Today was pure magic — the kind of crazy, unexpected, heartwarming magic that makes travel so unforgettable.The day started early and only 11 km in — pfft! — my first puncture. Luckily, the local agricultural business came to the rescue. I thanked them, pedalled off… and 100 metres later, pfft again!
The second puncture. This time I called into their rivals down the road, who cheerfully fixed me up and discovered four more hidden punctures in the back tyre. New tyre, new tube, new hope!
With 50 km still to go, I set off again. Farmers waved from their fields, smiling warmly as I passed. Then came a moment that melted my heart — two elderly gentlemen, perhaps in their late 70s, dressed sharply in matching blue suits, bright white shirts, and socks to match. They waved enthusiastically, calling something in Albanian. I didn’t get a photo, but that image is forever imprinted on my heart. Just beautiful.
A little later I met Michel, a German cyclist who just had to feature me on his Instagram. He roared with laughter when he learned my bike cost €100. “You’re cycling the Balkans on that? And only 30–60 km a day?” He couldn’t believe it. Michel rides 120 km almost every day. When I explained, “Michel, I’m not a cyclist — I’m just a girl who likes to ride a bike,” he smiled.
I told him how I stop to talk with farmers, greet villagers, watch butterflies, and breathe in the scents of the gardens I pass. He nodded and said, “I am a cyclist — my mind competes with me every day to go faster.”I smiled. “Then I think I’m the lucky one.”
We hugged and pedalled off in different directions — same road, different stories.
Later, as rain began to fall, I ducked into a tiny roadside shop for lunch. The elderly shopkeeper, perhaps in her late 70s, told me with gestures that she had to close up and go feed her chickens. I sat outside, happily munching my bread and cheese as she locked the door — then, spotting me watching, she started skipping and swinging her chicken-feed bucket like a schoolgirl. The Albanians really do have this cheeky, joyful spirit about them.
The scenery was breathtaking all day, and when I finally arrived at what I thought was my accommodation, I instead met a lovely German girl — travelling solo from Germany to India for a year. She turns 30 in four days and usually cycles 60–80 km per day. We’re meeting for breakfast tomorrow.
I must admit, I felt a pang of guilt — I’ve got a big two-bedroom apartment, while she’s camping on the beach in the rain. But then again, every traveller’s story is different… and that’s what makes the road so special.