Sunday morning . I pack with such efficiency I can ’ t imagine anyone ’ s help could make the process move any faster . I brush my teeth as I roll my mattress and talk into my voice recorder – listening back to this now as I write – I have absolutely no idea what I was trying to express . I know a girl who can not only speak while brushing her teeth but can also sound just like Sean Connery . I just sound like I ' m choking on whipped cream from a nitrous-filled aerosol .
In an act of reckless bravado , I ’ d let the bike charge my phone as I slept . This morning I have the satisfaction of full charge and the bonus of the bike coming to life like a wake-up call . I definitely have a cold ; I can feel its unmistakable onset in my throat . Conversely , the sun this morning has a haze about it which says it ’ s going to be an unmercifully hot day .
Leaving the motorway last night was exactly the right thing to do , but this morning , with progress paramount in my mind , it ’ s a little frustrating to be zigzagging through the countryside . I don ’ t think I ' m adding mileage to the journey – I ’ m going to miss Budapest ( I don ’ t mean I ’ m visiting the local beauty queen ). At Baja I cross the Danube – so we meet again . We are both taking indirect routes to the border . I have to admit this river has chosen some very picturesque places to flow through , or perhaps it paints the picture as it passes . I wonder if I could do that .
Same name , same heat , and same clothes as when I was riding in Mexico four months ago . The similarities end there though . I won ’ t be getting fragrances of fajita drifting under my visor . However , now I ’ m back in travel mode the distance between the journeys has disappeared . There is a continuity , this could be the same road , further down the journey of escapism , on a quest for contentment .
TRAVERSE 91