their vacation, but I did not tarry for
tomorrow I am riding to Greece.
I’d been very careful to spend all
my Ukrainian cash before I reached
the Ukrainian / Polish border. The
petrol tank was full, the road, typical
of so many border roads, was less
than good.
I saw the Кафе Вікторія as I
came around a sweeping bend; the
speed sufficiently slow to just glide
in and come to a halt. And then
remembered that I’d spent all my
money and that cards are not valid
currency in isolated establishments
like this.
No soup for me then, this
lunchtime; I sat on the bike and took
the opportunity to smoke a cigarette.
Moto Gelato has straight through
pipes. The exhaust roar had heralded
my arrival and after a few minutes a
short woman in her forties, face nut
brown from the sun and creased with
smile lines, sporting a slight belly and
good legs appeared at my elbow.
The conversation went something
like this.
“Sprachen sie Deutsch? Nyet?
Where are you going to?”
“North by Northwest? To Poland?
You have a wife? Where is she? Where
have you come from? Odessa? When
you last have sex? You like to have sex
with me?”
Now I know that I am not a large
and physically beautiful man exuding
sex appeal with every lift of the
eyebrow, so this was hardly going to
be a straight proposition, here in the
heat of the midday sun, while I was
still wearing my helmet.
“You have cash, Euros?” said with a
winning smile.
I hope I was polite in my refusal.
“Madam,” I replied, “I cannot afford
a bowl of soup, let alone your sexual
favours, wonderful as they might be.”
“Hryvna?” with a regretful smile
once more creasing her face.
“I would like soup. Can you accept
Hungarian Forints?”
“Nyet Hungarian”
She smiled, I smiled, I started the
bike and rode away. I saw her, in my
mirror, waving.
You may query, in this story, why
the lady’s English was good enough to
use the phrase North, by North West.
It was because I had told her that
was where I was heading. Earlier
this morning, with sand in my toes
I sat on a beach, readying myself
for the ride to Greece. South a little,
past Moldova on the right, through
Romania with the Black Sea on my
left, over the mountains in Bulgaria
and down into Greece.
I threw the dice to confirm the
journey. The dice disagreed and sent
me instead NNW to Sweden where I
arrived two weeks later.
But that as they say, is another
story. GM
A few months later Derek managed to
contact Alexandra and put her in touch with
a friend, a woman from his Fellowship. After
a difficult six months of on/off international
Skype conversations Alexandra joined AA
in Chisinau, stopped drinking and has been
happy and sober for three years. She still
goes to church, but not as often.
Derek has two outstanding books
documenting his travels by motorcycle;
Notes From The Road Vol IV (see review
TRAVERSE issue 17) and Notes From The Road
Vol III.
Derek's unique take on travel and the
experience is highly recommended, his books
and information can be found at:
derekmansfield.com
TRAVERSE 54