BUDAPEST – ISTANBUL
Cycling across Eastern Europe solo at 19
Hungary, June 28, 2011
On the luggage conveyor belt at Budapest airport, the bicycle box is in a state of disrepair. Pierced by the pedals, all the scotch tapes fail miserably when I try to lift it. A man comes to help me gather my belongings from the floor, and I laboriously reassemble my bike. It takes me several minutes to pump up my tires and about 1 hour to reach the city center. 24 hours ago, I was still serving moules frites in a beach restaurant in Le Havre – as usual, I set off on my adventure in a hurry.
While looking for a place to sleep, I bump into a Canadian on a European tour. Unfortunately, the youth hostel he has booked is fully booked, and I’d love to stay with him for the evening, to forget the new-found loneliness I’m feeling at the start of my trip. ” Good luck”, ” You too buddy “, we say goodbye. I wander through the streets of the Hungarian capital, the historic monuments and the city gliding past me, my mind elsewhere. Following the Danube, I land in a guesthouse where I take advantage of a last-minute reservation. I haven’t slept for two days and I’m exhausted. I’ve eaten nothing all day and it’s already 7pm. I’m shaking a little.
At random, I buy three slices of pizza from a street vendor and painfully eat two. I’m not hungry… I hope I’m not sick. Or is it anxiety that’s getting to me? I’m 19 years old and about to cycle through Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and northern Turkey. From Budapest to Istanbul.
Through the Carpathians, on Romania’s Transfăgăran Highway.
On Romania’s highest asphalt road, I come across some shepherds.
Hurry! Charge my iPhone, stow my bike panniers, reconnect the odometer, wash up… Feverish, not knowing where to start, I collapse fully clothed on my bed. 14 hours later, it’s the hotel staff waking me up to clean up! I quickly vacate the room, put my bike gear on the landing and prepare the road for tonight’s stage. Today I start my first pedal towards Istanbul.
If I follow Route 5, I’ll make it all the way to Romania! The first few kilometers are tough, the effort painful and my speedometer desperately low. However, the French flag on the back of my bike causes a sensation: the smiles I get on the side of the road embolden me, and some motorists cheer me on as if I were in the peloton of a cycling race!
My logbook.
In Bulgaria, a couple took me in as their own son.
As night fell, I passed a few houses in a village and stopped in front of a gray gate. The dogs have announced my visit. An astonished man comes to meet me, his children preceding him. With signs, I manage to make them understand that I’d like to sleep in their field. They accept and offer me a welcome gift of tomatoes and cucumbers from their garden, which I eat with the pasta cooked on my stove. By the light of my headlamp, I write these lines. I’m in my tent for the first time, secure in the knowledge that I’m in an enclosed space and living with two howling dogs, cats and frogs that crawl under the tent. It’s late and I have to sleep. I’m surprised to have written so much tonight. Tomorrow I’ll try to do more kilometers than today. It won’t be as intense anyway, as I’m leaving much earlier this time and won’t be riding 5.5 hours straight.
The dogs have stopped barking.
After 3 weeks of continuous effort, I reach Sainte-Sophie in Istanbul.
