No visa to Iran

Written in a georgian home, OzugretiIn the morning we wake up early for a good breakfest and we're away towards Ardesen.

My tablet has a full batteries again, both of them and that doesn't happen that often. Until now I didn't deplate the battery a single time but in the harshest times it got to 30% of the primary battery and the secondary one completly depleted.

We were running down the hill inside the back of our host's pickup truck. The truck was speeding through the randomly paved and steep roads picking children on the way.

We disembarked in central Ardesen and started a quest for wifi. I forgot to mention that our guests didn't have the internet. We try to get to a wifi spot for obvious reasons and also because we need to know the status of our iranian visa. So far, the consulate didn't send us anything. The deadline is in a few days.
It was incredibly hard to find a wifi spot. People offered us computers, they gave us tea and talked to us about a million things but no way to connect. Besides their good will, the people didn't know they even had a wifi let alone a wifi password. After countless attempts we made our way into a high school. Some of the teachers spoke english (victory!) and they called the english teachers to make the communication flawless. They invited us for food into the school canteen so we got our free lunch but still no wifi.
We ended up getting wifi in front of a store which sold chainsaws. They knew their wifi password and we got our internet. No news about our visa anyway.
So we got out of Ardesen, to some city called Of, between Rize and Trabzon.
Still time to visit some mountains so we wanted to hitchhike further into the mainland. Before we even started a young couple very much in love stopped and we rode with them until Uzungol.
The next day we rode with them high into the mountains, we reached the snow in 2500 meters and didn't even 19062013Today we hitchhike to Trabzon. The stress is rushing through our veins. Will we get our visa? There were times we wondered about how it'll go and elaborated various hypothesis, some more realistic than others. I was wondering weather Iran will discover that I'm also french. It's not that hard to search my email and discover tons of french forum posts and whatnot and probably not too difficult to figure out that I also have a French passport. And Iranians don't like double nationalities and they seem to like the french even less.Or they could just have forgotten to ask us some information needed for the visa and we'll have to wait one more week. Don't I know administrative officials are useless as hell, I've lived in France long enough.So we entered this iranian embassy after eating brunch with our last driver (another free meal) at a local restaurant, it was really great food.
There was a woman who, I am sorry to say would look her best in a burka and had an obvious hormonal problem. She asked us for a reference number, how the hell are we supposed to know that? The last guy a week ago asked us the same question at first but when we told him we had no such thing he didn't seem to care that much and just took scans of our passports to send to Tehran.
The woman came back after a while and told us just this:
"No reply from Teheran. No visa."
When we asked why and what should we do she just said "No visa, I don't know. This month no visa maybe next month visa." At least she should learn proper english when you work at an embassy.
Next month, easy for her to say, we have to cross Iran, we can't wait a month for it. We don't even want to stay in their stupid country, at least not right now and not in our current mood. We just need to cross it and be on our way.

No visa to Iran

We've heard such wonderful things about the Trabzon consulate, now they just seem to be incompetant assholes with no clue whatsoever.They should at least have known that we don't stand a chance without that reference number or they should at least have sent us an email to say that Teheran was not responding, they said so much the first time.
So we searched for a wifi spot again and signed up with key2persia, a travel agency which obtains these reference numbers.
We asked them if we could retrieve our visa in Yerevan, Armenia. This way we can at least travel east and leave Turkey behind even though it's full of good memories.

Turkish mountains, one last time

Written in a georgian home, Uzugreti
In the morning we wake up early for a good breakfest and we're away towards Ardesen. My tablet has a full batteries again, both of them and that doesn't happen that often. Until now I didn't deplate the battery a single time but in the harshest times it got to 30% of the primary battery and the secondary one completly depleted.
We were running down the hill inside the back of our host's pickup truck. The truck was speeding through the randomly paved and steep roads picking children on the way.
We disembarked in central Ardesen and started a quest for wifi. I forgot to mention that our guests didn't have the internet. We try to get to a wifi spot for obvious reasons and also because we need to know the status of our iranian visa. So far, the consulate didn't send us anything. The deadline is in a few days.
It was incredibly hard to find a wifi spot. People offered us computers, they gave us tea and talked to us about a million things but no way to connect. Besides their good will, the people didn't know they even had a wifi let alone a wifi password. After countless attempts we made our way into a high school. Some of the teachers spoke english (victory!) and they called the english teachers to make the communication flawless. They invited us for food into the school canteen so we got our free lunch but still no wifi.
We ended up getting wifi in front of a store which sold chainsaws. They knew their wifi password and we got our internet. No news about our visa anyway.
So we got out of Ardesen, to some city called Of, between Rize and Trabzon.
Still time to visit some mountains so we wanted to hitchhike further into the mainland. Before we even started a young couple very much in love stopped and we rode with them until Uzungol.

Uzungol at night

The next day we rode with them high into the mountains, we reached the snow in 2500 meters and didn't even exit the car. The turks like their cars and they like to use them. Is walking on foot kind of bad here? I don't know but you would be surprised what you can climb in a usual street car. The french wouldn't even dare to enter that kind of dirt road, these guys didn't even blink.

Our turkish couple, a cow, and me.

Tomorrow we'll leave  for Trabzon again and we'll see if we got our visas for Iran. If we don't? We go to Georgia and try our luck in the iranian embassy in Yerevan. If we get it? Well... Ilona go find your head scarf!

Wedding

In the morning the spleen was more on me than on Ilona. Maybe we exchanged it. Maybe I just didn't want to be on the reassuring side anymore.
Anyway we were so depressed, especially me that we didn't leave the tent until noon, even watching a serbian movie. It was similar to the french mindfucks I used to watch with my former girlfriend, except with serbs and it didn't end so badly.
We managed to make it back to Ardesen and without too much hope, started to look for an exchange office. And... we found one! We happily exchanged another 20 euros which makes our spending speed 1.7 euros/day/person. Still under the previsional average so far.
We bought a kebap in a sandwich and it was great.
Then we made our way towards the sea to try to catch some fish. There are plenty of fishermen down there so why not us. Of course we don't have a fishing cane but I have a fishing string. I just have to attach it to a stick.

Ilona's making a fishing cane

We didn't catch anything but a turkish family who was fishing nearby found our feeble tries amusing and started taking pictures. Who would blame them, consider the sight:

Fishing in the black sea

After having their dose of fun, the good turkish family had mercy and gave us some delicious turkish candies. Ilona said it had a lot of calories and since we're underfed that's very good for us. Afterwards, the firshermen gave us all their fish and left.
It's funny how an epic fail suddenly turns into an epic win in a matter of minutes.
So we gathered some firewoord with the firm intention of cooking the fish. We decided that I'll kill the fish because I'm the man and stuff and Ilona will cook the fish since she might actually know what she's doing.
Before we found our camping spot, all the fish died. We didn't catch them, we didn't kill them, at least we'll learn how to cook them. But you shouldn't jump to early conclusions. yet. On our way up the mountain a man spoke french to us. He used to work in a turkish consulate in Marseille for 33 years. He called his neighbour to ask wheather we could pitch a tent in his garden.
The guy invited us in, gave the fish to the cat, asked what the fuck is our firewood for and invited us to a huge dinner. We got another shower, the third in a row.

View from the balcony, the sun sets up

The house belonged to the father, a 55 old man, silent and retired because turks know when to enjoy life. One of his son was getting married to a sweet and reserved girl. She was young and beautiful, you could see she's pretty even trough her hijab. Actually, her hijab seemed more like a beauty accessory than a way to diminish women, at least in her case. She was proud and had character. She didn't flee the sight of other men and she sure as hell wasn't born yesterday.

Us and the bride

You could see her social ease when you saw her dance. It's nothing like the stereotype of muslim submissive women we have in the west. At least not right now.
Let's not get too extreme, turkish women are not as liberated as their european counterparts but if I had to put the bride on a scale of liberated women, I would put her just under the french average and just over the spanish.
So we all danced in some pre-wedding ceremony. The bride was horrified with my dancing steps but Ilona seemed to get the rythm.

Round and round

While the grown ups were dancing, countless children were running around posing for our photos. Here, families had up to 5 children and there were quite a few families.

Children signing: turk

They all used the "turk" sign, two extreme fingers up, the ramaining two central shut against the thumb.
Some of them also showed the juniour scouts salute also known as the peace signed. Our host's look got dark suddenly: "Hide that for god's sake. This is the sign for Kurds! Hide that, hide it! You are not signing for Kurds here!"
I felt a little thrown off balance but the celebration quickly rekindeled.Tonight, we'll sleep in a warm bed again, it's been a while.

Spleen

Written on a mountain side, around Uzungol and in a truck going to azerbaidjan.

Spleen. The wait for the iranian visas is too long and we have no information about the process. We don't even know if we'll get them. Ilona feels we are wasting time, she'd like to hurry east without these administrative worries so she would be home faster with the feeling of an accomplished deed. She has more reasons to return than me and therefore more reasons to worry. That is one our big differences and it will follow us during the whole journey.
Ilona hates to waste time and any meter we could go east and stay on spot is a wasted second. Wasted seconds, minutes, hours days.
I don't care about time. But I'd like to see Ankara. The protests in Taksim square. When we passed Istanbul it didn't really feel that important to see this and maybe not worth the (feeble) risk but now that time is slowing down, I'd like to do something of note and play reporter at these protests. As we travel trough Turkey, we experience it from afar. From much closer than you guys in Europe or other parts of the world but still indirectly.
The turkish media shows shy and somehow chaotic protests being handeled by the police.
Nothing unlike a french week end demonstration actually.

People talk about an organised resistance with people carrying gas masks and medical students organising resistance. Most people are with the protesters but some call them socialists.
Some think the demonstration has gone rogue.In the evening, we made it to Ardesen, a small city on the coast. That day we discovered that we don't have anything to eat besides some old bread and a few vegetables. Our water supplies are almost drained and we have something like 3 liras left. That's a little more than 1 euro.
We do have euros but the nearest exchange office seems to be in Rize, 100 km from here.
100km isn't a big deal, especially in Turkey but this region is harder to hitchhike than any other region in Turkey. Nesli has warned us about this. It's said to belong to the Lasz - very distant people.The last two guys who we got a lift from seemed to be high on meth and we just didn't manage to get anyone else. Not even the çocuk-yok weirdos.

That night we slept in a kiwi field. We didn't know they were kiwis, they looked more like little apples not to grow up until november.

How we got a shower

Written on a mountain side, around Uzungol.
You wouldn't expect, in a country as friendly as Turkey, to be saved by a foreigner. It might be because Ilona systematically pushes me into refusing turkish hospitality because she feels bad about it, it might just be bad luck but we haven't spent a night in a Turkish home just yet.
Our showering situation has become so desperate that we have even resorted to couchsurfing a few days to solve it. And did I mention that after our last drying attempt, our clothes have now holes burned in them?
We got a quick reply from Nesli living in Cayeli, about 100 kilometers from Trabzon.
The couchsurfing was supposed to happen this evening; so early in the afternoon, when we finally went down from the mountains, we started to hitchhike towards Trabzon, about 40 kilometers away.
We got a lift from Denis, a guy from Alberta (Canada) who was working in Ankara for a few months and had gone to the trabzon region for the week end.
He's been to the protests in Ankara and has been pepper sprayed pretty bad. Milk and lemon juice for the burns, that's a useful information for all intents and purposes.

Another view of trabzon harbour

He had a rented car and was the same kind of explorer of random places as we are.
So we explored the region in his car, taking breaks to take photographs.
He was the kind of guy with plenty of ideas and a joyful mood, Ilona was kind of taken with the character.
Afterwards he kindly invited us into his hunderd-star hotel in central Trabzon. Shower time. Oh yeah!
The reception people were surprised and genuinly scared to see us enter the premises, one of the reception people even followed us to the room and try to ask us (in turkish) if we were planning to stay for the night. After I told him we'll be out of his way in one hour he breathed of relieved and returned to his duties.
After showering Denis invited us to dinner at some great restaurant and we ate like it was the only food of the week which wasn't so far from the truth actually. We probably seemed like hungry animals and Denis must've felt lucky we didn't eat him as well.
It was showered and full that we said goodbye to our Canadian saviour and continued towards Rize and Cayeli, Nesli's home town. Nesli seemed a little uptight in her text messages so we hurried as much as we could to be there on time. We later learned that she wasn't uptight at all, she just had some bad experiences with couchsurfers.
Hitchhiking in this region proved surprisingly difficult. We witnessed passing cars for ages, almost like in europe. We finally resorted to hitch a truck (which are slow) only to Rize.
Hitchhiking in Rize sucked even more. We got there at night and only got a lift from some weirdo witha truck who tried to grab Ilona's breasts while helping her to get out. We should've have known that he was weird when he said that "çocuk yok!", "no children". When a Turk has no children then you know something is wrong with him. Either he is a weirdo or he knows a little too much about birth control but in most cases, it's the first choice.
We will avoid the çocuk-yok guys as much as possible in the future. Anyway this weirdo only got us to the exit of Rize where we waited for ages with taxis and buses bothering us endlessly until some happy family decided to take us to Cayeli even though they weren't going there at all. They gave us their facebook and emails but we lost them. Hopefully they'll contact us on their own.

"We don't go to Cayeli but we'll get you there anyway"

We met with Nesli a little late but she was here and she was great. And by all wonders of the world, she spoke english! We slept at her boyfriends in a huge appartment, washed our clothes (they don't seem that bad once they are burned and washed) and got a giant turkish breakfest. The morning after, we were on our way, east towards Ardesen.
East, yes, but temporarily. We're still waiting for our iranian visa, so we'll return the same way west.

Breakfest in Cayeli with Nesli and her boyfriend

Mountains in the mist

Written while couchsurfing at Nesli's place.
The one ring is starting to leave a mark on my body. A greenish line of oxydized copper. This is the day we reach Trabzon, our compulsory destination. There, we will ask for our visa to Iran, our gateway to Asia. I really do hope we will get it. The only other alternative lies through Azerbaydjan and a very difficult boat hitch accross the caspian sea, towards Kazakhstan. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Trabzon, an industrial complex at the first glance, houses are built high into the mountains

We did half the ride to Tranzon with the police, half with a bus driver who got us there from free. The police part was because they wanted to bring us to a better place to camp and finally they chose us much worse than we had.
The iranian consulate was nice, way nicer than the one in Kazakhstan, I just hope the visa will follow. The Trabzon embassy is supposed to be the fastest one, a lot of people got their visa the same day. For us, it'll take 5 days to a week.
We met some random guys in a tea bar who gave us some tea and some internet. They told us to visit some monastery in Maçka a few kilometers from here. Trabzon was getting on our nerves anyway so we went. There are mountains there and maybe there will even be a shower. I still haven't had a proper bath, I'm starting to get desperate.
Bad luck though, we are caught in a storm. We hide as well as we can next to the highway.

The storm caught us right on the highway.

So we continued towards Maçka to see the mountains. We got there and for the first time in a long while we pitched our tent in a safe and pretty place in the mountains. I could sleep until late without Ilona worrying someone would discover us. Ilona worries too much and I don't worry enough. She wants to go fast, I like to go slow. Differences arise but so far our communication is good, we work them out.
We make our way towards the monastry, the place is quite touristic. My bag is heavy but nothing like before, I can manage. At the top, they want money for entrance.
We'll skip that one.

Old christian monastery in the neighbourhood of Maçka

A small path inside the bushes goes up the mountains. Ilona follows, I don't think she likes this way too much but I sense that she wants to keep an open mind. Her open mind starts to close as the path seems to go nowhere until it dissapears completly. We're lost in a mess of trees and leaves, completly covered with water from the leaves. Ilona wants to leave, her motivation hangs only by a thread: she doesn't want to be the one who gives up.
Luckily we quickly reached some more practicable path and stopped for a while. To rest our feet, admire the view. And I haven't lost face to Ilona with my ideas and that just might be the most important thing to date. Until now, I've tried to be reasonable but the time will come when I'll want to climb Mount Danavand or what's that mountains name so I better not screw up on the kindergarten playground.

Wet and tired, we contemplate the landscape

A little higher we find a great place to camp. About 2000 meters high, we see the snow.

An abandonned village is the perfect shelter

We're also low on food and very low on showers. It'll soon be a week. Luckily, there's a garden. Several salads and onions are there. Not much for a caloric intake but we only have bread and are glad to add some taste to this diet. So Ilona climbs inside accross the barbed wire while I collect some wood.
We're wet and cold, and the tomorrow's not going to be any hotter so we decide to make a fire and dry our things. We did try but we burned our things, despite my wonderful invention of a drying rope. Ilona burned both of her socks and a part of her shoe, I burned a part of my only pants. I sew them afterwards.

Drying our things

Just before we go to sleep we feel like in a horror movie. The place is confortable though.
However, we must get to that couchsurfing in Cayeli tomorrow otherwise we will just die of not showering and possibly hunger.

Along the black sea

Written in a georgian truck and then a turkish one.
If you want action-packed stories you'll have to wait a little while. Or wait a lot. We certainly are not here for your entertainment. So far our stories are the ones of emotional truck drivers. The last one took us towards Samsun from Bolu but it was so slow we never got there. It is commonly known among hitchhikers that you shouldn't hitchhike with Turkish trucks. They are too heavy and average a speed of 60km/h.
Ilona was complaining we were moving too slow since she wants to be in Kamchatka in 3 months. It's quite unusual because usually I am the one who wants to hurry.
The good truck driver bought us lunch and made us dinner with home-made giant bread fresh from the bakery. It was still warm when we ate it.
The trip continued slowly but surely, sometimes sleeping sometimes talking pseudo-turkish. Sometimes I had to hide from the police so I hid while eating cherries on semi-pornographic magazines. Don't ask.

Our truck driver bought us this giant bread-EKMEK

We are still travelling on a complete zero-budget for turkey and a 4 euro budget. For breakfeast we still rely on the great plum djam from Irina's brother (still forgot the name, shame on me), we have plenty of bread to put it on from our various invitations to restaurants. We also have plenty of water from the countless 50cl bottles that our drivers buy us. We still havrn't touched our apple juice. Lunches and dinners are on invitation and we have enough of those. We refuse them fiercly because Ilona is afraid of looking needy but I think the Turks are often happier when the invitations are accepted.
We desperately need someone to invite us home because I need a shower.
That invitation could just be this piece of paper our good truck driver gave us. We should visit his friend in Samsun, and give him this. No way to know what was written there, I could deciefer something about friend:arkadas and help:yirmi. Btw thanks so much Hana and Zevla for help!
We slept in a field very far from everything because Ilona had a bad feeling about that night. Ilona is paranoid about Turkey in general, it might be because one guy she hitchhiked with to there was a complete tool. But there were a bunch of Turks who told us that someone is going to cut our throats but if I got a dollar each time I heard that...
Still, we were careful.
We made the few kilometers left to Samsun in a Georgian truck with a russian speaking driver.
"You travel without money to Iran? Are you stupid? I give you 10 000 dollars if you
end this madness now!"

Zurab, the only true Democrat

Zurab the Georgian democrat (and maybe the only true democrat as he said) tried to discourage us. He invited us into the only true democracy which was his truck. All other countries were ran by Putin maybe except America which was run by an equally evil dictator. I was labeled an idealist because I tried to express the idea that some countries had different level of dictatorship and France was kind of a democracy.
However, the Georgian seemed to talk from experience.
"Do you have temperature? I must look for thermometer!", he exclaimed in Russian after he heared my thoughts, "France democracy? You brainwashed. France Italia Czech Republic all Russia. All europe Russia. All mixed in cup like chocolate. Putin not like europe, europe kaputt. No chocolate. No europe. Idealist young people. Stalin, Hitler, all Idealists. Lenin, he was a true Democrat."
I actually think he spoke good russian but he had to simplify for us. I won't even try to express my russian here.
It's true though I do have a naive understanding of the world but I pointed out that Stalin is a Georgian national icon so the label wasn't that bad coming from a Georgian was it?
He was a straight up guy with both feet on the ground or should I say the accelerator and, let's say it again, a true democrat. We said we are democrats too.
I think we are, what else could we be?
In Samsun we tried to figure out what that piece of paper the truck driver from yesterday gave us was for. I posted a translation cry for help on facebook in the morning. The address pointed to some Casino. Were we supposed to go into a Casino in Samsun and ask for this random Rifat guy. And what was he supposed to do? What if the note said "Off with their heads" or something like that?

Fisherman in a philosophical mood

At a local restaurant we asked or help to find this place and we got a personal driver who tried to locate that casino for us. Without success unfortunatelly. So they made us half a liter of turkish tea, offered us ice cream and invited us to a fish restaurant. We refused three times in a row, energically. This is crazy, how is it possible for tourists to spend money in Turkey? We offer to pay each time we get someting and they don't even seem to understand the concept.
In an attempt to communicate with us they called some friends who spoke english on the phone. They also got me on a chat where people spoke german and turkish. So I spoke german on the chat and turkish with our hosts, it was a language mess.
We wanted to hitchhike out of Samsun, hopefully with a private car instead of a truck because they are too slow. And because a private car could head home and invite us in for.. a shower!!! But a truck stopped anyway so we might only get an invitation to a good restaurant. Damn. However they are rivers on the way, we might just camp nearone. The coast near the black sea is beautiful, the mountains are falling into the salty water.

Dinner on the road: This is my friend the animal, said our driver

Hurry towards turkey part 2

Written on a feeble free wifi on a gas station in Boulu, Turkey..

Fucking serbian cops. They really need to make a show of their authority. To be completely honest, it was kind of my fault, I didn't come up with the right attitude. We were hitchhiking on this pay toll and there was this cop who started blowing his whistle because we were on a highway. He told us we should've come to Nis by plane because we're tourists. Because tourists use planes. You don't say to black people they should sing rap music, how is it any different? And how are we supposed to take a plane in the middle of the highway, perhaps he'd like to land one for us. But anyway he just wanted to play with us a little so that was it. Serbian cops don't like what they can see so he advised us to go somewhere else on the highway where he didn't see us so he didn't have an excuse.

Afterwards a very cool serb guy whom I forgot the name (sorry) took us stopped for us on a highway just after two albanians going to kosovo dropped us there because Kosovo wasn't on the way. Anyway we went to his place, Ilona found a church to pray in since she's christian but it wasn't the right kind of church so I kind of failed I guess. The serb guy was great to us, he dowloaded us serbian movies with subtitles so we can watch them somewhere in our tent, in the middle of nowhere. His sister Irina was funny, she seemed to liked cycling and doing dumb stuff kind of like us and they both spoke great english wich makes things waaay easier than me communicating in pseudo-serbian.

The way to the Turkish-Bulgarian border

After that we quickly hitched a ride to the bulgrian border (back in the union again, what a joke) and that day we camped less than 100km from the turkish border.

Bulgaria towards the turkish border: Trucks, sheep and taxis We reached Turkey in a truck (our first truck) who was going to Kayseri which was a chance to skip instanbul which I would like very much although I'd also like to see the what these protests in Taksim are about.

On the road we passed columns of carried tanks, god know what they were doing there.

Truck transporting a tank, maybe towards Taksim square

Anyway we ended up on the highway in Istanbul with something like 20 km to go before we could get to a hitchhiking spot. So we hitchhiked inside the highway filled with slowly driving cars, it was kind of messy.

To that mess you have to add two turkish guys selling water and fruit on the middle on the highway who thought we were their competition and started shouting at us quite harshly. When they understood we were hitchhiking they stopped selling their stuff and instead they started threatening cars into taking us in. A poor guy gave out and there we were going the the istanbul pay toll from where we hitched a ride towards Gebze. The guy bought us dinner, he was really nice and tried to protect us from any harm, like most turks do. Then, another guy bought us tea and we were on the way again with a truck driver who bought us dinner again, tea again, twice until we reached a parking lot at 2 in the morning and at least slept a little. Today, we ride towards Samsun.

Hurry towards Turkey part 1

written in a car from Slavonski Brod to Nis.
The waking up and preparations went slower than I expected, I kind of hoped we would start hitchhiking in the morning. Not because of Ante but because of us. At least we got a good night sleep and a wonderful breakfest. The food was excellent as always and... well everything was great. The Anteans are a bunch of silent people except the mother and Barbara. We left with food for two days and Ante kindly drove us to the pay tool east of Zagreb.

The initial plan was to get to Turkey today so the interesting part may begin. But since we got to the hitchhiking place at 1PM, this plan was compromised. We'd be lucky if we catch Belgrade.

There we caught a ride to Slavonski Brod with a blond lady and a boxing teacher who kept talking about sex. Ilona, of course, was taken when she heard about the boxing. Unfortunately he talked more about sex than boxing. He explained to me that his front teeth were missing because of licking too much and not ice cream if you see what I mean. But it was kind of fun. And they bought us coffee.

Thank you Petra for teaching me the word kurat, I heard it a lot during this conversation.

The blond lady, her name was Ljuba which means something like "lovely" got a glimpse of a car with NIS plates. She went and asked the driver if he would take us further and there we are, going to Nis.

So we drive to Nis with this guy who works in a company and also sails and dives and rides a motocross. From the pay toll before Nis we may catch a ride to the border. So we might sleep in the serbo-bulgarian border today.