If everything works out reasonably normal today and the engine doesn't cause any problems, we ought to be in Greece tonight. Eureka, the promised land.

In fact, the low traffic does us a favour, we move forward quickly, reach in the morning Skopje (today the capital of North Macedonia). A sleepy town, so it seems, although this is not true at all. Two years ago we passed through this place, and even then the city seemed not worth seeing, perhaps for the same reason as this time: we want to move on as quickly as possible, to the Greek border, to the sea, to the warmth.

while would have Skopje a lot to offer.

Skopje is the capital of North Macedonia and, with over 540.000 inhabitants, the largest city of the country. About a quarter of the population of North Macedonia lives in this big city. Skopje has a settlement history dating back more than two millennia, thus it is one of the oldest still existing cities in the country.

The city on the Vardar River is the seat of both the parliament and the government. It is also the cultural and economic center of the country, the Orthodox bishop's seat of the Macedonian Orthodox Church and the autonomous archbishopric of Ohrid of the Serbian Orthodox Church, and the seat of a grand mufti. (Wikipedia)

Skopje - Capital of North Macedonia Skopje North Macedonia

But anyway, Skopje falls through, just like last time, we drive through, just as fast and as impatient as before.

Titov Veles (today just Veles), another place that we don't know much about, probably just a small town with a lot of history, maybe pretty, with pleasant friendly people, where it might be worth staying, but no, we're rushing through without looking left or right.

We push forward, the route to the Greek border seems endless, we know it, we accelerate and do not take our foot off the pedal until we are there.

The Greek border, the almost promised land

And indeed, in the late afternoon, the sky greeting us with a radiant smile, we reach the border, but the joy doesn't last long.

For the Greek customs officials, aware of their importance, scrutinize our strange vehicle with suspicious eyes. One might think that we are not the first India travelers, nor those with the most conspicuous vehicle, but apparently something catches their eye, something inappropriate, something quirky, which should be better examined under a magnifying glass.

But their interest quickly wanes, apparently we do not correspond to their image of the enemy (hippies? freaks? drug addicts?) from the catalog of enemies of the Greek people, and we are waved through with a casual wave of the hand. Is it possible that we feel grim looks in our backs, meaning "We'll get you next time?"

Greek grapes and other delicacies

There are moments, especially after a strenuous journey and with the promised land now ahead, when everything is just right. It is already dark as we approach Thessaloniki, and a sunset of the kind only seen on the Mediterranean is fading on the horizon, sullenly making way for the fast-approaching darkness.

A sweet memory is awakened when we see a street-side grape vendor, we stop, hurry over, buy a bag (much more expensive than two years ago), and still in front of the stall, we slowly put the sweet fruit into our mouths with closed eyes, and at that moment we realize that we have arrived. Not very far yet, but somehow.

But the day is not finished yet, we are in the warmth of the day still rising from the asphalt, and so we sit down in the first restaurant on the roadside and order souflaki, almost getting wet eyes from happiness.

An old Greek guy is sitting at the next table, drinking white wine with blissful eyes.

Occasionally, the (Greek) gods mean well with us. Let's see how long their goodwill lasts ...

A morning for the gods?

Sunday morning, a morning for the gods, the sky an ode to beauty, the air delicate and scented with a hint of lavender.

A day like this deserves to be celebrated, especially the arrival in Greece, so we come up with a special gift for ourselves. We will drive to the sea on the way from Thessaloniki to Kavala and have breakfast somewhere at the beach. Greek bread with butter and jam and coffee.

Somehow frugal, but that's all we need. Our wishes have truly become modest.

A bang and the end of breakfast dreams at the sea

After thirty kilometers, the sea is near and our stomachs are growling indignantly, we are startled by a bang. It's not very loud, but I can tell immediately that something is terribly wrong.

After the initial problems, the car feigned a deceptive calm for a few days, which has now come to an abrupt end.

Of course, we don't have the slightest idea what might have happened, in any case, the engine has lost power. So we're driving in second gear at most, at about 20-30 km per hour. And we approach our goal for the day at about the same speed as if we were traveling by bicycle.

So here we are, once again pretty much at the end of our Latin. Far and wide no house, no village, only meadows burned by the summer heat, a few bushes and trees. And we with our darned VW bus, which has once again played a nasty trick on us.

An unforgettable shaky ride

Since the next garage is located in Kavala, we are in for quite a nail-biting ride for the next 120 kilometers. We drive off, rather quiet and meek, and once again we might wring the neck of the car's vendor. But we'd like to wring our own necks, too.

So there will be no breakfast by the sea, although the hunger contributes to the poor mood. We just have to try to get to Kavala somehow.

Well, the first kilometers are quite okay, even an motor running on only two cylinders (as we learn a little later) can manage flat roads without ascents with a cough and a roar, but still. We slowly breathe a sigh of relief, the optimism, apparently not to be brought down, gets the upper hand.

Somehow we'll make it.

But the road does not want to submit to our positive feelings. We think we hear a derisive laugh. Probably the engine. Or the road. Or just some bored Greek god having some Sunday fun.

As expected, it does not take long until the first climbs appear. At the beginning, just minor ones, but they already make us sweat quite a bit. The engine roars as if it might explode in the next moment. In retrospect, we realize what the brave little engine has endured. We'll never make fun of it again.

But well, the road has decided to ruin our day. The gentle slopes become steeper sections no longer manageable. We have to back up to get a running start, then race down the hill at top speed (if you can call it that), hoping to somehow make it up the slope.

A triumphant arrival in Kavala

For a while we manage quite well, until about 40 kilometers from Kavala. Nothing can surprise us anymore. In the middle of a steep incline we stop despite a run-up: Going back is also no longer an option, because behind us, after a few meters, there's another slope.

We are fucked. Trapped in a pit, there's no going forward or backward. If it weren't so annoying, we might laugh about it. Someday we will. But not now, not in this godforsaken place where fox and hare say good night to each other.

But our favorite Greek God shows mercy, because after half an hour help approaches in the shape of a friendly farmer. He attaches us to his tractor and drags us up the hill. Our gratitude knows no bounds, but the fellow refuses to accept a tip and rattles on.

Our tractor - in a few years
Our tractor - in a few years

Afterwards the trembling continues, but shortly outside Kavala, at a traffic light just in front of the last incline, we finally come to a complete standstill. A police patrol car, fortunately posted nearby, calls for the breakdown service, which tows us the last kilometers to a garage in town.

A truly triumphant arrival!

Well, we've achieved our goal for the day, we're in Kavala, but a little differently than we imagined. We are parked on the sidewalk on a busy street, far and wide neither a restaurant nor a shop (Sunday!), so we stay in our mobile home, albeit currently stranded home and finally cook something for the still empty stomachs .

Then, in pitch black night, we sink exhausted and full of gloomy thoughts into a restless sleep.

The grin of the mechanics

The traffic noise wakes us up early. At half past seven, the employees arrive and grin at our stranded vehicle, initially a bit confused.

We don't feel like smiling.

Anyway, they have mercy on us (remember the first problem in Italy, oh you car mechanics, we love you all), they put our car on the elevator without further ado and get to the bottom of the problem. It becomes quickly clear what has happened. One of the fastening screws on the rocker arm shaft has broken off.

Since I don't have the faintest idea what it's all about, here's a brief insight into the secrets of a classic combustion engine.

The rocker shaft or camshaft is used to control the opening and closing of the intake and exhaust valves in the cylinder head, allowing the fuel/air mixture into the combustion chamber and expelling the burned exhaust gases for the next cycle.

Which is clear even to me as a layman: the broken screw caused the shaft to come loose. Two of the four valves were not operable any more, which of course meant that two of the four cylinders no longer worked.

Another engine would hardly have survived yesterday's hardships. Brave little motor!

Well, in the afternoon things are in order and we get rid of another Fr. 300. Our already modest budget melts in periodic intervals, mostly in the form of repair services. If this continues ...

Kavala, a place to dream

Kavala was the absolute highlight of the trip two years ago. Wikipedia says the following about it:

Kavala (Greek Kavalais a commercial and port city in northern Greece in the administrative region of Eastern Macedonia and Thrace immediately on the Gulf of Thasos (Gulf of Kavala) of the Thracian Sea. The second largest municipality in the region after Drama, it has a population of about 70.500. It possesses the main port of Eastern Macedonia and has a commercial airport located about 30 km east of the city, which is mainly used for domestic flights and tourist charter traffic.

What defines the charm of a place is not always entirely clear. Sometimes a single moment is sufficient, a smell, the friendly face of the man at the next table, the rippling waves on the sea, winding alleys, women's faces behind dusty windows.

Or it's much simpler: for some reason you just feel good. As simple as that.

That is enough.

That's how we feel today. After the successful repair of our favorite vehicle, we decide to spend the next day at the campsite by the sea.

And so we end up at a place we still have fond memories of. And suddenly everything is fine again. That happens when you're young and stupid ...

Sun, beach and ocean

We are actually on vacation, or whatever that means. However, in the evening I am always pretty exhausted, the long hours at the steering wheel, the aggressive drivers, the bad roads occasionally turn the adventure into anything but a vacation.

So here it is, the first real day of vacation. No hustle, no problems, no frustrations. Just sun, beach, sea, in between resinous tasting Retsina, making us sleepy, and Greek food. Finally time for things apart from routes and gas stations and worries about the car. Just reading, discussing. Planning the rest of the trip, reconsidering, looking for alternatives.

Kavala Beaches
Beach in Kavála

We might definitely get used to it.

But the season is noticeably approaching its end. The tourists have returned to their home countries, showing their tanned bodies and already talking about the next vacation. Apart from us, there are only three other cars on the campsite. So we quickly get to know the last Mohicans of this summer. Among them a Frenchman from Paris and his cousin, nice and obscure and a bit sleazy.

The guy talks a lot and fast, nothing unusual among Parisians, while she prefers to remain pretentiously silent. At some point it becomes clear out of his machine-gun French that they have been robbed. Money, tent and everything else gone. And now they need a bridging loan, so to speak, so that they might at least get as far as Istanbul.

Of course, the alarm bells should have been ringing, but we are so naive and selfless and stupid that we press the requested hundred francs into their hands, albeit somewhat grudgingly. The promise to return the money in Instanbul sounds pretty empty even to us dumbasses.

After half an hour the strange couple disappears taking our money with them. We are extremely excited to see them again in Istanbul.

The bet is one to a thousand.

 

Matching Song:   The Allman Brothers—Southbound

And here the trail continues... towards Istanbul

 

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