The Cold North Wind

My time in Bratislava was sojourn, it was R&R; time to re-group, before the big push East. I spent and eternity planning, and I had realised that I was running out of time to get through to Russia. I had hoped to visit Prague and Villinus but the trains wouldn't allow it.

I had organised my Russian Visa before I had organised anything else and I hadn't seemed to have ever got round to organising that anything else, so Europe had been done on the fly.

Playing it fast and lose had distinct advantages, if I liked a place I stayed a little longer. But, those extra days in Paris, Istanbul and Belgrade I had enjoyed, but the the time had built up.  I know had to race North, I had planned to go from Vilinus through to Beleraus but I hadn't realised I needed a transit Visa, which meant I had to go through Riga in Latvia. I had more countries then days to get through left in my itinerary.

On the second day it was raining in Bratislava, it hadn't rained for days while I had been in Europe. I had been carrying around winter gear and umbrella for weeks. In the Sun of Southern Europe I had been sourly tempted to throw it all away, I'd been slinging possessions out of my Backpack from Paris to Istanbul. The umbrella and the coat almost went the way of Tolstoy, and my swimming trunks. From Gaul, Thrace, Italy the Pelopanese and Attica, the hot ball of the Sun had mocked me as I sweated around with an overloaded backpack. In Bratislava I had my moment. As the rains came tumbling down I was dry to the bone. It felt like I had outwitted God, which is always a foolish thing to think.

I brought food for the journey. I'd even cooked a pasta meal. But it wasn't real home cooking, I playing home. On the train from Slovakia I met an American and her  husband. He was Slovakian  and she was American, but he had lived in America from his childhood. It was his first trip back to the country of his birth. He was unimpressed.

"Its not what I thought it would be like. Not from the stories my family told me"

"Babe, it never would have been from the way your family talked and talked"

I told them that my guide book had told me that Slovakia was famous for beautiful women.

"Hmmm. It shouldn't be" was the wife's reply. I was inclined to agree with her.

They were moving onto Italy that night. I told them I had been there a couple of weeks previously.

"How long are you going for?"

"Four days. Do you think that's too long?"

"For all of Italy?" I asked. "Hmm, I think you could be busy"

The sandwiches I'd made for the journey disintegrated in my hands. The soft cheese had wormed its way into the dry bread and they fell apart in my hands. It was a let down, it had the integrity of a Big Mac.