THIS is the juicy deliciousness that is traveling with an open heart and mind. I was asking my hostess tonight where I could go to get something to eat. Mind you, I speak exactly three words of Serbian and she speaks about as many in English. I got my point across with hand gestures and she got her point across by taking me by the wrist and bringing me to the front of her yard and using her own hand signals to tell me where to go. I came back in the room and flopped on the bed because my back hurt from the long day’s ride, and next thing I know she’s knocking on my door and has a plate of some yummy homemade bread and cheesy goodness and a cucumber. She proceeds to peel the cucumber for me and then asks me something, a word I do not understand, then disappears, and comes back a few minutes later with a bunch of these hand picked fruit. I think they are apricots? Anyway, no need to go to the market or ride the motorcycle to the restaurant. I think she felt sorry for me because she indicated that I should ride the motorcycle and not walk down the steep hill. This, my friends, is the Magic of the Road.
