But since in the morning nobody is in the mood to pump the bed once more we spend the last few hours with sardines, canned beef and pineapple (separate cans), jerry cans, books, tools and other luggage practically inside our back and bottom muscles. Peter's backbone is slowly adopting my camping-tent's shape, while I have found two positions in which I am able to exist; if I stay on the back, I can even choose where to put the legs!
Where exactly was the last pillory in Ljubljana? I have to hang there one grey and one blue Chinese!
Today we simply exist, nothing more. On the sun. But just until Sunday, then we hop on the ferry and slowly towards warm Slovenian hughs.
6.2.2004 | Hammamet, Tunisia
Since sleeping is still a tough job, Peter and I still wake up several times during the night, namely we still couldn't find the last hole. It's a piece of cake to patch it, but where is it hiding? We've been busy with this question since long ago. We alternate as night guards each night. This means: to sit on the empty airbed, start the engine (the air-pump takes a lot of energy to the cold battery), take the pump off the shelf, open the bed valve, insert the pump, start the pump and vegetate until the bed is fully loaded. Then turn off the pump, close the valve, turn off the engine and try to get into the sleeping bag again. For the next three hours. The one that is off-duty feels a heavenly relief as an unknown force takes him off the luggage.
