Southbound Sickboy …. European Union’s Next Iron Curtain

Southbound Sickboy …. European Union’s Next Iron Curtain// Day 33
Deutscheleitkulturblog by Christian Raum
Berlin/Sombor 24. September 2017

In medieval times Budapest was considered as the New York of the old world. It’s city centre the Silkroad’s Wall Street. Trade and commerce has been financed and overlooked here. Budapest’s main goods were money, credits and golden Hungarian Ducates.

Further North and over the mountain laid Krakow as a main distribution hub for all goods brought to the West along the Silkroute. City’s warehouses were filled with spices, fabrics, amber, and wheat.

And even further North close to the banks of the Baltic Sea Master Copernicus draw maps, and defined time, and reconstructed Earth.  Frombork’s offer to the world were ideas and concepts, a new understanding of time and distance … and Amber and it’s yellow and golden magic.

I started traveling at Copernicus‘ observatory three weeks ago. From here on I followed the Amber Route. Transporting a small box filled with Amber in one of my cycle Sickboy’s bags. I remember sitting at the Danube ferry in Mohács yesterday. Thinking about the next fancy city on Amber’s journey Southward.

Six or seven names were written on a paper and the golden Hungarian Ducate thrown. Novi Sad made it on position one. Second Sarajewo third Belgrad. Next Vukovar and so on and on.

Ok. Ok. Ok. Dude…

Here is our new route. Further along the overheated Danubedam. Cross border to Serbia and over the Drina River into Bosna.

The vertical line from Baltics to the Balkan is marked and manifested with roads, ferry, towns, churches, and camping sites as Amber Route.

The horizontal line between Hungaria and the Balkans is marked and manifested with fence made of steel and shiny barbed wire as European Union’s latest Iron Curtain. At least this is border’s friendly face as shown by Hungarian’s officials to the outside world.

It’s unknown and ugly side are watchtowers, barking dogs, soldiers, machine guns, patrol cars, army posts and Dixi Klos.

Soldier Schweijk alike characters are ordered onto the bridges to stare into the water. Waiting there for Balkan troopers to invade Hungaria on board of submarines or an aircraft carrier.

At it’s Northern border Hungaria was welcoming, golden, and beautiful. Southern border has a strong taste of a battlefield and death.

Army roadblocks every two kilometres. The cyclist is being waved through. No talk. No smile. No sound. Just a tiny „pass“ with one pointing finger and thumb.

Fitting enough there is something terrible on my inner leg. A lil‘ North from the knee. Feels like poison and fever swamp through my body. After I found a gap where to slip through the steel into Serbia I rested in the shadow. Fall asleep. Woke up. Eat drink sleep again.

Than Sickboy rolling. Next town called Sombor. Better get there before dark. Fever and pain and itch and poison.

Eventually Sombor Biker Camp was reached and the posh room rented. Under the shower a check on my leg.

What a shock. It is a Dragon’s bite!!! No doubt!!!

It is a Dragon’s bite…. Dragons are hidden on battlefields. No doubt. They attack and bite the traveller who is stupid enough to walk over the killing fields. Aim is to steal his Amber and nick his golden Hungarian Ducates.

No doubt!!! No doubt!!!

That’s how Dragons are ticking. Me controlling and counting gold and Amber inside my bags. Nothing missing. Should be careful and double the guards.

The medication my spaceship transports for cases alike this are nightnurse branded pill, cigarettes and an onion. I added muddy Serbian coffee and bought melon and peaches. Sounds like a cure. Does It? At least I should be back on the road within the next three days. For the time being a cat stands guard on my door step.

In the meantime I found some muse for a good long sleep. And for some homemade food prepared on my own stove in my own posh room.

I am aware of the Dragons waiting outside in the fields. Sniffing the smell of my Amber and my golden Hungarian Ducates I brought from Baltic Sea and Budapest.

Better be careful. Continue to Sarajewo when fit again.


THANKS to MISTER „Ninty miles an hour, girl, is the speed I drive“ SICKBOY!!!






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