BERGAMO, Italy — Having been on the road the last two weeks has left me battered and bruised.

I was supposed to send a piece last week but missed the deadline without even realizing a couple of days later when I was already in Dresden in Germany.

In-between plane, bus and train rides, I still felt that I got several things done for work even though I am officially in vacation mode.

You see, there was this colossal edition of our paper that hit the stands a few days ago and I had some unfinished business when I kicked off this 22-day, six-city, five-country trek last 19 June.

And because the Paris Olympics is nearing, I voluntarily wrote several pieces about the Filipino athletes’ buildup while they are holding camp in Metz, France.

One time, while I was in Dresden, I thought about taking a fast train to Metz, which is near the German border to check on them.

The problem was that I was on the wrong side of Germany as Dresden is located near Poland and the Czech Republic, making it tiring and troublesome to be traveling a distance of more than 600 kilometers to pay them a visit in the boxers’ training camp in Saarbrücken, a picturesque city that is likewise near Luxembourg.

Still, I got in touch with officials of the boxing association, who gladly answered my text messages and calls as I had advised our sports desk in Manila that I would be writing Olympic-related stories while in Europe.

Based on my latest count, I think I have filed more than a half a dozen featuring different datelines.

So, here I am, while getting ready for the flight back to Madrid for one final push of this dizzying but satisfying journey doing this weekly piece.

Honestly, I have been so consumed by the trip that I have gotten many things all mixed up, from food that I have eaten to scenic spots that I have been to.

One time, I woke up in the middle of the night wondering where I was and it took me a few seconds to determine the answer as my auditory sense has been subjected to four or more strange-sounding languages the last two weeks.

While Spanish is easy to tell and Italian sounding very familiar because of my endless watching of The Godfather through the years, there have been some that I could not differentiate from the others.

German? Nah. Easy.

French? A lot easier.

Portuguese? Basic.

Czech? Now this one’s kinda new.

Along with several others I have heard from trips to the airport, train stations, tourist spots and the sprawling main squares and even in the supermarkets, it has been a jarring assault on the senses.

As we head into the final phase of this trip, I feel that I would be subjected to a few more episodes of “Twilight Zone” moments.

But mind you, I am not complaining.