Hungary | In Which, Once Again, I Get All Flustered And Fail To Handle Even Very Simple Problems

Checking out of my hostel in the hot hot morning, I shook hands with the two friendly guys that ran the place, humped my dusty rucksack up on my back, and made my way across the city to the bus station. It took me some 45 minutes, and by the time I arrived I’d sweated clean through my shirt and nearly been bonneted by half a dozen cars and buses.

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Bosnia | World Serpent

Jack snores like a maniac. I shared a room with him all the way through Bosnia, and each morning he’d wake up, stretch, and say something like “Dude, I had the best night’s sleep ever, I slept like a baby”, and I’d look at him and say “Hmmm”. I figured out a way to stop his snoring, eventually: whenever he began to honk and wheeze, I would take my plastic water bottle and thwack it against the wall. The sound was enough to wake him, but wasn’t enough for him to remember why he’d woken up. Then he’d shrug and fart and roll over, and I’d have a peaceful thirty minutes before the snoring began anew.

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Bosnia | I Wish You Would Step Back From That Ledge My Fr-AAAAAAAAH

I didn’t intend to go to Bosnia. Two Kiwi guys I met in Croatia’s shittest hostel in Zadar – the one with the bees nest in the dorm – told me about a town called Mostar, which they recommended. Mostar was between Split and Dubrovnic, so my initial plan was to pop over into Bosnia and pop back to continue my journey south. Within a couple of hours of arriving in Mostar, I’d decided to alter my trip. Bosnia is a fascinating place.

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