After the first night spent at St. Andrew's Skete, we realized that this adventure was just beginning. We continue the story from where we left off, with mishaps, discoveries, and moments that transformed our journey into a memorable one.
I opened the church door and, to my surprise, it was dark. Not very dark, but enough to give the impression that no one was there. After a small hesitation, I pushed the door completely and entered with courage, stepping carefully through the darkness. The church was quite large, or rather very large, because I could barely hear a priest mumbling something in the background, presumably in Greek, but I couldn't make it out as it was barely audible. As I tiptoed through the silence and darkness of the church, I felt like I was making an infernal noise, sensing hundreds of eyes looking reproachfully at me. It didn't take long for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and I began to see the silhouettes of people seated on the large, throne-like chairs along the walls, which we often see in Orthodox churches. Well, they were almost full.
Stepping cautiously on the church floor, I headed to the left where I thought I saw an empty chair. And, surprise, I found myself right next to OmBun, who was either praying or sleeping. It was hard to tell in the dark, but since neither you nor I could see, we'll have to accept that, like Schrödinger's cat, OmBun could be both praying and sleeping simultaneously. As long as we don't observe, he can pray and sleep at the same time, and this equilibrium prevents the collapse of the wave function.
Well, I sat down very gently, but this "very gently" felt like a thunderclap in the silence of the church. Fortunately, it was dark, so I don't think anyone figured out where the noise came from. Immediately after sitting down, I entered the same dual state as OmBun, praying or sleeping, both at the same time, out of fear of maintaining balance.
After spending some time in that dual state, I decided to observe, to measure the state, and of course, this intervention—the mere act of observation—allowed the wave function to collapse, bringing me back to reality. I exited the church the same way I entered.
My comrades were scattered around the skete, so somehow, telepathically I believe, we managed to gather our belongings and head in groups towards the capital, just 500 meters away from the skete. It was already full daylight outside, and we took turns attacking the store that had hot cheese pies. We filled our bellies with them and cleared our minds with coffee. It took about an hour or maybe more until we managed to find a minibus to take us further to the last planned skete visit, St. Andrew's Skete. We were heading to the Russians. Until we found the minibus, we couldn't help but make some jokes about each other, still feeling like high school students at heart and in mind. I think more in mind, but those are details; we felt good, and that's what stays imprinted in your memory.
Finally, the minibus arrived, but it had fewer seats than needed, so some of us had to stand. The journey wasn't too long, but it was half filled with stories and jokes, and half with a grave silence. It was so quiet that we could hear every stone crunching under the wheels and the weight of the minibus. Why? Simply, a priest traveling with us reminded us in a firm tone that we were on the holy mountain to pray, not to giggle... so he kindly recommended, on high tonalities, to close our mouths and pray. Obviously, being obedient, we closed our eyes and began to pray. And obviously, praying made us arrive seemingly faster at our destination. I even had marks on my face and maybe a bit of drool on the seat from the intensity of my concentration; I just hope I didn't snore to add another sound to the crunching stones.
Happy for the short journey, we got off the bus seemingly more lively this time and entered the last skete, where we were left speechless. Besides the usual quietness we encountered in all the other sketes, everything here seemed newly built, everything was pristine. We did what we did in other places: prayers, kissed various relics, and spent more time in the skete's shop to contribute to the welfare of the Orthodox Church.
We went down to the port where we waited quite a while for the ferry to take us off the holy mountain. After more than an hour's delay, the ferry arrived, much to Jocker's delight. His face radiated satisfaction and happiness simultaneously. I guess the holy mountain helped him a lot, he already seemed like a different person, but let's not digress. We boarded the ferry and, surprise, it was full, very full, barely any room to move. Unlike the ferry that brought us here, where people were serious and in a meditative state, now people had the same expression as Jocker, very interesting, don't you think?
The almost 2 hours passed quickly, especially for me, because Nemu's storytelling talent captivated me and accelerated the passage of time. I don't exactly remember what he talked about, something about his time in the army. I caught the first few sentences, after which I believe I experienced sleep with my eyes open. Is there a scientific term for that?
Finally, we docked back in the port of Ouranoupoli. Finally, we return to our toys, to riding on two wheels. My goodness, how I missed it! Hmm, I picked up some words from the holy mountain. Until we reached our bikes, we stopped directly for a gyro, which we devoured as if we had been lost on an island for over a year with only coconut water.
Quickly, we geared up, mounted our bikes, and headed determinedly towards Kavala, but not before saying goodbye to DonBila, who once again left on his own, heading home to Craiova, and shortly after, we said goodbye to Trikey, who was heading directly to Bucharest. Once we arrived in Kavala, we quickly parked and headed for a shower... what joy it must have been in Jocker's heart to pour hot water over himself. Well, I think he also had a small part of regret for washing off the sanctity of the mountain.
We got out of our rooms relatively quickly and met up for a blessed blonde drink, well, several blessed drinks. This was the moment when OmBun crowned us with the patches of the HaiHui division, proud members of the HOG Bucharest Chapter Romania, a moment that had to be blessed once again with more blessed drinks.
A night full of devotion and sanctity, which ended with a lively dinner because we are a group full of life. The next day, we mounted our bikes and set off for Balchik, where we were to reunite with our brothers from the HOG Bucharest Chapter Romania. A special day, especially for DOC, as it was his birthday. So let's wish him "Happy Birthday," live long, doctoreeeeee! PS: You can also wish him a "Happy Birthday," I'm sure he won't mind. Yes, yes, right here on Facebook, click here and surprise him ;)
The road was superb, curves, discussions, more curves, Nemu present to open the barriers for us, an unforgettable journey. We arrived at the hotel where our brothers were already in a state of relaxation, and we quickly adapted to their state, spending a wonderful evening with all our brothers and celebrating DOC. Happy Birthday, Doc! PS: Have you written "Happy Birthday"? No? Here's the link.
The next day, everyone did what they felt like, enjoying Balchik and the tranquility of the Black Sea.
The return journey almost fades from memory; the feeling of finality is like a small software program designed to erase that sense of parting, pushing our thoughts back to the real, earthly world. We return to what we normally do, not that it's a bad thing, for many of us it is a joy, but it's not the same as this world, ours, those of HOG, those of Hai Hui. We return from being outlaws and get back to "plowing the field."
The return was superb, we have a beautiful country, and I hope we can maintain it as it is for future generations to enjoy.
We arrived home early, but we arrived and breathed a sigh of relief because everything went well, and we all arrived safely, with our bags full of priceless memories.
If you've read this far, thank you, it means you have the soul of an outlaw and the heart of a Hai Huian. Until the next journey, I wish you "Hai Romania"... as the championship is approaching, and who knows where the wheels of our motorcycles will take us, but stay close because you will surely find out.
The End!
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