Cycling into Hungary

Eighteen years old, Morgan and I had decided to cycle to Eastern Europe from Milan, our home at the time. It was 1989 and the countries across the Iron Curtain were only just beginning to open up to westerners. Change and Revolution were everywhere as we started what would turn out to be a month long journey, cycling over 200 kilometres a day, through Hungary, Czechoslovakia and Poland.

The sense of achievement and anticipation as we passed through the Hungarian border was immense. Morgan had rigged a small stereo to his handle bars (no i-pods or mp3s, just tapes, walkmans and speakers) and The Who were telling the storks on the telegraph poles to f-f-f-fade away.

At the end of a long, straight, dusty road a small village started to appear. The first people we would meet or see since crossing the border. We slowly sped up and it gradually became a race. We stood up on our bikes pedaling faster and faster, bikes swaying from side to side, smiling as if nothing could spoil the moment.

Then my panniers got caught in my back wheel, stopping it dead and sending me straight over the handle bars, cracking the back of my head on the road.

Everything blurred and as it refocused, Morgan’s concerned, worried face appeared. I laughed, covering up the pain and dizziness, and climbed back on my bike. We entered the village slightly slower than we could have and went on over the next month to fall deeply and truly in love with this world and way of life that was only just beginning to open up to the West.

All Memories & Vignettes

Swarm

May 19, 2019

No Strings Attached

February 15, 2018

Knee Deep in Prayer

January 11, 2018

She Flirts With You

September 3, 2017

The other side

June 10, 2013

Lewes bonfire night

March 11, 2013

The shitting fields

April 21, 2011

Photography and smells

February 28, 2011

Five Minute Windows

April 7, 2010

Possible Next Trips

March 28, 2010

Cycling into Hungary

March 15, 2010