Réunion

As I headed to meet Jean and Cecile, I reflected on the fact that, had I embarked on this trip a day earlier or later, it would have been a completely different experience. I would have met an entirely different cast of characters, like these two I chanced upon nine months earlier in Mostar.

I also chewed upon the notion that a single minute can be the difference between life and death. 

Not 60 seconds later, the pavement abruptly turned to gravel in a bend. This was no problem, until a car came hurtling around the corner, far too fast and wide. Seeing me dead ahead, the driver threw the wheel to the right, sending the car sideways, and I was pelted with gravel as it slid mere feet away. As the dust settled, I turned to see the car dangling off the road. Two young men emerged from the passenger door, unhurt. They sheepishly acknowledged their fault but didn't seem too bothered about the whole thing - just another Tuesday in Georgia I guess. On my entire ride, I had four potentially deadly experiences. Three of them happened in Georgia that week. Georgians are the worst drivers I have ever seen. About 20% of cars here are missing bumpers, because they simply remove them prophylactically and reattach them when it’s time to sell the car.

I found the Frenchies at the campsite cooking... mere lentils. I could not believe it, this was like finding Hendrix playing a Fisher Price guitar. They said they had fallen out of practice, for in Iran they had always been taken in and fed. We sat around the stove catching up. Somehow, five months had already passed since we parted ways in Athens.

Cecile asked if we had come up with a word for tartine in English yet.

At some point the conversation turned to the future. Their trip was almost over, so what would they do next, I asked. The mood became solemn... but I wouldn't say sad. No, I would call it beautiful, for the sobriety of impending reality honored the specialness of their trip. Cecile wasn't worried, but Jean looked troubled. Still, they had done the thing, and were ready to head home (and eat all the cheese). Bon merde, my friends.

As for me, I was still heading east. But first, I would have to bend some rules...