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.

Obuda

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…)

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…)

I’m now writing from Venice: My base camp, nest, better still my port. What am I doing here? Many things. First of all, my mum has undergone a very serious operation for a bad illness, so it was important to come back. She has always supported me in thousand ways, so she’s important. Moreover, I’ve decided to stop in Budapest, over midway through the journey…

Winter is quickly coming and Budapest is a very important milestone: To keep going on would have been a shame, because I’ve so many things to do anyway.

The idea of navigating in winter, rain aside, charmed me because I love cold and snow. However it wouldn’t have been smart to travel with so little daily light and so few hours left to row.

So, the journey will kick off once again next spring, inshallah, to see and tell many things from a possibly different world and eventually landing to Istanbul, where they’re waiting from such a long time.

In Wien too there something to be done: Remember Franz, the captain, and the imperial tugboat Frederic Mistral, that of Franz Joseph? Well, Franz offered me to use the boat and its rooms at will, should I have decided to stay there.

Grateful of so much generosity, I’ve thought for a while about what could be invented there: In a next post I’ll tell you more.

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