Trippy Shit Bruvz

It was once said on the notion of departing home soil to seek adventures in far-flung lands that...

"those who travel change only their skies, and not their minds"

I like that idea. It's true that people who go away for long periods of time often do so in search of some grand answer to life's big question, a question which will most likely remain unanswered long past their return.

But i've been away for a fortnight. And fucking hell have i got some new opinions.

Here's what i learnt from my trip. First things first..

The Shawshank Redemption in Romania is called Inchisoarea Ingerilor.





Don't worry though it's still the same film.

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They don't see many touring bikes in the furthest reaches of eastern europe.





Understanding most of the folk in Romania's rural heartland is a non-option, but it's not hard to decipher a look which plainly intimates, 'get yourself a horse and one of these you crazy fuckwit, you can carry much more stuff'.

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Transylvania is about as scary as a My Little Pony ad.

Rolling countryside, incredibly friendly locals, 35degree heat.

I was preparing for an all-out freakout, this is literally as scary as it got.





Still... when in Rome.





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Sick sunrises are all around us everyday.





You just need to live in a tent inhospitable enough to be up at 5.45am.

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Taking photos of your friend swimming buttnaked in a river at dawn is not only completely unweird, but also handsdown heterosexual, open-minded, and arthouse.




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The 1,000th km handshake is fucking awesome and makes you feel like a real man.




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Their food is not that much better than their english.




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Getting beaten by a five year old in a flat-out race is a damned embarrassment.





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The Hollywood sign looks dope in Hollywood. Nowhere else.




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They don't like to fuck about with locks in Romania.




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The universal language of totally awesome facial expressions are essential to any photo album.




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Cycling tan lines are badass, and the only tanlines worth having.




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Dishevelled two week stubble can metamorphose into a David Niven-esque show-stopping moustache in under four minutes.




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And lastly, cycle touring makes me go all warm and fuzzy inside





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