Thank You George, Hvala Serbia 🇷🇸

     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 George for directions, I concurred.  When I told him where I wanted to go, he suggested he accompany me 🙄 'Oh God,' I thought.  He pointed in which direction to walk and that he would soon follow.  I said goodbye to my daughter and whispered to her, 'I hope he doesn't kidnap me.' She assured me he wouldn't 😟 Kids.  As I rode away, the voices of my daughter and George trailed away; I was hoping and praying she wasn't telling him the whole of our lives' stories.  Kids.

     George drove slowly behind me.  When I stopped, he drove slowly in front of me.  Reaching the bottom of a steep hill, we both stopped.  He noticed Csigas' tires were a bit low and put air in all three of them.  While doing this, we began to converse.  My apprehension began to unclinch, somewhat.  He received a phone call and all I understood was "gumi."  I assumed he was telling the person what he was doing. His tone was kind and usual, relaxed, as if he does this all the time.

     While checking all three tires and taping my door shut, he told me of a Japanese hitchhiker he had previously helped.  Usual, for George.

     After he finished with the tires, I looked at the hill and sighed; George told me he would help me.  He drove his car up the hill, I pushed Csiga as far as I could and George helped me push her up and beyond the hills' peak.  While at the base of the hill, George asked if I had lights for Csiga; I informed him that they had fallen off.  A few minutes past the peak of the hill, George gave me further directions, we took photos and he drove off.  

     As I walked away, I was reminded by the Universe that in order to truly understand, I must be open to the humanity of the individual...I must trust myself to be able to recognize this humanity in anyone, despite my prejudices and justified judgments.

     A few minutes later, a grey car pulled up on the side of me, it was George, with four lights for Csiga.

     Thank you George.  Thank you Serbia 🇷🇸 

AnomaLeOverT.I.M.E 💚💚💚