Saturday 23/10/2021 6:35 am Bologna
In the end, the night before departure I didn’t sleep, I still had too many things to do. I swear I tried to finish it in time, but it didn’t work this time either. The good thing is that in the days before I slept in abundance, without an alarm clock. This certainly delayed the preparations, but I know myself and I am in advance.
Greetings and hugs, a few tears, then I go out the front door, I leave the building and that’s it, I left.
I arrive to take the Flixbus accompanied by my sister and Matte (Lasalvia), who had the courage to wake up at 5 to take me to the Bologna station. They are the last ones to witness my confusion. In fact, in greeting them I tell them “it still doesn’t seem real to me and I feel like we’ll meet again in three days”.
I go upstairs, the door closes and I think: “Ok, turn yourself on, now you are alone”. Everyone on the bus is dozing, so I join in too, sitting at the back next to the window.
12:23 Trieste
The Flixbus is 13 minutes late, which is crucial because I can’t go and buy the ten meters of 6mm rope I need to hang the hammock. From here I hear all of Reggio laughing, because it is truly ridiculous that Palla did not have a suitable rope at home.
Unfortunately, the rope I usually use for the hammock is twice as thick as necessary and weighs a kilo.
So I go straight for Slovenia, so much is here at 10 kilometers. Straight … I go by intuition and take the wrong way, so I look at the map and head towards the sea. From the quay along the seafront, you can see two hundred people gathered in a large square, the few who came despite the demonstration against the vaccination requirement was canceled.
I head towards SE for a couple of hours, until I exit the suburbs and start breathing air with diesel. Yes, because just outside Trieste there are the huge storage tanks of an oil pipeline. The cisterns are white, painted with some black birds in flight, around a beautiful manicured lawn and next to it there is a vineyard and a small olive grove. If you open a bottle that tastes like diesel, you know where it comes from.
Beyond the olive grove the land climbs up to 420m above sea level, physically demarcating the state border. I take a cut in the woods to be quicker.
A bit like behind the rise of the northern border in the Lion King, which is littered with animal remains, I begin to see the remains of backpacks, sleeping bags, clothes, hats, blankets and so on, as if I were in a graveyard of travelers. It does not make sense. Another interpretation: it is as if I were on the path of refugees traveling the Balkan route, who for some reason throw away their clothes and backpacks before entering Trieste. This makes more sense, in fact half an hour later I find a ticket bought in Belgrade. The trail soon becomes a Downhill track, with jumps, parabolic curves and cyclists with helmets.
The trail reaches the road again 50m from the Drzavna Meja state border, difficult to find a more unpronounceable one. Another step and I’m out, it’s done. (It’s easy here, there is no customs)
16:15 Slovenia
I stop to make a short video in English, when I notice an old man who is going to get his car. Shortly after he passes me by and asks me where I am going, in Friulian dialect, that he is the only Italian spoken in this area. I only understand “Where are you going?” and I tell him I’m just going to Socerb Castle, three hundred meters away. That’s all I know for now. He replies “Ah, ye go by fut”, and leaves. I understand I missed the first hitchhiking opportunity of the trip.
No problem, I take a tour of the castle, well kept, but which in reality is little more than a watchtower perched on the edge of the cliff of rock that contains Italy. From here the view over the Gulf of Trieste is magnificent, with the diesel tanks in the foreground.
The next step is to look for a place to spend the night. I’ve been postponing my departure for three weeks, so I haven’t contacted anyone on Couchsurfing or similar platforms.
The only issue is that in Slovenia, as in Italy, it is forbidden to be caught bivouacking on public land, so it is good to look for a well-sheltered place.
I’m in the right place because it’s all forest here, with several paths. I hang the hammock on two trees small enough and close together that they don’t require any rope and finally eat something. What does the house offer? Tunisian bsissa, the second best food for the traveler, after lembas, the elven bread. The bsissa is a mix of roasted flours made with wheat, chickpeas, anise, cumin, coriander and all the spices imaginable, depending on your taste. It’s toasted, so just add water to your desired consistency and it’s ready.
Someone saw me from the path, they are the guys I met earlier. I don’t even trust my shadow, so I head a little further into the woods. I don’t want any hassle tonight.