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: 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--and all of us have our own nuggets of wisdom. 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. If not, I will simply 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.
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