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Trelograms #1 — Isn’t Celebration Contagious!?

After 63 gruesome, bumpy, gravel road kilometers, was that a mirage, or indeed the beginning of a smooth, freshly paved road!?

I had to celebrate.

This fine gentleman was walking in the middle of nowhere with a 2.5-liter bottle of beer in one hand and an ax on the other — great combination! He duly reacted to my excitement, dropping the ax and running towards me — now overflowing in excitement himself, he opened the beer and insisted i filled up one of my water bottles with it.

I returned the gesture by offering him some of what was left of the rakija i got from my friends in Serbia before my departure a few days earlier — he put the little bottle straight into his back pocket :p — thinking the rakija could not be in better pockets now, i just asked him to take a sip of it so i could snap a picture. He then gave me a sincere, joyful hug, approximately 637 kisses on each cheek, and we parted ways —  i was now slightly tipsy, but very energized!!

Today, i want to invite you to celebrate. There must be something you’re grateful for today, no matter how small you think it might be —  make it a big deal and share it with someone! Feel welcome to share it with me by commenting below 🙂

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Featured photo: a villager somewhere in the Romanian countryside between Drobeta-Turnu Severin and Craiova ( April ’17)


Thank you for reading!

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Trelograms’ is a wordplay between ‘telegram’ and ‘trélos’ (Greek for ‘mad’)

Trelograms #0 — The Chosen Narrow, Dark Tunnels Ahead

When i’m cycle touring — though perhaps also when i’m not — traffic is by far my greatest source of apprehension.

Once you’ve chosen to ride along the Iron Gates, the stretch of the Danube River flowing along the border between Serbia and Romania — or is it the border that flows along the river? — a series of 22 narrow tunnels varying in length from a few tens to a few hundreds of meters will be an inevitable part of your experience. One may then question their very decision to be there and turn back, or one may put on their reflective vest, turn on their lights, and cautiously but confidently carry on.

It’s beautiful.

What will you do?

Do you take the risks of ‘not doing’ something into account when making a decision?

In hindsight, i am quite grateful someone was there before me to build those tunnels!

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Featured photo: the second of the 22 tunnels along my way ( Serbia, April ’17 )


Thank you for reading!

This blog is a gift. If you find it valuable and would like to thank me, you may share this piece with someone who you think would benefit from it, consider making a contribution, or simply comment below — all of it will have some value to me along an important dimension <3

Newsletter  –  Telegram  –  Patreon

Trelograms’ is a wordplay between ‘telegram’ and ‘trélos’ (Greek for ‘mad’)

Should I Get Pre-exposure Rabies Shots before Long-term Travel? — Director’s Cut

What i learned about rabies prophylaxis after being attacked by a dog on a long-term cycle tour.


UPDATED March 9th, 2019 — in revisiting this question to persuade my partner to take the shots in preparation for our upcoming cycle tour around Ukraine, i decided to put together a heartless version of this piece dropping much of my personal story and cutting straight to the technical information — if that’s what you’re looking for, click here — if you came here looking for some emotion, read right on!


Disclaimer: I am not a rabies or dog expert, and this article is for your information only — the following is based on my personal, anecdotal experience being attacked by a dog on a cycle tour, the conversations with doctors and Internet research in that context, and my personal travel and life philosophies. By continuing to read, you acknowledge that i am not liable under any circumstances for what you decide to do or not to do in reaction to this article — my only recommendation is that you inform yourself about the risk, and consult with your doctor and local health authorities before making any decision.

Sometimes dogs can be real bitches!

I’m currently out on a long-term cycle tour. Among other things, this means i spend much of my time on the bicycle riding secondary roads in the countryside, where farm dogs abound or entering/leaving villages/towns/cities, which in many cases subsumes dealing with packs of stray dogs.

I hadn’t had any problems with them so far besides their annoying, persistent, and mildly frightening chasing and barking after me until i left their imaginary territory. Having traveled by bicycle unharmed through more than 20 countries, including some notorious for their stray dogs such as Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, and Turkey, i had already come to terms with that nuisance, and pretty much internalized the belief that, as long as i kept my cool and didn’t provoke them any further, or if their owner was present, they would never bite — until one of them did bite! — in Lithuania, unprovoked, and in front of their owner.

This happened while i was pulling near a house to ask for information outside the city of Alytus.

Fuck . . .

. . . i don’t want to go to the doctor — that’s too much responsibility! Can you imagine how much time this might take!? — and i’m not even worried about how much money it might cost yet . . .

I was up to date with my tetanus shots, and the wound was seemingly superficial — there was not much blood involved. So, i was not particularly concerned about bacterial infections, and it definitely didn’t look like i might need stitches or whatever. The puncture was a bit painful, in a way i don’t think i’d quite experienced before, but it was tolerable.

Rabies was quickly singled out as my greatest concern, and i seemed determined to get away from having to deal with it in the most stupid possible way.

I asked the owner, “might i get sick from this bite?” In the cacophonous haze i was eager to get myself away from as soon as possible — the dogs continuing to bark at me, their hopeless owner haphazardly yelling at them, presumably trying to contain them from biting me again, while also trying to give me the attention i was asking for, and mutually unintelligible utterances in Lithuanian, Russian, English and Portuguese — that’s what i came up with to type into my phone and have translated into Russian, which the owner said she could read — i had no access to the Internet, and had forgotten to download the Lithuanian package for use offline.

Although reading Cyrillic seemed to be a bit of a challenge for her, i got the sense that she understood my question, which she quickly dismissed — “no, no, no.”

Despite the language barrier, i felt validated enough, and moved on to what i had really pulled in to ask them about — “is it OK if i set camp near the river for one night?” — “sure, do you know how to get there?” — “i’ll figure it out, thanks!” — like i said, i just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

But, one last time — “do i need to go to the doctor for this?” — “no, you don’t need to go to the doctor, wait a minute” — she then came back with some hard liquor and cotton, with which she cleaned up the wound, and then applied a bandaid.

Whatever — i’ll clean it up again with my first aid kit once i find my campsite.

My first mistake

Folks, that’s not how you ask if the dog has been vaccinated against rabies. Here’s how you ask if the dog has been vaccinated against rabies:

“HAS THE DOG BEEN VACCINATED AGAINST RABIES? — DO YOU HAVE THE DOCUMENTATION? — CAN I SEE IT? — CAN WE PLEASE EXCHANGE CONTACT INFORMATION?”

That would have made it possible to monitor the dog. But i didn’t do any of that then, nor did i think about going back there the next day in the morning for it.

I did remember from a previous dog bite back in Brazil when i was a teenager that one typically has about ten days to start taking the rabies shots though and that i had already completed a post-exposure rabies vaccination schedule on that occasion. So, i figured that instead of rushing into an emergency room close to dark, i could leisurely look up on the Internet the next day how long the vaccine is supposed to last, the risk of getting rabies from a dog bite in a place like Lithuania, and perhaps swing by a doctor on my way to Kaliningrad.

Let’s figure this out

According to the World Health Organization’s Human rabies transmitted by dogs: current status of global data, 2015, the phenomenon is currently not observed in Lithuania. My risk of having been exposed to the virus was slim. But as far as i understand the data, it only tells us that there have not been any recently reported deaths by human rabies transmitted by dogs in the country — it doesn’t say anything about potential cases where the attacking dog was eventually found to rabid, and the victim survived because of the vaccine.

I could not find anything about that on the Internet, and decided a visit to the doctor was warranted after all — if only for the peace of mind and what i might learn from the experience of having to seek medical care on a cycle tour — how much trouble would that really be? — how much would it cost? — would my travel insurance be useful, would i get reimbursed? — would that be the kind of disruption i’d find interesting dealing with? — let’s just do this — that’s precisely why i left my previous career, hopped on a bicycle, and started riding around the world, isn’t it?

What i learned

The one thing about this disease that has always intrigued me was one of its infamous clinical symptoms — the fear/revulsion of water triggered by spasms that make swallowing difficult and give the disease one of its historic names, hydrophobia. I find it tragically fascinating how a virus can trigger such complex behavior in its host. If you think you can handle it, this heartbreaking video of a man suspected to have rabies in a hospital in Vietnam shows what that might look like.

This other video shows a man in Russia confirmed to have had rabies describing his condition to the doctors throughout the development of the clinical disease from hospitalization until his death.

Apart from that morbid curiosity, i must admit i’m not terribly interested in all the details though — as far as the practicalities of cycle touring/long-term travel are concerned, there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot one needs to know about rabies:

  1. It’s a viral disease that can be transmitted to humans through bites, licks, or scratches by infected bats, dogs, wolves, foxes, raccoons, skunks, monkeys, cattle, and other animals carrying the virus.
  2. After the onset of clinical symptoms, rabies is universally fatal.*
  3. This tragic outcome can be prevented with a relatively simple and inexpensive** post-exposure protocol.
  4. Keeping up with the underlying post-exposure vaccination schedule can be a challenge while on the move, especially if you’re crossing international borders along the way.
  5. Pre-exposure vaccination (or a previously completed post-exposure prophylaxis) does not confer life-long immunity, but nevertheless dramatically simplifies the post-exposure protocol.

Besides the information i got from talking to doctors in Lithuania, Poland and Sweden, i’ve also consulted the World Health Organization, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and the Brazilian Health Ministry (in Portuguese) websites. There’s much agreement and some discrepancy across their recommendations. For the purposes of writing this article, i decided to follow the WHO guidelines, which i briefly summarize below, and can be read in more detail here, here and here. You should, of course, consult with your own available health specialists and authorities before making a decision.

Post-exposure prophylaxis

The WHO recommends immediate washing and flushing of the wound for 15 minutes with soap, water, and other virucidal substances such as alcohol or iodine. If there’s bleeding, or in the case of bites in the head, neck, hand or genitals, which have a high density of nerve terminations, the administration of rabies immunoglobin at the wound site is also recommended (the rabies virus travels to the brain along the hosts’ nerves). This should be done before suturing the wound.

One intramuscular dose of the vaccine should be administered on days 0, 3, 7, 14 and 28 after the suspected exposure to the virus. Alternative vaccination schedules and delivery methods are possible, but they all require three to five visits to the doctor and take three to four weeks to complete.

Pre-exposure prophylaxis

Consists of one intramuscular dose of the vaccine on days 0, 7, 21 and 28, and is recommended to people in risk of exposure to the rabies virus, including travelers to areas where the disease is endemic. Different delivery methods and schedules are also possible.

Post-exposure prophylaxis for previously vaccinated individuals

Rabies vaccines do not confer long-term immunity to the disease, and previously vaccinated individuals are recommended a schedule of booster shots after suspected exposure: one intramuscular dose of the vaccine should be administered on days 0 and 3 after exposure. An alternate, single visit, 4-site intradermal vaccination is also possible.

The wound gets the same washing and disinfecting treatment. But for those who have previously completed a pre-exposure or post-exposure vaccination schedule, the administration of rabies immunoglobin is not needed.

Caveats for long-term travelers crossing international borders

According to the doctor who saw me at the Pomeranian Center for Infectious Diseases and Tuberculosis in Gdańsk, Poland, where i took my second shot, most doctors will treat you as if you have not been vaccinated before unless you can produce documentation specifying the drug, dosage, delivery method and schedule.

Back to my personal experience

Before you read on, i want to first admit to my embarrassent for having taken so much of the time of so many people at so many hospitals — but i would have been even more embarrassed, if not plain guilty, had this happened somewhere in the world with already precarious health care available to their own population. So, not to be unnecessarily inflammatory here, but the question of whether or not to take pre-exposure rabies shots before long-term travel might well be an ethical one.

The first doctor i spoke with, in the Emergency Room at the Marijampolė Hospital, didn’t really know what to tell me — he implied that my chances of catching rabies from that dog bite were minimal and that taking the shots or not was eventually my decision — his professional mandate was still to recommend the 0–3–7–14–28 WHO schedule.

“I see — and can i take the first shot with you here, and then continue my treatment in Poland?”

I could not — i mean, i didn’t want to consider the possibility of staying in Lithuania for four weeks until completing my series of rabies shots. At that point, i had not yet learned that, because i’d been previously vaccinated, i could potentially get away with a single booster shot — if the doctor knew that, he didn’t tell me. I don’t think he ever looked at my wound either, though i had told him it had been a superficial one on my left calf. He never mentioned the rabies immunoglobin.

With another nine days to decide whether or not to start taking the shots, i decided to sleep on it one more night.

Next day, my last day in Lithuania, i figured that consulting with another specialist on my way to Kaliningrad wouldn’t hurt. I first went to a pharmacist in Vilkaviskis, who then referred me to the town hospital. I explained the situation to them, and it seemed like they were actually interested in whether this transnational rabies vaccination program could be successfully carried out!

They finally looked at the wound, gave me the first rabies shot, as much paperwork as it made sense, including marking my international immunization card, and wished me good luck.

After crossing Kaliningrad, i reentered Schengen two days later in Poland, in time for my second shot the day after. Getting it took me almost two whole days though and proved to be quite a hassle.

First of all, not every hospital in Poland has rabies shots, and it seems like most of them don’t even know where you can really get it, or seem willing to make one or two phone calls to help you find out — each hospital i visited on my way through Elblag, Gdańsk and Gdynia would refer me to the next one — not even the University Center for Maritime and Tropical Medicine in Gdynia had the shots — and rabies is considered a Neglected Tropical Disease!! It was not until the eighth hospital visit back in Gdánsk that i was finally able to get my second shot.

Would that be easier in Sweden?

It wouldn’t have been — dog-transmitted rabies is nonexistent in Sweden, therefore not many hospitals in the country carry the vaccine either. That’s what i found out after my visit to the first one of them in Lenhovda — Sandra and Julia were very generous with their time to help me find a hospital further down my route where i’d be able to take that third shot, though i’d definitely not be able to do it on day 7, which was slowly coming to an end. Julia consulted with a specialist on the phone, who said i could wait up to another four days until Monday, which would have in fact been the date of the third shot according to the Swedish schedule.

On the one hand, that was good to hear. On the other hand, this discrepancy led me to take a closer look into the WHO’s recommendations. That’s when i found out that previously vaccinated people, no matter how long ago, need only take the two booster shots on days 0 and 3.

Well, that was my case — even though i could not quite document it, i’d been attacked by a dog when i was a teenager back in Brazil, and completed a full post-exposure vaccination program on the occasion. I decided that, if i couldn’t trust that, i might as well not trust the transnational vaccination program i was now undertaking either.

Before stopping the vaccines, i still wanted to hear the opinion of a doctor though, and even that was very difficult to get in Sweden. At the Medical Center in Eksjö, they were not very friendly, telling me that “it was my decision to come to Sweden with that problem, and that they could not help me there” — “are you telling me that it’s not possible to sign me in and put me in line to talk to a doctor?” — “we cannot help you here, you need to go to Jönköping, they have the vaccine there” — “that’s the point, i might not need the vaccine, that’s what i’d like to ask a doctor about” — “we cannot help you here, it was your decision to come to Sweden with this problem, you have to go to Jönköping.”

I didn’t want to go through the same hospital-hopping i’d experienced in Poland, so i asked them for that hospital’s number. They didn’t pick it up.

Although i’d already tried that before, i figured i’d call 1177 again, the number in Sweden for medical non-emergencies, and express a bit more frustration.

I’m really glad Renée was the one who picked it up — she kindly and patiently helped me settle the matter. I gave her all the information i had, and she connected me with a specialist who finally confirmed that i didn’t need to continue with the shots after the first two i’d already taken on days 0 and 3.

That was a huge relief.

Verdict

What are the disadvantages of taking the pre-exposure shots? They cost a lot of time, and sometimes a fair amount of money — i’ve seen figures ranging from FREE to $1000, depending on where you are taking the shots.

On the other hand, not taking the shots can make adequate post-exposure prophylaxis challenging to carry out on the road, especially if the immunoglobin injection is needed — not to mention the potentially harmful waste of time and resources from the health care professionals and institutions you might need attention from.

In hindsight, i am immensely grateful for that dog bite when i was a teenager, and how it has inadvertently made my present life a lot simpler — i was not looking forward to finding out what getting the fourth rabies shot in Sweden and the fifth one in Norway might have looked like or eventually cost me.

Furthermore, i’m at the mere beginning of my world exploration, which will inevitably take me to areas of greater risk of exposure to rabies — the fact that i’ve been vaccinated before gives me the same peace of mind about dealing with a potential animal attack as my TBE shots have given me about dealing with ticks.

You may read accounts and thoughts from other long-term/cycle touring travelers and health care specialists here or here, for example.

What would you do?

If you’ve considered this, i’d be very glad to hear your thoughts and experience as well. Please feel especially invited to share your own dog/wild animal/human bite story in the comments below, and how you’ve dealt with it, if you have one.


Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Antanas, the pharmacist i talked to in Vilkaviskis, Lithuania who connected me with their town hospital, Vitalija and Vilija, who helped me with the paperwork at the hospital, the doctor who saw me, the nurse who administered the first shot, and all other anonymous staff involved in the affair.

Many thanks to Tomasz, who appeared out of thin air to offer me help as a translator in the Elblag Hospital, Poland and to Simon, the guy who offered to guide me on his bike to four different hospitals in Gdynia, doubling as a translator at each of our stops — i cannot possibly imagine what it would have been like to deal with this without their help.

I also appreciate the kindness of the doctor and staff at the Pomeranian Center for Infectious Diseases and Tuberculosis in Gdańsk, Poland, where i finally got my second shot.

I will thank Sandra and Julia from the Medical Center in Lenhovda, Sweden once again for their time and interest, and the amazing Renée from the 1177 service, who helped me finally bring this story to a happy end.

___
* A few non-vaccinated patients have been known to survive rabies through the Milwaukee protocol. But this insanely expensive treatment has only worked in about 10% of the cases where it was applied and is certainly not something to rely on — especially for a disease where adequate post-exposure prophylaxis almost never fails.
** By “inexpensive” i mean, “inexpensive for a typical person with enough resources to be traveling abroad” — the $50 or so that adequate post-exposure prophylaxis costs can still be an enormous financial burden to those most in need in poor communities around the world where the disease is still endemic.


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The (rather uneventful) first 100 hours of complete solitude

Spending the next 100 hours in complete solitude was not quite the idea when i hugged my friends Fuji and Grete goodbye. From where they dropped me off, i still had another couple of kilometers of walking along a dirt road to Fuji’s family’s Summer cottage on the Swedish countryside. The idea came up as i walked past the last house before the cottage, and gradually settled along the rest of the way — what if i went not only offline, but completely without interacting with other human beings for a while!?

The premise

The longest i’d been in complete solitude like that before, as far as i can remember, was about 24 hours. It happened last Summer, in the Faroe Islands, where the only mammals i interacted with in between the gentleman who gave me a ride to the trailhead and the girl starting that same trail as i walked out of it the day after were sheep — tones of sheep — and their poop — absurd amounts of it.

I’d been longing for an extended period of solitude ever since. It doesn’t seem very easy to find space and time to be alone in this world. There are people pretty much everywhere you go — even in the Faroe Islands! Plus, i keep finding out that we actually need them more often than i’d like to admit — and they probably need us also.

But i could not let this opportunity pass — i had access to clean water and enough provisions for more than a week, my closest neighbor was almost one kilometer down the road, and i couldn’t anticipate anything that might happen in the world that might require my attention in the immediate future.

And so the experiment began . . .

So, how was it?

Before i share with you some of my raw impressions from this experience, a quick disclaimer though. You might find most of what you’ll read below rather unimpressive — at least i did to a large extent.

Perhaps 100 hours is not that long — perhaps being alone in a Summer cottage i was already familiar with and with lots of entertainment is very different from being alone in a remote trail in the Faroe Islands — i did not have any remarkable insights. I didn’t meet any inner demons i wasn’t already expecting, and i didn’t face any problems that didn’t turn out to either have a trivial solution, or be something that didn’t really bother me after all.

You’ve been warned 🙂

I’m also interested in hearing about what may have been your own experience doing something like that, or what might be your expectations about it — please feel invited to answer to some of the questions below in the comments, or by email.

  • It was surprisingly easy to spend all that time alone. In fact, i feel like the real effort was to snap out of it — do i really have to!?

    For instance, on my second day, i was looking for a tree to climb in the area, and caught myself turning back as soon as i could see the neighbor’s house, so as not to risk interacting with them. If i didn’t have to touch base with my friend and his mom about arrangements for the following week, i’d likely have continued until i ran out of supplies or someone came to me.

    Have you done something like this before? How was it? If not, do you think it would be challenging?

  • I listened to obscene amounts of music — album after album — from cover to cover — doing nothing else but intently listening to it.

    Oh, gosh, i was so glad there was a good stereo set in the house! I dearly miss my headset.

    In case you’re curious about what i brought to my retreat: Dream Theater: Images & Words, Falling into Infinity and Octavarium; Haken: The Mountain and Affinity; Metallica: Black Album; Mumford & Sons: Babel; Periphery: Periphery III: Select Difficulty; Porcupine Tree: Deadwing and In Absentia; Skyharbor: Guiding Lights; and TesseracT: Altered State, Polaris and Smile.

    What album(s) would you bring to a solo retreat?

  • I noticed a lot of things i’d have likely not noticed otherwise — the birds, the butterflies, the scratches and patterns in the ceiling, the bees and wasps, some of the sounds from the nature preserve surrounding the cottage, the fire, and so on. I found the simplest events incredibly interesting at a much larger rate than usual.

    Look away from the screen. What’s the first thing around you that catches your attention? Had you noticed that before?

  • I spent a disproportionate amount of that time alone just on my underwear, and that felt so great!

    Do you also like to walk around naked, or semi-naked?

  • It was refreshing to be remembered that one can do reasonably well without continuous access to the Internet. I’d already made this decision before, and will likely stick to it — whenever and wherever i settle down, i won’t have Internet at home!

    I’ve met a few people without Internet at home during my travels over the years. They’ve all seemed perfectly functional, and their not having Internet may have well enriched our encounter.

    During this project, Boris (a roadside invitation in the Chernivtsi Region) and Nastia (my host in L’viv) didn’t have Internet at home. Whether or not that’s a coincidence, they have also been the only hosts so far with whom i’ve had a call with afterward. (UPDATED August ’19: Nastia and i moved in together a few months later and eventually got married — we didn’t have Internet at home for a year; i remain in touch with Boris, and visited him on my 2019 tour of Ukraine and surroundings with Nastia.)

    Have you tried going without Internet at home? How was it? What do you think about this idea?
  • I’ll probably want to do a retreat like that once a year or so. Perhaps a longer one though, and perhaps a bit more remote and/or constrained.

    Have you heard about darkroom retreats? Have you done one? How was it?
  • I’ll probably want to do a mini-retreat like that very often. Perhaps choosing a night every week or so in which i’ll go completely offline and out of reach.

    What kind of time and space do you regularly create for yourself? What do you gain from it?

  • Just like the week i spent offline in Moldova (but not in isolation), these few days in solitude were some of my most productive during this project so far.

    I wrote a lot, including at least two blog posts essentially from scratch! I took lots of pictures, and probably prepared more posts for my Instagram than i do on average. I sat down to read a book for the first time in a couple of months, and realized how much i actually miss it and want to prioritize that also when i’m on the move. I made tones of sketches, also a lot more than i do on average. I caught up with my bicycle’s state of disrepair. I caught up with drafting my pending Couchsurfing/Warmshowers references. I kept up with all essential household tasks such as doing the dishes and cutting the grass.

    What would you work on if you could create such time and space for that?

  • I really enjoyed the countryside tempo — having to fetch water from the well, having to walk all the way to the outhouse for number 2, having to heat up the water for my shower, and also to do the dishes or wash my clothes, having to make a fire to keep the house warm — everything takes time — every task needs to be started before it’s an emergency — but nothing is really an emergency.

    Do you live or have you lived in the countryside? Am i romanticizing it a bit too much? What kind of amenities of “civilization” do you miss the most?

And i think that’s really about it

Like i said, there wasn’t anything terribly deep, particularly intense or remarkably insightful. Oh, well — it is what it is.

I’ll let you know if i do a longer solo retreat though, or at least in a different context — and if anything else comes up — You please do the same 😉

___
Featured photo: my friend Fuji’s family’s Summer cottage, where they and their friends come throughout the season to enjoy the light, the slow and the quiet — and which i was kindly allowed to use for my retreat and other experiments (Sweden, Summer ’17)


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Experiments: retreats

TNCH #1 — But Why Serbia!?

If i already got that question a lot when i told people i was going through Serbia on my cycle tour from Copenhagen to Istanbul in Fall 2016, imagine when i decided to stay in Niš after finishing the journey!

I’ve now crossed Serbia twice on my bicycle, and have spent another month or so living in Niš in between those two rides. What’s so special about that place?

This will be the first in a series of articles on how my expectations and prejudices about each country i’ve visited during my current cycle tour (The North Cape Hypothesis) have been challenged. As such, i’m actually not sure the extent to which it will answer the question of what is particularly special about Serbia — my goal is that, by reading about what struck me the most my second time cycle touring the country, you will feel invited to travel to Serbia yourself not for a specific place you must absolutely visit, or a specific person you must absolutely meet — but for the overwhelmingly positive experience it may award you with.

The context and notation

The North Cape Hypothesis started in Niš, Serbia. My first 150 km or so, between Niš and Velika Plana, pretty much backtracked my path in the opposite direction from Velika Plana to Niš in my Copenhagen–Istanbul tour a few months before. For simplicity, i’ll refer to those as the NC Hypothesis, the VPN stretch, and the CPH–IST tour — it seems like there’s still a mathematician living somewhere inside my head after all!

But i digress . . .

I’ve been offered a tremendous amount of hospitality in my travels — especially in the countryside — and especially in Eastern Europe, where asking someone for help with finding a safe place to pitch your tent for the night will often result in an invitation for dinner, a hot shower, and a warm bed in their home.

Along the VPN stretch, during the CPH–IST tour, the latter is precisely what happened at the Stoianović’s, where i spent one of my most energizing cycle touring evenings to date. They didn’t speak a word of English, and i didn’t speak a word of Serbian — and that was apparently not a problem. We didn’t even need much of our respective phrasebooks, which were not used for a lot more than the outlining utterances of, “I am pleased to meet you,” or, “Zahvalan sam!”

The day after that, none of the people i asked for help on my way through a village towards the end of the day were as available as the Stojanović’s. As i was about to clear the village, the gentleman at the food market suggested i tried the gas station a couple of kilometers down the road. That led me to my first of many gas station camping experiences, an insightful conversation about human nature with Nikola, the observant employee on his shift when i arrived, and another evening overcoming language barriers with Jovan, the employee on the night shift. They made sure my tent was under a roof and visible to their cameras, and offered me access to their toilet and kitchen.

How would those same people treat me a second time around? — in particular, what would that look like just five short months after the first time?

The second cup of tea

To be very honest, my expectations were low. A few days before leaving Niš for the NC Hypothesis, i wrote to both Nikola and the Stojanović’s, telling them i’d be traveling through the area again, and was wondering if i could stop by to say hi. Neither of them ever replied.

Is hospitality towards a traveler a one-off deal? Had their interest hinged mostly upon the novelty the first time around? Did they treat me that well simply because the prospect that i’d ever come back asking for more was so slim? Was two times already too much?

I was not fully discouraged by the lack of a reply though. Perhaps staying there for the night once again would have been a bit too much to ask. Perhaps there was another reason they didn’t reply. I made alternate sleeping arrangements through Warmshowers for my first couple of nights on the road just in case. But they would surely be happy to see me again and share a cup of coffee, wouldn’t they?

I was wrong!!

When i pulled into the gas station, Jovan not only immediately recognized me, but also greeted me with a big smile on his face. Although i still spoke no Serbian, and he still spoke no English, it was nevertheless clear that we were both delighted to see each other. He then called Nikola, who was home the next village over and would be joining us in about 15 minutes.

We caught up with the rest of my journey to Istanbul, what they’d both been up to, and what more we’d learned about people while cycle touring, interacting with customers at a gas station, or driving a truck. Because i had a place to stay in Jagodina just another 30 km or so further down the road, i didn’t ask if i could pitch my tent with them again this time. Nikola then told me, “You’re welcome to stay here whenever you want, or even come to my home, if you prefer, you’re my hero” — he hadn’t replied to my message a few days before simply because his smartphone was broken, and he had not checked his Instagram in a while.

In hindsight, i regret not having tried to reschedule my arrival in Jagodina with my Warmshowers host for the day after, and taken that opportunity to spend more time with Nikola. I regret not having taken better notes of Nikola’s insightful remarks — a man in peace, no doubt — i don’t experience any cynicism or even disappointment in his speech — but he has surely noticed much of the complexity of what’s wrong with this world — Nikola has this look when he speaks, often not looking into your eyes, but focused half a meter or so to their side, as if there was something standing there only he could see.

I want to create another opportunity to interact with this guy in this life.

How about the Sojanović’s?

Their village is just some 30 km or so north of Jagodina, so i arrived there quite early this time. There was nobody outside, so i clapped my hands and shouted, “Dobar dan!?” Shortly after, Grandma Snezana came out of the house, smiling and drying up her hands in her apron, “Miko!!”

Half of the family was out working and, at first, i saw only her, Dragica, the boy Andrija, and a few rare sights of the shy girl Ana. They joyfully showed me the postcard i had sent them from Istanbul, and we shared some of the waffles my hosts in Niš had given me over the coffee they invited me for. Because of the language barrier, the conversation was not as deep as with Nikola, but the energy was still there — i want to see all of them again — Ivica, Nenad, and Grandpa Dušan — i especially don’t want to make the same mistake as the day before with Nikola.

When they asked me where i was going to sleep that night i asked them, shaking as if about to ask a woman out, “Well, i was actually wondering whether i could stay here tonight?” This particular question was typed into my phone and handed over to Dragica, who took a few seconds to parse the awkward machine translation while i anxiously watched — “of course!” — my shoulders dropped, my handlebar bag was moved from my lap to my side on the bench, the reflective vest and ankle straps placed with the gloves inside my helmet, now hanging on the bicycle — “is the bicycle OK where it is?” — “OK!” — then another cup of coffee . . .

The rest of the family started slowly showing up. Ivica went straight for the hug — “you’re staying for the night, right? good!” Uncle Jovan pulled in with a car — “come, Mika! take your notebook and your phrasebook” — we were now on our way to pick up Nenad, and then heading over to Velika Plana, where we met Aunt Divna and Cousins Bojan and Milica — another cup of coffee, more sweets, peanuts, and next thing i notice i’m helping them unload a truck of mushroom spores!

I only internalized what that, in particular, meant with my hosts Dragan and Vera at a farm a few days later — i’m no longer merely a guest, but slowly becoming part of the house!! Interestingly, it all felt as natural to me as it seems to have felt to them. Back in the village, the process continued — Ivica took me to meet one of this co-workers and friend, showed me a bit of the town center, and introduced me to the ladies at the groceries. Back in the house, over dinner, i understood that they expect not only another postcard from North Cape, but another visit in the near future.

And that’s roughly why

The above is leaving out the tremendous amount of help i got from Miloš and his parents Lola and Dragan, my hosts in Niš in each of the four times i’ ve been in the city, and the dutiful keepers of my touring rig during the time i was away in between the CPH–IST tour and the NC Hypothesis.

I’m not telling you about the warm and patient welcome from Gejo, Vesna, Miso, Milica, Alex, Luka, Petar, and all the other folks at the climbing wall, who kindly allowed me to climb with them, teaching me a fair amount along the way — apologies for trying to push the whole tree-climbing deal so much into you, folks, i’m still learning to be a guest!

I’m not mentioning Rajko, who besides lending me a Serbian SIM card and much of his time and pleasant company playing pool and chess, connected me with Ana and Marko, all of whom guided me through practice rides to the beautiful gorges around Niš, helped me clean and tune up my bicycle — or should i just simply say, did it for me? — rode with me for about half of the way to Jagodina on my very first day, giving me waffles, jam, rakija, and friendship — moments before we departed, Rajko apologized once again for not being able to ride with me for the first few days, as he had originally promised, calling me his “little brother,” and telling me he “would ride with me to the end of the world” — words that took tears out of my eyes then, and once again as i write them now.

I’m not telling you about how much fun i had with Jelena dancing in the sunset to Rage Against the Machine in Bubanj Park, and how touching it was to hear from her that i spread joy around the world.

And those are mere highlights pertaining to my five days in Niš before the NC Hypothesis. To even begin giving you a better sense of what my experience in Serbia has really been like, i’d also have to tell you about . . .

Cycle touring diplomacy

More and more, i’ve been experiencing and humbly framing my cycle touring as the diligent work of a diplomat. I surely have a long way to go, there’s no question about that. What i mean is that this is definitely not merely a gap year of sorts, an absorbed self-discovery journey, or a metaphysically motivated pilgrimage. Of course, much of that inevitably arise along the way. What i am trying to say is that i don’t want to think of any of my encounters as mere moments in my life and the lives of my counterparts, but as the seeds for long-lasting connections.

I genuinely want to meet Nikola again, and also honor my promise to the Sojanović’s that i’ll be back. I want to return to Niš as a reputable tree climber, actually having something of substance to offer the folks at the wall who might be interested. I want to ride again with Rajko, as far towards the end of the world as his family obligations might allow. I want to dance in another park with Jelena. I want to greet Lola with a hug and ask for her blessing getting back on the road much like i would do with my own Grandmother.

Conversely, i also want to be equally available to everybody i’ve met in Niš and elsewhere in Serbia for a second, a third, or n-th time — if there’s anything — i mean, anything i can help them with, back in Brazil or anywhere else i’ve made connections.

That’s why!


Read the next article in the series: But Won’t the Gypsies Steal My Clothes?
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The North Cape Hypothesis: cycle touring, solo travel; Eastern Europe, Serbia