An hymn tu Huns

Very often in life we experience losses. We loose many things: Time, chances, keys, even bits of  life itself. Today I’ve lost a friend: Maybe the rain pouring down here is just the sky weeping for him. Our friendship was born as a consequence of funny question that he placed during a meeting in Faversham. He looked like a boy and a boy he was, even at 51.

Moray Aitken was a mean man, but he died and he’s now become light. Thanks for all the affection you’ve given to me and for your precious advices about how to live, eat and travel light on this river that’s life. Time can be eternal when it’s lived with attention.


Our days in Obuda (an area in Budapest) have been endless. With many happy encounters: The Wiking marina who hosted us, George and his good things, the daily visits of James and Stephan, the two travellers.

Also, we could attend to a music festival where I felt the Balkans coming. Great talent, musical and crazy life. Two youngsters perform traditional dances from Puszta, the great plain between Hungary and Serbia where you can still see a world made of horses, nature and a wide sky. (more…)


Here we go!

The journey kicks back with the help of Anna and Leon, our filmmakers! We leave from Venice heading toward Hungary. We stop by in Tarvisio to get a car lift by Alessandra, Anna’s sister. The wonderful peaks of the Alps are still snowy, especially the Mangart.

At dawn, we take a break at Fusine’s lakes, to kiss the water: What a dream!

I’ve been told that these same waters flows into the Drava, that’s a tributary of the Danube: I could’t check this information yet, but it would be great.

Arriving in Budapest, we experience our first setback: The clutch breaks down!

The infinite kindness of our friends Laszlo, Joseph and Imre comes to our help, in the form of a very fast tow truck. Then, hips of help, fondness and tools.

Last winter, Clodia took a rest in the square facing Laszlo factory. She’s still there, nearly ready, although a little wet for a few water seepages.

For the first time in my life, I sleep embraced to the front fender of an old Pannonia, an historical motorbike that Laszlo is passionately restauring. Laszlo kindly offered us to stay in his workshop offices, just beside the place where Clodia was stored. (more…)