On the road - part 2

Day 2,123, 11:20 Published in Slovenia Slovenia by Ice Killa

I might skip some things and return to them later on as I explore my story during this Balkan trip of mine.

... 2 weeks later in Macedonia

Much too often do the adventures of the giggly happy foolishly careless individual end up in a bad way. With his expectations being too high or expecting that everything might go according to what he commands. The perfect recipe for slight enjoyment ending in absurdly giggly tipsy nights are not to have any plans. But being perfectly without them. Never have any, never expect anything. Never hope for something to go your way. Then the magic thing called life hops in its way and leads you to something new. Unique, magical. Stunning.

In Skopje I felt the struggle of life. People nowadays go on adventures - or so they think - to stay in one familiar place that they have been to thousands of times. To repeat the same old pointless routine in their lives that leads them absolutely nowhere.

...

And then I ended up riding in the back of a motorcycle in the proximity to Gevgelija.

Slight breeze of wind flowing through my hair making me feel alive. Making me understand why I even decided to go on this Balkan trip. Understand, I say? I will never find out why I went. I told myself for the sake of finding out my true self. Will I accomplish that goal? Hardly. But the other life goals have been accomplished. I managed to write my own story through living it with pure randomness.

The fella riding the motorcycle in front of me is focused on the road with his sharply clear black raybeans. As I ponder what to tell him. I randomly say:

"Hell of a life you live."

"Wha? Can't hear you!" as he sharply turns the motorcycle being on the way back to his magically spacious house.

"Will tell you later," I shout back with a delighted look on the road being aware that what I am experiencing is something so pure. Something so precious that I might never experience such enjoyment in my life. Ever again.

It wasn't anything special, it was just genuinely perfect. The story was being written as I gazed through the vast cloudy skies of Macedonian pastures and various orchards. A small but incredibly beautiful church rounding the landscape on one of the local hill tops.

Might I say as I write here in this house of my friend how incredibly strange his personality is? As I observe him, I see a strong caring towards others present. And then the extreme rarity of pure craziness in his soul, with eagerness to have fun and the way he treats people. Women adore him, men want to hang with him. In other words, it is hard not to like him. Impossible to hate. As I often tell those who I value a lot. I am always honest when I talk to people, but never absolutely sincere. That happens only when I write. This guy is the prime example why traveling pays off, even if at times you meet strange, unlikable people that you might not want to hang with. Quantity learns you quality.

...

A week earlier.

During my stay in Skopje he was supposedly coming there. It turned out he was willing to meet me. What happened then is history, what is happening now is eternity.

The first impression was ... he might be somewhat shy. Get him the right people, he turns plain loco. As that is what I was able to learn in Gevgelija meeting his friends.

With his relaxed pose I first saw his body structure in Skopje. Near the shopping center in proximity to the Vardar river. Fluent English and a friend beside him gave an indication. An indication of something which I wasn't sure what it might mean. His friend might not have mastered English to such extent. But the ever present phrase speak Serbian so the whole world can understand you came into context with him. And him as well.

I tell you. In some people you struggle to get kindness from them. Or even mere words. With them, it seemed like they were connected in such way that they formed the 9th symphony. Remove one of them, and you lose the sense of something special. Special in a way how connected they seemed as friends. Or it might have been just the feeling one gets being around this guy in Gevgelija. Some people leave you with chilling coldness that makes you feel sad and worrisome. He leaves you with friendly feelings of joy.

One of those days near Gevgelija I was feeling like I didn't come from far away lands to Macedonia, it seemed like it was vice versa. Macedonia came to me. With open arms welcomed me and showed me the life I had wanted to see when I was with some nervousness leaving my home city.

When I came to Skopje from Belgrade I bought some books. I carried them around for the sake of handing them as a gift to some people. From Skopje to Ohrid to Gevgelija, they stuck with me. One of them was "On The Road" from Jack Kerouac, the other one was "Hollywood" from Charles Bukowski.


I might not read Macedonian. But I am fairly sure people will recognize great books and writers when they see them. Or at least when they are done with the mighty fine books I bought.

As it was the case. Two days ago I was riding the train to Gevgelija and it was a misery. The trains get worse and worse the more south you get. But all that was forgiven. Or was soon to be forgiven after getting to know the Macedonian style of life. I met my friend in Gevgelija in some photo studio. Had a cup of coffee or so. With added yawning to it due to my lack of sleep having slept only 3 hours.

I was honored to have met his friends, mainly female friends. Needless I mention the charisma he possesses when communicating with them in a very friendly manner.

The day was turning into the afternoon. In other words I departed the caffee with my Macedonian friend and headed back to the photo studio where I had left my backpack. Carrying it causes huge back pain due to its severe height and weight. Although one could say I did not take many things with me.

Bus station in Gevgelija looks cozy and nice in comparison to Skopje or Ohrid. I liked it. Seemed like a place where you could trust people. After all it was a small place and people know each other, and help each other more in comparison to profit-driven bigger cities.

As we boarded the bus and took the last seats like kings, we started talking. And earlier in my article I mentioned how I bought those books. Half-way to his village. I mentioned it. I thought it would be a good topic.

"Reading On the Road from Jack Kerouac somehow made me go on this trip," I added with some secrecy in my words.

"Oh, right!" I remembered then that I still had those 2 books lost in my backpack.

Maybe he would finally understand me, my traveling. Why I went. The book isn't that much about writer's imaginary voids filling his life. He carved his own life, this guy that somehow inspired me Jack Kerouac. Only by reading his story can you realize what exactly life is. A blank paper and it is up to you to write it up. And then express the stories you have been through.

My friends, dear readers, on the bus it was time to give that book from Kerouac to my Macedonian pal. He was confused, bewildered, but he seemed positively surprised about getting a book as a gift.

"I will read it, looks interesting," he said with caution. Maybe meaning I would read it, but I am lazy. Who knows.

It still didn't take my enjoyment away. I was glad someone might know one tiny bit about me?