Bye Bye Bulgaria, Serbia Arrival

Bye Bye Bulgaria, Serbia Arrival - Day 124 June 17^th

Mon, 17 Jun, 08:03

Kelty Caston <keltycaston@gmail.com>	Mon, 17 Jun, 08:03
to me

So Cosy. Spy just left. Jo and Taran at dishes x

I sent this email to myself from my boudoir to remind me of my lounging morning moment, impossibly comfy, looking out from the upstairs camper bed.  Sunshine, a light breeze, fresh summer air. If there was climate control for the planet here is the setting I would choose. 

The Spy is an enigmatic, 40 year old, British solo motorcyclist who introduced himself to us the night before, after supper, as we sat around our table.  He had just arrived at Lake Batak from the Ukraine and was off again in the morning to Montenegro.  Big distances, tall guy, very fit looking with upright bearing and a correct but untraceable BBC accent.  He was at ease and charming as he briefly partook of our society. He works in “communications” for the “Government” latterly in Russia and after this six week motorbike tour of Eastern Europe is starting a three year placement in Kenya.  “Chose your languages carefully” he says to Taran.  “Goodbye” he says to us and strolls out of our lives.  Jo and I look at each other “A spy” we agree.  He is so James Bond on holiday it is virtually scripted.

The next morning he packs his tent and leaves after a measuring out a long solo lake swim in the early light. 

Jo and Taran get up early too (even after the fire of last night) and do the dishes.  I stay in bed.

Then Taran and I swam goodbye to a serenely calm Lake Batak ourselves (much less distance than the spy, far more splash) and we hit the road to Serbia.

We drove to Belgrade – it took about 6 hours – and arrived in an extreme rain storm.   Floods gushing, the roads awash and thunder crashing we waited in the van outside our Airbnb for 20 minutes as the heavens subsided. We unloaded and climbed the three floors (several times) to our spacious new apartment in Vracaj.  Home again, lovely.  Taran is mysteriously keen to dress for dinner; perhaps it is the presence of a wardrobe that prompts him.  We walked out through damp streets for pizza at Batakos (thank you David Murrell) and it was good.

 

Late to bed and not so easily accomplished with Taran in high spirits - big day planned for the morrow.