May 28, 2013 by loscobos12
As we crossed the physical boundary from Macedonia into Bulgaria, so Rob crossed all boundaries of social decency wıth his latest Lycra outfit, which meets on the fashion spectrum somewhere between Bradley Wiggins and Dame Edna Everage.
The Lord works in mysterious ways however, and what seemed little short of grotesque to Andrew and Josh, had Rob literally pursued from the towns and villages of Bulgaria by amorous fans. We headed for the hills, and found shelter amongst the goat-herds and mountain-folk who, luckily, seemed impervious to Rob’s tightly-wrapped charms. Casting ourselves from society, we even established our own time-zone: ‘Eastern Touriental Time’, and were only jolted from our semi-feral existence one morning by the sight of a roadsign which read: ‘GREECE 37’.
We headed for Greece lıke Lightnin’, only to discover that our only guidebook to the country was written in the late 70s by one J Travolta. It recommended only very brief visits to the country, so; tearing up the quarter mile, we headed for Turkey.
The European stretch went in a blur of traffic and tarmac. We picked up our fınal (Kazakh) vısa, and took the ferry to Asia. Now, toiling under the Anatolian sun, we head towards Cappadocia, fuelled by the athlete’s best friend: the kebab.