Written by Peter on July 28th, 2009


I cycle hard over the hills to Trencin, and the Pohoda music festical. Rose’s bottom bracket begins to grind, what little lubricant it had, washed out by the rain.
At first I hate it here, at the festival, on this sprawling tent city, on an airport runway. The hoardes of people, the commercialism, the beer thats cheaper than water that bloats and fattens me. I yearn the to be lean and alone again with my bicycle, that I have had to leave, far away from my tent. But all my frustration dissolves as soon as I meet some friendly Slovaks, and tag along with them, from tent to tent, drink to drink, and have alot of fun. suddenly I am happy and grateful for being here, thanks to Jana who got me into the festival. I go to sleep late looking forward very much to the arrival of my own friends.


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