(^Pardon the pun)
The next day down the Danube brought fresh resolve generally, the Spring seemed to be taking it's first steps as the first cherry trees blossomed lining the route in an occasional dash of surreal red violet up setting the well-worn earthy palette of green and brown.
A more specific resolution had also spawned by my wallet's recent extreme weigh loss program: 'no paying for accommodation, only Couchsurfing/Warmshowers hosts or camping allowed'. As such the day leaving Budapest was my first night under the stars. I found a charming, albeit likely illegal, spot on the river bank near the village of Harta, and keeping with the least practical aspects of my character waited until the blind end of twilight to put up the borrowed tent for the first time. I was worried about being spotted by anyone from officials to possible criminals and so did most of the erection in darkness. A few misfires later, we had shelter. The next need on the menu was food, I am taking baby steps towards self-sufficiency, so I hopped on the bike to a cheap pizzeria and indulged in a 3-course meal and bottle of red. Bear Grylls insect foraging is a way off yet, for those that know me reasonably well - my priorities have held constant so far.
The only only disconcerting downside was that the wind combined with my WIP tent to give the effect of rustling leaves and footsteps just outside my 'doorstep' through the whole night. This paranoia was debilitating at first, but after a few hours I trained myself to recognise the full spectrum of sound this wind and canvas orchestra could possibly make, and reassured myself that only any other sound outside of this repertoire could possibly be the dreaded footsteps. One Aural Olympics later, a distinctly mediocre but manageable night of sleep set in. A small landmark crossed nonetheless.