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“There are two kinds of hikers: those who have peed on themselves and those who haven’t…yet.” A funny meme on the internet
Before we get started, Massimo let me know I made a mistake yesterday – which is precisely why I keep him around.
For humility, to keep my ego in check, and grounding.
And apparently quality control.
He pointed out that I forgot to include the recap video in yesterday’s post. So I have added it to the original post and you can watch it in the Substack app or on one of the multitude of social media accounts I possess and despise.
Unfortunately, not YouTube though, where it actually makes the most sense to have a video.
They continue to block my content because of the music rights to songs that I use from TikTok. And honestly, I’m too lazy to make another one every time, so please just use one of the other gazillion available social media apps. Thank you for your patience..
And now, back to the shit-show…
My quest for snacks on this hike continues, and today I hit the jackpot.
It was like finding the Holy Grail.
We were about a 40 minutes from our accommodation when we stumbled upon a treasure trove of wild blackberries…perfectly ripe and just begging to be eaten.
“STOP!” I yelled. “I need to eat.”
Again.
Massimo rolled his eyes in a way that only Italians can do.
In my defense, it was 2 pm, and we’d had only a few dolce pastries for breakfast, followed by a couple of nuts and an entirely inappropriate number of carbohydrates during a break.
No sandwiches this time. Dammit.
I picked a few berries just to taste them.
Mmmm. Delicious.
So I picked a few more.
Then I started grabbing them by the handful and shoving them into my mouth. Before long, I was climbing into the bushes, completely abandoning any concern for dignity or personal safety.
The thorns scraped my legs and hands. At one point, a splinter lodged itself in my thumb. I didn’t care. I was on a mission from Mother Nature herself.
My fingers and tongue were turning purple. I was beginning to look like Violet from Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory – only instead of turning into a giant blueberry, I was turning into a giant blackberry.
I kept reaching deeper into the bushes, filling my hands like I was at an all-you-can-eat crab-leg buffet.
Who cares if I end up with Diarrhea. It’s just one more embarrassing thing to write about. I’ve come this far, why stop now?
I couldn’t get enough.
Massimo watched me with increasing disapproval.
“What?” I said defensively.
“I haven’t eaten fruit in days,” I whined.
This was a lie.
I should have been more specific. I haven’t eaten berries in quite some time. Just yesterday I ate five plums that I stole from a roadside tree that was hanging over the fence of someone’s private property.
I know.
I’m a criminal.
Please don’t call the cops. It won’t look good for the byline of my blog.
He continued to stare at me with a look of disappointment.
“Do you know how much these things cost in a supermarket?” I cried. “This is nature’s bounty! And it’s FREE! Mother Nature wants me to enjoy them.”
“Uh huh,” he muttered.
“Oh leave me alone. I’m hungry.” Now I was the one rolling my eyes.
I continued popping the little gushy balls of sweet goodness into my mouth like M&Ms. Disapproving glances be damned.
Then Massimo announced, “I have to pee,” and turned around.
I looked over my shoulder to see his backpack as he faced the other side of the road – near another bush filled with fruit.
“Do NOT pee on the berries!” I yelled, “I plan to eat those too!”
He ignored me and went about his business.
This morning, I woke up and went to the bathroom.
Unfortunately, the fire in my hoo-ha had returned after disappearing for two whole days.
Fortunately, only mildly.
I immediately made the concoction of medicine that I’m still taking to rid my body of this annoying infection – and guarded it with my life to avoid another incident of Massimo drinking my most valuable possession at the moment.
In addition to the two disgusting-tasting 16-ounce glasses of liquid I’m required to drink, I started chugging a large bottle of water.
Potable water is very difficult to find in Romania. Most of the time it is not safe to drink from the tap – and you can forget about any streams or fountains – so we have to buy bottles and bottles of water. It’s become quite a pet peeve of mine on this hike.
I have never thought so much about water in my entire life – except in India – where I also had a UTI. A luxury of being born in a wealthy first-world country.
We went to breakfast at a cafe to have a coffee and Massimo’s favorite dolce pastry. God forbid the man miss his morning sugar rush.
I drank more water and then used the bathroom again before we started hiking.
Stating the obvious – Sherlock Holmes, you can sit down now – I had to pee.
A lot.
We barely got out of town and it began to
rain which triggered my urge to urinate.
On a gravel road next to the corn stalks, I peed on myself for the first time…ever.
I wasn’t even intoxicated.
And I didn’t just pee a little.
I peed so much it spilled over my trusty pee machine, the Tinkle Bell, and ran like a waterfall down my right leg. I couldn’t stop it…there was so much pee.
I didn’t have that on my bingo card for this trek.
Now I understand how men have such bad aim and manage to hit the toilet seat. Peeing standing up can be a wild ride.
I’m gaining empathy on this adventure from hell, if nothing else.
I had to use some of my precious drinking water to bathe myself.
Thank God for the sandals. They’ve proven to be more versatile than I ever imagined. They not only provide air conditioning for my feet on hot days, now they double as a shower facility.
We walked on in the rain which continued to clean my freshly rinsed lower limbs.
About 20 minutes later, I had to go again.
This time, I had so much liquid pouring out of me that it overflowed onto my hand. More precious water wasted washing off the water I had just consumed and my body had dutifully processed.
This is a merry-go-round I would like to get off. Immediately. Thank you very much.
I’m also carrying baby wipes, so basically I gave myself two sponge baths within a span of twenty minutes and kept walking.
What. A. Day.
By the time we reach the guesthouse, I’m anticipating multiple showers: One for the urine. One for the dirt. And one for the sweat.
Possibly a fourth for emotional trauma.
…
We walked by the 800 kilometer marker.
And, in what felt like a cosmic joke, it was about 20 steps from the exact spot where I had peed on myself for the first time AND the design eerily resembled my constant need to urinate. What fun would life be without synchronicities?
Memorable moments are being made to say the least.
Massimo was waiting excitedly beside the marker. He was thrilled. All smiles.
I was less enthusiastic. I had just peed on myself like an over-served, drunk freshman college student at his first fraternity party. I wasn’t in the mood to be joyous but I faked a smile anyway. You know, for the photo album.
Memories.
At this point, I figured we would have either quit, been eaten by something, or simply died somewhere along the trail.
Yet here we are.
And the only thing keeping me interested in this damn hike is the scavenger hunt for snacks and sandwiches.
The highlight of the day, in addition to the smorgasbord of berries, was that the weather was cool, and the walk fairly easy and thank God, short.
After a long, hot shower, and using what felt like almost an entire bar of soap to clean myself, I finally felt human again.
Then I decided it was time to cut my nails.
I had brought a file, or, as the professionals call it, an emery board, to smooth out the rough edges.
I pulled it from my toiletry bag and started using it.
Except…
Most of the grit was gone.
It was like trying to file my nails with a piece of cardboard.
I asked Massimo about it. That’s when I discovered he had been “secretly” using my emery board to file his atrociously gnarly toenails.
Without telling me.
On the same emery board I use for my nails.
My emery board.
Dammit, Massimo!
Ewww. 🤢
I have spent 800 kilometers sleeping in questionable accommodations, taking copious amounts of pharmaceutical drugs, peeing on myself roadside beside cornfields, eating berries out of bushes, and sweating through multiple layers of clothing. And somehow, this may be the thing that finally breaks me.
Much love & gratitude. Namaste 🙏
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Did you know that there are porcupines in Romania? I didn’t.
We found some of their little spiky things on the ground – “barbed quills” for the grown-ups in the group.
Honestly, I’m just glad we found evidence of porcupines instead of an actual porcupine. I feel the same about bears and bear tracks.
He’s really gotten into flipping the bill of my hat. Can’t we just take a normal photo for once?
Okay, maybe not…
