ኦገስት 22/እኔ - ሃንጋሪ, ሮማኒያ, ሰርቢያ

Szegedin (HU) - Kikinda (RS) - Jimbolia (RO) - Deta (RO)- Bela Crkva (RS) - Smederevo (RS) Smilajnac (RS) - Ćupria (RS)

In the last days of July, we cycle in Hungary towards the south. The Tisza Lake releases us on well-paved bike paths at a pleasant temperature. Finally, we ride by the water again. Finally, we have swimming stops. Drinking water remains scarce. The few wells along the way do provide drinking water, but pleasure is rare. Nevertheless, my eyes light up every time I spot one of those blue pump wells. Relics from a time when there were no water pipes in households. The landscape away from the river areas appears steppe-like. A sight that makes us feel foreign.

We have only been on the road for a few weeks, yet it feels like an eternity. Recently, a friend asked me on the phone if we are already in the flow. I said no. A sense of normality sets in. Yes, that's true. The routines of camp life are well-practiced. Also tested when rain and stormy winds arrive.

The mind and emotions are not fully aligned with the journey yet.

When the landscape changes, when water is no longer the daily companion, or when the weather changes, it is necessary to change the rhythm. Habits need to be changed. This requires additional energy. This requires flexibility.

How do we experience Hungary?

An elusive country. With elusive people. Little joy is visible. In recreational areas, where we often find ourselves, there is no carefree lightness. In cities and villages, the meeting zones are sparsely populated or even empty. People don't look at each other curiously, they ignore what is happening around them. Depending on the mood, I perceive this as respectful indifference or unpleasant ignorance.

Serbia - Romania - Serbia

On August 1st, we cross the Hungarian-Serbian border near Szegedin. Excited and extremely joyful, we cycle towards what is to come. The landscape doesn't change much. The agricultural fields become larger and more numerous. Running water has disappeared. We prepare ourselves again to search/ask/buy water. A day later, we leave a country that initially feels alive and open. It contrasts with what we later read in the news.

Oh Romania! I have fallen in love with the charisma of this country! We cycle along the Serbian/Romanian border on the EuroVelo 13 for two days. It's hot, it's flat, the wheels roll on wonderful asphalt. We ask for suitable places to sleep, and every time it's a gift where we may set up our camp for the night. Encounters with people leave me pensive.

We experience this country in such contrasting ways. The people are friendly, they welcome us and want us to be safe. They mistrust their own people. The people dress up when they can, just like their houses and villages. They seem surprised that strangers could be interested in what is their own. There is a sense of departure and optimism for something better.

Due to the planned route, we can't go further into the interior of the country this time. The feeling of being close to the EU's external border, with patrolling border police, feels bitter. It doesn't seem appropriate to travel lightheartedly when we know that many other people have left their homes for vital reasons and hope to arrive in a distant place. While we are fulfilling our life dreams, so many other dreams seem to be shattered at this very border.

As the bike path, which is sparsely but still signposted and runs on main and side roads, leads us back to Serbia, we have already been in the saddle for 8 days. Our legs, our bodies are tired. Now we have arrived in the journey!

A family campsite at the quarry lake in Bela Crkva accommodates us for the next few days. Here we arrive in the distance, here we rest.

When we reach a camping site after spending some nights in nature, these days are not very exciting. Sleeping, reading, planning and replanning, and keeping ourselves and our bikes in shape with degreaser and lubricant, as well as doing exercises and eating well.

The Serbia that the EuroVelo 11 route takes us through, after 6 vacation days at the lake, is not particularly exciting in terms of landscape. Agriculture and floodplains - first briefly along the Danube, then following the Morava River towards the south.

The roads guide us through small and slightly larger villages. It's nice to see how people live here. And people really live here! The culture has changed, the mentality and the expression of what we see. Even the smell. The Serbian people appear self-assured, and from this confidence, they encounter us in a friendly and helpful manner. They are less curious about us, but more eager to tell their own stories. What more could travelers want!

The search for and finding of a place to sleep has become a habit. However, more and more beautiful natural spots are lined with trash dumps. I feel incomprehension, anger, and speechlessness.

In these August days, the upcoming mountainous region of southern Serbia announces itself slowly. We can already ride the first hills. Small-scale farming areas and forests are revealed here. Firewood for the winter is being prepared and delivered.

In my thoughts, I repeatedly go through my luggage, hoping to let go of many things.

The days are noticeably getting shorter, and the temperatures allow us to ride through the midday hours again.

Each day begins again with curiosity about what lies ahead, where we will arrive in the evening. I am amazed time and time again at what our bodies are willing to endure and how quickly we have become accustomed to this vagabond life, even though the spirit of the beginning still resides within us.