As I’m sitting in a field of starving sunflowers, waiting to be harvested, let me give you just a short recap of my last couple of days in Hungary. I crossed the border Friday and walked to Györ. I didn’t feel so well then. I was struggling with the question whether to continue walking or not, I was physically challenged and had a major decision to make regarding my route. I took a hotel and showered, a remedy against all.

My hotel room was warm, noisy and dull so I decided to go for a late night walk through town. As I walked streets with 18+ shops and bars, I was pulled into an alley by the music of violins and drums. The alley let me along the big church to the main square where I had seen a stage in the afternoon. It turned out a traditional folk dance group had its performance. I stood by and watched as the crowd began to dance as well. After just two songs the group went of stage. I thought they were done, but instead, they joined the crowd on the square and soon everyone was dancing. Gucci bags and Prada coats were flung aside and high heels pulled off. I forgot all about myself and enjoyed other people enjoying themselves. It was one of those mystical moments in which I sometimes fully realise what I actually am doing.

The next day I felt slightly better. I decided to walk to Pannohalma, Hungary’s biggest abbey. My eyes were sour and I had to wear my glasses. The sun was bright and I walked the first km’s with my eyes closed. In a small shop I bought a fancy white cap and could at least see a bit of road before me. Since I was no longer walking a way marked trail, I was freeroaming the country with just my compass needle to follow. It was lovedly. After arriving at the abbey, which was closed by the time I got there, the lady of the ticket office send me to a Jacob’s house, belonging to the abbey. The rooms were all full, but I could set up my tent on the compound. There was a group of architecture students from Budapest. I joined them by the campfire. We drank beer and vodka and roasted sausages and pork’s fat. It was a memorable night.

The next day I visited the mass with three of them. The monks sang beautifully, but the past night made it hard to keep my eyes open. That day I walked not so far. After strolling through fields and forests, I stumbled upon a Dutch car in Romand, a very tiny village. I rang the bell and ended up staying the night by Joop and Alice from Suriname. Long story. Today I set my compass on Zirc and started walking again. I found a way marked routed along the small flow Chuna and followed it all the way to the town. I had to cross it several times by stepping stones, logs or just on bare feet. The sun was out again, and I wondered for a small moment what me made think I wanted to go home again. In Zirc I tried to stay in the monastery, but no one answered my calls.

So now I am in this field, shivering from the cold wind that is really picking up speed now, sinking in the mudd, listening to dogs barking all around me, and hoping that it will not rain too bad tonight. Going home sounds appealing again.

With love,