The Long Road Home

Today I rode through a small slice of Slovakia into the Czech Republic. Before that I spent a few days crossing Hungary.

Everything today was soft and green and yellow and brown. It was easy. The roads are SMOOTH. All the roads from china even through to Romania and Bulgaria had continual bumps and lumps and the tarmac would be squashed up in ridges from heat or broken off or rutted. And then heaps of gravel, or whole sections just earth and gravel etc. You get jolted and pitched and bumped all day long. Now on these European roads I can just ride smoothly along. It’s gorgeous. You can look around. Easy peasy.

You can refelct on things. I was riding between lines of towering yellow shivering poplars that looked just like the ones far away in the Uighur oases of north west china. I saw the Morava river a flash of blue water just like the river near Borjomi in southern Georgia. A train went by rusty red engine and line of container wagons slowly overtaking me, like the huge trains did sometimes on the steppes in Kazakhstan. When I think of it all, I can hardly even believe myslef how far I’ve come.

Hungary’s Great Plain east of Budapest was actually quite tough. The wind was against me so I battled for two days across the open land, betwwen huge expanses of wild yellow grasses tossing in the wind and marshy green tussocks. At the end my hands are cramping with squashd nerves and it’s monotonous and I just want to GET OFF THE BIKE. But I saw wild ducks splashing out of reeds, white egrets standing alone, lapwings crying and flapping up from still water. Occasionally there are old wayside inns, white with huge roofs and arcades of low arches, geraniums. The wind was just sweeping over the open land. Around Hortobagy, the few houses there cling together, the wind scouring over the village. There were ww2 tanks left in the villages as memorials of the huge battles fought across the Plain.

Hungarian towns seem terribly well behaved sober and clean. People walk little dogs on those long retractable leads. People have their toddlers in HAMAX CHILD SEATS on the backs of their bikes. So safe and proper. There are bicylce paths with people standing nicely at the kerb when the little red bicycle is showing. Children are being taken to violin lessons. Students are carrying badminton racquets. There are TOURIST INFORMATION CENTRES with people in green shirts to help you. There are CAMP SITES. The petrol stations have astonishingly clean toilets and shops with coffee machines and CDs. There was a quiet demonsration going on in the middle of Debrecen, people politely listening to speeches in front of the reform church.

In the villages there are spanking nice houses all well painted with sharp square corners and rows of flowers. Ladies are buying flowers and pedalling home on their bikes. There are shops with trays of pansies for sale. I haven’t seen any donkeys for ages. It’s all so affluent and comfortable compared to anywhere else I’ve seen. It’s dramatically different from Bulgaria and Romania.

The huge pale brown fields have huge tractors, you see lines of dust far away as the tractors turn. The earth is fine and dry. I sat in fields to brew tea and watched the tractors go to and fro.

I arrived in Budapest in glorious late afternoon sun. I thrashed through massive suburbs. Traffic was snarled up for miles. Finally in the middle, the Danube looked fantastic. The Parliament building also looked fantastic all spires and gothic pinnacles. In the old city, you heard pianos from open windows, and peple practising trills on trumpets. Lovely lovely Europe. Tourists were listening to guides and pushing prams on cobbles noisily, the wheels going all the wrong ways.

West of Budapest, I saw numerous pairs of well-turned-out mostly middle-aged german and swiss people on cycling tours with nice clean bikes. So many!! Up till now, if I’ve seen another foreigner on the road, it’s a BIG EVENT, as you only meet one about every two months or so, so you absolutely STOP and talk frantically for 20 minutes in sheer delight at the company. I was all readyto stop and chat, but there are so many of these Euro ones that of course people don’t stop to chat, they just bowl on by. Some did stop. Each pair had a little ring-bound guide with maps, and notes saying there’d be no shops of this section for 10km so remember to carry food etc. I just boggled at it all, to be honest. In my head were those Kazakh steppes over 40 degrees, Kyrgyz mountains with hail coming down and the ice-white Pamirs under black clouds that I was too scared to even look at, and China’s remote wildernesses where I made so many mistakes and floods in Azerbaijan and lonely hills of Turkey etc.

When you’re there, you just battle on with getting through each bit, and it seems normal, but this week amongst the green and in the soft kind sunshine of europe, I stood there by the road with my little bike, talking to people, and even I could hardly believe what I’ve managed to get through. I felt I wasn’t explaining anything properly at all. Riding alone thru those places suddenly all seemed so far and so different from riding these gentle lanes. I didn’t know how to explain what it was like.

I stopped for a day in Bratislava. Sweet squares, towers of the city walls, the little cathedral. Cafes. Well dressed people (not me). Most exciting was (a) seeing my parents for a day and (b) a WASHING MACHINE.

Today I crossed the border into the Czech Republic on a minor road south of Breclav. Ther were two chatty policemen, one czech, one slovak, standing in the road listening to a music radio station. No stamps, no fuss. No huge queue pressing on foot for hours to squeeze through a stupid narrow turnstile (kyrgyzstan-kazakhstan); no long series of barriers, and trucks piled with scrap metal (china kyrgyzstan). No soldiers and border police at questioning me at 2am (georgia-turkey). No men with mustaches singing oh susanna (georgia-azerbaijan). Quite tame really.

I’m aiming for Prague now.

This entry was posted on Friday, October 13th, 2006 at 5:39 am and is filed under Hungary, On the Road. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.