Here I stood, at a forgotten truck stop, staring out from Poland on to The Czech Republic wondering why, and how. This morning should have been an omen. But I was too eager to leave, to be back on the road.

It all started when I woke up, opened my eyes and things came into focus. I realized I was still here in this same squat that I have been in for the past ten days. I was still sleeping separated from the this dank and dirty floor only by an even danker and dirtier foam mattress. I looked for the time, shit, eleven in the morning, I was already late. Rushing out of the room on the top floor and down to the kitchen I say my awkward English goodbyes. They say "maybe we will see you again," and I rush out the front door.

I had decided to start early, but the Syrian hospitality and friendliness of Omar’s neighbours keeps me drinking one last cup, and again, one more cup of coffee before leaving.

The neigbour’s boy, Ali, and I are making pictures for the photo album as a good bye to “our” mother, who - as I experienced for the first time in this country - has no reservations in talking to me openly. It felt like she adopted me from the first day. Picture a Syrian woman bringing coffee early in the morning without a question or second thought about it. Some hours later, she’ll return with big plates of salad, just for the traveler being hosted by the neigbours’ son. She makes it seem like the most normal thing in the world.

I don't like to think how hard something might be, I just go on the road to find my way by doing it. Believe it can be done and you will see it will happen. It is sometimes hard to figure out 'where is this damn highway' but once you are on the road, it feels really good.

I have been traveling in Europe for two and one half years now with a no/low-budget. I mostly get by with whatever I find on my road, or whatever finds me.