September 17-21, 2024
While in Vukovar, I learned that the husband of my dear friend Angela had passed away in Sofia. So with the help of Nikolina, the innkeeper at Vila Rosa, I set off on a two-day bus ride down to Sofia, via Belgrade, and arrived in time for the funeral.
I hadn't seen Ange or her Viking princess daughter, Kerana, since 2022. So my presence distracted them from their grief a bit. Funerals are mindbenders like that: On the one hand, your heart is broken and your world is torn apart. But on the other hand, you get to see all these folks you love. So you wind up feeling devastated and joyful at the same time. It's a lot.
I tried to take care of Ange, but she wound up taking care of me, cooking dinner, taking me to a magical mineral swimming pool, and then driving me all the way back to Vukovar to retrieve my bike and resume my ride.
Ange's friend Rachel joined us for the roadtrip. We wound up staying outside of Vukovar in a town called Šid, cracking ourselves up all night saying things like, "We are in deep Šid," and "Do you smell Šid?" Because we are actually ten-year-olds.
When we finally reached Vukovar, Nikolina and her family and friends warmly received us. What a hero: she stored my bicycle all week in her mother's basement, then plied us with lemonade, cookies, and bonhomie when we returned. Slavic hospitality at its finest.
Nikolina wants to walk around the world some day. When she does, I hope she'll stop in San Francisco, to complete the circle we have started.
Meanwhile, I will get to see Ange again in a week when I bicycle through Sofia. To paraphrase an Arabic saying: I wish I could take her pain and bury it at the bottom of the sea.
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