovely dinner (I had a big salad with cabbage and tomatoes and cucumbers and a mildly hot sauce and cooked potatoes baked with cottage and yellow cheese, mmmmm) and a pleasant conversation on selfishness, openness and happiness in life (I did not initiate or support it much, I swear) and then off to sleep. In the morning she drove me to the bus station (before that took us down a forbidden direction). The bus station in Sofia has the craziest system ever, or maybe I did not figure it out. There are three rows of counters and each is selling tickets for particular directions. For example, if we were Zagreb, then one counter would sell tickets only for Split, Omiš and Dugi Rat, and another would be for Dubrovnik and Makarska etc. Please enlighten me, because I do not seem to understand this kind of logic. The bus was comfy, and the highway was cool to Plovdiv, with three wide lanes being used as four at times. People were moving from the opposite side to let through a bus that is trying to go faster than a truck. Sweet, really. After Plovdiv the road began to deteriorate progressively until we ended up on a small winding path through the woods. The air was fresher, the wind cooler and the trees taller. The end of the road is in Smolyan, for now. Exhausted, squeezed out of energy and water I was crushed when I realized my room is not ready, but soon enough got out of the crises by hanging out with a wonderful Swami. He talked to local people, we meditated all together for a little bit, he gave us blessings and sent us out to town to play, sing and embarrass ourselves with very poor organizational skills. It made me crazy, so I already made arrangements with local guys to take some initiative and do something proper. Because our first course starts tomorrow evening and in the meanwhile we are supposed to go to town, think of a good way to tell people of art of living. I have some ideas. But that is tomorrow. So now the real journey begins.