Can it be that we are just a short time on the road, but already have a backlog on our provisional itinerary? If this continues like that ...
But fortunately we are not in a hurry, we have time in abundance. Who cares if we arrive in India a few days or weeks sooner or later. And India is still a vision, something unreal that probably exists but we won't know for sure until we get there.
Therefore, we stop the hair-pulling and just drive on. Today, if all works out well, we arrive in Yugoslavia, and thus, we cross the second border already.
Our beloved and hated VW bus
We actually wanted to christen our vehicle, the bloody car which has already caused legendary problems for us. Well, we'd better leave that, maybe it might be offended if we called it August or Franz or Hans.
Today we are quite happy with it, running as if it has become young again.
Does it honestly mean it, or is it just a pretense of false facts? It's understandable that we've already become suspicious after all these problems and don't really trust peace, but let's wait and see. The old gentleman obviously wants to prove that he is quite capable of taking us to faraway lands.
Here's a brief survey of our mobile home, our sleeping place, our kitchen, our living room, our means of transportation, our refuge from cold and heat and pushy people and deep dark night.
The particular highlight - the kitchen. Since older versions of the VW bus did not yet have a sliding door, the side door opens outward, making it perfect for attaching the kitchen to the inside. With everything that goes with it - cooking plates, pans, cleaning supplies, kitchen utensils, etc. Occasionally something clunks and rattles, but it's just a permanent noise along with many others making up the sound of our motorhome. This is associated with the rest of the stored household goods in the cupboards.
There is a table that can be unfolded and two seats with cushions. The bed with the mattress, as mentioned, is extendable, stored away during the day, covering table and benches in extended state before going to sleep.
The driver's cabin is in more or less standard condition, except for the driver's seat, which is particularly well padded. And somewhere in the back, where the rear hatch can be opened, everything is stored, from food to gasoline and tools and who knows whatever.
And on the roof spare tires and other things that do not fit inside. What we are particularly proud of - for notorious Eastern Turkey, where young people make a fun of throwing stones at foreign cars, we had a protective grille made, which can be installed in front of the windshield if necessary. Whether we will ever need the thing, is written in the stars.
All in all - not a luxury car, but we feel very comfortable, except when the car wants again to show who's boss ...
Trieste and the search for maps
Anyway, at noon we reach Trieste. I honestly don't know too much about it, except that James Joyce spent some time here (if I remember correctly, not a happy time). For the first time, we face the problem that will accompany us the whole trip. Should we spend some time at places we like, or do we continue traveling, a little impatient, a little breathless?
Trieste is the first victim. Maybe another time...
We enjoy a bite to eat (who knows when we will be able to enjoy high-quality food the next time, the Yugoslavian food compared to the Italian? Well ...).
Most importantly, we hurry through the city in a desperate search for road maps, which, as mentioned above, we forgot at home.
Of course, there are plenty of road maps on offer, maps to Austria, France, Friuli or Tuscany, but India? Non-existent. Not a single meter beyond Europe. Who in Trieste would be interested in a map to India? Una cosa così stupida. This is just ridiculous.
So we continue and hope for Istanbul. And plenty shops with road maps.
Another trail
Surprisingly, we manage to cross the second border without any problems. Yugoslavia doesn't welcome us with open arms, the customs officers look rather grumpy, as if we had disturbed their well-deserved lunch break.
Never mind. But some differences are quickly noticeable, especially the quality and condition of the roads. They give us a first taste of the things to come.
We do not have to wait long. After reaching the main traffic artery from Austria, we are confronted with the phenomenon that we know from the media, but only now experience first-hand what that means.
An endless convoy of thousands of trucks from all over the world is on its way east. Since the Shah of Persia initiated the modernization of his country, Iran represents the promised land for Europe, and everyone is looking for a piece of the pie.
Most of the trucks seem to be under pressure and drive like idiots. On the narrow bad roads through Yugoslavia this is a borderline story, especially because the rest of the traffic plays along with the dangerous game.
So you're obliged to think for just about everyone, whether driving behind or in front, not to mention the oncoming vehicles. Every few minutes, a vehicle dashes past the convoy at the dumbest places, just in time to avoid a crash.
However, this does not seem to go well in every case, because any accident with fatal consequences is marked with the respective number of crosses on the side of the road. You might get a queasy feeling about that.
An oncoming vehicle takes the cake. It actually drives past us with its tires on fire, smoking and stinking. No one seems to care.
Not the only India travelers
At least, after all the excitement of traffic, something good happens: a VW bus with German license plates overtakes us and we drive side by side for a while. It turns out that the two youngsters are also on their way to India. Eureka! We're not the only ones.
And immediately we feel connected to someone, even if we only have the same, at the moment still incredibly distant goal.
The day is long and nerve-wracking.
Yugoslavia makes itself scarce, except for cloudy weather, bad roads and a lot of traffic we don't get to see much. The focus is on the road, everything beside it disappears, becomes invisible, doesn't matter. Nothing is bad about it, it is just the way it is. Yugoslavia simply gives a first taste of what is waiting for us.
It might well be that one day we will think back to this day and these roads with nostalgia.
Nevertheless, we decide to call it an early night, look for a place to spend the night on a meadow and while on the nearby road the madness continues all night, we dream of burning tires and monster trucks threatening us from all sides, but also of the ocean coming closer, of breakfast at the beach, of white yachts on the glittering water ...
Let's hope for a better day.
Suicide streets
Sometimes it's better to leave the unpleasant behind as quickly as possible.
This is our mantra today. After yesterday, it's a matter of crossing this country no matter what, with a lead foot on the accelerator, not looking to the right or left, just driving and hoping for as few problems as possible.
A word about that Jugoslawien.
At that time, the country was still a multi-ethnic state, a strange concoction of different ethnic groups, religions and cultures, only held together by the iron fist of Marshal Tito. Imagine that today's independent states of Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia-Herzegovina, North Macedonia and Kosovo, which were more or less friendly at the time, were united in a single state.
But underground, a time bomb was silently clocking, waiting for the right moment, and that moment came with Tito's death, which permanently changed the fragile structure or eventually destroyed it in deadly wars. In hindsite we should have known.
Today there is some peace and quiet. Crazy, for today the same route, you would need to go through several countries.
The traffic does not let up. It seems that each, really each vehicle with four wheels and a loading platform is on its way to Iran. You spot the license plates of pretty much every European country, even the license plate of Liechtenstein.
What will the Shah buy from them? Liechtenstein specialties? Käsknöpfle mit Apfelmus, Rheintaler Ribelmais?
Mysteries upon mysteries.
And so we drive on, further and further south, sometimes euphoric and happy, then again quiet and reflective, because in weak moments we realize what we have let ourselves in for. The road ahead, whether in bad condition as now or perhaps impassable as in the future, is our guide, along it we find our way to the unknown.
We have quickly become accustomed to driving, however, you have to remember that at that time there was no compulsory seat belt, so you were sitting comfortably on the seats without fear of possible braking maneuvers, let alone collisions (Monika sitting cross-legged, which seems suicidal from today's point of view). The section below gives insight into what could have actually happened.
But let's leave that, different times, different customs.
Wreaths for the traffic fatalities
If there is a proof of the dangers of the road, it is the wreaths on the sides of the road indicating accidents with fatal result. Not that anyone cares, least of all the trucks speeding along the roads at consistently high and homicidally dangerous speed.
Thus, for each killed person a macabre and quite disturbing symbol is deposited. Two wreaths, three, four, the daily record is six (!) wreaths. Six wreaths. Six dead persons in a single accident.
And anyone can see the wreaths, give them some thought, or not, and move on. As fast as possible. Maybe it's a kind of a competition. Maybe the deliveries are not contractually sealed, maybe it's first come, first served. The last one is bitten by the dog, so let's move on.
Kind of sick. But does it really surprise us?
Not really.
The only thing surprising is the fact that there are not much more accidents. Does chance play a role or just luck? We don't know, and we don't want to know. All that matters is to get out of this mortal pandemonium as quickly as possible. The closer we get to the Bulgarian border, the closer to happiness we get.
And indeed, in April, near the Bulgarian border, the trucks turn off and it suddenly becomes peaceful. The route via Bulgaria to Turkey is apparently shorter and faster, so the trucks disappear in dark blue clouds of diesel, hopefully never to be seen again. Good luck!
And yet again the motor
Our car, the last few hours in quite satisfactory condition, seems to want to remind us that nothing, but really nothing, is as it seems.
It's not only the fact that we use gasoline in almost frightening quantities. We have a rough idea of the consumption. Statistics, average consumption figures from the manufacturer are provided for this purpose. But our vehicle is anything but streamlined due to its strange roof construction. You might say that the square roof structure (a really stupid idea) drives any aerodynamics ad absurdum.
If it were just the petrol, we might reluctantly accept our inevitable fate, but what's worse, we have to fill up a liter of oil every day.
A whole liter of oil a day?
This means that our emergency supply of oil, which was actually intended for completely different areas, has already been used up. My knowledge of the interrelationships of a combustion engine is, as mentioned, modest, but terms such as defective seals, broken piston rings, etc. slowly come into play, nestling in the subconscious as malicious little devils.
We remember the guy checking the engine at home: "I wouldn't even drive to Liechtenstein with this vehicle."
Slowly, it dawns on even the simplest minds that he was right. This is going to be fun.
But what the heck, simple minds put bad thoughts aside and think of tomorrow, of Greece, of the blue sea. We spend the night in front of a lonely hotel, maybe empty, maybe inhabited by ghosts, but they leave us in peace, watching over our peaceful sleep.
At least you can sleep very well in this country, that's something after all...
And as always, the sound of the epoch: Eric Clapton - I shot the Sheriff
And here the journey continues ... to Greece (maybe)
