Tomboi Travels

Thank you. Whoever said, "It's the little things..." was absolutely right. It's not little though, is it? It's massive, it's grand when someone who doesn't know you allows you to use their utility to help charge your identity. That's such a stretch, you may be thinking. Is it really? Part of who I am is nomadic, outdoors, in constant movement. Many times I am out in the boonies, places where public electricity and wifi are scarce. When I saw this particular villager in Bordány, I had to ask for help, I needed it. My phone was low on battery power and there was no gas station or fast food restaurant for me to sit in. I used as many Hungarian words as I needed to help him understand; he understood just fine. With immediacy he took my phone and plugged it into an outdoor charging station. He was doing metalwork on a plot of farm land where they were harvesting what looked like greens. We conversed a bit about travelling and then ...

A banana, actually some bananas, hula hoops and a journal...what do all these things have in common? Me. Well, me and my procrastination and fear. At the time I purchased these things, I was camping near Lake Balaton, during the winter, yes winter. It's less expensive to camp during the off-season and so me being The Queen of Cheap (someone once told me not to refer to myself as this), I had to camp. Camping helps me stay on budget and I love being outdoors, truly, truly LOVE IT. The cold, well, it's like that parent who always reminds you that you're living in their home, rent free; therefore, they can treat you however they like. And do. The planner was bought to serve its' intended purpose, to plan. Its' importance came from the future - 2023; I purchased it in 2022. Many people believe the act of writing encourages and births reality, I agree. I told myself that if I wrote my hopes, desires and passions in a journal intended for the futu...

     Well, I'm sitting in a restaurant, Algyői Halaszcsarda, to be exact, and I'm pondering the end of my seven-year celibacy.  Whew, hmmmmm.  Like a cat, and many other animals, I feel like I'm in heat.  Thank The Universe for the ability to control the animal within me 🥴       They (whoever they are) say that when you endure childhood sexual abuse you either  become a prude or a slut, basically.  I know, I know, there are less crude ways to express this theory, but why should I bore myself or you with a Shakespearean approach to the truth.  So, then, which one am I?  Well, neither.      In the words of a great rapper and philosopher, "lady in the streets, freak in the sheets." See, this describes the ideal me of yesteryear.  Today, now, I am a freak all of the time, in my mind, my soul and spirit...and celibate in sharing my body with another or others.      This brings me to the ...

The inner tube you gifted me got me to Szeged all the way from Maroslele. The wheel is now completely flat again. Nevertheless, thanks to what you did, I now know I need to replace the entire wheel in order to continue on my journey. What would I have done without your help? How "far behind" would I be? I don't like to dwell on those other scenarios. You came along at the exact moment I needed help and now my dear friend Éva is going to help Csiga and I get to the repair shop. Life...and like you said, "Karma." Köszi. 💚💚💚 AnomaLeOverT.I.M.E 💚💚💚💚

Ahhhhhhh, Csigas' wheel is FLAT AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! Okay, so now I know that it's not the inner tube, it's the wheel itself or something else. SHEESH!!! But, I know this is all part of the, my, journey. Before, when Csigas' wheel/tire went flat, I was in the middle of nowhere on the side of the road and Janos, a kind stranger, helped me. Today, I'm again (kinda sorta) in the middle of nowhere but close enough to the home of my friend that she is able to transport Csiga and I to the mechanic with her trailer. All part of the journey. Right now, right this very second, as I'm writing this, I'm sitting in another Csarda (rest stop restaurant) charging the phone and thinking about whether to walk back to the center of Szeged or take the bus; of course, there is a bus stop near our breakdown spot. All part of the journey. I'm a bit worried about the cost to fix Csiga. However, the other side of me asks the following question: How ...

     Have you ever loved someone you've never met, besides your children? It's been seven years since my last lover, my last soulmate.  After him, I told myself that I would wait until I met my next soulmate to enjoy the pleasures of sexual intimacy. I have waited, though I didn't know it be seven years when I began; thanks Universe for not letting me in on that secret. I know who he is, just as sure as I was of my last soulmate.  There are no issues, really, but my mind likes issues about as much as it feigns for anger.  So, instead of being secure in patience and waiting on time, my mind is attempting to rush the journey.  I see what my mind is doing; I won't allow it to control this.      I don't know if they recognize me.  Sometimes, one soulmate doesn't recognize the other, immediately.  Or, they let the opportunity pass; it's happened to me once before. There was nothing I could do about it except allow them the space to ...

Yup, that's what I call them; the toxic alternative to men. They lead with it, their penis. The unhealthy energy is all over them. I know what some of y'all are thinking and asking, "Bo, how can a man NOT lead with his...manhood?" And, I would like to ask y'all a question. If a male somehow no longer has his outer "manhood," is he still a man? Is the only way to determine if an individual is a man, not just male, by the penis alone? Is it then, possible for a woman to have this "man" energy? I'll answer this last question for you. In my opinion, yes. Manhood is not simply determined by the presence of a penis. Hence why I call the alternatives to men, penis possessors. This is all they believe they have. I've been emotionally and sometimes physically attracted to what I call, the duals: androgynous individuals. They are magnetic and magnify the duality I possess within myself. So, I may be attracted to...

     These lovely individuals walked in about twenty minutes ago and "szigany" "gypsy."  As I was the only other person in the restaurant at the time, I assume they were speaking about/towards me.  I ignored them.  After calling Miana multiple times, I knew I'd have to sit with the impending rage.  I wanted to speak to her in Hungarian to let these most wonderful individuals know that I understood what they said.  She didn't answer; I was fuming internally 🤬 Instead, of yelling outwardly, I put my headphones in, they were still whispering.      You know, now that I've had time to reflect, this was a good thing.  On my walk back from Tompa city center, I thought about how I want to be left alone to camp.  Well, with their exclamation of such derogatory comments,  I WILL be left alone.  Thank God for the kind restaurant owner. Side note:  I really need to get the weight down on Csiga.  By fate, I walked ...

Csiga The Bike Home Crossing into Öttömös       So, you're in Hungary, Southern Hungary, your legs are tired, your feet ache, your knees are predicting rain and you hear that dreadful notification that your phone is at five percent.  WHAT DO YOU DO?!?!?!?!        Calm down and make your way towards Öttömös.  Spell it with me Ö-t-t-ö-m-ö-s.  There, though chairs are non-existent, you can rest on/at the massive tables and ding, ding, ding, charge your device (s) via the numerous outlets.      Öttömös is in the middle of nowhere and I didn't see any food shops until I was near Mórahalom.  However, with a charged device, you can conquer the world via GPS.      If you're really adventurous, you may be able to park for a night and/or camp here (in an emergency or during low season).      It's basic, it's there, it's on the bicycle trail.  Use it.      Love y'all  A...

     I met this person my first cycling trip in Serbia.  It was about a week after having visited The War Musuem in Sarajevo.  My emotions were deep, intense, justified; my past experiences in Serbia have not been sponged in understanding and so I felt justified.  I felt like I understood why my experiences had been so negative...'that's just how Serbians are,' I thought.  I thought wrong.      My passion for cycling is fueled by my desire to FIND THE KIND, yes, even the good, the not-so-bad and the ugly (duckling)...to understand it all.      George (the English version of his name) is a Serbian human being.  He saw my daughter and I at the beginning of my maiden voyage from Serbia to Hungary.  He was in a grey car and stopped to ask us if we needed a room.  I told him 'no' and kept walking.  He stopped, my daughter stopped; they began to converse.  This made me stop.  She suggested I ask Ge...

     Pain, Memories.  Hurt.  Brutalities.  Inhumanities.  So close.  So far.  Healing.      The War Museum in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina is much more than a living memorial, to me.  It is a breathing beast of history...sent, established to keep the stories fresh enough to prevent us from forgetting...not them, us.      Maybe it isn't so easy to forget the immense suffering of the war in BiH; but, some of us hadn't even realized it occurred.  The war happened between 1992 - 1995; I was in high school during that time and don't recall it being mentioned.  So far, so close.  It may have been aired on the news, briefly, I don't know.        Yes, that time in my life was filled with personal trauma, turmoil and stress.  But shouldn't I remember the turmoil, stress, trauma of others, especially on that scale?  Well, I don't.  What does that mean? Are the...

      Have you ever felt something, known it was coming, maybe even seen glimpses of it as if it were right in front of you? This is what, where, I am in my life. Yes, it's palpable. Yes, it's powerful; but, more than that, it's here. I need to be patient. I want it; it's for me. But, I must wait. I will wait .   AnomaLeOverT.I.M.E 💚💚💚