So Tired. So Angry.
“Listen man, you got me at the wrong time. Normally I would try and have a conversation with you about this but I just hit my head really hard on the bathroom door frame, and I have no patience for your stupidity right now…”
“Listen man, you got me at the wrong time. Normally I would try and have a conversation with you about this but I just hit my head really hard on the bathroom door frame, and I have no patience for your stupidity right now…”
Standing beside the road with a gun in my face is a bit of a Tintin moment… but not a good one. This is a moment from one of the darker, more political Tintin books, where the hero finds himself on the run behind the Iron Curtain…
“It was called Hungarian salami, but… Australian salami is not so good. We have all kinds of different ones but they all taste kind of the same.”
Pasti frowns and nods. “You must try some real Hungarian sausage…”
Sometimes I notice the membrane that wraps me. The way people look around me and past me. I don’t exist. It’s like nothing ever happened…
We sit in the park and have a picnic. I introduce her to my robots.
‘They look like smartphones to me’ Pia says.
‘They are robots’ I tell her. ‘They are very talented filmmakers and photographers…’
“A man is arrested and taken to the police station. They tie him to a chair and blindfold him. Then the sargent gets a jug and begins to pour water into the man’s shoes…”
The Scots in our group are tickled pink I brought a slab of Edinburgh beer to a Czeck wine festival…
He’s an old guy. What am I going to do? I think about going ahead of him, but it seems childish, and I can picture us trying to one up each other for hours, going further and further up the road…
This town is really beautiful. Cobbled streets, towering castle battlements, and a fast flowing river lined with trees flowing through and around the citadel…
All my Czech friends are always banging on about how beautiful it is, and they weren’t exaggerating. I find a little mossy clearing on the bank of the lake to pitch my tent. Green leafy shrubbery, cool water, shady trees and warm sun…
“I see” Mohammed says, thoughtfully. “So you are not worried about hitchhiking… What is it that you worry about?” “Oh, you know, just the usual stuff. Existential dread. Dieing alone. Cancer. Boredom. Compared to stuff like that hitchhiking is a breeze…”
Pietro opens his front door with a smile, and I collapse onto his couch. The hitch from London to Paris went very well, but I have only slept about 2 hours in the last 24…