Riding home


For the past three days we have been stuck in Blagaj, a tiny little town in Bosnia.

Three days ago Antonio woke up and couldn’t move his back, neck or shoulders so I helped him get up while he yelped in pain. Then we rode 45km to the nearest campsite (where we had planned to go anyway). We have been there since.

Well, no, we also visited Mostar to look at the old bridge and find a doctor. Looking around didn’t go too well as Antono couldn’t really look around, or up, or down. Finding a doctor was easy. The security officer of the hospital first brought us to the gynaecology ward, realized his mistake, and then left us standing in a hallway until a friendly doctor asked if he could help us.

After a quick consultation in his colleague’s office we made an appointment for later that afternoon. Before we left his colleague apologised to us saying that she normally spoke very good English but that she’s had a very stressful day and that she had forgotten. This, of course, in perfect English. We wondered if her stress had anything to do with the photo of the decapitated person on her computer, or if that was her normal screensaver.

A few hours later Antonio reappeared from the doctors office with an artwork of bright blue tape on his neck and shoulders and the instruction to rest until he feels better, which might take two or three days.

So here we are. It is too hot and we are too lazy to do anything, so plenty of time to read books, browse instagram and think about what the fuck I want to do with my life.

Because I am feeling a little stuck too, sometimes. One of the reasons for embarking on this trip was to take a break from diving and reassess what the hell I want. Four months into the trip, I still have no idea! Should I pursue another dive job? Or is it time to move on to something else, and if so, what? Any other (former) dive colleagues struggling with this? Or non divers too, of course.  Help me out!

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