Same road, same sea
18 July 2016

Same road, same sea

In the past 37 days, we’ve slept in 32 different locations; some of them were a pleasant surprise, while others were just beds we fell into after underestimated stopovers.
We found mountains that went up and never went down and suns that were hotter than they should.
While on the one hand it was us, with a finger and a lot imagination, who drew our route, on the other it was someone else’s hand that drew mountains too high and highways where we cannot go.
All in all, I’d say the situation is under control.
We have developed the ability to perform efficient routines 45 seconds after having parked our bikes: daily habits that, one day after the other, allow us to call each of those places “home”.
We have stopped asking it tap water is drinkable, we’re always so thirsty that we just drink: it will be the “diarrhea of no return” to tell us when we’ve come east enough to stop doing it.
Confused nights see us looking for the bathroom where it was the night before, and new foods make Chiara dream of eating pasta and, in her sleep, get insulin to compensate the carbs in her dreams.
During the day, the world around us changes in its landscape and history: sometimes we hear mosques singing, others churches playing, sometimes we find both and immediately wonder whether these sounds marking the lives of people are getting along with each other.
The giant concrete parallelepipeds containing housings, heritage of the communist architecture, fill the peripheries of towns and give them a gloomy tone, in contrast with the square, streets and cafes, always full of people.
People like to stay together, and fill public places.
We look at them, surprised; then we look at each other and wonder why we are surprised: when did out “Western” society decide to lock itself up at home?
A look back in time and Sarajevo takes the look of a girl singing Ace of Base.
Halfway through the ‘90s, Sarajevo is besieged. As in a sort of bad videogame, a girl and her friends get into what is left of a Wolkswagen Beetle after years of bombings. 
“We go to the seaside!”
They drive a car with no wheels towards a far-away seaside, singing “All that she wants” and laughing to the camera.
Halfway through the ‘90s, I am more or less the same age as they are, and I listen to the same song in a beach bar in Tagliata di Cervia; my only worry is that I’m going back to school in September.
The memories of those days are still fresh, and having shared that song uncovers a pain I did not know, back then.
History repeats itself.
We are now anesthetized by boats sinking and bodies floating.
Maybe, to wake us up, we would need a Syrian boy singing the song of our Summer.
While it’s true that the road we took from home on June 10th is the same that took us, 2,500 km later, on the shores of the Black Sea, it’s also true that the water that’s getting our feet wet right now is the same one that’s getting your Summer wet.
During your next swim, try and think of how many people, like us, are swimming with you.
© Any use of text and images without the author permission is prohibited
We are here
We are travelling from
Visit our Shop!
A selection of wonderful poster 50x75 cm with our favourites photos!
Shop!
Contact us
For any information, suggestion or just to let us know that you support us!
DROP A LINE!
Instagram gallery