I am writing from my bed in a Croatian motel room. MyMongol Rally adventure, a 10,000-mile road trip from Britain to Ulan Bator, Mongolia, has come to a grinding halt. I woke up on Day 6 with a headache; I’m nauseated, depressed and upset with life. The culprit: possibly a Slovakian streetside hamburger I consumed yesterday. At least I thought it was a hamburger.
Along the road I have been bumping into fellow Mongol Rallyers—there are more than 400 teams of us–and all have their own nuggets of wisdom. Often this involves food choices as we prepare to cross into the vastness of Asia. An Australian fellow told me, “Europe’s a safe bet, but Asia’s a whole different ballgame, mate.” I think someone forgot to mention to this chap that eating a streetside hamburger in Slovakia may be similarly fraught with danger.
As I lie here, everything has stopped. I can’t move any farther until I get healthy. I am hoping that by filling myself with liquids and resting I will be strong enough to continue and if not, I will have to wait till I am.
On an equally cheerless side note, my Tajikistani visa is not looking at all rosy at the moment. Bureaucratic bumbling means that a change in route may be approaching. As Yoda would say: Informed I will keep you.
Tomorrow: Can he stomach a change in plans?