Thoughtbook

Turkey, Edirne. So far so good. The harder part comes now: here is the blinking cursor and I'm about to write something. But what? There are, again, too many things happened, inside and outside, it is almost impossible for me to catch anything of it. Well, I know this effect, and I'm trying to trick this. Beside my maps in my handlebar bag I am having a little thoughtbook and a pen, to have some brainwaves written down. Let's see if it helps.

Rodopi

I feel I could climb up to a 3000 m high peak with the bike and still it would be much, much easier than create interesting sentences and write about the stuff happening to (and with) me - cause there are too many subjects and too little time for it (and too little abilities and knowladge of the art of writing in me). Still I feel I could write a standalone post about how it is to go all the time from west to east - e.g. being burned down from the sun only on my right side, and about seeing the cultural changes, about how it is to have some days spent only with riding up on one big mountain, about how it is to go really slowly (13-14-15 km/h average, and stopping many times). I feel I could write about the kick-outs I have when I just can't do anything and I have to stop pedalling, about the huge, twelve hours sleeps I get from time to time when I have the possibility (or sometimes, when I don't), about having the same simptoms of being lazy as I had it at home (like "OK, I pay for the accomodation instead of looking hard for a free/wild campsite, I just don't care now, I'm tired..."). I could write fourhundred and twelve pages about what, when, how and how much should I eat, and instead, what, when, how and how much I do eat. Also there could be a small booklet of the "Mediterrian Mountains", about what are they, how they look like, how it feels to ride on them, ride through them. I could write endless sentences of The Sound of The Wind blowing all day long in my ears - how many million sound effects it has, how it influences me, how can it get me to some kind of trance state - and there could be a second volume about this subject, concerning The Sun. Also a toatally new book could be born titled: "The Uncypherable Reality of Dreams", or something like that. It would be about the point that instead of tring to find some meaning behind our dreams we should live it fully, be there, aware, recognise that it is a dream and began to use the endless possibilities of this opportunity (e.g. to fly around planet Mars, or to have a conversation with a dead relative, ask some interesting stuff from them, and so on...). And than, there is crying. Crying spontenausly. There are cases like this, once-twice a week. Because of feeling endless greatfullness, thankfullness, or just being amazed of the world so much that my body reacts like this. I don't know, it's just happenes. And after it, everything becomes much easier, lighter - to pedal, to go along, to resist the armies of flies... It could be also a part of a whole romantic novel, hehe. Ah, and there is the fairytale I could write, about The Smell, what one catches and feels even only one time, he will be a life-time addict of it, it is so lovely, so fine, so good to breathe in - it can be felt in the mediterrian pine forests - and who feels it, this smell will make such deep carves in his memories he won't forget it ever, instead this carves will direct him unpredectibly to so nice places and to so warm hearted people he can never imagine.

Eastern Rodopi

Ah, too much blabla. Will ever be some texts born of any of the above? I don't know. Maybe if once I stop riding and will have a calm, friendly place to chill and to write, something will be born. That would be nice. For this, I have to began to learn the wonderful way of writing. And for this, I have to write. Endless circle, if I just think of the beginning of this post, hehe.

Rockets of Edirne

Anyway, for now, I'm getting back to the saddle. Istambul is almost right on the corner (concerning I had more, than 2000 kms behind). Today I'm spending a day in Edirne with my Phantastic Philologist host, Fari Ca, and with his family and with his friends (ah, another lovely part of another novel), writing, learning turkish language (with Fari we had huge and deep turkish-hungarian grammar lesson till 1 am), walking on the streets of Edirne, tasting turkish foods, getting into the vibe which is totally new for me (and which is more, than friendly). So in a few days I'll dive into the city of 18 million people (but sea Black See first!) to have an idea what this vibe does with me but in a million times multiplied then here in Edirne. Ah, and of course, it's all the time on my mind how and where to ride further from Turkey - Iran(?), Pakistan(?), visas(?), cold weather in the mountains(?), how-should-I-go, where-should-I-go, is-it-possible. I'll see, first Turkey.

Finding the perfect dictionary

And yes, I didn't write any words of the route - how was rolling through the whole, whole, whole Rodopi mountains, west and east, how was crossing through Greece just for about 50kms, and so on. Let the Gallery (and the poor captions under the pictures) speak instead of me.