... Traveling can be a luxury but for me it's a basic need. You may think that it takes a lot of money to travel. That's right but on the other hand it can be cheaper than buying a new car, lots of shoes or any kind of unnecessary accessories. Definitively it takes less money but more courrage to stroll around the world. That's also a way to find out what your limits are. Sometimes, it's easier just to buy a new shoes. My advice is: Hit the road and do not hesitate to travel!!!

VIETNAM: CHICKEN NOODLE VS PHO BO SOUP

The tradition of cooking is more appreciated in a traditionally organized societies (Serbia or Vietnam for example) than in the modern western world. I speak in the terms of the eating habits and eating rituals that are getting harder to maintain because we are all too busy. 

For somebody like me, who grew up in a traditional society so to speak, soup is considered to be an elixir of life. I remember very clearly the way my grandma (and all other grandmas, I'm very sure) used to make it: it was necessary to put all the vegetable and meat (the parts which contain fat) in the water the day before and to leave it all night to the light fire of the stove; always using a huge pot where I could almost fit myself, with no possibility of making a fire in the house. Honest to be, it was disgusting for me to see wrinkled chicken legs cooked in the soup but I need to admit that they just give special taste to the liquid called soup. Noodles were always added at the end. Homemade noodles was the ingredient which disappeared the first. I'm so glad that even store bought noodles are still in use. When I was little I used to ask for the soup with one kilogram ( 2lb, approximately) of noodles in the soup. Chicken noodle soup is famous worldwide and when serving it in the restaurant I love to hear costumers saying: " It tastes just like grandma's". 

My mother doesn't cook the soup all night long but she still wakes up very early every Sunday to make the soup all morning until the noon. I like it hot, straight from the stove. She has learned a lesson from her mother, my grandmother very well. I've worked hard to reach the same taste of mother's soup which would keep me closer to my family however far I am. Soup that I make never takes more than a half an hour of my entire day and my husband often reminds me that I can leave it a little bit longer to boil because he is also craving for the real chicken soup.

Most of the restaurants in New York have different kinds of soup on the menu, especially Vietnamese restaurants. One of my favorite is PHO BO: thinly sliced piece of beef and almost a kilo of noodles are more than enough for a meal. The only thing I don't like in this soup is a cilantro. When I came to US while I was picking up the groceries, I took a cilantro instead of a parsley by mistake. Everything comes here in a size larger than in the rest of the world so I thought it was just a giant parsley. When I tasted the soup which went down the drainer because of cilantro, I realized that I was not going to make the same mistake ever again. In New York is very easy to skip cilantro, I just need to ask the waiter politely to live it out but not in Vietnam. There was a language barrier and no matter how hard Vietnamese tried to understand me and to please me, I still got the soup full of cilantro. It was in a small restaurant on the street with some plastic chairs and some plastic tables in front of the residential house or a building. It looks like everybody's running a restaurant in Vietnam because there's not much investments required. Ever since, I've had a picture of cilantro with me, just in case of misunderstanding. It took some time to remove this ugly plant from my perfect soup especially because it was stuck between the noodles but the soup was perfect. 

    Ph:Google

Once, again in Vietnam, I skipped the touristic area of Ho Chi Minh and got in the narrow streets where locals live. It seemed to me that everybody was taking a nap because the streets were empty. Some people left their doors open so I could see the interior of the house. In most of the lobbies, a motorcycle was parked. I really didn't know where I was heading to when I bumped on a lady who's selling her chicken soup to the locals. Chicken bones were on the ground all over the place. Her pleasant face and her soft voice attracted me more than the soup and I immediately took a seat. Without a single question she poured the soup and I felt as if my mother was pouring the soup to me. She added some side dishes to my soup and I stopped her when she wanted to put the cilantro in. I hadn't even finished it when she gave me a refill. 

Honestly, I hadn't expected to find a chicken noodle soup on the other side of the world but that's what traveling is actually all about: discovering the same thing in different surroundings and comparing them with the things we've got used to. The difference that I find makes my life worth living.

ZAMBIA: TERRY, THE KING

I met Terry in 2015 during my tour trough Eastern Africa. I had known that Africa is full of wonders and I was ready to search for them. Zambia was on my way, with an intention of refreshing myself on the astonishing Victoria Falls in a place called Livingston. 

It was late at night when the drivers hungry for some customers gathered around the bus trying to catch a pray. Richard was the only one who didn't scrap his claws on the bus window so he was chosen to show me all the wonders of Livingston. He exposed me the itinerary of the the things I had done so far but not in a specific way: rafting on Zambezi with the rapids grade 5 (I did the rafting only once with the rapid grade 1), then safari with rhinos which are very hard to find and to come close (even though I had spent already two weeks in National Parks of Kenya and Tanzania); tasting a crocodile ribs and at the end he mentioned a meeting with the king. So, he promised me to encounter the king and I wasn't sure if I heard it very well. Not with the chief, not with the mayor but with the King. I didn't see this one coming. Who would refuse to meet the king? That was the question I asked myself all that night. Like every woman, I couldn't decide what to wear for such an occasion. 

In the morning Richard of Livingston showed up with the a tie and tuxedo even if he had mentioned that no dress code was required. I tried to look elegant and comfortable as well so I chose a black and white combination.

According to the plan, I started the day on Victoria Falls. Richard showed me the monumental stone which hight represents the level of the water that British colonialists had found when they had settled here. Queen Victoria would be probably devastated by the fact that this level is already lower than the bottom part of the monument. 

When I came in front of Victoria I was almost to take a bow. What a piece of nature so huge, so loud, so strong, so powerful to tear apart the Earth, standing between the love of Zambia and Zimbabwe and not giving them a chance of being together ever. Even Zambia is straggling to hold its the ends together with a single swinging narrow bridge. I crossed that bridge getting all soaked but I didn't have absolutely any regrets of spoiling my "gown". On the other side of the bridge, right on the edge with Neverland, the Devil himself set his foot making a jacuzzi. While locals don't mind the gap and take a swim freely, I didn't want to tease the Devil so I took a seat on a nice piece of rock and I let only my feet to enjoy this royal coldness. 

All the vegetation found in Livingston and wider is a work of the Falls. It is so rich in cellulose that our distant, distant relatives baboons make themselves comfortable here, on the trees around the falls. They still keep the same pattern of stealing the bags and the food as a way of hospitality. That's why I tried to pass them doing absolutely nothing to get their attention. I didn't take a lot of pictures even if it looked like they minded their own business because I know that they can get easily irritated. I just swallowed a big dumpling and took a quick walk through their territory. 

When Richard showed up I knew the time to finally meet the king had come. After ten minutes of ride I came to the kings's chamber. It was not a castle but un infinite space under the sky. This king is not limited to stay inside of walls. Terry was young, only three years old but old enough to take over the throne and it looked as if he was not paying an attention to my presence. His two year old sister Diana was with him. She was a little bit more friendly than her brother and I introduced myself to her. Diana was willing to pose for the camera but Terry still didn't give any signs of friendship. I just stayed starring at him, a bit frightened because I didn't know how to start the communication. All at sudden Terry stood up and approached me. My blood got frozen when I saw he was up to my waist and his head was bigger then my whole torso. Hi looked me right into my eyes. Hi might have jumped on me and served me for a dinner to his family. But obviously not as hungry as a taxi drivers, he just started walking and I started following him through the jungle. We didn't communicate much but I felt we knew each other for a long time. The jungle looked like a big maze to me but he knew well all the passes and there was no way he could get lost. We stopped to see the group of his baby cousins playing soccer with some worn out ball. I dropped my sunglasses in front of them and they all curiously gathered around touching the glasses with their paws but Terry warned them with one single roar to behave. I found out that they are very playful creatures even if that play sometimes can have a fatal consequences and Terry does everything to protect his family. He stopped and took a sit next to my foot so I could touch his mane. I still feel the excitement of getting lost in the huge bush around his had and I suggested him a good hair conditioner. I checked if my hand was somewhere around me. No it wasn't. It was on its place and still in use. He told me to try to put some blush to my pale cheeks and I got some color from his thick fibre of his tale. I spent an hour with Terry which is more than enough for such a friend. I was scared, I was worried but somewhere deep inside I knew Terry wouldn't hurt me. That was the first and the last time I saw him. I am wondering if Terry's still out there holding his throne. I am not going to meet him ever again but I will always remember him. He is the only king I've ever met!

SEVEN YEARS IN AMERICA

Seven years in America can't really compare to seven years in Tibet. This is for how long I've been living in America. So far, I can't complain. 

Growing up, I used to think about living abroad. I did get some ideas of a spacious apartment in some narrow street of Florence or a mansion with a vineyard in the middle of Tuscany. The life has got some other plann for me which has been taken a place on the other side of The Atlantic Ocean. I was at the age of 27 when I came to New York, "the capital of the world", so called. Ever since, my future has been unforeseen.

After I graduated I didn't care too much about finding a job. Instead of chasing unpaid internships, I gave myself a freedom to spend all my money made from the student work on a two unforgettable weeks in Prague. The very last day of my departure from Check Republic, I had already booked the bus ticket to Croatia when I got two messages from two different people about an available position of a social worker at the psychiatric department of The General Hospital in my hometown. Only two days after I came back from Prague I got a white coat, length of service necessary for the retirement, six hours of work daily, more than a month of payed vacation and very decent salary going. The job has found me which is a very rare opportunity in Serbia. I moved away from my parents and I was totally on my own. I spent two and a half years of working there when my at that time boyfriend and now my husband Nemanja told me he was going to America. 

That's how I found myself in the "capital of the world" or so called "big apple" but only as a tourist that time. I was fascinated by New York. It looked like a boiling pot of different ingredients tasting like something I had never tried before. A cultural diversity can be seen almost everywhere today, still New York is very special. I haven't still met such an energy that keeps everything and everybody going. "Where does all this energy come from?", I asked myself then, but now I know it comes from the people and invents that never slow down. This city really never sleeps. It didn't take me a long time to make up my mind about moving to New York.

Telling to my parents about my intention to move was one of the hardest things I've done so far. I didn't rethink my decision much because the more time I spent thinking the harder it would be. They were not very happy about my idea but they were very supportive to me, as they always are. They told me what all other parents should tell to their children that I am the only one deciding about my life and they will always do everything to help me. My parents didn't give me a hard time but my surrounding did. Only two of my closest friends supported my idea of trying something new, but the rest of them, family friends and colleges couldn't understand why I would leave such a "comfortable" life. Most of them get used to do the things by the book: 1. be born, 2. finish the school, 3. find a job and keep it till the rest of the life, 4. get married, 5. have kids. The life in five easy steps. In order to keep everybody calm I told them I would apply for the master degree what I wanted at the beginning even if I knew I was going to work as a waitress or a nanny to support myself. 

Perusing my love, I moved to New York. Nemanja and I were finally together but I didn't have a lot of time to enjoy. Finances are always a problem when starting the new life so I had to start working. I enrolled the school of English language in order to keep a legal status but not the work permit or possibility to travel out of America as long as I was a student. I found a part time job as a hostess at the restaurant just to get some work experience. Working as a hostess only four days a week was flexible so I could attend the school but it was not enough to make a living. Nemanja and I lived with roommates at the beginning so we could save some money because living in New York is not cheap. At the end of the month, after I payed the rent, the school and the food there was nothing left. I realized I needed to find a full time job and I stayed focused mostly on the restaurant business. Somebody suggested me to start working as a waitress but I kept that awful Serbian attitude  -" I can't be a waitress"! I am not for that job"!. One day I just woke up determined to became a waiters and to live without roommates. The words CAN NOT didn't exist in my dictionary any more. Looking for a job became a full time job for me. I would go to the agency, fill the application and go to the interviews. Going from one place to another sometimes took me all day long. I would even start working somewhere but I was either not qualified for the job or I was overqualified. I did waitressing, cleaning the apartments (sometimes in the same day both jobs), selling pastry at the fairs for living. I had never refused a job because I've realized something is always better than nothing. Also, I never wanted to admit that I didn't know to do something. In case I didn't know how to work, I would ask discretely somebody to explain me. People of New York are very busy and they don't want to spend the time explaining and showing everything so I got myself into a trouble few times, staying without a tip or being humiliated in front of other people. 

Spinning into a working machine of at the speed of 78 hours weekly I completely forgot about the school. I still had some attendance, less than ten percent of total which was not enough and I was waiting to get deported any minute. Every time I showed up at school, I needed to spent half an hour of listening about deportation. Classes at school were so boring and annoying especially when the teacher said "Open your books!" I hate this sentence so much that I'm not going back to school. 

It was a time when I couldn't see the purpose of coming to America, when I was so depressed that I would go to work crying and come back from work crying. I felt like somebody put me in some movie where I didn't want to be. Running like a crazy to work and to school I lost my identity, I just couldn't find myself any more. I never had a suicidal ideas but I was wondering what the jumping under the train looks like. It happens very often in this city making the traffic stop and making me think about the person who did so. I wanted desperate to go back to Serbia but Nemanja was supporting me to stay, saying that we can go everywhere else but not back to Serbia. I knew that If I had left America once with this status I couldn't have come back any more. 

Seven years in America have really changed me in so many ways, moving my limits and finding a new myself. If I could turn back time, I would do the same thing again. Only I knew what I went through and how hard it was but I will never forget it. I am so proud of that experience. I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. I know that people from Balcan (specially treated and supported kind by their parents) can't accept such a lifestyle of uncertainty,  sometimes staying unhappily all their lives just criticizing others and considering only an office job 9-5 worth. Back home, I'm still answering the question for how long I am going to be a waitress. Some of my friends whom I met in America are back to Serbia, some of them suffer a depression because their goals and reality don't match. Oh, I almost forget to mention those who think that being a waitress in America is fine but being a waitress in Serbia is a shame. They are scratched from my list of friends for good. Can somebody really explain me the difference because for these seven years I still can't see it. I get it this way: it is a shame to be a doctor in Serbia but it is a privilege to be a doctor in America. Now I don't care what kind of job I need to do to survive. I know now that I will survive everywhere. 

It is a whole Universe between America and Serbia. I still can't fallow some American patterns such as going out without socks or with a wet hear during the winter, carring puppies in the stroller or loving them more than children. American smile "ear to ear" and such a perfectly white teeth is also something I still can't totally get along with even if I miss it when I'm out of New York. I will never be an American but I will always be a New Yorker. Unlike Serbia where I am supposed to stop living at the age of 35 because "it is the last moment to have a kids and build the house for them", the good thing about America is I'm never too late for anything. And I still feel very young and able to achieve whatever I want. 

After seven years, I still have no intention of changing a profession because if there was no such a jobs I wouldn't have what to write about in my traveling blog. And this is a kind of "life" adventure. There's no such a a thing like a perfect place to live but America is a country full of opportunities. It gave me a chance to explore the rest of the world and I'm so grateful for that.

NO(R)WAY

This time of the year is usually scheduled for the beach, natural tanning and relaxing. That's what normal people do. But not me. I am heading somewhere where the sunny days are a luxury and a privilege. I am trying to collect it as much as I can, never getting enough of it and sometimes not being really glad of sharing it with others.

Norway, known as one of the richest countries in the world, must be nothing but a perfectly organized social system where everything and everybody has some purpose. If you ask me, this social system is nothing compered to "natural labor division". All the work starts with the mountains, as the hardest workers collecting and keeping the snow, then the glaciers will provide the water falling down into the streams, rivers and lakes which maintain the green color of their queen- Forest as a nature's representative in the world. This system is not almost perfect. It is perfect.

If you ever take a ride through Norway, you will leave the camera out of your hands because the number of the lakes you're going to encounter is endless. I was jumping from one side of the train to another in order to catch them all. I missed only one of them because I needed to go to the toilet and I couldn't forgive myself. Next time I'll be wearing pumpers. Even if you skip your physiological needs and if you press "burst" button you still won't be able to cath a Bambi in the fields. I think, many of you are already making your way here.

Norway looks very attractive on the map, long and slim, just like the most wanted fashion model. But there's an edge of the country that is shattered into a small pieces where the fjords are created. Part of a fjord which is on disposal looks very simple but there's part below sea leavel, unknown and unconscious, the one that Freud was courious about very much. At the same time they look fascinating and frightening. The scarier they look the more attractive they are to me. That's exactly what I was going to meet in Norway, my alter ego. I wouldn't mind for some psychoanalytical valuation as well for choosing to wear a hat and a gloves instead of a swimming suit. 

I was going down from jumping from one island to another like a game of hopscotch at school. I started going down from Ålesund where I was hosted by my friend Sneza from Serbia, her husband Nenad and their sweet four year old girl Nadia. It was all inclusive hospitality with a spacious room, private bathroom and Norwegian-Serbian food. Nenad has been doing some practice in the kitchen lately, so his last two projects - Norwegian salmon and barbecue with grilled vegetables should be in some popular cooking show. Nadia shared with me all her toys so we got along very well and why wouldn't we when it is only 30 years difference between us. Sneza told me how charming Ålesund can be when the sun comes out. If I didn't see with my own eyes I wouldn't believe it that the sun is literally tickling the sea, forming the crystal shaped reflection so strong and totally impossible to watch it without sunglasses. 

Sunday is a day for not doing anything in Ålesund but fishing or hiking. I was fascinated seeing local kids with fishing kit rather than with smartphones or iPads. I asked Sneza if there's anything she dislikes here and she mentioned that people do the things automatically. For example, the kids are crossing the street without looking it because they know that everybody will stop on the cross walk. I agree with her because this rule is not equally followed everywhere. 

Down the edge of Norway I got to the point where there's no more comfort. Places around trails are a kind of isolated, there are no food facilities around so I had to make sure I had already had enough food when I got to the place where I was supposed to stay. I just made sure I already had had enough food but I didn't care too much about water because I knew I was going to collect the fresh one from the glaciers. 

In order to finish this trip my way I went South. Hiking to Trolltunga was certainly one of the most interesting hikes. Trolltunga means Troll's tongue. Trolls are "natives" here in Scandinavia. Usually they live, beside the mythical stories, deep in the forrest. I am not really sure to who is this tongue pointed at, maybe to human beings who took their land. To revange their kind, Trolls made here, believe it or not, 11 km long trial that takes six hours of walking, only in one direction.

First hour of hiking, the most difficult one is up the stairs. Whatever you've red on the internet about the hiking time don't take it for granted. Even though I've got some experience climbing the stairs I always freak out when I see them. This stones made me through out all the precious food I had that morning thinking it would give me the energy for hiking. The stairs destroyed the energy but they couldn't break my spirit so I just kept climbing. I was going in the opposite direction of the glacier water which is found very often after first hour of hiking. But the higher I got the more interesting it was: a part of the trail is still covered in snow which becomes a small stream or waterfall in some parts or just moisture the ground a little bit so the trail gets muddy. My mom would be so glad if I brought her muddy shoes to wash as a hiking souvenir. Of course, nobody expects a red carpet when hiking!!! It was really exhausting walk, but believe me, my hiking libido was totally satisfied. The view was beautiful from the bottom as well as from the top. Yes, Freud's right, I did it just to satisfy my appetite for the nature. 

Preikestolen, another precious piece of hiking art, was a resault of the odd circumstances that had happened.

1. In Stavanger a Russian guy slightly drunk approached my husband to ask him something. 

2.The hotel I stayed is a part of the city hospital. 

3. It was a rainy day and I got up late so I couldn't go to Kjerag because it was far and very difficult to deal with on a rainy day. 

What connect all these circumstances into the whole is a girl slipping down the cliff into some rock fracture. My husband jumped in to get her out while everybody else just stayed staring in the girl until a group of Russian and Ukrainian guys came down to help us. One of them was a guy who approached my husband at the station the night before. I put my scarf around the wound to stop the bleeding and gave her painkillers. I took this scarf from a friend knowing it was special for some greater goals. Our small group of medical amateurs did everything to keep the girl warm and safe from the poring rain until the helicopter came after two hours. We gave her all our clothes, water and attention. It was really horrible weather and we were all soaked even with the waterproof jackets. Russians apologized us because they didn't have any vodka to keep us warm and to celebrate our achievement. Of course, apology was accepted. On the way back it crossed my mind that Kamilla, might be brought at the same hospital next to my hotel. I was right. I found her and went to visit her. She started crying when she saw me. I asked her if all the pricings and tattoos on her body hurt more than the wound. My joke made her laugh. She's waiting for a surgery at the moment. 

https://instagram.com/p/BHC_PYWDmea/

From all the hiking trails, I saved the most challenging one for the end. Hiking through Kjerag mountain was the last adventure on this trip. It was approximately two and a half hours of walking but the trail is so steep and sometimes I behaved like a four legged animal supporting myself with my hands. I think that nobody would mind for an extra pair of legs at that moment. It may sound weird, but climbing up was a piece of cake compered to going down. I was not sure if I was going to make it alive sliding down the rocks more than thousand meters high. I've heard that people do the jumps from the top. I believe more in Trolls than I believe that somebody can jump from such a place. Unlike the day before, the weather was perfect for such a hike otherwise it would be impossible to climb because of the slippery terrain. Kneragbolten is a big stone stuck in between two rocks and nothing underneath but an empty space but people were still waiting in line to take a picture standing on the stone. I felt dizzy just from one look down so I decided not to do what everybody was doing. Kamilla occurred to my mind and I didn't want to be the one who would need the attention. Chinese girl whom I met on the way to the stone was so deferment to have a picture even if she is afraid of height. She did it and now she suffers a post traumatic stress disorder. She couldn't stop crying and shaking. She was begging me not to go because it was terrifying experience for her. I don't want to do the things no matter what so I stayed admiring the stone, height and landscape from the distance and everything was equally beautiful as if I were standing on the rock. I did it my way!!!

My trip has come to an end and I think I haven't miss anything. Norway is a perfect place for all my solitary soul mates who are looking for a shelter in the nature. If you hesitate to take a picture from the rocks do not hesitate to visit Norway and DO NOT HESITATE TO TRAVEL!!!

EUROPE EXPRESS

I came back to Europe already exausted from changing places every day so I felt as if I just came out on the surface of the Baltic Sea like a qork in the water. I wish it was a bad hangover from a Baltic vodka that made me so tired rather than just a psyhical weekness. 

I wanted to cross from San Petersburg to Helsinki, from the East to the West which is always harder than the other way around. I felt discriminated from the very beginning in San Petersburg when I wanted to book a bus ticket to Helsinki, Finland - a country of a Santa Claus. I couldn't get the reservation done online and I needed to contact an operator who told me that Serbian passengers are a subject of a thorough checkup what keeps the busses for a long time on the border. Shortly, the agency doesn't accept Serbian citizens for a passengers. It sounded like: "Pets are not aloud on board!!! There was, fortunately, one more agency Lux Express which didn't have such a discriminative rules. It turned out to be better that way because Lux Express accepts Serbs plus offers a very comfortable bus with movies and music on board. From that moment, Lux Express would take me down Eastern Europe whenever it was possible.

On the doorstep of Finland, I showed one of the passports I have. Officer asked me if I had another one and I showed him Serbian passport. I was told to wait for a while until they were checking both of my passports. I was waiting half an hour in the office full of mosquitos. The immigration point is in the middle of the forrest and my flesh was a feast for the bloodsuckers. The operator from descriminative agency crossed my mind because I was holding the bus. Maybe, from now on, Serbian passengers can't travel from S. Petersburg to Helsinki with Lux Express either. 

When I arrived in Finland, everything was just fine. Actually, this country can change a name into FinEland. Nothing much happens. Everything is working and everybody exactly knows where they are going to. Only I didn't know where to go. I was walking for a while, got some pictures of the city and soon it was a time to embark on the ship. I appeared two hours before the embarkation and I still missed the ferry to Estonia, because I took the wrong entrance. My money was refunded but I had to buy more expansive ticket, double of a price I had paid. 

I crossed the Baltic Sea by ferry from Helsinki to Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. Even if it was a night trip, I could see clearly the line between a dark blue color of the sea and a very light blue color of the sky. As the boat approached the cost of Estonia, after midnight, the sea and the sky got exactly the same color. In this part of the world, days seem to be like a hyperactive children resisting to fall a sleep and when eventually eyelids are closed they won't stay sleeping for too long. 

All around me were people with a blond hair, pail ten and a blue color of the eyes matching a color of the sea that had brought me here. 

The old town of Tallinn gives a nice picture of the medieval period. It was hard to imagine how Vikings managed to get through all the narrow street or passages of a castle with such a heavy equipment made of iron. I could imagine, though, all the area falling down while they were passing through. A helmet with horns is a tourist attraction and I tried it on even if I know that actually these tough guys had never worn such a thing. I looked just like a Viking with a helmet, more scary than pretty. Some woolen wear (sweaters, ponchos, scarfs) displayed in the market area would sooth me much better.

Summer uprising was announced by The International Festival of Visual Arts, flowers, music, beer and cider which all together added some colors into the cold medieval walls. 

https://instagram.com/p/BGHIAfNFySs/

Lux Express brought me to Riga, the capital of Latvia. My biggest fear, almost a nightmare is this one: I will come to a place, I will not find anything interesting and I will leave with an empty camera. It has never happen so far even if European cities don't really inspire me. This means I should stick to the nature but I'm afraid I'll become something like a yeti spending too much time alone.

List of movies on the bus was more interesting than any city so far. The further I traveled the better it was because I was watching more and more movies. I even enjoyed watching movies that I had already seen. It was a totally new kind of experience. I stayed in Riga only few hours, just as long as it took me to find Lux Express to Lithuania. 

I visited three countries in less than 24 hours: Estonia, Letonia and Lithuania which is  my record so far. 

It was a night when I came to Vilnius, such a strange name for the capital of Lithuania. It was a Friday night, I went to the supermarket and I noticed that all other costumers were buying an alcohol: beer or wine. Instead of alcohol from the supermarket I took a walk around the city. The city was not dirty, but it was not perfectly repaired like other European capitals. I could smell some artistic and vagabond spirit in the air. It is not a surprise why murals are flourishing here. It is one in particular that has shaken the world a little bit - the one with faces of Putin and Tramp exchanging their body juices as a symbol of an Eastern-Weatern political connection, interest and profit. That's why I liked it. There were some wholes of the dark past but with announcements that the future is not too bright, either. If it was, there wouldn't be so many people hanging out with an alcohol... I guess. 

My next destination was Belarus, the only one among all these countries that is land locked, therefore it doesn't enjoy a Baltic splashes. Belarus doesn't belong to united system of Europe and there's no Lux Express. I didn't know what to expect from the country which president has been holding his position for more than twenty years. He just doesn't get enough. I was surprised that Minsk looks like a city of the twenty first century until I came to some communication problem because I hadn't met a person who was willing to talk to me in English. I would start a civilized conversation with "hello", word and it was the end of conversation because they would just turn their back to me as if I was contagious. Adele is probably not the most popular singer here, what I totally agree with. Regardless Adel's pathetic song, I thought it would be a polite way to start the conversation. Eastern rules might be different!!!!

-"Hello", I said to the lady at the information desk.  "No" , she answered with no hesitation.

"What no?", I asked, " what hello?" she said... 

-"Do you have a cold bottle of Schweppes?", I asked a vendor lady at the supermarket. "Ne ponimayu" (I don't understand), she answered showing me with her hand to get lost from the window, turning her back to me and serving another customer. I was so irritated by her act that I told her some very rude words in my language so she could spend some time asking herself what it meant. Not every single person from the rest of the world speaks English but everywhere I go people make an effort to understand and to explain me what I ask even if they need to use simply their hands. Honestly, I would be devastated if I knew that people from my country just blow away the strangers who need any help. Speak Russian so everybody understands you!!! Still, the attempts to communicate was the only action that happened me here. 

In the style of socialist's ideology of public possession, streets of Minsk are so wide, basically there are all boulevards alike. I couldn't feel intimate with the city with no passages or hidden streets or corners. 

Missing some movie time, I came to Poland where Lux Express operates in a full speed. Poland treated me with a very nice sunrise so it wouldn't be polite from me to spare only a day here. The fog that coverd green surfice looked like some hunted place calling me to reveal what had happened in the past. 

Warsaw was completely destroyed city once and now it looks very, very modern with only a small part of the old town reconstructed in the old fashioned style. Maybe, for such a cities, listening about history is more interesting than site seeing and I had my friend Anna Maria to talk about history. I found some restaurant with Ex-Yugoslavian food. The waiter told me the music is also Ex-Yugoslavian. I brought Anna Maria inside to hear the music and she asked me if that was a kind of music that usually truck drivers like to listen when they are on the road. I just nodded.

Getting far from the coast of the Baltic Sea, heading to Krakow, one of the oldest and the most famous city in Poland. I didn't have a map of thecity and my main sign for orientation was a smell of fresh pastry: croissants, pretzels, bread and rolls that was coming from Jewish quarter. Since I came this far, I needed to get ready to face the the history evidence of human suffering that is exposed in Auschwitz. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the birds were singing. None of this was possible to hear or to see in the past except huge gray cloud that used to cover this small village. Even if I saw in person the roads made of human ash I still can't understand what humans are able to do to each other. Ghost of the past that will always follow humankind. 

After some turbulent period of time, It seems that Europe has decided to retire. But I didn't. I still have some errands to run!!!