By Bike To Sydney

As I write this we are in Romania, still by the Danube a few km past a town called Temaru severin. I wrote soma passages about Hungary, Croatia and Serbia but my memory stick burnt out in Belgrade. Anja said her memory had burnt out meaning she found it hard to remember where we had been and even sometimes where we were yesterday. I said at least she had something to forget.
I lost the will to document stuff for a while. I have found myself doing what I have always tried to avoid; taking too many Photos and not really looking at anything. I will though, for you Pop at least try and recount something of the last few weeks since leaving lake Balaton in Hungary. Perhaps a run down on the places we spent the night might give an idea of lofe on the road. Roads it has been mostly and a few stretches a bit dangerous but on the whole pretty quiet.
Leaving Balaton was hard in the rain as we had made friends there. The next night we passed a sort of scout camp and stayed there in one of there tents but were eaten by mosquitoes so we put our inner tent up inside. The next night was in Croatia by the Drau caught between mossie hell and high water. We went for high water on the wrong side of the flood defence because of a slight breeze from the river. Less than a foot above the flood looked a bit dangerous but we made a mark and it looked like the level was dropping. It was but I dreamed of evacuation to higher ground.
After that was Ozijek where I got my bottom bracket replaced. Cheap but a bad job as they scraped alot of pain off. I should have asked to borrow the tools and do it myself but they seemed very confident. I am usually wary of very confident. The town had a great promenade along the waterfront but this soon turned into ever rougher outskirts as darkness settled and a bit of flattish swamp by a dog pound and next to the road was a good enough spot to pitch the tent. This has been the wettest summer here for 20 years and only once in my life, in Minnesota have I experienced so mosquito clouds so dark and threatenning. The whole landscape has a background hum.
The next night we saw a small tennis club outside of Ilok and Anja asked if it would be ok to camp there. The owner spoke good german as he had worked in Messingen, said that would be fine and showed us the showers. Perfect.
From Ilok we crossed into Serbia and in the first town while looking for a map were accosted by Marika who had been chasing us and trying to offer help. In good English she took us to a bookshop and got alsmost angry with the proprietor because the nearest thing they had, a thin and useless tourist pampflet, was only written in Serbian.
´This is appalling and so stupid´ she repromanded ´Things must be written in English. How else are we going to get into Europe´.
Novi sad is a pleasant city and we ducked into a backstreet bar to shelter from the rain. There we met Igor and Sasha, local guys who informed our Ignorant selves of the recent history of the area and found us a nearby hostel. We had a great evening drinking Rakia (local hooch) with Igor, the Owner Serje and three girls visiting from Belgrade. Novi Sad had a thriving nightlife and an ´Only Fools and Horses´ theme pub. Serbia has apparently taken the series to heart and the streets are full of budding Delboys hawking everything from sunglasses to religious Icons.
We wanted to see more of Novi Sad but a grey rainy day was not Ideal to do this so we donned waterproofs and headed towards Belgrade. Two broken spokes, some hills and a friendly drunken fellow who bought us a coke meant we only reached Sarduk a small village where we stayed in a Pension run by Alexandre and Dragona. This welcoming couple were a carpenter/church restorer and Icon painter with a hazelnut plantation that ran to the clifftops above the river.
Zermun is a suburb of Belgrade really but along the river it is lined with crazy houseboats, all different and built as resteraunts and nightclubs. We crossed a buzy bridge from here into Belgrade ,booked into the Star Hostel and prepared to do the city thing once again. Not an entire failure this time but we were glad to move on the next day.
In Kovin we asked for somewhere to camp and were directed to the town Swimming resort. This was a nice surprise for a scuffy town. 3kms down a dirt track we found a lake with a cafe and a few old guys in tents. No charge and it was good to have a swim. I took the opportunity to give the bikes an overhaul.
The next morning Anja asked a guy for water and we were invited in for coffee, cakes and Rakia. An English speaking sister, Zora, was summoned from next door and we spent a pleasant hour with a Serbian family.
Over the border into Romania and up into the foothills of the Carpathian mts. Wooded and wild. We found a clearing to camp in at the top and freewheeled the next morning down to the Danube and into a 100 mile long gorge - the most spectacular scenery. The mention of Romania often provokes alot of tooth sucking and treats of hoards of thieving Gypsies just waiting to rob any foolish tourist. Our experience so far has been different, as we expected it would be. Gypsies or Romanies there are - alot - they wave at us grinning from their unsprung cart seats. A pleasant variation on being totally ignored by their Transitvan driving French counterparts. Once we were asked for money, many times we were offered refreshment and even accommadation.
Another meadow by the road where we were kept awake firstly by the sound of stunt kites doing arial acrobatics millimeters above the tent. Then by some serious throat clearing going on all around. The stunt kites were bats from a nearby cave system. Bats in the Carpathians !!! Vampires they were not but they may have indirectly tasted our blood by catching bloated examples of the now less in number mosquitoes gathered at our door. The coughing was from deer who were, it seems, busy admiring their new horns while god was doling out pretty voices.
´Smile swimming resort´ just out of Drobeta Turnu Severin played 24 hour 80´s music through a high quality PA system. We didnt know this when we handed over a whole 2 Euros to pitch our tent and have the whole place to ourselves. Perfect. Almost.
Cetata Port had a little tent symbol on our map. We headed down the dead end flooded road surrounded by water not knowing what we would find. Often there is nothing, a symbol misplaced on the map or something only planned or long gone. Here was no campsite but a few nice buildings, a dock and an International Sculpture Symposium going on. At this time in the evening the Symposium was a few folk sitting by the river, drinking Rakia and conversing in English. Invited, we joined in. A German sailbout suddenly came skidding down the swollen river, spun around neatly and grabbed hold of the floating Dock. A couple from Jena on a round the world tour.
We left on ´Wigwam´ the next day after George, the symposium organiser and one of Romanias top sculptures, took us to Cetata early market.
This, in my mind, is how a market should be. How I imagined Casterbridge on Market day. The girls bought Garlic, sausages and tomatoes freshly dug from old ladies gardens. I unsuccessfully haggled over some new bungee cords and ate some fried `mitch´ or something similar sounding which is the local sausage, but found myself more enthralled by what I thought was the ´Gypsy Horse Fair´ department. Only after sometime did I realise I was simply in the carpark.
Down the river by boat is a totally different experience. Incomparable to cycling. The river is now on average 10m deep, about a mile wide and moving deceptively fast. We covered 182km in a day and anchored behind an island off Colorabi. What looked like bushes in the water were tops of trees and we moored amoung them where the current was less strong. Small boats emerge out of watery woodlands and the fishermen stand kneedeep on the banks looking as rooted as the trees. Since leaving the Gorge where the water raced through 60m deep, the Danube has become like an inland sea with still over 500 miles to the coast. I did some quick amature mathmatics and worked out that 20 million litres a second are pouring towards the coast.
Distant barges and ships now look small as they pass on their way to Austria or Germany. We have followed this river for over 2000km and feel we are betraying it a little by thinking about leaving it and turning South through Bulgaria towards Istanbul.

kroatien, serbien, rumaenien und heute in bulgarien
nur so viel in deutsch, uns gehts gut, das wetter ist prima, alles hat sich schon so sehr veraendert, die landschaft ist anders, die menschen, das essen, alles.
das ist toll und macht alles lebendiger und aufregender, weltreisemaessiger.
wir sind seit 2 tagen auf einem segelboot mit gundula und toralf, 2 deutschen, die einer segelweltreise mit ihrem boot auf der donau entgegensteuern (Blog der WIGWAM). noch per motor, der segelmast wird in wenigen tagen kurz vorm erreichen des schwarzen meeres gestellt. und wir duerfen bis kostanza mitfahren, werden also auch ein stueckchen vom donaudelta mitsegeln, eine superabwechslung und erfahrung.

A change of plan. We are going to stay with Gundula, Thoralf and Wigwam until Constansa on the Blacksea. The Delta we apparently should not miss.