Once a year, Dragon comes from Serbia to Montenegro. After the long bus ride, he sits at the gas station in Niksic, drinking a beer before he walks one kilometer to his parents' house. There he stays in his deceased father's house, visits the family, travels the next day back to Serbia. It is exactly at this day when we cycle past the petrol station. It is already dawn, we stop, look around for a place to sleep. Dragon invites us to tea in a language mix of Russian and German. Of course, we can stay with him. His remaining family welcomes us, it is served coffee, we can take a shower and finally we fall asleep on the comfortable sofa in the living room.

In Niksic we register ourselves. An excess legacy of the Soviet period. In the pedestrian zone a couple of Roma speaks to us in German. We are vigilant. Gypsies, a people on the edge of our society - they certainly want to steal from us! The opposite is the case. Both are curious, they invite us to an ice cream, don't want, under any circumstances, that we pay for. Prejudices disappear.

The traffic in Montenegro is outrageous, the roads are narrow, cluttered and curvy. Nevertheless, it is raced, honked and overtaked reckless without regard to losses. In numerous curves, we pedal up a steep road to the karst plateau of Durmitor National Park. The highest mountains of the Dinaric mountain range can be found here and the tranquil national park road leads directly through them. Cycling, as we love it. In the evening we sleep on a small camping in Tsra. Free of charge. Matter of honor.

"I 'm a genuine Ämmitaler!" Fifteen years Burim has spent in Burgdorf, fled the NATO bombing in 1999. Now he stays with us at the Kosovar border, on the way to visit his family. Two days he drove from Switzerland through Italy, Croatia and Montenegro. For the same route we've been on the road for four weeks. Sure, he invites us to a tea. We want to know what about the security in Kosovo. "No problem it's as safe as in Switzerland", only Orthodox have to be careful. Ethnic tensions have remained visible: Sprayed Serbian street signs on the way to the town of Peje.

We hear a perfect Bavarian as we inquire after the way forward in Peje. And before we know it right, the friend from the neighboring tiles business is on the spot and draws us a sketch of the route to the Albanian border. Hardly ready we are pushed into the next teahouse: "The coffee is waiting ..."

A black double-headed eagle on a red background flaps on each rooftop. We are in Albania. The communication is now more difficult. Albanian cannot be combined with any of our languages knowledges, but fortunately some people speak Italian. We learn that the ferry from Fierzë to Kukes no longer exists, but there's another one on the Komani reservoir. This information brings our route planning somewhat confused, as we wanted to stay in the mountains as long as possible to avoid the heat of the lowlands. Nevertheless, early in the next morning we sit in a bus converted to a ship which takes us through impressive gorges and past lonely boat moorings. The passenger ferry is heavily used by locals as important and only means of transport. A time jump in the middle of Europe.

An elderly man waits at the roadside and solds grapes. Wonderful, glucose is exactly what we need if we want to achieve the climb ahead of us before dusk. We stop and already we are overwhelmed with the sweet fruit. Although we insist several times, Qemal don't want any money. When we get ready to go, he grabs his grapes hastily together, takes us by the arm and leads us to his house where we are hosted by his wife. With great self-evidence we are invited to sleep in the room of her youngest son. We think to understand that one of their four sons lives in the Czech Republic, one in Hungary, one in England and one in Germany and she and her husband are remained alone. A fate, many older people in Albania seem to share. We are told farwell the following morning with hugs and kisses like family members, with cucumbers, tomatoes and grapes for the next few days in the luggage.

The last Macedonian Dinars are changed, we are on the way back into the European Union. The first villages in Greece seem sleepy, people not so European. Nevertheless, we notice the influence of the EU: solar power systems, irrigation, intensive agriculture. The scripture makes us illiterate until we realize that Thessaloniki is abbreviated on road signs as Thessa / Niki. We have no map of the region, as we have just decided to chose a route change. The ferry brings us to Turkey. Here ends Europe.