Well, that was a very cold and uncomfortable night! Up at 05.00 hrs and on the road by 06.30 hrs.
First lift was in a jeep, followed by a bone-shaking ride in a truck that took me as far as Xanthi. Never mind the bumpy ride, the scenery was lovely. And, compared to yesterday, the rides today are as fertile as the surrounding fields.
I soon picked up a lift in a VW Beetle to Porto Lagos, situated on a bar separating Lake Vistonida from the Aegean Sea. I spent a couple of hours at a cafe drinking milk and reading Murphy, the Beckett novel I bought from Paul in Dubrovnik on Day 16.
I was wrongly under the impression I had secured a lift on a cargo ship going to Alexandroupoli, but my seafaring career was not to be. Not to worry, worse things happen at sea, I soon picked up a lift with a pharmacist who took me all the way to Alexandroupoli – probably quicker than the boat.
It was now around 13.00 hrs and I headed straight out to the road leading to the border. A couple of lifts took me to within 110km of the border. After a fair amount of walking along the almost deserted road, I got. lift in the back of a small truck. It was another bumpy ride, but it felt good to have the wind in my (by now quite long) hair as I enjoyed the pastoral scenery zooming by – farmers herding their cattle home.
I had a pleasant surprise when I was dropped off at the border – met up with 2 German guys I first came across in an earlier lift. We walked uneventfully through the Greek checkpoint and then across the Evros Bridge.
The 10 minute walk was a strange kind of turning point in my life. The sun was setting behind us and trees were growing out of a temporary lake caused by the river overflowing. The air was alive with the sounds of birds, frogs and crickets, and mosquitoes put in an unwelcome guest appearance. I felt as though I was entering a different world.
After passing through the Turkish checkpoint, we stopped for some tea, fruit juices, bread and biscuits. Armed guards patrolled the bridge and there were feral cats everywhere. One of the guards sat with us, swatting away the mosquitoes and waving his revolver around as if to shoot them. A junior guard sat and played one of the German guy’s guitar, to the backing of a frog orchestra.
We set off along the road towards Ipsala around 22.00 hrs. I had been on the road for more than 15 hours at this point. We found a small campsite behind a BP filling station. I bedded down with my groundsheet and sleeping bag around 23.30 hrs…
And boy, was it welcome;
So, Day 22 saw me crossing another border, missing out on a boat ride, and blissfully crashing down at a petrol station.
And tomorrow finds me entering Byzantium.
Psychologist on the Move 