Tour

By happen-stance I followed him into the toilet which was a hole in the floor and general mess-and-stink, and he had to negotiate this on tire-attired hands and stumps. There was no toilet paper, a faucet out of the concrete. Eat with your right hand, wipe with your left was the adage. Using your fingers - this was really icky.

I remember-a-time in northern Spain, Allison and I were resting in the parking-lot of a roadside toilet. These toilets were the usual just a hole in the floor and two raised foot-pad impressions. An expensive car pulled up, and two fancy-dressed people got-out, he to the men's-room and she around the other-way. Suddenly she began screaming and he came rushing out zippering his pants. "What" he yelled "What ?" She was screaming "What is this, I don't know what this is. Oh my god, my god, what is it ?". It was a hole in the floor. By the sound of it, they were New Yorkers. She had never seen a European squat-toilet before. What a hullabaloo. I didn't have to use these toilet-types in Greece, except on occasion. But since travel-camping, it was the rule. It is discombobulating at first, but then you get used to it and come to like-it, and maybe in the end prefer it. You seem to drop-deposit better.

It was amazing. The main road we took through Bulgaria was gray-white cobblestone. No-where else in Europe had I seen a cobblestone main highway. Streets in cities and sometimes towns and villages yes - but. It was a noisy, rumbling-ride. We went Venice to Trieste to Ljubljana, Zagreb, Slavonski Brod, Belgrade, Kragujevac, Nis, Sofia, Plovdiv, crossing the Turkish border between Haskovo and Edirne, and straight on through Babaeski and into Istanbul.

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