Africa around Europe... part I
Our friend Kuba Nowak shared his adventures and memories with us. Kuba is passionate about motorization, travel and talk :) Together with his brave steed, the Africa Twin, they traveled a large part of Europe. Today, the first post with his memories...
Africa around Europe... part I
For the next few weeks we will publish what this gentleman, traveling around Europe, saw what he experienced and, above all, who he met. Lots of stories, like on more than one road that he has traversed by curves :)

Okay... one by one...

I am writing after a few baubles of local Bulgarian wine, so I may be fancy. On my flight through Poland, I don't take pictures, because everyone has seen the motorway and the MOPs, and the only thing that surprises me are the smells. Slurry smells. I already know more of them than an eskimo of snow types. It is strange that the month before October it is not called slurry.

I get to Niepołomice at 28:00, fortunately Asia opens the door to motomenel at this time. On Wednesday, I buy the last things I need, we drink a soggy rag, called coffee in Poland, and go.

It's getting late, but whatever.
When night falls, I am in Slovakia. The biggest mountains are behind me, but I'm not narrowly tired, so I stop to water the mare.

The Afryczka is refueled, the coffee is drunk (this time a Slovak soaked rag), I spray WD40 on the stuck turn signal switch. And at this point a Slovak comes up with eyes like two spark plugs. She says "extra mmmashina!". We hit a high five, and I get energy for 3 hours of driving.

I set off towards the Hungarian border, greeted by a flickering of every fifth truck (too good lights, I guess).

They are handing out pajamas on the Hungarian side, so I'm looking for a place to camp. The guide course was not in vain. Racing with two Hungarian hares (Hungarian nyul), from the shot to the moth, I find the perfect place to camp. There is a shelter, there is a canyon, there is a source, there is no chance for any people. I pitch my tent and sleep like a log.

Following the blow, I write (and drink wine) further ... I am setting up the Hungarian camp and slowly setting off on the road, without breakfast and coffee. On the way there are renovations and the hideous Budapest bypass. I stop at a station known from a year ago, hungry as a wolf and semiconscious from lack of dark magic. On the way it got spooky hot, it's Hungary after all.

I take in a great kajzer with pork chops and gulp down a really nice little black one. The closer to Turkey, the better the coffee becomes. I also tinker with puffers from the glass in the helmet, which later turns out to be fatal. I smoke the slug, burn the machine and go - the kilometers won't do it by themselves.

I heat to the Serbian border without stopping.( Yes, it is hot Łukasz ,shaggy teddy bear, how good that you advised me a light jacket). Border-stamp-barrier and there is Serbia. Meanwhile, in the line, the cooler fan tries to hard-boil my eggs.

A piece abroad begins with a paid car, with barriers like in Poland. I retrieve my coupon and stop at the side of the road to put on gloves and check that I am not spreading any bills.

At this point, he pulls up next to the Yamaha XT600. I can see that a storm of dreadlocks is sticking out from under the helmet, I can also see a Polish plate. This is how I met Michał. Quick testimony of what where how and why and I already know that he left Poland today and is going to take the equipment to Crete, where he is emigrating. The conclusion is obvious - we press together as long as we have on the way. We fly 120km / h through the Serbian prairie, a highway straight as an arrow. It smells like ripe corn, which is full of here. It gets night and the bald man shines so that you can see the shadows of the moto and the managers.

We stop more often at stations, because Michał has a ridiculously small tank for only 12l. ambrosia 95. And at the first exit to the station it turns out that I lost one of the two pizryki holding the helmet glass. The result is that at 100 km / h the glass drops by itself like a knight's helmet catches. Michał checks the air in the wheels and it turns out that he has ... 0.75 bar in all of them. This explains why the moto falls into his shims ... And he has done so today for 800 km. The tough guy doesn't eat honey, he chews the bees.

We pass through Belgrade, which looks really beautiful at night from the highway bridge. And we keep pushing on to Nis. We book a ridiculously cheap hotel on and after a light fight we find it. The neighborhood is interesting... It's 03:00 in the morning....Africa around Europe... part I