Marrakech

I think it's full

Marrakech was our halfway point in Morocco. It took us about a month to get there, and we would need about a month to go back north to take the ferry. This most famous city sounded like a good place to take another long rest. We stayed four nights in an amazing riad that was offered to us through someone from Warmshowers.

Our private riad in Marrakech

Rooftop at our private riad

A riad is a traditional Moroccan house. Nowadays however, a lot of these are renovated to be a hotel or guesthouse for tourists. This one was privately owned by someone from the Netherlands who founded a social project in Marrakech to promote the use of bicycles and offer jobs to the youth. In exchange of staying in her super riad we needed to help out a bit in the project. There was not so much work to do for us at the time, but we did learn how to change the bottom bracket on a bike and rebuild a wheel from scratch. In between helping out we had enough time to explore the city. All in all not a bad deal!

The Pikala Bicycle atelier

We were a bit afraid to be met with an overcrowded city full of annoying hasslers but everything turned out really well. Sure, when night fell it got quite busy on the iconic Jemaa el-Fnaa and every street restaurant had pushers to lure people in. They kept calling me "Ali Baba". But, apart from that, it was quite enjoyable to walk around the Marrakesh medina. There's the touristic part around the square, but if you venture out a bit further it remains busy but the mix of tourists/locals changes a lot. There's cheap restaurants and friendly people who're interested in just having a talk.

Eating at Jemaa al-Fnaa

Before we left Marrakech we first went to the airport to pick up our good friend Tomas and help him put together his touring bicycle. He was going to join us for two weeks.

Welcome Tomas 👋

Instead of making it comfortable for Tomas and choosing the easiest route straight to the coast we instead prepared him to go straight to the Atlas mountains. This way we could make Tomas' two weeks as diverse and interesting as possible, cycling through mountains, plains, coast, cities and villages. The plan almost worked perfectly until his knees indicated that it might've been a bit too intense. Luckily, hitchhiking with a bike didn't seem to be a big problem.

Also, it didn't break his spirit or interest in bicycle touring: in the meantime he left on his own trip, from Belgium to Istanbul! You can follow him on his Polarsteps blog.

Tomas on his first gravel climb, not bad

Atlas, one last time

Our last passage through the mountains was more than worth it! We crossed two big mountain passes of 2 200 and 2 500 meters, we stayed with a couple of families and slept in a few cheap hotels on the way. It almost felt like a summary of the month that had come before, so Tomas got a good idea of what we had been doing.

On top of Col du Tichka

It was amazing to have Tomas join us for a bit and it made for some funny moments along the way. Before we knew it he was discussing serious international politics with restaurant and hotel owners and, in the mountains he was found milking our hosts' cow or helping out some workers on the street loading gravel on donkeys.

First time milking a cow

Helping out with the workers

When we arrived in Amassine, a small mountain village just before the pass where the tarmac road stopped, we ended up with Mohammed and his family. Not everyone is called Mohammed in Morocco, but there sure are a lot. He ran the mechanics / grocery shop in the village. It was going to freeze quite hard that night so we were glad we could sleep inside. In the guest room we had to cuddle up under the blankets and try to talk with Mohammed and his friend Mohammed while they were watching "funny" video's on their phones. Tineke got lucky and spent her evening with the women in the kitchen. It was a strange and funny evening.

Staying with Mohammed and his family

Tineke in the kitchen

A few days later, late in the afternoon, we were crossing a ford (a kind of river crossing) when Tomas and Tineke called out to me to try and talk with a passing car with some enthusiastic people. I managed to stop them and we started talking and they very kindly invited us into their home in Ouled Teima. It turned out to be a really kind and warm family. Where the women were allowed to sit and eat with us. We met their son, who was also a fervent biker, and chatted the whole evening about our trip and their lives.

Casse-croûte at Ouled Teima

A few photos from the trip

Checking out the goods

What a view 😄

One last flat stretch before heading in the Atlas

High up in the Atlas

View from a window

Nice

Very nice wild camping sport

Morocco right, Atlantic left

After we finally succeeded in wild camping one night in Morocco, we said our goodbyes to Tomas in Essaouira. From there, we started our long way back home along the coast. For the next two weeks, the road was flat, the Atlantic Ocean was always on our left and Morocco on our right. And the wind mostly from the front.

Luckily some of the towns along the coast were interesting, such as Essaouira, El Jadida, Rabat and Asilah. And we still managed to stay with a couple of nice families along the way. But the appeal of the mountains was gone and the roads were very busy. So, we went quite fast! And because we were going north, the weather got noticeably colder each day. It felt like we were experiencing the seasons in reverse.

Decorative port in Rabat

One of the world's biggest mosques, in Casablanca

Tangier, another elusive Moroccan city, was our last stop. From here we would take the ferry back to Europe. We stayed in a comfortable hostel in the old town and enjoyed our last walks in the winding streets of a Moroccan medina. We bought our last flat breads, ate our last harira and visited the closest souq to Europe before getting our exit stamps and boarding the ferry to Tarifa.

Look, Spain!

Morocco was worth it. It proved to be the perfect place to go for our plan b. We enjoyed the mountains, villages, people and the weather immensely. After two months here and 14 months on the road it was now time to go back.

And yes, most of you will know that we've already arrived back home by now. How we experienced Europe is for the next post.

A few more photos

Fruit vendor in Essaouira

The view after Amassine

A view on the plateau

Tineke going down an incredible valley

Valley on the way to Aït Ben Haddou

Lobia, our favourite street food

Nice view after the climb

Always warm with those blankets

Fitting a dress

A painted door in Essaouira

Spice vendor

Renovated old town in Rabat

Apart from a figuratively bumpy first week, Morocco has been really incredible. The people are very friendly, the weather was good (especially compared to winter in Belgium), the old medinas and kasbahs are beautiful, but, most of all, the nature side of Morocco impressed both of us immensely. The mountains, as well as the desert.

We first crossed the Rif mountain range, then spent some time on "the other side", i.e. the edge of the Sahara, and after that we crossed the Atlas mountains a couple of times more to get to Marrakech.

Week 1

About that first week I’ll be short because it was really only the first week. A few years ago two Scandinavian girls got killed while hiking near the Toubkal and, as a result the authorities made a big deal out of making extra sure tourists can travel safely in the country. During our first week the local authorities got a bit carried away in doing that which made it somewhat hard for us to travel as we liked. It reminded us a bit about Iran too, which didn’t help. Luckily after that first week, when we arrived in Fès, this stopped.

It did mean, however, that wild camping was not really an option in Morocco. We heard from many other travellers that, if you try, there's a big chance someone wakes you up in the middle of the night in order to move to a more secure place, most likely next to the police station. Instead we opted to stay either in cheap hotels and camp sites, or try to stay with families. Which happened to be not that hard to do, and make for some great evenings. The only requirement was that we sometimes needed to check in with the local village chief (the caïd) so he knew where we were.

The other weeks

So! Now, on to the better experiences we had in Morocco. One thing that distracted us from the annoying situations were the mountains. It started with the Rif mountain range in the north of Morocco. After our time on the coast in Spain it was nice to be climbing again.

Rif Mountains

The first night we stayed with a family and right away had to figure out some of the customs. We immediately got served some nice mint tea (with loads of sugar), nuts, bread, etc... And of course, they had family in Europe so we called someone living in Antwerp. Very similar situation like in Turkey. When it was getting close to 23h and we were ready for bed, we were unexpectedly served the actual dinner. Lesson learned! First casse-croûte, i.e. tea and snacks when you arrive, then a proper dinner just before going to bed.

We arrived in the first big town Taza just when Morocco had won their football game against Belgium. Everyone was celebrating, it was a crazy time to arrive, but definitely nice to experience and share the joy. We did play it safe though and decided to hide the fact that we were Belgians :-).

Except for the celebrations the town was quiet, luckily, and we spent our time there wandering around in what was our first medina, or old town. It was a labyrinth of old houses, small shops, bakeries and butchers, and hidden mosques. There was no much hassle involved in trying to buy anything. We thought it was mostly because not many tourists visit this area. Later, it turned out that there's actually not so much hassle in Morocco (anymore) anywhere. Even in Marrakech.

Old town, Taza

Familiar faces

My parents decided to pay us visit in Fès. It was nice seeing them again since we said goodbye in Athens. We had travelled a lot from there, so there were many stories to tell.

It was a curious time to be in Fès, and all of Morocco actually. Fès' Unesco inscribed medina is one of the largest of Morocco and is usually very busy. However, because of the football games and Morocco performing so well, the merchants were often glued to their phone screens at the back of the shops. Resulting in a very quiet medina instead.

The famous leather tanneries in Fès

Small streets in the Fès medina

Somewhere between Fès and Merzouga, we also finally met up with Sixtine and Tom again. Not a big surprise as we had influenced each other in changing our travel plans, but it was definitely nice to see each other again. This time around we cycled together for almost two weeks.

Tom, Six and Tini!

First we descended to Merzouga, a small village on the edge of the Sahara , before setting off to incredible gorges of Todgha and Dadès in the Middle Atlas.

Erg Chebbi near Merzouga

Camels in the desert

Todgha Gorge

Taking a mountain pass from one gorge to the other

Enjoying the winter sun in the mountains with Six and Tom

We split up again somewhere in the mountains, they went down to Ouarzazate, we went up. After a first mountain pass at 2 500 m, we went climbed to the highest point of our trip: 3 005 m above sea level! A hard and long climb, but it was definitely worth it.

A gorge on the way to the mountains

Our highest point: 3005 m

The Atlas was definitely one of our favourite places to ride through on the whole trip. The views, the mountain passes, the colours, the small and old villages and all the friendly people. It was impressive how diverse the mountains could be in such a small area.

Then, after crossing the Atlas once again, we ended up in Marrakech on the last day of the year and spent New Year's Eve with my aunt who happened to be there on holiday. We thought it would be a bit too crazy in the city, but we luckily found a nice, quiet place where we could stay for a couple of days. More on that in the next post!

New Year's Eve with my aunt (and Belgian chocolate!)

Photos

These are already too many words, since the pictures of Morocco say almost everything. Enjoy!

10 000 km since Athens! In the Ziz Valley.

Schools are always colourful in Morocco

Watch out for the camels

A view on the empty Lake Izoughar

Stony landscape

Taza National Park

A self-made tajine

There's always a carpet to sleep on

Monkeys!

Driving through an oasis

Colourful Atlas

Enjoying the view after climbing

An old kasbah

Ferry life

Travelling by ferry was definitely a unique experience. Every one of the 12 trips we’ve done had it’s own peculiarities. Some ferries were short, covering only about one or two kilometers, but most took us across whole seas during 15 hour long night trips. Some had almost no people, others a little bit, but always a lot of trucks and one even had trains!

Trains on a ferry 😱

We soon figured out that the ferries were quite empty with passangers, possibly because of low season, but also because they probably get less and less popular, unless for freight, which seesm to be the main reason most ferries still sail. So, we always had a lot of space to ourselves. This was great because we always bought the cheapest tickets, which didn’t include a sleeping cabin. We ended up sleeping in the lounge, restaurant or even on the outside deck. It made for some funny “camp spots”.

Camp spot

Camp spot

Another camp spot

Along the way we had to adjust our plan slightly from time to time due to a couple of ferry cancellations and some discontinued connections which had stopped being serviced in low season.

We got stuck on the Greek island of Limnos, a small island in the north of the Aegean Sea. The original timing of the ferries was such that we would spend a day and a half on the island. This would’ve been sufficient since the island was only about 30 kilometres across.

When we were already there, however, we found out that the ferry off the island was cancelled and the next one would be a couple of days later. Thus we naturally had to resort to the slow life of the island.

Sleeping inside a small church

Another camp spot in a church patio

The ferry from Porto Torres, Sardinia to Barcelona was the most unique of them all. Or rather “cruiseferry”: a mix between ferry and cruise. We got treated with a swimming pool (empty), a wellness center (not our thing), a live performance (not very in tune) and a disco (empty, except for a few lounging teenagers).

An empty swimming pool

Some bizarre entertainment

Back in Europe

We needed to adjust a bit to travelling in Europe again, especially in terms of budget, but also for the culture. On the other hand, it definitely had its advantages too (e.g. cycle routes!).

The first thing we had to do was to recalibrate our budget. No more buying bread for a 20 cents or drinking tea on every street corner for less than that. We also had to resort much more to free camping instead of relying on generous invitations, or simply being able to put the the tent anywhere. Don’t get me wrong, people are generally still very friendly but they would rather show you the way to the nearest camping or hotel than offer a spot in their garden. Despite this we still manage to not paying anything for accommodation all the way from Van, Turkey to Barcelona through a combination of (wild) camping and a few nights through Warmshowers. We did spend a few nights on the ferries though :-).

Our biggest cost in the last two months was definitely the ferries. Although most were reasonably priced, it was still a big chunk compared to getting somewhere by bicycle ;).

Surprising Italy

Between the ports we managed to cycle more than 3,000 kilometres spread out over Greece, Italy and Spain. Of those, it was Italy which surprised us the most.

Many cyclists we met on the way were not too fond of Italy with its busy roads, crazy drivers and dirty environment. Fortunatly for us, we apparently cycled a very different part of Italy. Our experience was the exact opposite even. With very quiet roads and drivers who were very considerate of cyclists. Probably because southern Italy sees a lot more road cyclists than the north. There were even signs warning drivers for “cicloturista”.

Itinerario cicloturistico

We cycled through the provinces of Puglia, Basilicata and Calabria and the islands of Sicily and Sardinia. On the mainland we found a very nice cycle route, the “ciclovia dei parchi della Calabria” which took us on quiet mountain roads between small villages and through several national parks.

Truli houses in Puglia

Green cycle route in Sicily

Last part(s)

And so we arrive at the last episode of our trip: Morocco. We’re happy we came up with this plan and enjoyed the cycling and "ferrying" to get here. It is the last "far-away" place we go.

We’re planning to stay in Morocco for about two months before we head back to Europe and finish our trip by crossing Spain and France. See you all soon! (Or sooner: if you want to join us for a stretch in Spain or France, let us know).

Here’s a preview of Morocco :-):

Camels in the desert

Photos

Exotic Palermo

Rugged south coast in Spain

An abandoned village on a hilltop

Sunrise over Etna

Nice mural in Sardinia

Nice gravel roads in Spain

Bike hiking 😅

Pollino National Park in Calabria

Old town centres in Italy

Our trip in Armenia

We need to go back almost two months: we left Tbilisi for Armenia on 2 September thinking we were feeling better again. Unfortunately, the next day, when we crossed the border to Armenia, we had absolutely no energy after cycling only 20 km and decided to hitchhike to Yerevan instead so we could recover a few more days. We stayed in a regular old hostel and didn’t see much of the city unfortunately.

Armenian genocide memorial in Yerevan

When we finally regained the energy and “goesting” (sorry, there’s no good translation for this) to cycle again, we left Yerevan. It took almost a week because we wanted to make sure we wouldn’t have to stop again, but we were definitely longing to sleep in our tent again after five nights in a stuffy and “expensive” hostel bed. More importantly, we were eager to get to Iran!

Armenia was a land of ups and downs, sometimes quite literally. We gained almost 8000 meters in only 7 days and around 420 km. We also had temperatures ranging from 35°C to 5°C and we just about avoided being caught in the conflict that was flaring up between Armenia and Azarbaijan. The people were very friendly and the scenery was amazing! We were enjoying cycling in Armenia.

A rest stop with Soviet vibes

From Yerevan the road to Iran is quite straightforward, and luckily, the best part of the first day was still flat so we could warm up the legs after almost two weeks of rest. At the end of the day we arrived in a small village where we met up with Ivan, a Canadian Frenchman we met in Yerevan. We asked at the first house if we could camp somewhere and were promptly invited to camp in their apple orchard and were offered some tea and cookies.

Camping in an orchard

Ivan and I just before Tatev

After that first day we continued with Ivan and climbed several mountain passes, visited a few remote monasteries and found really nice camp spots on our way south. Around the Tatev the weather changed quite a bit. It got wet and foggy and the temperatures dropped. We even had to take out our winter jackets and gloves. By the time we descended to the border we were (shortly) in T-shirt and shorts again.

Cold and foggy weather

The last few kilometres in shorts before Iran

On our last day one more mountain pass up to 2500 meter separated us from the border with Iran. During breakfast Ivan already told us he’d heard from a friend that the conflict with Azarbaijan had flared up during the night but it was quite confronting when a road worked stopped us and showed “the war has stared, be careful” on his translate app.

Beautiful mountains in Armenia

Fortunately, we were far enough away from where this was happening, but at the border we met a couple of other cyclists who were a lot closer and were woken up at night by the explosions. They took a taxi early in the morning to get to the border and leave Armenia as quickly as possible. Today, it looks like the conflict luckily didn’t escalate further than that, but I am guessing it is still quite tense there.

And then we finally crossed into Iran. What happened from there you can read in the previous post

The last pass before Iran

So, what’s next?

Back in Turkey, it didn’t take long to decide that now we would cycle back all the way to Belgium since this was already our backup plan in case we couldn’t get into Pakistan. The question was more how? Which route were we going to take? We could’ve crossed Turkey, cycle the Balkans, then follow the Danube back to Western Europe. But we had already spent a couple of months in the Balkans with the camper van.

Instead we came up with a plan to stay as much south as we could by crossing the Mediterranean Sea by ferries until we reach Morocco. Thus, avoiding the cold (for now) and exploring places we hadn’t been before.

Our ferry trip plan

Right now, we already took 7 ferries to get to Italy, where we got to cycle through some beautiful old towns and follow some nice and quiet cycle routes. Despite what other cyclists told us, the drivers are careful and are very considerate of cyclists here! Next up is Sicily and Sardinia before we go to Spain.

We’re looking forward about the next weeks and we hope to put out more positive updates soon! See you in the next one.

Photos

Buying some very good honey at the side of the road

Some autumn colours

A door at the monastery

Freshen up at the lake while the temperature still allows it

On the way to Iran

First the good side. The side of the natural beauty and the extremely kindhearted and helpful people. The side we heard so much about, from friends and other travellers and were very keen to experience ourselves.

Happy faces when we just entered Iran

We entered Iran from Armenia, in the East Azerbaijan province, a mountainous and sparsely populated region. The vastness of the country was noticeable from the start, with very tall mountains and wide valleys. The scenery was incredible!

Incredible landscapes before Tabriz

Incredible scenes in Iran

And the people were so very friendly. Many people talked to us on the street, took photos of us and with us and we exchanged many phone numbers and instagram accounts. We had breakfast with some road construction guys and had another breakfast with a family an hour later.

Getting tea outside of a shop

After a few days we arrived in Tabriz, the biggest city and capital of the East Azerbaijan province, where we went to a cheap guesthouse and explored the city. During the first two days it was relatively quiet due to an important Shia Muslim holiday, called Arbaeen. Nevertheless, we still managed to meet many people again and were invited for dinner one night.

Bread ready for pick-up

Tineke enjoying the evening sun at the Blue Mosque

On Sunday, the first day of the week and the day after the holiday ended, we finally managed to arrange a SIM card and exchange some money. We were ready to cycle on.

Our plan was to cycle to the Caspian Sea via some beautiful villages in the mountains, then take a train into Tehran. Preventing us from having to cycle more than 60 kilometers on the highway to reach the capital.

But then, after only two days, we apparently made a mistake… We did a big day and cycled 90 kilometers. The sun was setting and we couldn't cycle another 20 km to get to the next town of Miyaneh and decided instead to turn off into a small gravel road that lead into a beautiful valley. After 2 km, we had found a nice and quiet camping spot.

Our bikes, not knowing this was not the gravel road to take

The next day we cycled into Miyaneh, where things went very wrong. But not before two men argued over who would pay for our breads. And not before we were invited for tea, which led to lunch, which led to an invitation to stay the night. We kindly declined since it was only around noon. It was after all this incredible hospitality when we saw the other side of Iran.

As we were saying our goodbyes to the kind family, a man took me by my arm, removed me from the group, and quietly asked me where we were from, before telling me he needed to ask me some more “security questions”. I don’t remember if we spoke Farsi, Turkish or English, but probably a mix.

The family and some bystanders first tried to talk to the guy and ask if it was really necessary but, to no avail. We were first asked to go to a public park for the first round of questions. Luckily for us, and we're forever grateful for this, the son of the family came with us for this whole ordeal. He translated between us and them, but mostly he was there for us and to assure nothing too bad happened.

They quickly told us that they knew exactly where we had camped the night before and asked us multiple times why exactly we chose this spot. They checked our phones and took photos of us. They wanted to know where we worked and what projects we worked on. No idea if they even understood I was provisioning cloud infrastructure for orthodontic applications… possibly not easy to translate to Farsi.

Not satisfied with our answers, or because its standard procedure, they asked us to follow them in their gray old Peugeot 405 to a small room where we were stuck for a couple of hours for more questioning. They wanted to know where we had been and where we were going. And who we knew in these places. We said nobody, to which they replied by showing us all the Iranian numbers we had in our phones. They wanted to know why someone sent me the number of a bike shop in Tehran.

We also had to turn all our bags inside out. They checked everything. Except for Tineke’s underwear, they didn’t dare to touch that. They checked all the thousands of photos on the camera, but luckily we managed to save the analogue camera from being opened. Our phones and tablet were connected to a computer and they did something, don’t know what, to them.

What was even more unsettling during the whole thing was that they interrupted the questioning and checking from time to time to offer us some good Iranian hospitality. We got water, then ice cream and then they offered us dinner. They also kept repeating that they only did this for our own safety, because it was us who went somewhere with security issues. This comforting had just the opposite effect.

The whole experience left us scared and uncomfortable about travelling further in Iran. We would have the feeling of being followed all the time. We would not be able to camp where we wanted or to stay with people, which they explicitly forbid. So, we decided, with a lot of pain in our hearts, to leave Iran as quickly as we could.

The only option was to go back to Turkey, via Urumieh. We cycled a bit but mostly hitchhiked with the typical blue Zamyad pickup trucks, all the way to the border, in two days. Those two days were very hard on us. Everyone we met was so incredible again. People took us further than they had to, we were invited for lunch, for dinner and for staying the night, multiple times. We went to three separate fruit gardens, making us to cross the border with 5 kg of fresh fruits. We were constantly wondering if we had made the right decision.

One way to travel quickly in Iran

A blue Zamyad truck at one of the fruit gardens

But, we also saw the same old Peugeot 405’s, wondering if someone was checking us out. Some soldiers took photos with us. Why? We had to stay in crappy hotels, instead of staying with those families. So, for now, yes. This was the right decision. But it doesn’t feel right.

We left the country in tears. Being sad and disappointed. For us and for the Iranians. We sincerely hope we didn't cause any trouble for people we met and enthusiastically shared their information with us. We hope the current protests finally lead to some changes.

My plant died the day we left Iran

We hope to come back one day to experience the country in its entirety. To see the beautiful mosques and mountains. To go to the islands and the seas. But most of all, to meet the nicest people on earth and enjoy the never ending hospitality.

!خداحافظ. تا بعد، انشاالله

Some more photos

The Blue Mosque in Tabriz

Being taken care of in the back of a bakery.

Beautiful landscape at sunset

Lavash, or as we call it, Lego bread

Hitchhiking is easy with all these trucks

Carpet weaving, a project for a year or two

Not so cosy hotel

A bakery, with bread on hooks

Our first night in Iran

The Blue Mosque in Tabriz

As soon as we reached the Black Sea in Turkey things were already very different. The day before we had just climbed a mountain pass at 2 600 m and, in basically a day, we descended down to sea level and traded in dry warm days and cool nights for a constant hot humid climate.

On top of that, the roads became very busy with old, polluting cars and drivers seemed a bit crazier and annoyed by our presence. Cars drove very close to us and there was a constant honking when they passed us. The worst were the truck drivers who decided to honk right next to us, or the ones in the tunnels.

But the thing that really made our experience in Georgia less enjoyable was the people. Of course, we had just come from Turkey where the experience was magnificent, and it was hard to even get on that same level. We knew that. But even then, we just seemed to have a hard time finding people who were friendly with us. Everywhere we went, people just did not seem to care about us or even try to be helpful. People didn't respond when we said hi, or tried to guide us in the right direction when we asked for help.

It wasn't until we left Tbilisi that things changed again. But there, we were in an area of ethnic Azeris, who are themselves a Turkic people. Which showed in their ways. We even managed to communicate in Turkish!

To be honest, we of course did meet a few friendly people, and we were invited for tea once, and someone bought us a bread. But, the overall experience was not so good.

The mountains

One of the positive experiences we did have was our ride to Mestia and beyond. Just in time, we had changed our plan and had decided to cycle there, instead of to the mountains on the other side of Georgia. Mostly, because here we did not have to cycle the same road, in and out.

The climb to Mestia, a touristic mountain village, was long and quite beautiful. We got there in a few days and stayed for a few nights so we could hike a bit and go to the mountain film festival.

Mount Ushba on Russia’s border

Road to Mestia

Hiking to a gletsjer

What followed next was probably the most beautiful road on our trip, so far. After Mestia, we climbed our way to Ushguli, at 2 100 m. After which an 8 km steep gravel road took us to the stunning Zagaro pass.

Shkhara mountain from Ushguli

Svan towers of Ushguli

Road to Ushguli

This time we were smarter and didn’t camp up there and started our descent right away. We ended up doing a long day of 80 km with almost 2 000 m elevation change. It was all very much worth it.

Stunning views after Zagaro Pass

Zagaro Pass

Almost there, on the Zagaro Pass

Strong winds to Tbilisi

Back in the valley we had to battle very strong headwinds for four days to reach Tbilisi. We explored the city for a few days and met up with a few people we had seen before.

Sameba Cathedral

Just when we were about to leave Tbilisi, we got sick unfortunately and had to stay a few days longer. When we eventually left, we had had a great day of riding and a nice experience with the Azeris between Tbilisi and the Armenian border.

We weren't feeling 100% yet, unfortunately and once we crossed into Armenia and hitchhiked to Yerevan. This turned out to be very easy, or we got very lucky! The first car stopped and took us all the way there.

So far, this is may well be the only country so far I can't really recommend people to travel to. At least not the way we did it. I think you’re better off going by local transport and stay in guesthouses. Of course, this was only our personal experience, and we've met many people who did have a good time. So, don't take this advice too seriously :).

Armenia is much more promising, in terms of friendliness, and we are finally feeling a lot better after another five days of rest. So now, we finally get on our bikes again and see what Armenia has to offer. Mountain passes for sure!

Ice cream with our driver in Armenia

Photos

Vendor of kvass

Hanging out with the locals

Typical view of houses in green valleys

Camping in the valley

Metekhi Church

Road works using a Soviet-era Lada

State of the cars

Even Teslas miss parts

Our route in Turkey

A cyclists' classic

We stayed in Anakara for a week and were very happy to finally leave after we excitedly picked up our visas for Iran. Cycling out of Ankara was not the most enjoyable, with some very busy and steep roads and hot weather. But, after an hour or two we crossed the last ring road and were suddenly between fields and villages again.

It wasn’t long before the invitations for tea started again, and in the late afternoon we were invited by a family for some good food and a nice conversation. They showed us to a nice quiet place to camp, and even wanted to help setting up the tent.

Eating sunflower seeds after tea and cake

A few days later we crossed Tuz Gölü, or Salt Lake, to the south of Ankara. It was an impressive sight to see. On one side of the road the lake was stopped by the mountains, on the other side the lake seemed endless and melted together seamlessly with the sky.

Tuz Gölü

Tuz Gölü

What followed was one of the most tiring roads so far: a 10 km straight and bumpy road, through the heat with a headwind. But we soon forgot it when we bumped into Nina and Q, a Dutch couple we met briefly a few weeks before. They had also cycled with Six and Tom before, so we decided to cycle together until Kapadokya, where we would meet up with them.

Cycling with Nina and Q

On the way there, we first had a quiet night in a school (they’re empty because of summer holidays). Only to have the complete opposite experience the day after.

During this time, the Eid al-Adha, Kurban Bayram or sacrifice feast, was being celebrated. A lot of the Turkish diaspora returns to their families’ home town to celebrate the holiday. We arrived in a village where one such family was getting together on a street corner. Within 5 seconds we where surrounded by everyone and were being bombarded with so many questions in Turkish, French, German and English. While, in the meantime, our hands were being stuffed with lemonade, tea and candies.

We ended up staying with one of the families, but not before we got into a car and raced to a restaurant about 30 kilometers from the village. With some convincing we managed to slow the driver down to the maximum allowed speed limit and arrived alive and well in the restaurant. Because I was the only one speaking French, and had the best Turkish, I was sat in the middle of the table and had to do some interpreting work, while trying to get some of the delicious food.

Looking happy, not knowing the driving style yet...

Tasty dinner with the family

Before we knew it, we were back in the village and installed ourselves on the balcony/living room. One more tea, and a friendly refusal of coffee, at 23:00, we finally managed to lay down and try to sleep. But not before one last surprise: our host, Haarun, closed the window because it was too cold, lit up a cigarette and started watching some video’s. The evening was intense, funny and weird. We had a good night.

Waiting to go to sleep

Then came the classic among all cycle tourers: Kapadokya. A Unesco protected national park with amazing unique landscapes, lots of opportunities for wild camping and great sunsets with hundreds of hot air balloons. I’ll leave it up to the photos:

The castle in Uçhisar

Fairy Chimneys

Exploring the Red Valley

The Red Valley

Enjoying a moon rise over Kapadokya

Kurdistan

Since Ankara, we were cycling on the Anatolian plateau and hadn’t been below 900 meters of elevation. This meant that, although the temperature was going up every day, we could still manage the heat, especially at night when it could even be “cold”.

But that couldn’t last forever unfortunately. We were going south slowly, and at one point we had to get off the plateau. This happened right after we bravely submitted mount Nemrut with the bike (without luggage). When we finally descended and crossed the Eufrat river, the temperature easily reached 40 degrees after noon, and remained high until the sun went down.

Climbing Mt. Nemrut without luggage

Statues on Mt. Nemrut

Combine this with a treeless environment and you can imagine this made for some difficult days of cycling. We tried getting up early and make the most out of the relative coolness of the morning, although the temperature was already 25°C at 6 o'clock. So, for a few days, our schedule was to get up at sunrise, cycle until 10 or 11, then take a very long break and try to get in a few more kilometers in the evening.

We were now cycling in Turkish Kurdistan. Although the Turkish government doesn’t allow any display of Kurdish culture and traditions, people were very proud to tell us they were Kurdish, and most people we met were Kurds, in this region. They spoke Kurdish among themselves, but luckily still spoke Turkish with us. By now, we managed to express ourselves quite well.

Dinner

Sleeping on the roof under the stars

Cooler temperatures

Our plan for a long time was to cycle to Iran through Iraqi Kurdistan. An autonomous region in the north of Iraq which has been relatively safe and stable in the last couple of years. We knew some people who cycled there not long before and they were quite excited about it. Again with stories of great hospitality, Kurdish traditions and beautiful, historic places to visit.

Unfortunately, a week before we were going to cross the border, a holiday resort was attacked and 10 Iraqi tourists died. This horrible attack, combined with some news of retaliation attacks in the same region, and forecasts of 45 degrees for the next weeks, made us decide to shelve this plan.

We decided, to much relief of our parents, to go where most cyclists go: Georgia and Armenia. But, since we have to be in Iran in the beginning of October the latest, we needed to take another bus, to the north. This gave us a chance to explore one more region in Turkey. Again mountainous, of course, but almost 20 degrees colder and a lot greener.

Having tea above Ishak Pasha Saray

Green mountains

It took us a week to cycle the last 600 kms in Turkey before we crossed the border to Georgia. We swam in a few lakes and had to take out our rain jacket again! But, a few Turkish constants remained: çay and misafirperverlik, tea and hospitality. We only slept in our tent once between Doğubayazıt and the border.

Looking tired after climbing to 2600 m

What’s next

We spent an amazing and surprising two and a half months in Turkey. We cycled 3000 kilometers in the country and did 4250 km in total.

Finally crossing a border again

What follows now is Georgia and Armenia. We will have to adapt a bit to be in a new country with a completely different language, religion and culture after all of this. We are excited, though, and look forward to the milder weather and green mountains.

See you in the next one!

Photos

An unfinished mosque provides some much needed shade

Tineke blending in

Everyone is welcome at a Turkish wedding

Playing a Turkish game called "Okey"

Cycling in Anatolia with Tom and Six

We even shared some tea with the jandarma

Overlooking Mardin

The dangers of the road

The main theme remains the incredible hospitality in Turkey. I think you have to see it to believe it, though. Throughout the last month and a half, we drank more tea than we could’ve imagined, slept inside more than we had to camp, and talked with more people than we could sometimes handle. Except around the coastal region, where the very very slight dip in hospitality, due to tourism, was more than compensated by amazing landscapes.

Here’s is a little peek into how it has been since we left Istanbul, almost two months ago. Since it's been a while, and there’s always a lot to tell, I'll split this update in two parts.

Butterfly Valley

Aegean Turkey

We left the biggest city of Europe on a ferry across the Sea of Marmara to Bandırma, together with Six and Tom (our Belgian friends we met the day we entered Turkey). We hadn’t left the port yet or we already shared our Instagram pages with an interested local and got some chocolate in return. Then, after disembarking, we stopped for some food and received the food plus extra tea, lots of fruit and a bag of soaps. Maybe that last gift was a subtle hint?

We first had some rainy days in our way south towards the coast. This didn't stop anyone from inviting us for food and a place to sleep however.

Sixtine got the full load of mud

A small issue with all of this is that we never know how much food to buy, or any at all. We always need to have something in case we end up camping somewhere. But, if we get invited a few nights in a row, and simultaneously receive fruit, potatoes and tomatoes throughout the day, we unfortunately end up having to throw away a few things. I think it’s a balancing act every cyclist has to learn while being here.

Turkish dinner

Turkish breakfast

We split with Tom and Six after a few days since we wanted to go to Pamukkale, and they had there eyes set on Marmaris.

Local tourists at Pamukkale

On our last day together, we cycled in the morning and planned to split after our obligatory çay break at midday. However, this break turned into an audience with the village chief (or maybe he even was a local governor) who invited us for food and more tea in his office. This turned out to be the first of many invitations with village chiefs.

Audience with a local governor

The coast

Next up was the coast. Incomparable, of course, with the Belgian coast, both in beauty and landscape. The mountains rise up from the sea immediately, which means that there isn’t really a lot of flat road at the coast. We regularly found ourselves enjoying the breeze at sea level, only to be at a 1000 m elevation just a few hours later. But, this made for some of the most beautiful, and steep, roads so far.

1000 meters elevation more to go

We arrived in Ölüdeniz, Fethiye where we managed to stay in a fancy holiday villa. We met the owners in a village in the mountains just a few hours before and they allowed us to camp in their garden. Not before stuffing us with a lot of food, of course!

How luxurious!

This turned out to be one of the last times we got offered something, until we got to Antalya. It didn’t really bother us too much, of course. On the one hand, we think this was due to the area being more touristic, but on the other hand, there were also many villages that consisted only of greenhouses. Luckily, the people remained super friendly everywhere.

A few kilometers from the sea

A mosque between all the greenhouses

The road remained amazing all the way to Antalya. We struggled sometimes with the constant up and down, but the views were incredible. And, being higher up meant that the temperatures remained manageable.

View over the Mediterranean Sea

By bus to Ankara

Since our initial plan was to go to Iran after Turkey, we needed to make an “administrative” stop in Ankara. We knew this could take some time, so we decided to take a bus from Antalya to Ankara, to win back some time.

A super busy lokanta with some nice food

We had already been approved our e-visa application, and after showing some extra documents (COVID stuff) at the embassy of Iran, we were allowed a visa. We had the choice of getting it right away, for € 75 or wait a week and pay € 50. We chose the latter since we were staying with a Warmshowers host for free, and € 25 per person means a lot here.

Anitkabir, Atatürk’s mausoleum

Ottoman architecture in Ankara

No shortage of tomatoes in this bazaar

Unfortunately, Ankara is not as exciting as Istanbul, although it still has a few nice neighbourhoods and a lot of bazaars. We ended up not doing much while we where there, except for a short trip to the Rainbow Mountains, a few hours away by minibus. It gave us some time to catch up on sleep and read.

Rainbow mountains

Next week, I will post the second part of our adventures in Turkey.

Photos

See if you can find all the pars of the sheep

Calling this man’s daughter in The Netherlands, afterwards we got the keys to his house

Trying to have a quiet evening is not easy :-)

Riding with the mayor, to his farm

Çiğköfte, our favourite snack, in a not so cosy mall

Atatürk everywhere

Staying with a father, son and uncle

It has been four weeks since we left Thessaloniki. Since then, many things have happened. Mainly because we changed countries, from Greece to Turkey or, more correctly, Türkiye. The hospitality and generosity since then have been crazy, and it’s getting more intense by the day. There are so many stories to tell, more than I could write down, but here are a few of them.

From Thessaloniki to the border

We stayed in Thessaloniki for 3 nights, in a really nice hostel called Arabas Studios. I would recommend it to anyone going to Thessaloniki. The atmosphere is very friendly and open… it’s easy to meet other travellers. But, the road is very steep, so we had to push the bike up.

Aigia Aikaterini in Thessaloniki

After Thessaloniki, we had initially planned to do some island hopping. Luckily, we found out just in time that the ferry between the islands didn’t operate yet, only during the high season. So, instead we had to stay on the mainland.

Obstacles on the way to Türkiye

We cycled to Kavala first, where we camped in a city park, then went to the mountains where we spent our last nights in some (almost) empty villages. Let’s just say, it was the calm before the storm.

Empty gravel roads in Greece

Day one in Türkiye

We had heard a lot about the hospitality of Turkish people, but we weren’t expecting it so immediate and so much. Already while crossing the border we were greeted by smiles everywhere and we were offered some water just as we had passed the border officer.

Our first gift in Türkiye

In the first town after the border, Ipsala, we stopped at the first bakery we saw to see what Turkish bread was like. I started learning Turkish a few weeks ago and I already knew how to order a bread (bir ekmek). And, from there, things got out of control quickly.

Before I could say anything, the baker put a spoon in my mouth with some homemade cheese spread. I gestured “good good”, he then took back the bread, put the spread on it, set up a table and two chairs, ordered some tea (çay) and made us eat the bread. In the meantime he prepared another bread for the road.

Bread and çay

No chance we could pay for any of that. And, as a final gift, we got a basil plant just before we started off again. So, now I am taking care of a plant again.

Our first basil (fesleğen)

Blown away about what had happened and full of energy, we decided to cycle a few more kilometers as the day was coming to an end. I had found a drinking fountain (çeşme) on the map and we decided to go there. It’s always nice to have water close by. Unfortunately, when getting there, it looked like the fountain was empty, so we resorted to going to the closest village.

When entering the village we asked a few local women if we could camp somewhere. This started off a very confusing conversation. They confirmed we could camp, but didn’t show us where, then told us they “put food in our tent” (through a translation app). Huh?

Eventually, someone took us to the tea house where we found out the source of the confusion. Somehow, another Belgian couple on bicycles decided to pick this village as their resting place. They were already shown where to camp, and food had been put in their tent! Crazy coincidence!

Us, Sixtine and Tom on a rainy road

Lüleburgaz bisiklet akademi

Next stop was Lüleburgaz, halfway between the border and Istanbul. From another traveller we had heard about a magic place, called “Lüleburgaz Bicycle Academy”, where bike tourers, like us, could stay for free. Plus, they had a kitchen, washing machine, internet, … basically everything a traveller could want.

It was a bit hard to believe, but it was exactly as we had been told, and some more. There were a few other cyclists and many locals renting out bikes and go carts to ride on the test track. Some local students came by to practice English. And the manager was very enthusiastic about his plans of the place, and how they’re blocked by local politics. He showed us around a bit and invited everyone to his wedding this weekend. We didn’t make it.

Lüleburgaz Bisiklet Akademi

Guestbook at the Academy

Istanbul

After a rest in Lüleburgaz, it was time to take on the notoriously difficult task of cycling to, and into Istanbul. In the academy, many ideas and routes were exchanged between different groups. Only to discard them all and each of us sticking with our original idea.

We decided to take the northern route through Beograd Forest. The route was a bit longer, and there was some gravel involved. But, it meant we didn’t have to do a single kilometer on busy highways. Almost all other routes included between 20 and 40 km of that.

Dusty gravel

Spacious sidewalk next to the Bosporus

Eventually, it took us two and a half days to reach the Bosporus to the north of Istanbul, in a town called Sariyer. After which a nice 25 km along the river bank followed, of which most of it we could cycle away from the road, between all the fishermen. Only the last few kilometers were a bit busier with typical big city traffic jams. But, we made it, happily and exhausted, all the way to the Hagia Sophia or Ayasofya Grand Mosque.

Crossing the Galata bridge

Made it to Ayasofya

We spent the first days with a nice Couchers host, Emre, and then went to a hostel to complete our week in Istanbul. And now, after a an overdue visit to the barber, we’re already back on the road, going south, to drinking çay in every village we pass.

Emre, Beyza and us. Thanks a lot!!

Tea everywhere, even on the ferry

Visit to the kuaför

Photos

The father of all Turks: Atatürk

Ayasofya, as one of the firsts inside

Çay everywhere

Spices at the spice bazaar

You can find anything at the bazaar

Olives in many colours

Breakfast, or, the result of trying to buy tomatoes

Trying to beat a Turk at tavla

Greece

Before we got to Athens we cleaned the van properly and made a selection of stuff to take on the bicycles and stuff to leave behind. It was exciting to be packing up again and preparing for the next part of our trip.

We first met up with some good friends in Athens from my previous pass through the city in 2017, and later met my parents during the weekend. They came over to Athens to visit us again and take up the opportunity to travel back to Belgium with the camper van.

My parents and us in Athens

On our first day, we planned to get to the sea, north of Athens. However, getting out of Athens was not very enjoyable. The sun was burning, I wasn’t feeling 100%, and it took a while to get completely out of the city. But, already within that first stretch of the trip we were met with generosity from locals when we were offered some fruit by a local flower merchant.

We decided it might be a good idea to stay close to the coastline to avoid the mountains and benefit from the showers they have on most of the beaches. This meant we didn’t have to get into our sleeping bags sweaty from the day’s ride. And, because the proper tourist season hasn’t started yet, most places along the coast were still empty.

The first days passed without difficulty and we found nice camp spots along the route. People were friendly and, despite everyone warning us for Greek driving behaviour, the drivers were actually kind enough to honk before passing us widely.

Sunrise over our tent

Wobbly tire

On the fourth day, I asked to inflate my tires at a local bicycle shop. We only have a small hand pump and I thought my tires could use a bit more pressure. Then, the next day I got a flat tire, with the puncture being on the inside of the tube. I found it weird and blamed it on the too high tire pressure.

Trying to plug the puncture

I replaced the tube and quickly reduced the pressure in the other tire. After the fix, however, I noticed my tire had become wobbly. I tried fixing it but didn’t have a lot of success.

At that moment, two guys from the next village came to our rescue. They had noticed us and tried to get the tire to straighten out. Also without success, unfortunately. As consolation, one of them invited us to his bakery shop for a coffee.

That turned out to be both very good and a little bit bad. We met his cycling friends, one of them inviting us to her place a bit further for a warm shower. And a tip for a nice place to camp. But, I rarely drink coffee, and had this strong one at the end of the day. So, no sleep for me :-D.

Le Passage cycle crew

After some pushing and pulling, I luckily managed to fix the tire for the most part and we were back in the saddle the next day.

Stormy weather

A few more days of nice views, some hills, beaches and showers we ended up in Volos where we pitched our tent in a city park after dark.

After about a week of cycling we were confident in tackling our first bigger hill and decided to cycle from Volos, over Kanalia and Keramidi, back to the coast at Papakosta. It amounted to a day of 65 km with 1500 m of climbing. It was a day with hills, gravel roads and and empty new road.

Serpentine roads uphill

Greek wildlife

Choco balls after a long day

Towards the evening storm was brewing on the Aegean Sea. An older French couple, who were travelling with a camper, had invited us for some wine and cheese (of course), and already warned us not to stay in our tent under the tree.

We tried however, and when the winds picked up and the rain started falling we made the decision to accept the offer and we put down the tent, put our panniers on the sheets and knocked on the door of the camper and asked for shelter. And so, we were unexpectedly sleeping in a camper again.

We’re very thankful for them!

Our temporary shelter on the right

Sometimes we were driving on the service roads next to the highway. They took us quickly from one town or village to the next, but we found them mostly boring as they were straight and ugly for a few kilometers on end. So from time to time we tried to take different routes that were more adventurous.

It was so that during the last day before reaching Thessaloniki, we ended up pushing the bike over some overgrown tracks between farmer’s fields and onto on an old railroad bridge. It saved us about 10 kilometers, but definitely didn’t save us time or energy. Instead we got some exciting roads to travel.

Taking the railroad

If someone reading this is interested in cycling to Greece, feel free to contact me for details on the cycle route. We definitely have tips om where to go and not to go ;-).

Photos

Water taps everywhere

Beautiful view on the lagoon

Only a few people on the beach

Nice view while shielded from the mosquitos

Trying to plug the puncture

Crossing a wheat field

No cycling possible here

Not a bad view to distract from the uphill battle

Cosy place for a church in Kokkino Nero

Tineke’s map of Romania

We started our journey in Oradea, where we met up with Bea, a friend I met through Couchsurfing on my previous trip. We met again when she visited me in Ghent, so now, it was time to come back here. Like the last time I was at her place, we were again very welcome and had a good time.

In the time since I last saw her, she has had twins, so the experience was naturally a little different, but definitely not less adventurous. We went out for a nice hike along a river and, although we did not go far in distance, we still managed to spend a couple of hours outside and have a lot of fun. The kids loved the outdoors!

Hiking with Bea, Sebi and their twins

Before Romania, we travelled in Austria and Slovakia where it was still quite cold and snowy at times, which we enjoyed, but, we were secretly looking forward to some warmer days. Luckily, during the first week in Romania it felt like spring was just around the corner during some sunny days and we managed to sit, and even wash ourselves outside.

Walter at Cheile Tureniului

Cheile Tureniului

Taking a shower outside after a run

In the gorge where we were parked, and stayed for two days, we did an amazing via ferrata hike along the river.

Cheile Tureniului

Cheile Tureniului

Those sunny days turned out to be just a teaser of spring, however, and we would have to wait a little longer. It was only a day later when we drove past frozen lakes, saw some snowy patches and the temperature dropped below zero again. Even the water bottles in the camper van started to freeze!

Just manageable outside when the sun was still out

Water in the van started freezing

During our first days in Romania, the war in Ukraine had begun. We were shocked and confused. What a horrible tragedy for Ukrainians, Russians and everyone else involved. We had initially planned to go on another cycling trip to the Republic of Moldova, but that immediately became undoable. The reason being twofold: it would have been insensitive towards the fleeing people from Ukraine and Moldova. And, with the uncertainty of how the war was (and is) going to develop, it would not have been worth the risk. We abandoned that plan without thinking twice.

We slept in the camper van a couple more nights before going to Brașov, where we stayed with my old roommate from Berlin, Anca. Together we went on a couple of hikes in and around Brașov, and while there, we thought about where to go during the next weeks.

Cycling was out of the picture completely when it got colder and more and more snow started to fall. Instead, we hitchhiked to Bucharest for a short visit and took the train back a short two days later, being not really convinced by the city. But, luckily, the hitchhiking and the train ride were a nice experience. With our driver, Alex, taking us all the way from Brașov to Bucharest, but stopping at Sinaia for a visit to the king’s castle. And going back to the snow covered mountains in the train.

Sinaia castle

Fresh snow in Brașov

Back in Brașov, we decided to stay a couple more days, and go on a few more hikes together in the area. With the fresh snow, and no other people around, this was amazing. We did carry a whistle in case a bear decided to wake up early from its hibernation though.

Adriana, Anca and Tineke

Tineke and Anca going up Tîmpa

Tineke and the cabana’s dog

Snowman says hi

But, we had to leave at one point. So we set our minds on Tuesday 8 March, right before it got even colder. The forecast showed a night of -15°C on Friday. So, time for us to get out of the mountains.

We spent the next days driving from Brașov to Jimbolia, a border town near Serbia. It was indeed cold, but with the sun out most of the time, we managed to stay “warm”. We took the time to read, write, work and draw. Romania was again wonderful!

Next up is Serbia and Montenegro!

Picture time

Fresh snow in Brașov

Traditional house

Tineke at Piatra Craiului NP

Piatra Craiului national park

Snowy trees in Piatra Mare

We planned to start our trip in September 2020. That, for obvious reasons, did not happen. We waited a little over a year and finally left on 10 November 2021. Right in between our birthdays and with a nice festival in Utrecht as our first destination. You can read about that in a previous update called "Dancing and Cycling".

Analogue photo of Walter

We had the idea to travel with our van for a while but both of us felt we missed something. The prospect of leaving on an open-ended trip was exciting but, the fact that we would only be travelling by camper van was somewhat limiting. Especially since Tineke doesn't drive and I would be behind the wheel always.

Henri is the driver

Tineke is sleeping

And so, we came up with the idea to install a bicycle rack on the back of the van and find ourselves two touring bikes to take along. This would give us the option to travel in the camper van for a couple of weeks, then switch to the bikes from time to time. And of course, the bikes are always nice to have for exploring around the place where we are camping.

Our bikes on the van

Inside, there's all that we need for travelling self sufficiently. We have a kitchen, a foldable table, a couch and a fixed bed. There's some storage space under, and next to, the bed. Also under the bed are the water and gas tank. The gas is used for cooking, heating and the fridge.

A view of the interior

Our kitchen, and Frida Khalo

Eventually, our idea is to travel with Walter in Southeast Europe until we reach Greece. There, we would leave the car behind, take the bikes, and continue travelling with them. The main reasons being that we liked the idea to travel by bike only and, that the van is not really suited to travel outside of Europe too much. Insurance wise but also in terms of off-road capabilities.

If anyone is interested in meeting us in Greece, probably at the end of spring, and drive the van back to Belgium, feel free to send us an email at henri@some-go-east.be :-).

And now, some more photos of Walter.

Walter in the snow

Fixing up the van with my cousin in Bratislava

Breakfast on the couch

Preparing lunch

First outside lunch ☀️

Instead of taking the proper cycling route, which would take us along the coast, we decided to drive straight, but slowly as to not strain the chain, to Rønda. There was supposed to be a bicycle repair shop, unless ... there wasn't. Fortunately, just as I finished taking out the worst link, someone in the street pointed us to a shop which wasn't on the map yet.

The chain got replaced with a stronger one and got some tea and cake as a bonus. Not a bad deal!

Lemon cake, tea and pralines from the bike shop

After that small bump, we were on our way again towards Aarhus, where we would take the ferry to Sjælland, Denmark's biggest island and home to Copenhagen. We took the ferry early and had a long day cycling the first part of the island, almost 60 km, which took us to another smaller ferry, from Røvig to Hundested, at the end of the day.

Waiting to board the ferry

Achilles and Arthur on a ferry

And then it really started snowing... We could just about keep cycling, even as the night fell. We drove through parks, and woods and along lakes. By the time we got to the next shelter, a combination of snow and mud had gathered under the mudgards and almost blocked our wheels.

The snow came down slowly but consistently and left a few centimeters of snow by the next morning. The surroundings were suddenly completely different and really beautiful and peaceful. We had to be more careful, of course. Slipping and falling were unavoidable, at least for one of us ;-).

Just possible to keep cycling

Snowy wheels

A few cm of snow changes everything

Happy faces in the snow

By Christmas, we had arrived in Copenhagen. We tried to find a host for couch surfing, but that was, of course, a hopeless attempt and we ended up in a hostel with a room to ourselves. It was not the nicest setting, but we were glad to be able to spend the nights indoors during what were probably the coldest days of the trip.

For our Christmas dinner, we went to the Hard Rock café, one of the few places that were open that evening, and spent the night eating among the others without family closeby, listening to rock 'n roll Christmas songs.

Merry Christmas from the Ramones 🤘

It felt like most people had left the city at this time of year. And with covid, there were barely any visitors. Copenhagen was eerily quiet in some places. One of the advantages of travelling in winter.

Empty streets in Copenhagen

Empty streets in Copenhagen

We had our longest cycle day (yet) after leaving the capital, with around 75 kilometers to end up in Tølløse. It was a nice, "warm" sunny day and we did about 75 kilometers. This time around, we found a host, a small family with a 1-year-old and a dog, and we again spent the night indoors.

For New Year's Eve, we ended up on the island of Ærø by first taking a train to get to Fyn and then a ferry. We decided to be fancy and booked ourselves one of these modern shelters on the island of Ærø for a total sum of 10 DKK (or ~ € 1.4)! Just before we got there, we treated ourselves to a shower in the sports hall, only to be rained out an hour later.

We got to the shelter soaking wet, but it was still quite early in the afternoon. We had some snacks and something that resembled a three course meal. But then, we got cold and decided to tuck ourselves in, only to realise it was only 6 pm.

Here we had our last night of 2021

We eventually did manage to stay up until 00:00 and celebrate the start of the New Year. Together with all the Danes who were lighting all their fireworks in the distance. We figured out that they must love fireworks, as they had been lighting them from before Christmas until a couple of days after New Year.

Ready for a fancy New Year's Eve

Since the new year, the weather had turned a bit bad. It got windy and rained quite a lot. But we knew it was only a couple more days before we were back at the camper. We stayed our last night in a shelter in the woods near Kollund, just shy of the border, before saying goodbye to Denmark.

I have to admit that during the last stretch I got slightly more nervous with every passing kilometer. On the other hand, I realised I hadn't thought about something bad happening during most of the trip, and to our relief, Walter was still in the same place where we left him. Safe and sound.

Still happy after a couple of days of rain

Alive and well!

Our experiment of cycling in a Nordic country during winter had proven successful. We cycled just over 1000 kilometers and managed to withstand the cold (mostly) and fix the mechanical problems we had on the road. We survived, the bikes survived, and we had our share of adventure.

And then it was time to discover more of Europe with the camper van...

999.99 km done

Some photos

Snowy ride

Colourful

Tineke's horses

Night riding in the snow

❄️❄️❄️

Tineke's kitchen

Christianshåvn

Walter between his buddies

We set off in the morning, not really knowing what to expect, having both never been in Denmark before. Our first goal was to reach Tineke’s family in the north, close to Ebeltoft, before Christmas.

We followed the marked trails of the National Cycle Route numbers 3, 4 and 5. The markings were almost perfect and the routes followed mostly bike lanes and nature paths. There is no one clear website that lists and describes these routes but luckily we found a website called Waymarked Trails from which we could download all the GPXs, in case we missed a sign or needed to take a small detour.

Excited and with the bikes fully loaded we drove past the border region's industry and farmer's fields and some shorter forest roads. After about 20 kilometers we arrived at a "primitiv overtnatningsplads". It was a place with a small wooden shack with tables and benches, a campfire place and a place to pitch the tent.

Looking at our map we found many more of those and decided to look for another "primitiv" place the next day. But first, I needed to cycle the first 20 km back to the car to double check if we really turned off the gas and electricity. We did. Oops.

A "primitiv overnatningsplads"

A primitiv toilet

The first couple of days of the trip we cycled north on a mostly flat route along fields and villages and small towns. In the afternoon of the second day a nice couple showed us the way to our first shelter place. A free to use wooden shelter, with free firewood. We found many more of those places during the whole trip. Each of them had between one and five shelters, mostly in the forest but sometimes in the village center. How amazing.

Shelters

Having those shelters around was great because we never really had to worry about finding a place to sleep. And, because the days got quite short, it allowed us to continue cycling in the dark towards the end of the day. This kept us from having to stop at 15:30 and getting cold waiting to go to sleep.

The only thing was that we were never inclined to pitch our tent, which maybe would've helped with the cold during some nights. A few times, however, we kind of did both and pitched the tent inside the shelter:

Double trouble: a tent in a shelter

During the first part of our trip in Denmark the weather was relatively good. It was not too cold yet and it almost didn't rain. The roads were maintained for winter conditions though, which meant that there was a lot of salt on it. Salt, cold and mud don't play nice with the bike's components and it wasn't before long that we had our first issues.

During a steeper climb on a gravel road Tineke's chain broke in half. Luckily I had a multitool and before we left I had watched a video on how to fix this exact problem. After 15 minutes, black fingers and a slightly shorter chain we were back on the road.

Difficult cycling up with a broken chain

Greasy!

After a good week we ended up in Aarhus or Århus where we couchsurfed for two days with a nice couple. We went to the cinema and had some beers and good food together. Just in time as well because the next day the cinemas were closing down again.

Approving looks from the locals

Aarhus Museum

It's a bummer that the original Couchsurfing platform has become somewhat difficult to use. It has become a paying service and there are some disagreements between the community and the company causing many people to stop using it. There are a few new platforms popping up but none have the scale of Couchsurfing yet. We're currently using a combinaton of Trustroots, BeWelcome and Couchers.

About ten kilometer outside of Aarhus, Tineke's uncle came and fetched us with his van so we could spend the weekend at their place a bit north of Ebeltoft. They run a family business there called Bobman where they make nice looking machines for farmers.

Bobman

Christian and Tineke

Power cleaning the bikes

All in all we had a good first ten days in Denmark. We arrived a bit earlier than expected and we decided not to spend Christmas with the family. This meant we were probably spending it in a shelter further down in Denmark. We had had the shortest day of the winter though (only 6 hours and 51 minutes), on 21 December in combination with being so far north. And we were looking forward to having more daylight. After leaving the family we started travelling south again which meant that the days would only get longer.

A few photo's

Calm beach

Colourful old house

Sunset ride

Sunrise

"Petanquebane"

Snack time in the sun; not a shelter

Le Guess Who?

It's been almost a month since we left my home town on 10 November in our camper with the bikes neatly locked on the rack. We needed to get to Utrecht but didn't want to pass Antwerp so we took the more scenic route and drove past Middelburg. This meant we were abroad just a little bit earlier and put us in the travelling mindset from the start.

Walter in Utrecht

Our first destination was Le Guess Who?, a music festival in Utrecht dedicated to music from all over the world combined with movies, workshops and other small events around the town. It is a great festival for discovering new music and seeing musicians and groups perform you wouldn't necessarily find on the regular programme. The music takes place in the standard concert halls but also in small bars, churches and mosques. I can definitely recommend it :-)

Cosy Sprinhaver Theater

Unfortunately (but understandibly), during the festival the covid-19 measures needed to get stricter again. This meant the schedule was changed completely overnight, some bands could not play anymore and we had to sit down during all concerts on Sunday. All in all we were happy that the music was still playing! Plus, during the last concert of Sons of Kemet everyone kind of "forgot" the rules and we got up and danced anyway. Great ending!

Unlawful dancing at the last concert :)

Taking the bikes for a spin

Hello from Leiden

After the festival it felt like the real start of our trip. No fixed plan anymore. Just a few hints of where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do. So we started driving, excited.

Eager to test out our touring bikes (named Arthur and Achiel) we drove close to Amsterdam and parked the van on a shopping mall parking (I cannot recommend it, see previous post). We packed the essentials for the biking trip in our panniers and started cycling some time in the afternoon. The weather wasn't great, cold and slightly raining, but we were ready for that.

Getting ready to go

We cycled along the east coast of North Holland between all the little canals and fields to the small Island of Marken. We arrived there well after sunset but decided to try and find a place to put our tent in the small village. We rang some doorbells and spoke to some people in the street and eventually ended up in someone's back yard just big enough to put our tent. In the morning she immediately phoned her siblings living on Texel so we were already sure of a sleeping place for when we got there.

Camping food

On the second day, the sun broke through the clouds and we had another good day on the amazing cycling paths of The Netherlands. As a cyclist you really feel like a first class citizen of the road here. Combine this with the flatness of the area and this was a good first test!

☀️

When the sun was setting we again started ringing doorbells and before long we found a nice woman who offered "something better" than a camping spot, as she said herself. Next to the house she was renovating a barn into a house which she happily to offer to us. Two days in and we were already happy to sleep inside :-)

Dunes of Texel

The next days we cycled more and more kilometers and got used to sitting on the bike, navigating the small roads and taking a boat here and there to cross a canal. We explored Texel for a day and then turned around to go back to Amsterdam. The first day back on the mainland proved quite difficult with a constant strong headwind. Pushing our average speed down to less than 10 km/h. Still, if you keep pedalling you go forward eventually and make good progress in the end.

A massive swing at Petten

The last day of the tour we decided to push through from Bergen all the way to Amsterdam. An ambitious 65 kilometers but we had the weather on our side this time. No more wind and a nice winter sun. On the way there we met Sinterklaas and his helpers, had to pull ourselves to the other side on a manual ferry and drove through a village smelling like chocolate.

Self service boat

Sinterklaas on a boat

The first tour was a big success and a nice start to our adventure. We took some time "off" in Amsterdam to be able to mentally process the break-in, get the car fixed and arrange paperwork with the insurance company. And now we try to forget about it and look forward. We are currently looking for a good parking place to leave the van behind and start our next tour in Denmark. We will keep you posted!

Side note: Solace

And a little side note: during our time in Amsterdam I went back to Belgium for 24 hours to go and watch the premiere of Karel Sabbe's film "Solace". It's about his running adventure in the Alps in which I played a part as well. Check it out on solacedocumentary.com.

After having cycled trough Noord Holland and Texel for about five days (which was amazing, more on that later) we returned back at our camper van only to find out it was broken into.

The side window was cleanly cut out of the frame and put on the roof. Easy access after that.

The window

We lost our cameras and other electronics. All my running clothes and shoes, backpacks and some smaller things. They even took the Tony Chocolonely Tineke got for my birthday :-( .

Luckily our documents were left behind:

Our documents

To be honest, we were a bit naive in thinking the car and everything in it would be safe. Especially around these parts of Europe.

Lessons learned: even in Holland we need to be very careful where to leave the camper van and not leave anything of value behind.

Today we will need to get the car fixed and then we will have a look at how to proceed. We will get over eventually and I am looking forward to having a (bitter) laugh about it.

But more so I am looking forward to travelling further into Europe and experience much nicer things!

First reaction of mom: "you're too early!".

Because I came home a couple of days earlier than expected she hadn't had the chance to hang the flags and a "Welcome Home" banner. I'll keep that in mind for my next trip ;-).

My trip in flags

Welcome home!

For those who are interested, I will continue to write stories and post photos from my travels. I won't do it chronologically and not regularly. So keep checking not so frequently. I will try to finish writing stories every two weeks. Or not.

Those who want to hear me talk about my trip: in the first week of August I will give a presentation with lots of stories and photos of the whole trip. Contact me for all the details!

Thank you to everyone who made this trip so incredible! All the people that I've met, that have picked me up when I was hitchhiking, fed me, gave me place to sleep, shared stories, encouraged me when I was cycling, and everyone that has supported me!

Thank you!

• 🇧🇪 bedankt e
• 🇩🇪 danke
• 🇨🇭 danke
• 🇮🇹 grazie
• 🇸🇮 hvala
• 🇭🇺 köszönöm
• 🇸🇰 ďakujem
• 🇷🇴 multsumesc
• 🇷🇸 hvala
• 🇧🇬 хвала hvala
• 🇹🇷 tesekürler
• 🇮🇱 toda
• 🇵🇸 shokran شكرا
• 🇯🇴 shokran
• 🇪🇬 shokran
• 🇸🇩 shokran
• 🇪🇹 amesakenalu አመሰግናለሁ
• 🇰🇪 asante
• 🇹🇿 asante
• 🇷🇼 murakoze
• 🇺🇬 asante
• 🇲🇼 ta wonga ~ zikomo
• 🇲🇿 obrigado
• 🇿🇦 dankie
• 🇸🇿 ngiyabonga
• 🇱🇸 kea leboha
• 🇿🇼 mayta basa ~ ta tyenda
• 🇿🇲 zikomo
• 🇳🇦 dankie
• 🇧🇼 ke a le bokha
• 🇬🇷 ευχαριστώ - efcharisto
• 🇲🇰 Фала - fala ~ Благодарам - blagodaram
• 🇽🇰 faleminderit
• 🇦🇱 faleminderit
• 🇲🇪 хвала
• 🇭🇷 hvala
• 🇧🇦 hvala
• 🇦🇹 danke

All together again

The cemetery fills up with spectators of all kinds and locals try to find the tourist to have a chat and practice their English and Chinese.

It was a wonderful experience and once again showed the generosity and hospitality of the Sudanese!

One of the dance leaders

A drummer warming up the crowd

Another dance leader

Getting ready to get crazy

The parade comes in

Sufi Muslim dance on Friday's in Khartoum

Drummers

This group invited us just to practice Chinese and English

Big smiles :)

People but money in the dancers' hats

Bringing in the big speakers

Kids watching the Sufi dance

As it turned out, not going there would have been a big mistake!

I was met by the most friendly, generous and hospitable people on my trip. Which was emphasized by the fact that I just came from Egypt where I got charged up to three times the price for anything, was tricked into a perfume shop multiple times, and was harassed constantly by street vendors and taxi drivers. Which, at the time, I had gotten used to, but it was a breath of fresh air to get to Sudan.

I almost didn't get into the country because of a small stamp in my passport.. the Israel one. Luckily the diplomats in the consulate in Aswan rather kept the $50 than deny me my visa :). So on the last day of January 2016 I got on the boat and sailed from Aswan to Wadi Halfa across lake Nasser.

Flag of Egypt and Sudan

The deck of the ferry

One of the many washing machines that come aboard

"life is Better without drugs"

A lot of sand in Wadi Halfa

I decided to go straight to Dongola, the first bigger town . The mini bus that was supposed to take me there took a really long time to get going and I eventually arrived in the middle of the night. Without thinking much I decided to look for a spot to pitch my tent.

There in the dark I met Sadi on his tuk-tuk:

Sadi: "What are you doing here?"
Me: "I want to pitch my tent here somewhere."
Sadi: "You're going to get yourself in trouble, you're staying with me!"

That was the start of an amazing 12 days of generosity and hospitality.

Sadi from Dongola, driving me back in town

The next day Sadi helped me out by showing me the way in Dongola, getting me a sim card and telling me where I could find transport to other places. From there I went to Kerma, where I could visit an archaeological site of an ancient civilization preceding the Nubians now living in the south of Egypt and north of Sudan.

It didn't take long before I got offered a place to stay again. Osman was drinking tea with his friends when they saw me pass by with my camera in hand. They shouted at me to take some pictures of them. Then invited me for tea and dates. And then said I could sleep at Osman's house.

Some Sudanese processing dates

My host Osman (عثمان) on the right

Osman showed me around, drove me to the archaeological site, paid for the entrance then took me back to play some card games with his friends and later at night his brother shaved my beard! What a wonderful experience. And this was only day one in Sudan.

Getting a trim!

Next stop was Karema, where I was looking for Jebel Barkal, a small hill (jebel means hill) housing a temple. I went around the site quickly before searching for place to sleep. I wanted to camp somewhere between the palm trees lining the Nile. However, I was stopped quickly by a man warning me for mosquito's and crocodiles. Oops..

The second man I encountered was riding a cart pulled by a donkey. Next to it walked a young boy, I presume his grandson. When I asked if he knew where I could pitch my tent he promptly guided me to his house. He went inside, fetched a bed and a mattress, a little table and some water. And voila, I was sleeping and eating again. This time with an amazing view :).

Kids in Karema

My room with a view

A Sudanese dinner

After visiting Khartoum (more on that later) I went to look for the Pyramids of Meroe. These pyramids are smaller than the ones in Gizeh, but are a bit older. So worth a visit!

I was told it was possible to just take a sleeping bag and sleep behind one of the pyramids. But because I left Khartoum a little bit too late in Khartoum, there was no more transport from Shendi that passed by the pyramids.

Luckily I had started talking to Mujtaba (مجتبى), the guy next to me on the bus. After he had helped me looking for transport he instead offered a bed at his uncle's place. We took a taxi there (which he paid for) and I met his cousins and uncles. Then in the morning his uncle drove me on a motorcycle back to Shendi, where he paid for the bus ticket to the pyramids!

My neighbour in the bus and his uncle

Pyramids of Meroe

Pyramids of Meroe

Pyramids of Meroe

Pyramids of Meroe

I then decided to hitchhike back to Khartoum, which was very easy. I waited just five minutes for my first ride back to Shendi then waited another ten minutes for the truck that was going to take me all the way back to Khartoum.

On the way we made a couple of stops to fix the truck, but eventually got to about an hours drive from the capital. The driver explained he had to turn left but I could take a bus right there for 5 Sudanese pounds. He then handed over 20 SDG and waived goodbye.

Wonderful people!

Paul takes a long rest at Wild Spirit On the 17th of February I'm flying to Athens from where I'll make my way back to Belgium. Hitchhiking style!

View from Soul Surfer

Muizenberg Mountain

A truck started overtaking me in the Knysna's town centre, where there was only one lane per direction. It wasn't the truck driver's smartest manoeuvre. Because of oncoming cars he started to get back into his lane too early and I didn't have space to yield for it. So the side of the truck hit my bags and half a second later I was lying on the road. I knew straight away this was the end of the cycling trip.

Immediately after I got hit and fell to the ground people came running from all over to help me. Some of them helped me up and get me in the shade, others took my bike and bag that fell off and put it next to me, someone else called the police and ambulance and another one ran after the truck to stop it!

In the ambulance

I had just stayed at Wild Spirit, a backpackers close to Nature's Valley, for ten days. It's one of the best (maybe even the best) backpackers I stayed at and I got along really well with the staff there. So I called Ola, who runs the backpackers, and she came over to the hospital straight away with Mikayla. Both of them took very good care of me, in the hospital and back at the backpackers! As well as all the other people there. I've been treated like a king back here at Wild Spirit!

Ready to leave the hospital

I didn't break anything, luckily, but my elbow and hip got hit quite hard. So I couldn't walk or move my arm the first days. As soon as I arrived back at Wild Spirit everyone was incredibly compassionate and supportive to the point where some of them actually carried me to the bathroom on a chair. It could have been much worse and I could not have ended up in a better place to recover. I'm a lucky man!

Patrick and Morris!

Topaz, the resident dog, keeping the couch warm

But I still won't recover enough in time to finish my cycling trip to Cape Town comfortably so I decided to stay at Wild Spirit until I feel good to start moving again. I'll spend some time in Cape Town and take the train to Johannesburg from there. On February 17th I'll board a plane to Athens and end my trip in Europe.

Still looking good a couple of hours before the crash

I cycled about 2350 km from Johannesburg, along the Drakensberg to the Wild Coast, through the Transkei, up into the Amatola and back down to ride along the Sunshine Coast and Garden Route. I met wonderful people and rode through amazing landscapes. I have seen South Africa in a different way. It was absolutely incredible!

It is a pity I can't finish my trip the way I had imagined, but those last two weeks on the bicycle wouldn't have made a huge difference on how I feel and what I've seen. I have travelled from Egypt to South Africa over land over the course of more than a year. It couldn't have been better!

I will come back to finish the cycling trip properly though :) To be continued...

Sunset at Nature's Valley

You can follow my progress on Strava.

Nameless (for now)

Looking professional!

It's a Giant!

Frank!

Since I'm still on a budget I couldn't go pro all the way..

Bucket panniers: the making of. Buckets and planks!

Thanks to crazy guy on a bike and Wesley of Cycling 4 Science.

When cycling trough a country, you also go over land. And you see even more of the country and the way it changes because of the lower speed of traveling. But it is not too slow, so it is still possible to cover a significant distance over a reasonable amount of time. And as a bonus, it keeps you fit!

So when I met this cool bunch of fellow travelers at the amazing Lake of Stars festival in Malawi at the end of September, amongst whom was one cyclist (the one who with all the hair), some of us just said yes and promptly decided to buy bicycles and end Thomas' lonely five month long cycling trip from Cairo to Nkhata Bay by joining him!

The Wolf Pack at Lake of Stars 2016

After the festival, we returned to Butterfly Space in Nkhata Bay for a night and then rushed to Lilongwe in search of four bicycles. This wasn't an easy task but all of us decided to get local bikes, costing us no more than €60 initially. Which had some repercussions we could have foreseen: broken pedals, broken seats, broken brakes, multiple flat tires, loose handle bars, no gears or no working gears. But it all added to the adventure of the next week and a half.

Rosy (NZ), me, Thomas (UK), Gunbritt (NL) and Gary (UK); ready to roll

The Humber, when it was brand new

My Humber

I decided to buy an Indian-made bicycle of the make Humber. Which caused a lot of laughter when cycling through towns and villages. None of the locals believed I could make it to Lusaka on this kind of bike. A bit strange since the locals also carry huge loads on their bicycles all the time:

Four bags of charcoal on a Humber, not bad

Mine doesn't look so bad in comparison:

The Humber, fully loaded

We left Lilongwe in the afternoon of the 7th of October. The first days were filled with frequent stops, mostly for repairing our bikes: pedals falling off, flat tires, chains coming off. But also to take refuge under a tree to hide from the sun and replenish our sugar with a coke.

On the road! Safely!

Here's a day to day summary of my bike trip: ##day 1## Lilongwe to Mpingu - 22 km
We left in the afternoon, the hottest part of the day, only to break down on the first hill, still in Lilongwe. Rosy's pedal fell off.. After that little hiccup we managed to cycle for 22 km and reached Mpingu where we slept in a roadside guesthouse.

A flashlight and a bottle make for great ambient lighting

##day 2##

Mpingu to Mchinji - 88 km
This time we left a lot earlier to try to avoid the heat. But my t-shirt was still drenched in sweat within the first minute of cycling. We managed to ride all the way to Mchinji, just before the Zambian border. Here we stayed with an American Peace Corps volunteer, who we've met a the festival. Unfortunately Gary had to give up because he injured his ankle.

Our bicycles needed a rest too ##day 3##

Mchinji to Chipata - 37 km

Crossing the border from Malawi to Zambia This is the second time I cross a border on a bicycle! Early in the morning we go from Malawi to Zambia and reach the closest town on the Zambian side, Chipata. From there we quickly jump in a taxi and drive to South Luangwa National Park to try and spot some elephants and hippos.

The elephants found us!

Fine-tuning the bikes turned out to be an impossible task

Most of the wolf pack, with matching shirts, except mine for some reason..

##day 4##

Chipata to Chisanti - 104 km
Our first +100 km day! I struggled with flat tire in the morning but managed to find a roadside bicycle shop and got it fixed for about €2.

Taking a rest and having a coke after 80 km

Lunch break under a mango tree

Sunset.. After 100 km we started looking for a place to sleep. We stopped at Shishanti, one of the many villages along the road, and asked to speak to the headman and ask him for permission to camp out there. And even though there was a funeral for his aunt we were allowed to stay there. An incredible experience this was! Our tents were pitched between the clay houses, close to the headman's house of course. We were constantly surrounded by at least 20 children watching us. And during the night we could here the sad but very beautiful singing of the people attending the funeral.

The children of Shisanti

Entertaining the children

Spot the Mzungu...

Our tents in Shisanti village

Shisanti village

##day 5## Shisanti to Nyimba - 133 km
Day five was a bit of a crazy day for me. After cycling for about 90 km the heat got the best of Rosy and she decided to hitchhike to the next town where there was a guesthouse. After deliberating a little bit I decided to join Thomas and cycle those 45 km! So we ended up doing 133 km. Since I was cycling a single-speed bike it was hard to keep up with Thomas but after a bit more than two hours we arrived in Nyimba. Still feeling ok, for now..

Wolf Pack on the road

##day 6## Nyimba to Luangwa bridge - 105 km
I definitely felt the effort of the day before on this day. I struggled going up even the lowest hills and walked up most of them. Sometimes with the help of children walking back from school pushing my bike up. Completely exhausted I reached Luangwa bridge!

##day 7## Luangwa bridge to Rufunsa
The road after the Luangwa bridge is quite a bit steeper than what we had done before and since I really needed a days rest I stayed at our campsite with Rosy and Gunbritt for the day. In the afternoon we hitched a ride with a truck for about 70 km where we found Thomas extremely exhausted from the heavy day! He found us a camp spot behind a local bar just before Rufunsa.

Our tents pitched behind Kalundu bar in Rufunsa

##day 8## Rufunsa to Chongwe - 122 km
In Rufunsa Rosy and Gunbritt decided to hitchhike all the way to Lusaka, so just me and Thomas would continue to Lusaka. After walking up one long steep hill just after leaving Rufunsa I was finally able to cycle again. I felt good again and managed to cycle about 120 km until we reached Chongwe, just before Lusaka.

##day 9## Chongwe to Lusaka - 45 km
The last day was a short and easy day to Lusaka. We reached Lusaka before noon and had enough time to relax.

I cycled a total of 660 km on a single-speed bicycle through Africa with a bunch of amaznig people.. this was amazing! And also very inspiring for future trips! But next time I want a bicycle with gears.

My lovely Humber survived it to Lusaka and is currently located behind the kitchen at Wanderers Backpackers. Feel free to take it for a ride :-)

Thomas and Gunbritt are still cycling! Most likely until they reach Cape Town. A lot of respect!

Not many people know about the Bethlehem Wall. It is still there. And it's three to four times higher than the Berlin Wall. It separates Bethlehem from Jerusalem. Palestine from Israel. It separates families. It separates farmers from their land.

The wall splits the city in two It is a target during the almost daily riots. It's covered in paint, in an effort to block the IDF from watching over the rioters. And it is covered in graffiti artwork.

Street art on the Wall

Liefde

A Banksy on the Wall People try going from one side to the other. Climbing over the 12 metres high structure. Trying to get a glimpse of life in the other side. They manage with one rope with knots.

Artwork

The Bethlehem Wall

People are still getting injured and killed on a regular basis. Close to the wall there is a constant smell and prickling of the eyes from tear gas. Next to bullet casings – Israeli munition – there lie marbles – Palestinian munition.

The huge Bethlehem Wall

A watchtower on the Bethlehem Wall

A house enclosed on three sides

<img class="post-photo" src="/photos/57dc27d7b22ac.jpg" alt="The Banksy "peace" dove" />The Banksy "peace" dove

<img class="post-photo" src="/photos/57dc2834dff3e.jpg" alt=""Surfing"" />"Surfing"

We went olive picking with Idris, a 65 year old who gets harassed by the IDF when he picks olives from trees that have on his land for generations! And we did "school runs", which basically means keeping watch at the school entrance when school is about to start. A lot of children travel between H1 into H2 and more often than not are welcomed by soldiers with tear gas.

A soldier overlooking Hebron; seen through the nets

Iron gate separating H1 from H2

Rubble on the nets protecting the Palestinians

Thrash left in rooms inaccessible by their Palestinian owners

Barbed wire and gratings separate people from their homes

IDF soldier

IDF soldier

Soldiers guarding over the muslim cemetary

Tomas happily picking olives for Idris

The view from Tel Rumeida

Palestinian kid drinking some sugary tea

Playing tavla (or backgammon) in a local bar

Drinking tea in the barn!

We woke up quite excited and nervous after our night in Ramallah. The ISM-ers had been briefed about their different missions and we were being told about our position should we decide to go with them. We would go with a number of other volunteers from ISM to a small village called Nabi Saleh. There, like in so many other places, there would be a demonstration against the Israeli occupation after the prayer.

The weekly demonstration in Nabi Saleh is usually quite small with only a handful Palestinians. And it doesn't turn into large displays of violence unlike in Hebron. Despite this, during the briefing we were still told we couldn't turn to ISM for legal support in case things went wrong. So both of us were excited and nervous but quite convinced nothing significant would happen.

In the morning we took a minibus taxi from Ramallah to the village with four of five other ISM-ers. First passing a sign indicating the dangers of entering Palestinian territory, and later driving next to the Israeli settlements and ironically through the Israeli checkpoint at the entrance of the village. About one kilometer after we passed the checkpoint we got out at the gas station which was used as the meeting point. Shortly after noon some Palestinians had arrived, even less than I expected. But there were many children and a local film crew. Some more internationals also arrived (ISM and other organizations).

In the end there may have been more international people than Palestinians this particular day. Which was strange in a way but I suppose it must be heartening to them to see so much support from the outside. In total we were only about 30 or 40 people. It was reassurance to us that things would probably remain calm.

This turned out to be quite untrue...

Together with the Palestinians we marched toward the checkpoint through which we had just driven and had now been closed. In front of it stood now about ten fully armed soldiers and a shielded truck. We halted a few hundred meters in front. The group was proudly bearing the Palestinian flag and a banner of a teenager who had died this day a couple of years ago during a protest.

There was an eerie silence for about fifteen minutes during which both parties just looked at each other. Then without warning one of the soldiers decided to fire of a tear gas grenade towards us. Then another, and another,... What followed was a back and forth fight during which the soldiers shot tear gas at us and the teenagers threw back stones in slingshots. When possible they even picked up the still active tear gas grenades and shot them back to the soldiers. Risking getting caught in the gas as well. Which I can assure you is a horrible experience.

After a while there was tear gas everywhere and it was impossible to escape it. Resulting in burning eyes, lungs and noses. Absolutely horrible! Some of the kids got hit straight in the face and could hardly see and breath for a couple of minutes.

Palestinians hiding from the soldiers with an Israeli settlement in the background:

Tomas and I were quite shocked about what was unfolding in front of us! The fighting slowly got more intense in the sense that many more tear gas grenades where fired and a few rubber bullets got fired as well (luckily not hitting anyone). Then after some time the soldiers started to get closer too and were firing more accurately, causing us to retreat.

Everyone was advised to go back to the gas station. It was over... for us. For us this was one unbelievable episode, for them this was a recurring thing. Every week again they go and protest against the Israeli occupation. Making little to no progress.

Back at the gas station the father of one of the children invited all of us to have lunch at his place. This was a wonderful experience. The food was amazing and we had the chance to speak with some of the children and the adults. We were all enjoying ourselves very much. Adding to the contradictory feelings I had while being here. The situation is absurd and very tragic, meanwhile the people are very welcoming, they enjoy talking with us and laugh and smile.

Here is a documentary by the genius Louis Theroux about the absurd and tragic situation in Israel and Palestine. The man at 29:20 is the one who invited us for lunch! Louis Theroux: Ultra Zionists

Our first stop was Jan and Monica's school in Hebron: the Center of Excellence. Here Palestinians are being taught English from both volunteers and Palestinian teachers.

There we had our first encounter with the Arab hospitality. We were welcomed by the biggest smile and were offered tea and breakfast. The teachers were very friendly and interested. People here were extra hospitable because of the fact that there are basically no tourists in Palestine.

H2: Hebron under Israeli control

Jan and Monica then introduced us to Hebron or El-Khalil as it is called in Arabic. It is a holy city in both Islam and Judaism and is still one of the most important cities in the West Bank but it is suffering a lot under Israeli occupation.

We walked straight to the central part of Hebron, called H2. This part is separated from H1 by Israeli checkpoints and is thus completely under Israeli control although there are only about 500 Israelis but more than 10.000 Palestinians.

An Israeli building overlooking the entrance to Hebron's old town

To get there we walked through the old city of Hebron until we bumped into the checkpoint. For us tourists it was easy to pass through, but many Palestinians can't pass. Some of the have been separated from friends and family for years.

Meat for sale

A small street in the old town

The checkpoints are a regular target during the protests each Friday. On this day the Palestinians demonstrate and protest after their midday prayer. Next to checkpoints many stones and other objects can be found. As well as smoke, stun and tear gas grenades from the Israeli soldiers.

One of the Israeli checkpoints separating H1 and H2

Once inside H2 the busy town gave way to an eerie ghost town. There were basically no people in the street except for the odd IDF (Israeli Defense Force) soldier.

Ibrahimi Mosque in H2

The streets and squares, which were once crowded, are now completely empty. The Palestinians are not allowed to do business anymore. They are not allowed to open their windows or use the front door. And the can not drive a car in H2, contrary to the Israelis. Every now and then a car passes by, which is either from an Israeli or TIPH, the only NGO allowed there.

Al-Shuhada Street, once the busiest street in Palestine is now silent...

Barrels filled with cement to block streets

As everywhere in Palestine, Israeli buildings are placed on strategic places, such as here in Hebron: an outpost on top of the hill with a huge Hanukkah menorah next to it.

The Israelis have put up signs everywhere in H2 which explain why this part should belong to them (example below). And it is true that not all Palestinians are angels. But this is in my opinion not the way to solve this conflict.

"This land was stolen by Arabs following the murder of 67 Hebron Jews"

A view over Hebron from Tel Rumeida

Some "undercover" photo's

After the Old Yaffa road we reached the walls surrounding the old city of Jerusalem. It felt like being transported a few centuries back in time. Inside those walls lies the old city and the big streets gave way to a labyrinth of small intertwining streets.

A market on the way to the old city

The wall surrounding the old city and a gate into it

Somewhere in that labyrinth we had to find the Old Hebron Hostel, which was hidden in there. Miraculously we managed to find it quite quickly with the help of our map! It was not the best hostel but the location definitely made up for it! We were in the middle of old Jerusalem and see surrounded by a plethora of little shops, one next to the other, selling street food and souvenirs. They sold anything from pictures of Holy Maria to tavla (backgammon) and chess boards.

Two churches can be seen from the roof of our hostel A small alley in the old city

Jerusalem lies on the border between Israel and Palestine and because of its importance to three major religions (Christianity, Islam and Judaism) it has a great mix of different people: Arabs, Jews, Christians and Armenians. Some people make it sound that the people here live together peacefully and it is an example of a multi religious community. But the presence of the many security people with their machine guns and the talks about riots now and then made it somehow hard to believe.

We walked around the old town, turning left and right randomly, until we got lost. We walked on Via Dolorosa, on which Jesus supposedly carried his cross. We went to the Wailing Wall where dozens of Jews where praying, reading the Torah and putting little papers between the cracks of the Wall. And we played football with some little kids next to one of the many churches.

The Western Wall or Wailing Wall, a holy place for Jews

Jews put prayers in the cracks of the Wailing Wall

To get close to the wall, it is required to wear a kippah

A picture of Jesus in one of the churches

Playing football with some Arab kids

Later that day Tomas' friend Jan arrived. He was working in Hebron as an English teacher. Jan brought Monica and Elisabeth, an American and an English woman. All three of them were also working for ISM, the International Solidarity Movement, at the time. This organization supports the Palestinians by documenting anything related to the conflict.

We had a nice dinner together during which Jan, Monica and Elisabeth talked a lot about what they had been experiencing the last couple of months. This is the moment when I really started to learn about what was happening here and how absurd some of these stories were. The more I heard, the more I understood why there was a conflict, but the less I understood why it was happening in this way.

The next day we took a taxi to Hebron or Al-Khalil (الخليل), located in the West Bank. We were about to enter Palestinian territory. We were both very excited!

The first obstacle of reaching Palestine: trying to start the taxi

My good friend Tomas from back home proposed to travel to Israel and Palestine together. He is currently studying in Istanbul and asked me to fly together from Istanbul to Tel Aviv and spend about 10 days in Israel and Palestine combined. He had a friend working in Hebron, Palestine, so we had a contact there. Although I was reluctant about flying not because I'm afraid of flying, but I prefer travelling over land this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. So I said yes (which I did a lot on my trip already), and we flew from on the 16th of November.

When we left, I had actually no clue about what was exactly going on. Of course I had heard the terms 'Jordan West Bank', 'Gaza Strip', 'intifada', etc... on the news. But I didn't have a good idea how all this was related. What followed was an amazing 2 weeks. Both tragic and beautiful.

My first flight!

On the 16th of November we left Tomas' apartment early in the morning and we arrived in Tel Aviv around noon. We went through the security checkpoints quite easily, despite what we had heard before. We were also glad that we didn't get an entry stamp in our passport. This was important because we both had plans to travel to some Arab countries in the near future, which would be difficult or even impossible (e.g. Lebanon) with a stamp of Israel.

In Tel Aviv we stayed at Florentine Backpackers, a lively place with a very nice rooftop terrace, which served as the meeting place. Every evening they offered free shisha, before everyone was invited to join the staff for some beers in the city.

During our short stay there we walked around Old Yaffo, the old city of Tel Aviv, went swimming in the Mediterranean Sea and had some beers around town. And as our "free" tour guide so aptly pointed out: it felt safe indeed. This was unfortunately not true for the whole country. But Tel Aviv felt like many other Western cities. Only with more falafel and shisha.

Getting ready for some serious swimming in the Mediterranean Sea with David the German

So, Tel Aviv seemed like a nice city, but we wanted to explore and learn about Palestine and meet Tomas' friend there. So after two nights in Florentine's, we left it (and David) behind and took the bus to Jerusalem. The Holy City.

Sunset over Old Yaffo

We agreed on leaving at 5 am in the morning to have enough time in the park to see many animals. However, we forgot we were still in Africa... At 5.30 am we got a message our driver/guide would arrive at 6.15 am. And when we finally left, the car broke down after 30 minutes.

After about an hour, we were on our way again in another safari jeep. And then the three hour drive turned out to be a four hour drive because of all the traffic.

But in the end we still saw a lot of animals, so we won't complain :-)!

And now the pictures...

The Tarangire river which streams through the park:

We saw some colorful birds with weird eyes:

Some less colorful birds with weird heads:

Then a bunch of playful mongoose:

A sneaky squirrel, eating our breadcrumbs at lunchtime:

Different kinds of monkeys:

And then we started seeing some of the bigger animals! I hadn't seen any big animals, except for camels, since I was in Africa. So this was exciting!!

First a lot of beautiful impala and gazelles:

Then some giraffes:

And finally the majestic elephants:

I was again very lucky to have a visitor, after my parents' visit in Ethiopia: my youngest brother Victor came from Belgium on the 26th of March to join me for the hike. He had his break from University for Easter, so we could climb Kilimanjaro together.

Mount Kilimanjaro is the highest mountain of Africa, at 5895 meter on the Uhuru Peak. The name, meaning "freedom", was given by the first president of Tanzania after it's formation in 1964. Climbing the mountain does not require any special equipment, so it is a popular destination for people wanting to climb one of the Seven Summits, the collection of highest mountains of each of the seven continents.

Day 1: Moshi to Machame gate (1800 m) to Machame Camp (3000 m)

We set off on Sunday the 27th for a six days, five nights hike on the popular Machame route. This route is the most frequented camping route and is the most popular route after the Marangu route, where you sleep in huts. On this six day trek there is one acclimatisation day to minimise the risk of getting altitude sickness.

On the way to the Machame gate (at 1800 m) the weather was super! The skies were clear in the morning, so we had a good view of the mountain from the car. We knew what was waiting for us! The picture is less clear...

While waiting at the gate for our team consisting of 2 guides, 1 cook and 8 porters to get all the documents in order and distribute the tents, food and backpacks, a monkey, very sneakily, stole some of the other hikers' lunch for that day.

The sign at Machame gate, with the relevant camp sites and landmarks on our route towards the summit. We had a 40 km and 32 hour long hike in front of us.

On the first day, the hike took us through the forest until the first camp site at 3000 m. By the time we arrived, the clouds and rain had come. March was coming to an end, which meant the rain season was about to start. There was a chance to encounter a lot of rain and maybe snow on the way.

Eventually we had no snow but during the day the weather changed like clockwork: the sky cleared during the night, so we always woke up to a sunny morning. By midday the clouds had appeared and by 1 pm, it always started raining.

Victor listening carefully to one of our guides.

Our arrival at Machame Camp at 3000 m.

Our mess tent where we had our pancakes, rice, fruits, pasta, eggs, etc..., and, of course, loads of tea to keep us hydrated to battle altitude sickness!

A view on the permanently (for now!) snow capped Kibo Peak from Machame camp.

The start of the rain season also meant that we were climbing Kilimanjaro during the low season. We were accompanied by only five other groups, totaling to about 30 other climbers (excluding their accompanying teams). Both of us wondered constantly how the experience must be during high season when there's hundreds of people climbing at the same time, leading to extremely full camp sites, traffic jams on the hiking paths and to wait to take a picture of the sign at the summit.,. We did not mind the little rain we had every day!

Day 2: Machame Camp (3000 m) to Shira Camp (3900 m)

The second day we walked up to 3900 meter to Shira Camp. A huge open campsite, with a good view on the mountain. We started again in the forest but soon left it for a more open space. The second vegetation zone was more rocky and had more bushes than trees. The higher we climbed, the smaller the flora became..

Victor, being excited to see Kibo Peak:

The huge Shira Camp, covered in fog:

Victor and the other mountain guide:

View over the Shira volcano:

Shira Camp and the complete Kibo Peak at sunrise:

The porters are allowed to carry up to 20 kg according to the regulations of the park. However, it is both hard to believe and very impressive when you see them carrying a backpack on their back, and then more on their heads, while they are wearing run down shoes which we wouldn't wear for such a serious hike.

Day 3 (Acclimatisation day): Shira Camp (3900 m) to Lava Tower (4600 m) to Barranco Camp (3940 m)

The third day was the acclimatisation day. During this day we climbed from 3900 m to 4600 m and descended back down to 3940 m. At the highest point, the effects of the altitude could appear: headache, shortness of breath, vomiting and a fast heartbeat. But if these symptoms are not there, or if they only appear in a small amount, the chance of getting severe altitude sickness when going even higher are small.

Both Victor and I didn't feel anything, so we wouldn't have to worry too much about altitude sickness when attempting to summit! Now it was a matter of being fit enough!

One of the many lobelia flowers we saw on the way:

Dendrosenecio trees (Dendrosenecio kilimanjari):

Sign at the Barranco Camp at an altitude of 3940 meter:

Another view of the Kibo Peak. We were getting closer!

Day 4: Barranco Camp (3940 m) to Barafu Camp (base camp; 4650 m)

At Barranco Camp, four of the hiking routes meet. So during high season, it could host up to a thousand people! This could lead to a two hour traffic jam of hikers and porters on the Barranco Wall, a 250 meter climb, almost straight up, just outside of the camp.

But since there were a lot less than a thousand people now, we could quickly climb up the wall and were on the top after about 30 minutes. We were eager to continue and didn't want to lose a lot of time, so we quickly hiked further to Karanga Camp. This is an intermediate camp, used by people who wanted an extra night's rest before going to base camp. We had only booked a six day hike so after a little break at the camp we continued to base camp: Barafu Camp!

During this day's hike the guide tested our pace and they were very surprised to arrive at base camp at noon. It had apparently been a few years since they had arrived this early. This boosted our self-esteem of course, but mostly gave us more time to rest before the summit day!

A view of the base camp from below:

The toilets (hole's in the ground) at base camp:

Our tents and other hikers' tents at base camp:

Base camp lies at 4650 meter, still 1245 meter short of the summit! To reach the summit for sunrise, it meant getting up in the middle of the night, literally. Wake-up time was at midnight. So we had our dinner at 5 pm and tried to get to sleep at 6 pm.

Day 5 (Summit day): Barafu Camp (4650 m) to Uhuru Peak (5895 m) to Mweka Camp (3100 m)

Because we proved during the previous day that we had a good pace, we were allowed to sleep a bit longer than other groups. We heard groups were getting up at 10 or 11 pm. By the time we were ready to go up, the others groups had already gone, which we could see on the way up by the numerous head torches.

A long exposure shot of the people going up and Kibo.

The acclimatisation day had shown we handled the altitude well. However, we were going higher than we had ever been. So there was even less oxygen every step we took. Combined with a lack of sleep, this resulted in a very exhausting way up! We had received warnings the night before: we would get headaches, we could have difficulties breathing and there's a possibility of vomiting (up to three times was allowed!). Fortunately, we only suffered from a slight headache!

But slowly slowly ('pole pole' in Kiswahili), we made it to Stella Point, the point-of-no-return, at 5756 m at 5 am. From this point on the ascent is less steep and thus easier than the first few hours of the trek. We had our last break there, accompanied by some warm tea with a lot of sugar to energize us for the last 140 m up.

At 6 am, Just before sunrise we then finally made it to Uhuru Peak. Together with another woman, we were the first to arrive! What an incredible feeling!! We practically had the whole peak to ourselves and could see the sun rising in the east from the highest point of Africa! Unbelievable!!

We had climbed for five days, starting at 1600 m in the blistering sun with a temperature of more than 30°C, arriving at sunrise at 5895 m with a temperature between -10°C and -5°C, surrounded by glaciers and snow.

And I did all of that with my brother. Really incredible!

My brother and me at the Uhuru Peak!

Dismas, Victor, me and Faraja (our two guides):

We then waited on the summit until the sun rose above the clouds so we could have a better view of what was happening under our feet...

...and to take another picture at the sign:

A huge wall of snow and ice, as seen from the summit:

A view on the Mawenzi volcano (5149 m):

The shadow cast by Mount Kilimanjaro on the clouds and haze surrounding it:

And then, inescapably, the way back down started. Even though going down is less exhausting than going up, especially in this case because the increase in oxygen is very welcoming, it is very hard on the knees. And we were going down for 2800 m. So for both of us, the way back down was a bit less enjoyable than going up. Luckily, we got a long rest back at base camp before having our last lunch on the mountain and heading for Mweka Camp at 3100 m.

Day 6: Mweka Camp (3100 m) to Mweka Gate (1600 m); then back to Moshi

We had an early and good night's sleep at Mweka Camp after the long and tiring previous day. On the last day we left at 8 am for Mweka Gate, where we got picked up, tired but very satisfied, to go back to our hostel.

At the hostel a little celebration followed by our guides and team when they joyfully sang the "Jambo Bwana" Kilimanjaro song.

Kilimanjaro? Hakuna matata! (Kilimanjaro? No problem!)

After the singing and dancing, they thanked us, and we of course thanked them, and they handed over our certificates! We officially made it to the summit!

While Tomas went to university to catch up on some courses I explored the huge city by randomly walking around. I got my beard trimmed, drank lots of Turkish tea and took photos of the numerous mosques. The city is enormous, divided into a European part, an Asian part an Sultanahmet (the old city), so being there for only ten days was barely enough to experience and understand the city only a little bit. But it was enough to see I will go back there!

The grand bazaar Turkish flags everywhere

Some of the mosques:

Our 'gang' of friends

A fisherman selling fish in the streets

My barber posing for the picture after I got my beard trimmed at his shop

Sunset over the Sea of Marmara

And of course, last but definitely not least, Atatürk, the man who shaped present day Turkey:

It didn't go as planned!

The night before, after visiting the old city of Plovdiv, I packed everything and was ready to go to sleep at 7 pm. But then a friend I met while travelling in Sofia showed up. She remembered it was my birthday the next day, so she proposed to have a beer in the city.

Of course one beer easily led to the next. And after having some beers at the bar, we later ended up at a barbeque party at another hostel. There I bought a bottle of home made Rakia, the spirit of the Balkans. We (read: mostly I) finished the bottle and had some beers in between.

At midnight, my friend had convinced everyone to sing "Happy Birthday" and she got out a muffin with a birthday candle. It was a wonderful way to turn 26!!

As a result, the next morning I woke up too late and left the hostel around 11 am, not really ready to start hitchhiking. With a slight hangover I quickly got a ride from a very religious couple who were on their way to church, it was Sunday after all. They tried to convince me to start believing in Jesus before they kindly dropped me off at a gas station on the road leading out of Plovdiv towards Turkey.

From there I waited a little bit until I got squeezed into a small car with 4 other people. They drove slowly, but all they way to Svilengrad, 15 km from the border. That sounded good, at first.

Unfortunately, there weren't many people going form Svilengrad to Turkey, so I did something against the hitchhiker's safety rulers: I tried hitchhiking on the highway. After 40 minutes a friendly Turkish trucker picked me up and he would take me all the way to Istanbul!! Amazing!!

But I didn't have a lot of luck on my birthday... After only one kilometer, the queue for the trucks to the border already started. 14 kilometer of trucks, standing still. The trucker said I could stay with him, but we would only arrive sometime the next day. No option for me! So I got out and tried to catch a car to the border. Without success...

After walking and some running for 3 hours on the highway I finally ended up at the Turkish border shortly after sunset. I crossed the border without trouble, but then I had to resort to taking a taxi to Edirne and a bus to Istanbul from there.

It wasn't my most successful day of hitchhiking, but having the birthday party the night before was worth it :-)!!

After communism fell, the people trashed the whole place and left the concrete structure to break down by the elements. It's a deserted and weird, yet very interesting place to visit!

Here are the pictures.

After leaving behind most of my stuff in the hostel in Sofia, I hitchhiked to the ski resort of Borovets, from where the way up starts. At this time the weather was good. The sun was shining but it was not too hot. I started hiking at noon and used the ski resort's slope map as a guide. The people of the village were busy making the last preparations before the start of the season, one month later. In the beginning of November, no snow was to be found...

Some ice on the way up

View of the Rila mountains

A reflection in the window of a mountain hut

I climbed up to about 2700 m to find the last mountain hut before the summit all to myself. I cooked my dinner in a milk carton (a trick I learned from the Flemish science program 'Hoe? Zo!') and enjoyed the views over the valley as the sun set behind the mountains.

It was quite windy and the temperature dropped to about -4°C at night. Luckily the hut and my sleeping bag protected me for these things. During the night the wind brought with it some clouds and by the morning the hut and the mountains were surrounded by a thick, icy fog, which did not disappear.

The, almost unreadable, thermometer in the morning

I arrived at the top at 10.30 in the morning and completely missed the promised view of the Rila mountains. After the summit, I hiked to a few more peaks, hoping the clouds would clear and I would be able to have some nice views from another peak. It didn't. So I walked for 2 more hours in the clouds, with an icy wind coming from my left side (see picture).

I got to go to the highest point of the Balkans, but missed the great view. I see it as a reason to go back there and hope for better weather next time!

Tesla's, egg-shaped urn

Chess players at night

The biggest Orthodox church in Serbia

The Winner, strategically pointed towards Austria

On Friday, Ana, her friend and me went to a party at their university. We listened and danced to Serbian New Wave music until everyone else had left, which resulted in this last photo...

At a around 12 I finally got to the big street leading out of the city and luckily found a ride until the border town of Moravița within 5 minutes. But instead of driving straight to the town, he first took me to the METRO wholesale supermarket. We spent about 40 minutes buying 50 frozen chickens, 30 kg of different varieties of cat food, a lot of canned pineapple, and a lot more. Since he did not speak a lot of English, I still have no idea what it was for.

So the fifty minute drive soon became an hour and thirty minutes. And when I eventually arrived, there seemed to be almost no cars continuing towards the border. I tried my luck with the few cars and trucks on the road while also walking the few kilometers. No one had picked me up by the time I arrived at the border and resorted to walking across it. This was the first time I could use my passport and as such retrieved my first (of hopefully many more passport entry stamps).

Once on the other side I tried to catch a ride again, without any more luck... I had given up hope and started walking to the first town, Vršac, 10 km further. There was nothing to see except for fields and the occasional truck that managed to pass the border control. So in the worst case I could just camp out there and try my luck the next day.

After about three hours since I started walking a friendly Serbian farmer decided to pick me up and drop me in Vršac, at the east end of town. There, I spent another hour until again a really friendly man saw me walking back towards the bus station with my "Belgrade" sign. He shouted at me that I was walking the wrong way for Belgrade and he decided to give me a lift to the other side of town. There the road led out of town, straight to Belgrade.

In the twilight I waited for less than 10 minutes until Dimitrije, a 23 year old pilot in training, picked me up and drove me all the way to the capital of Serbia! I made it and could meet up with one of the best Couchsurf hosts!

I spent the first evening with my very nice Couchsurf host, who just came back from 10 months of travelling, and my last driver. We went into the city and had some good and local Romanian beers and shared some interesting stories about travelling and Romania's history and current situation.

During my last day in Romania, I walked around the city of Timișoara and went to the Memorialul Revolutei, a very interesting museum about the 1989 Revolution, which started in Timișoara and marked the end of Ceausescu's reign. I spent my last night with some people in met in a bar. They waived me goodbye with some good advice: "Don't look sad, smile!!".

The inside of Romania's biggest church (until a bigger one opens in Bucharest)

After spending 2.5 weeks in Romania, these are some final thoughts: the nature is beautiful, the people are very friendly and welcoming, Romania has an extreme (and increasing) number of churches, it's perfect for hitchhiking and it has a lot of imported cars.

Thanks to all the nice and beautiful people I met so here! I will come back!

Later that Friday, I arrived in a nice hostel in the center of Sibiu. On this day the Scouts from my home town had a party and, since I could not attend the party, I promised them I would Skype and drink a beer with my friends back home, from a distance.

My preparation for the Skype call: Skype call as seen from my home town: Skype call as seen from Romania:

After an hour I had already reached the summit and enjoyed the nice 360° view over the Făgăraș mountains on this beautiful morning! I still had two days, so I wasn't in a rush. I wrote in the log book, took some pictures and relaxed a while in the sun.

After about an hour I started my way back down. This time it was very sunny and warm because I was now walking on the southern flanks. I could even hike in my tshirt. However, later, around 1 pm, I crossed a col into a valley to the north and found snow and frozen streams and lakes. It was absolutely beautiful. The sun clearly has a lot of power!

I then finally arrived at the last mountain hut in the valley around 3.30 pm. Unfortunately, there were only paid beds available. No winter room or refuge.. Since I had counted on that, I was in trouble.. I didn't take any money with me and I had left my tent back in the hostel. I double checked the map and there was indeed no hut or refuge left in the valley. And the nearest village was still 4.5 hours away. There was no other option than to run back down so I could beat the sunset.

After a very exhausting hike / run of 3 hours I arrived in the valley, still one hour from the village. Luckily there was some sign of life there: there were some fires from people working in the woods and some cars at the side of the trail. The first car I encountered agreed to pick me up and drive me to the village. From there I hitchhiked back to the bigger road leading back to Brașov.

By that time it was already dark and there was another hitchhiker in my spot. He got picked up by a truck after 10 minutes, which gave me some hope of getting back to Brașov. Another 15 minutes later an actual bus stopped. The bus drove between Sibiu and Brașov and back. I got in and said the magic words "fara bani" again. The bus driver gave me a strange look and asked "fara bani?". "Yes, fara bani", "Hmm... OK then...". Magic words!

A good hour later I was back in the hostel. Exhausted, but satisfied from the beautiful day. This time I learned to always take some back-up cash. And that "fara bani" are the magic words in Romania!!

Luckily two climbers, coincidentally from Belgium, arrived at the hostel in Brașov I was staying at. They just came down from the mountains and assured me that the conditions were perfect. A bit cold but sunny. On the northern flank a there was also a little bit of ice and snow. Perfect! I cancelled my hostel reservation for the next night and left some of my luggage in the garage of the hostel. I bought some left over mountain food (dry fruit, energy bars, high calorie meals, ...) from the Belgians, discussed the best route to take and prepared everything to go the next day.

I planned on hiking for three days, which would give me enough time in the mountains to hike at a pleasant pace. So I would be back at the hostel on Thursday. On Friday I could then leave Brașov just before all the people came to celebrate Halloween. All hostels were completely full during the weekend because of a party at the Bran castle, better known as Dracula's castle!

I woke up early on Tuesday and hitchhiked to Ucea de Jos, a small village along the way connecting Brasov and Sibiu. From there it was still 10 km to the foot of the mountains so I tried to find a ride to Victoria. One of the first cars stopped and I said "fara bani" or "without money". He had some doubt for one second before he let me in, together with two older women. I did not have to pay, the others did. Magic words, and friendly Romanians, of course.

The way up began from there. A relatively easy part came first. I walked until 2.30 pm through the forest and in the sun, until I arrived at the first unmanned mountain hut. I had slowly climbed up to 1750 m. But I still had enough energy to continue. There was supposed to be another hut just below the summit, at 2400 m.

The second part was a bit tougher though. The ascent was a lot steeper. It started getting colder. And because I was walking on the northern flank I had to walk on snow. But the view was amazing.

Around 4.30 pm I arrived at the mountain hut and by my surprise, I was not alone. I met Voytek (Polish), and Christian (German), who had decided to walk from Germany to Istanbul and hike across the highest mountain range of Romania. Crazy guys. We shared food and stories and enjoyed the full moon shining on the Moldoveanu.

See the pictures below. It was definitely worth spending my morning there before hitchhiking further to the small city of Sighișoara.

The spacy interior of Samsara teahouse:

First sunshine in a long time:

A travelling jazz band in a jazz bar (Les Poissons Voyageurs):

A wooden church in Ieud, Maramureș, built in the 18th century:

Even the nails are made of wood:

The oldest wooden church, built around 1355:

After visiting the Merry Cemetery and staying at the small Săpânța village, I wanted to enjoy the nature side of Maramureș as well and I decided to go hiking in the hillside.

I hitchhiked from Săpânța to Sighetu Marmație (or shortly Sighet) first, where I visited the Sighet prison. This prison was used to detain political prisoners during the communist regime. A lot of Romanian intellectuals of that time died in that prison, such as Iuliu Maniu, a popular former prime minister.

A chess game completely made from cloth:

The meditation place:

After visiting the prison I wanted to hitchhike further, to Vișeu de Sus. While I was still in Sighet, I kind of had a conversation, using a mix of Romanian, English, German and Russian, with a gypsy woman. She didn't let me hitchhike but instead promised me that one of her friends would come and pick us up. I tried to explain that I didn't want to pay for the ride, but when the friend finally arrived, they immediately asked for money. Apart from the interesting conversation itself, this was actually waste of time.

Walking further down the road leading out of Sighet, I regularly saw something funny: from time to time a bus passed by that had a very similar sight. I immediately recognized it as a bus that was being used for public transport in Belgium.

This is actually common practice in Romania. Most people can't afford a new car so they buy cheaper imported second hand cars. This has lead to some confusion now and then. When hitchhiking I usually try to make eye contact with the driver, but now and then an imported car from a left-hand driving country drives by. At first glance it then seems a driverless car drives by...

It took me another hour before I finally found my ride to Vișeu de Sus. I got picked up by an actual taxi, but I did not need to pay. Amazing!

Once I arrived in Vișeu de Sus in the afternoon I went straight for the hills and started hiking towards Săliștea de Sus. The views were amazing: the setting sun over the colored autumn leaves.

Just before the sun set behind the hills I found a somewhat flat spot where I could finally pitch my tent for the first time! I first took some photos, then I pitched my tent, heated up some food and had dinner whilst enjoying the sunset. It was perfect!

I got into my sleeping bag at 7 pm and started reading a book. After a while I noticed some sounds around my tent. After listening closely it was clear that there were animals around my tent. Oops.. I was so happy I could finally use my tent for the first time that I had totally forgotten to check which animals roamed the forests of Maramureș. Luckily, after laying very still for a while, the animals went away and the sounds fainted. When the adrenaline wore off, I slept really good actually!

During the night I got up once and looked outside my tent to see a completely clear sky accompanied with a million stars. So beautiful!

Because of the clear sky, the temperature dropped significantly during the night. So when I eventually got up, the dew had frozen on my tent and on everything around. This looked again amazing! This is certainly an advantage of traveling outside the summer.

I hope to sleep in my tent more during my travels, but I'll first check on the animals :-).

I got to the little village of Săpânța, where only a few thousand people are living, of who only one (actively) used Couchsurfing! Great! However, the woman was in Portugal, but I could stay at her parents house anyway. Her mother and I did not have any common language, except for the universal hand-signing-language, but I had a good time anyway!

A wooden gate in Săpânța

In the little village, there is a small cemetery which is called the Merry Cemetery or Happy Cemetery. It got this name because it celebrates the deceased person's life. All the wooden tombstones have a main blue color and colorful decorations. They contain a colorful drawing of a moment in the person's life and an accompanying humorous poem.

When I was walking around in Săpânța, I got stopped by two lumberjacks that just came back from the woods. They started asking some questions and one of them told me to take a picture of his brother, a traditional Romanian lumberjack.

I started hitchhiking in the morning and found a ride with a worker in a small truck to Baia Mare, Maramures' capital. He dropped me off at the south side of the city from where I took a bus to the north side to hitchhike further. While walking towards the main road leading north I already made my sign for Sighetu Marmației and tried my luck at a smaller road.

One of the first cars stopped, telling me that no car would pick me up there and he proposed to drive me to a better spot, where there would also be trucks. During the short drive he started calling on his phone to some friends after which he said he had changed his plans for the day and would drive me all the way to my end destination himself. Wow! That was so generous!! To make it even better, he took me to a fish restaurant, which was built around a collection of pools containing the trout.

After we had our tasty lunch, consisting of fresh trout and polenta, the guy drove me all the way to the front door of my Couchsurf house! What an amazing ride! So much generosity!

I quickly found a ride all the way to Oradea, but the Romanian driver was not really paying attention when he picked me up and he ran a red light at the same moment a police car drove by. Oops! We had to stop and the driver got out to talk to the police. It turned out to be more like shouting instead of talking. I had no idea why. Expecting that the driver had to go to the police station, I started collecting my stuff again to start looking for another ride. But surprisingly, he got in again and we could go on. Weird.

It then got even weirder when the driver asked me for directions on how to get to Oradea. So I just started guiding us through smaller villages and across the border until we safely got to my next destination.

In Oradea I was meeting my second Couchsurfing-host, Bea. She is an architecture and psychology student and loves music as well. So she proposed to take me to a concert of a Romanian band (Theory of Mind) in the evening at the really cool, artsy, rough Moskva bar. The fact that smoking is (still) allowed in bars added a lot to the rough atmosphere of the place.

Theory of Mind at Moskva bar in Oradea:

The band was quite good. It reminded me of Pinback.

I was really glad to have made it to Romania while hitchhiking again. I was ready to start the new journey :-) The combination of hitchhiking and Couchsurfing makes the trip really interesting because I'm meeting a lot of different, and mostly local, people. These people can tell me a lot about the current situation and show me around to their favorite places. An added bonus of traveling like this is of course the low budget that is needed. More people should try it!

Thanks you, Bea, for the lovely stay at your place. Say hi to Tara the dog for me :).

Here are some more pictures of Orada:

After looking a bit for a good place to stay I found a ride quickly with Vladimir, a talkative guy who travels a lot and also hitchhikes from time to time. During his last adventure, he hitchhiked 10.000 km, from Slovakia to Scandinavia and back. Pretty impressive!

During the ride it started raining a lot, but Vladimir assured me that this would in fact not be a problem. However, we missed the last petrol station and I instead got dropped of at an on-ramp. This turned out to be a bit of a problem. With the rain and only one car passing by every minute, my chances were very slim of getting picked up again.

After trying for a couple of hours I decided to walk to the city of Sered' and look for an alternative to move on, since staying there didn't seem so attractive. Luckily, a bus leaving an hour later would drive back to Bratislava for only €3. So I arrived in Bratislava and ended up staying with my cousin again. Oops :-).

Hungary would have to wait a day longer for me! Instead I had some fries with mayo, made Belgian-style with my cousing:

Later that day my cousin and I had a nice hike in the hills which lay around Rakol'uby. In the evening we went back to the place we gathered the nuts and made a nice big campfire!

The next morning I slept in a little bit and had breakfast with Manu's mother in law. From her I received nuts, bread and quite a few rolls. So, with a very full backpack I hit the road again. Until Rakol'uby, I had mostly stayed with friends and family, making the trip quite comfortable and, I must admit, quite cheap. But from here on out I didn't know people on my way anymore. And I would also start going to countries I had not gone before. For me this was kind of a second start, which was very exciting.

The plan was to hitchhike to somewhere in Hungary, I had no idea where yet...

Thank you so much for the bed, the food and, most of all, the company!

I left Budapest around 3pm and again followed the hitchwiki.org instructions to get to a petrol station on the highway towards Bratislava. It took me quite a long time to get there, and once I arrived I found out that an accident had occurred just after the station. This resulted in some chaos on the road and only a few people stopping at the petrol station. Combine this with the gloomy weather and it could explain why no one picked me up...

So I called my cousin I wouldn't make it. However, there was apparently still a train 1 hour and 30 minutes later to Bratislava, costing €15. So I rushed back to the city and I got to the train station 15 minutes before the train left. Unfortunately the international ticket office was packed I it was clear it would take (a lot more) than 15 minutes to get to the cashiers desk.

Because I promised my cousin I would get to Bratislava that evening, I took a shot in the dark and went to the train itself and tried to ask the Czech (!) conductor if there was a possibility to buy a ticket on the train. He spoke no English, I didn't speak Czech, but I made myself clear with hand signals I didn't have a ticket. He, on the other hand, signaled me to get on the train. So I did, but I was not sure about the situation though...

I found a cabin with two other young guys and sat down, nervous at first, but I calmed down after 5 minutes. However, after 30 minutes two Hungarian (!) conductors came. I knew this was not good! I said I had no ticked and I wanted to buy one from them. No problem, except that the ticket, costing €9, was only valid to the Hungarian-Slovakian border, an extra fee of €30 needed to be paid, and this could only be done cash. Oops... If I had known about the extra fee, I definitely would not have gone on the train. And I also had €10 and 1000 HUF (~€3).

After some discussion, they agreed that I would just give them all my money. And they promised I could pay the Slovakian part of the ticket using a bankcard. I had a feeling this wasn't over yet. So, an hour later, after the passport control when crossing the border, the Slovakian conductor came along. The ticket cost a bit over €8, without any extra fee. Great! Except... she was not online. So paying by card was not possible. Oops again! She had no idea what to do with me, and started mumbling in Slovakian that this was the last train. So she wouldn't throw me out! After 10 minutes she came back, mumbling again. Concluding that I would continue as a fare dodger (nl: zwartrijder).

Wow, thanks to some luck and friendly conductors I got to Bratislava and paid a little less than the official ticket price. Being a helpless traveler can be an advantage, but I could as well have been kicked out of the train. So, I will remember to either buy a ticket in advance or take enough cash next time.

There was no time left to take the train to Rakol'uby, so we stayed the night at my cousin's apartment instead. But before we could go to sleep the roommate offered us a shot of Borovicka. So the desired pause from drinking after the Budapest weekend was not happening yet :).

So, on Wednesday the 7th of October I left Ljubljana and made a short stop in Maribor, which was already quite a bit closer to the Hungarian border. The next day I left the hostel early in the morning and started hitchhiking on the on-ramp of the highway. With two rides I quickly got to a gas station just before Murska Sobota. There I found a "Waberer's Solution" truck. These trucks always carry a Hungarian license plate and I really wanted to hitch a ride sometime on one of these trucks. So I went for it and the driver agreed! He actually went all the way to the ring around Budapest. Ideal!!

Before we started driving he asked me if I had all my documents and wasn't a refugee, something I kind of was expecting once I would enter Hungary. But that was the end of it. We had a nice long drive and some interesting moments. The driver started singing along with some old Hungarian opera's on the radio, he got goosebumps when I told him we were staying near the parliament and when I 'accidentally' stared at a crate of beer he offered me a one :). I had two of them as breakfast!

So I got to Budapest on time! In the beautiful capital we stayed at a nice apartment and we had some good times there. We went to the thermal baths, walked around in the city, played an escape-game, and we, of course, had a lot of fun in the evenings! I will miss hanging out with these guys! See you in a couple of months!!

Louis, Maxim and the unsuspecting lady:

I tested the waterproofness of my phone (it still works!):

My buddies!

That morning the regular crew of the mountain hut went back home with a helicopter. A local team of meteorologist took over their task of hosting the hikers.

During the time I was "recovering" and drying in the hut I met two other hikers that were going to go to the top the next day as well. Afterwards they were going all the way down and would go back to Ljubljana and offered me a ride back. So we decided to climb the Triglav and hike down together on the third day.

Just before we left another guy decided to join us. He was a well-experienced hiker and had already climbed the Triglav 60 times. So he was a nice addition to the team.

The rest of the summit I won't explain. Instead I will let the pictures speak for themselves! Enjoy:

Going up:

View over the Vrata valley:

View over the clouded Bohinj lake:

View over Austria:

View over the mountain hut:

The Triglav (right) and it's little sister Mali Triglav (left)

The Triglav Window:

The summit!

Everyone who arrives at the top should go through a ritual: bending over and getting spanked three times by a rope. So this is what's happening here:

As the day progresses, my pants, shoes and backpack got more and more wet. Making them even heavier... Luckily, I was wearing my thermal underwear which kept me warm, as long as I was moving.

One of the seven lakes:

At the Dolic hut, at 2151 m, Adam decided to head back down because he needed to go to university the next day. I decided to go on up and so we parted ways. There I finally decided to take my glasses off, because they were of no use, and use my contact lenses. Fun fact: they are apparently a Czech invention! Hiking further up, I arrived at mountain hut Dom Planika, at 2401 m. From there it was only 1h30 to the summit, but it was very windy and I was soaking wet. Dom Planika was also closed and had no winter hut, so I had no choice to hike further to the last hut before the top, Dom na Kredarici, which was still 1 hour away.

A sign I was getting closer:

At 1.30 pm I arrived completely soaked at Dom na Kredarici, at 2515 m. Upon arrival I got a welcoming hot tea and a shot of rum from the sturdy innkeeper. I took my wet clothes of and unpacked most of my backpack in the almost empty hut to start drying everything. A few hours later a thunderstorm started a bit further, causing it to rain even more, which later turned into snow! It looked beautiful, but it wasn't good news for the day after, when I wanted to go up the Triglav!

Lightning over the helipad:

I started hiking around 1 pm along the same route I followed when we were in the park with the scouts in July. On this route there is a steep ascent of almost 700 height meters. The combination of my heavy backpack, the steep climb and the cold humid weather made me sweat a lot, which in turn caused my glasses to get foggy. Not an ideal situation. But I got to the Črno Jezero, the Black Lake, at the top of the climb anyway and hiked 2 hours further to the Koča pri Triglavskih jezerih mountain hut. I arrived there around 6.30 pm just before it got dark. We stayed there with the scouts as well and it is located at the beginning of the valley of seven lakes.

However, as predicted by the tourist information, it was already closed for the winter. Luckily a winter room was available which had around 12 beds. With blankets! I thought I would be alone and started to unpack my stuff everywhere. Mainly because some of my stuff was wet from the rain. I made myself a hot dinner and ate it outside, when suddenly I saw a flashlight appearing from a little hut some 10 meters away. A Czech guy named Adam appeared. He had arrived a little before me and planned to sleep on a little terrace outside. But due to the rain he eventually decided to sleep in the winter room as well. We talked for a while and went to sleep around 8.30 pm, hoping the weather would be better the next day.

Het duurde eerst even voor ik op een goeie plaats kwam te staan in Zürich zelf en vond mijn eerste lift pas rond 11u door Luzern op te schrijven. Zo kon ik de autosnelweg op en werd ik afgezet aan een tankstation in de goeie richting, net buiten Zürich. Daar vond ik na enige tijd iemand die mij een eindje kon meenemen richting het zuiden. Na een leuk gesprek in mijn gebrekkig Duits en zijn Schweizerdeutsch, wat voor ons heel moeilijk te verstaan is, werd ik afgezet op wat op het eerste zicht een heel slechte plaats was: een mini-parking, zonder auto's, naast een 1-vaksweg.

Maar niets was minder waar en de eerste auto die mijn bordje zag nam mij mee in zijn pick-up truck. Het bleek een Italiaan te zijn met Amerikaanse roots die alle mogelijke extreme sporten had gedaan in zijn leven maar, o.a. door het krijgen van kinderen en enkele heel nipt ontweken ongevallen, ondertussen rustiger door het leven ging.
Hij vertelde met heel veel enthousiasme zijn verhalen over hoe hij vroeger ging delta-vliegen met een zelfgemaakte vlieger, high-diven tot hij van knie tot borst blauw zag, aan free-climbing deed voor het die naam had, etc... waardoor ik zodanig onder de indruk was dat ik niet veel meer kon vertellen.

Ik vertelde wel nog over mijn korte-termijn plannen om o.a. nog naar het Gardameer te gaan en hij bood mij een slaapplaats aan in zijn huis. Uiteindelijk ging ik niet naar het Gardameer, maar dit zijn wel de leuke momenten van het liften die ik hopelijk nog zal tegenkomen op mijn reis.

Tijdens deze rit heb ik wel nog even geluk gehad: na een dik half uur te hebben gereden viel het mij op dat verschillende auto's teken deden naar ons. Wat bleek, de koffer van de pick-up had ik blijkbaar niet hard genoeg gesloten en was die open gegaan tijdens het rijden. Gelukkig was mijn zak (met alles wat ik deze reis mee heb!) er niet uitgevallen!

Nadat ik mijn fietsroute al had uitgestippeld, belde een vriend, en fervent fietser, van mijn tante en nonkel om te zeggen dat hij een stuk zou meefietsen om mij langs de mooie wegen te leiden. Jürgen leidde mij via mooie fietspaden langs het water en door de kleine dorpjes naar Zürich. De zon scheen maar het was niet te warm, ideaal, behalve dat we voortdurend tegen de wind in moesten fietsen, maar dat maakte de euforie bij het toekomen enkel maar groter. Jürgen fietste uiteindelijk de hele tocht mee tot boven op de Hönggerberg in Zürich. Van daar was het voor mij enkel nog bergaf tot het kot van Jonas. Jürgen moest nog de hele weg terug, waarschijnlijk een makkie voor iemand die +4000km per jaar fietst.

Toegekomen in Zürich op de Hönggerberg met een uitzicht over de Zürichsee.

Eens in Albbruck werd ik enorm goed gesoigneerd bij de familie! Pintjes, kaasfondue, BBQ, ... ik keer er graag nog eens terug :-).

Zaterdag gingen we naar de wereldberoemde Birkinger Wasserfälle. Waar we met veel plezier opnieuw een pintje dronken.

Ik kreeg de kans om er twee avonden te werken en mijn reisbudget nog iets verder aan te vullen. Het bleken twee fantastische avonden te worden met onder andere een geniale barman, een gek bier-evenement waarbij er bijna gevochten werd voor het bier en veel internationaal publiek!

De keuze in de bar:

Bedankt Bart!

Ik had echter de grootste moeite om een lift te vinden. Verschillende mensen stopten zelf om mij te zeggen dat liften niet echt de gewoonte is in Italië of dat het station waar ik de trein kon nemen de andere kant op was. Na het uitproberen van verschillende plaatsen richting de oprit van de autostrade, alsook de plaats waar die vrouw had gestopt, heb ik uiteindelijk opgegeven en de trein genomen. Ik wist gelukkig dat dit vrij goedkoop was, en dit gaf mij eens wat tijd om mijn dagboek verder aan te vullen en wat te lezen. Hopelijk maak ik dit weinig, om niet te zeggen niet, meer mee.

With the help of the website hitchwiki.org, I quickly found my way to the petrol station on the highway going east towards Slovenia. At first the service man at the station said I could not bother the people filling up their cars, but when I went around the parking looking for people, the same guy found a lift for me!! A Romanian was driving all the way to Trieste, which is on the border between Italy and Slovenia. Perfect!

During the ride, the Romanian told me he was quite tired and would probably not make it to Trieste, but would go to Padova instead. So he dropped me off at a petrol station just before the city. Funny side note: when I was hitchhiking through Europe a few years ago, I was dropped off at the same station, also when going from Milano to Ljubljana. On this station I found my first truck, with an Austrian driver, which took me a little bit further in Italy.

At this moment I realised that I have almost never obtained a ride from a real Italian when I was hitchhiking. This was a little bit troubling because at the station I was at, there were only Italian cars and almost no Slovenian cars arrived. I guess this was because gasoline is cheaper in Slovenia than in Italy?! Luckily, after some time, an older Slovenian couple arrived, but they would only go to Nova Gorica, a town near the border in Slovenia. At first, I declined the offer, but when they came back from the restaurant, I went with them anyway because then I would be in Slovenia at least.

We had a nice talk about traveling, which they had done a lot, and are still doing. When we were talking, I mentioned that, since it was already dark, I would probably not find a ride to Ljubljana anymore and be required to sleep in my tent at a petrol station. The couple then started a discussion in Slovenian (which I do not understand at all) after which they said they changed their plans and would drive all the way to Ljubljana. Wow! The disappointment of not being able to hitchhike from Como to Milano was quickly made up for!

This was the third time I was in Ljubljana, one of the smallest capitals of Europe, so I know my way around the city already a little bit. I then apparently found the cheapest hostel in the city (€11 in a 6-people dorm), and went for a beer in the alternative place called Metelkova Mesta. But I didn't stay up too long, because the next day I was going to the Triglav National Park for a 3-day hike and an attempt to summit the highest mountain of Slovenia.

So I still did not hitchhike with an Italian person. Do they not like hitchhikers?

Ook hier wandelde ik opnieuw een berg op, dit keer wel met mijn grote rugzak. Dit was een eerste oefening voor mijn wandeltocht naar de Triglav van het volgende weekend.

Een zicht over Como vanuit Brunate, boven op de berg:

Gelukkig konden we de goedkoopste pintjes krijgen in de studentenbar van de ETH genaamd bQm ("bequem" of "comfortabel") met een mooi zicht over de stad:

Op mijn 2e dag wandelde ik de Üetliberg op om een mooi zicht over de stad te krijgen. Dit was het resultaat:

Sébastian gaf mij die dag ook nog een korte rondleiding langs de iets ruwere gedeeltes. Onder andere bij Frau Gerolds Garten. Een buitenbar die mij een beetje deed denken aan Berlijn. Jammergenoeg betaalden we daar ook 8,5 CHF = €8 voor een halve liter bier.

Misschien wordt dit wel een wederkerend thema door Europa?

En hier het Schloss van Weimar:

Ik vertrek in Europa en zal al liftend reizen tot Turkije om daarna richting Afrika te trekken. Daar zou ik ook over land reizen, misschien niet meer al liftend, naar Zuid-Afrika, uiteraard met uitzondering van enkel onrustige gebieden zoals onder meer Soedan.

Via deze website is het mogelijk om mij te volgen en mijn afgelegde en "geplande" route te bekijken. Zo nu en dan zal ik ook een foto of klein verhaal posten over mijn avonturen onderweg.

Voor een iets gedetailleerde verslag en tips mag er altijd gemaild worden naar henri.deveene@yahoo.com!

Tot binnenkort!
Henri