Western City Gate - 8th August 2017

We anticipated a slovenly day, what with the heat and an afternoon of travel ahead. So we woke up well after the sun had risen into our room, at a modest 9:30am, and cobbled together the bits we took out of our rather large suitcase. Having repacked, we caught up on the day’s news whilst we had WI-FI.

We took the suitcase down to the car, before returning to the block to pay the hostess our fee. A deaf yet audible conversation of our English and her Serbian took place swiftly, with a lot of nodding heads and smiles. We wanted to explore the city a little more, so we left the car where it was and retraced our walk back to the centre of the old town via the riverside.

The high street was quieter than anticipated, so we easily found a table at café that served coffee and a variety of breakfast options. I had a craving for eggs, so ordered three fried. John is always partial to a ham and cheese toastie, so he ordered that. Although under a parasol, I could feel the heat rising around us. I was thankful for the water that so often comes with coffee as standard in the Balkans. Once fed, we walked back to the central square, where we noticed a tourist map in one of those free-standing advertising boards. On it was marked a synagogue, about a 10-minute walk away. I suggested we visit that, then loop around back to the riverside, and then back to the car.

So, we crossed over the main trunk road that ran through central Novi Sad, skirting the old town, before it went off towards the bridge over the Danube towards Petrovaradin. I lasted about 2 minutes in the heat, before I asked that we walk on the other side of the road under the shade of the trees and taller buildings.

The synagogue was on the shaded side of the street, behind metal fencing with the gates open. We wondered in to get a closer look. It was a large, sandy coloured brick building, with two ‘towers’ on each side of a recessed entrance. Flanked on either side were two similarly sized outbuildings. An information sign indicated that it was built in 1909. It amazed me that it had managed to remain here during the Second World War, given that the area was ceded to Hungary who had far right and then fascist leaders under thumb of the Nazis.

We continued on until we reached the main boulevard that begins at the railway station. There was a bit more life here, as shops lined the kerbside. After turning left, we had arrived at the entrance to a very brutal shopping centre plaza. We continued down another wide boulevard until we reached the riverside. Here, we had lovely views of the fortress across the way, and stopped to look at the memorial sculpture to the victims of fascism.

Having now called time on Novi Sad, John took to the driver’s seat, and we prepared to leave our concrete housing estate. Not before, though, I changed the language on the sat nav to English, so that we could safely make out way to Belgrade and beyond.

However, we had a little hiccup upon our departure with the sat nav. As the road network nearby was all temporary due to the bridge works, coupled with our lack of familiarity with Serbian road signs, we battled with the sat nav to understand where we needed to go. After pausing in the middle of the road debating whether to go left or right, and a little back and forth between John and I, we turned left. This way, we retraced our steps back through the suburbs and onto the motorway.

The journey to the outskirts of Belgrade should only have needed to take 30 minutes, but I was unsure what the traffic would be like in Belgrade itself. I was hesitant to drive, as I wouldn’t be confident driving in a city centre like Belgrade and on the opposite side of the road. John wasn’t bothered. The drive was still accompanied by flat, agricultural land, with the odd hill here and there. We slowly started to descend, soon after a road toll and surrounded by a forest, before approaching a bridge. This was suspended highly above the broad width of the Danube below. We coasted over into the region known as Srem or Syrmia. This piece of land, shared between Serbia and Croatia, is the wedge of land between the Danube and Sava rivers.

As we turned off the north-south motorway, we joined the main arterial east-west road between Belgrade and Zagreb. Once we drove past the airport, the traffic on the motorway became a lot busier, as we hurtled into the outer suburbs of the city. We were welcomed by the Western City Gate, standing in brutal dominance overlooking the motorway. To our right, we passed a Gazprom poster depicting the Serbian and Russian flags joining together highlighting their political and economic union.

As we began to slow into the rhythm of local and long-distance traffic negotiating more numerous junctions, we knew our turn off was the second of two immediate ones straight after we cross the Sava river. One thing to note is that the junction turnoffs are very short and sharp, which can make for dramatic driving. John navigated the mini spaghetti junction with ease, and we were now heading north on the road akin to Whitehall, with all its government and embassy buildings. We then ascended a hill to the main city centre, which flattened adjacent to the park in front of the Parliament building. You always get a different perspective of the landmarks as a road user than you do as a pedestrian. We bared right, and then began to descend. We had to navigate a one-way system around a park opposite our apartment, but finally turned right onto a cobbled street thinking we had reached our destination. We counted the property numbers, and it turned out we were on the upper part of the street, not the lower. John turned around and drove down.

I jumped out and called the proprietor. He came down to meet me, and directed John to the carpark accessed by a side entrance and a steep incline into the basement. He escorted us up to the top floor, and let us in. The one-bedroom apartment was decorated in a modern way but with local twists and additions. The air-con was already on, as he must have been boiling whilst waiting for us. He showed us around, and highlighted the balcony that came with a canopy shade. One he had left, and we had dumped our things, we departed for the city centre.

There was a traditional, Herzegovinian restaurant opposite our building, which acted as a key stone to a hemispherical park that led on to a secondary road into the centre. This was narrower than the wide boulevards and so more shaded, and it led us to a market space at the bottom of the hill where Skadarlija was located. Having visited twice before, it was rather serene in the daytime without the cacophony of diners and lively music. The sun was low in the sky, so it was ideal for some snaps.

We walked up to the now familiar Trg Republike, and down the main shopping street. For ease, we stopped for a beer in the same place we did the previous year. We then ventured around the Kalemegdan and returned to the shopping street, along with many others from the park, and walked to Hotel Moscow. Its white tiles radiated a soft pink as the sun had started to hide behind nearby buildings.

 

We were here because I noted that there was a gay bar or two in the vicinity. Armed only with a little bit of research I did before we left the flat, and no internet away from WIFI to use, we managed to locate one bar inside an arcade. A closed doorway sat between two windows, one being slightly pulled up. I walked in to the smallest bar I had ever been in. Aside from the barman, there were 4 other patrons. They all looked at us as they became silent. Along the width of each window was a bar shelf with 3 stools at each. The small bar was an ‘L’ shape, and to its right, there was a steep staircase that led on to a low mezzanine level. We ordered two beers, and sat down, which was when conversations were renewed. As the place was smoky, we opted for the stools opposite the open window.

We decided it would be rude if we only stayed for one, so ordered another round. The beers were relatively cheap, and the music in the background allowed us to converse without sparking up curiosity from the others. We drank up, then walked the 3 minutes to the next bar.

This was called XL, and to get to it you had to go into the entrance way of a shopping parade that was of the 1970s/80s style of marble and glass. Up the stairs to the first level and you had a choice. Café bar to the left that overlooked the main shopping street, or a frosted door leading to the back of the building. The latter was our bar. We went in and, despite the darkened lighting, everything was decked out in white. There was a small group and a female couple in already. It was early. I ordered a red, and we sat at a raised bench with a bar table that one could easily lean against when standing up.

We finished our night here after a few more drinks, and staggered back down Despot Stefan to our apartment, and then sleep.

Around the Balkans in 20 Days – Part 9

The streets below were quiet as we woke up on our last morning in Belgrade. I was up like a dart, knowing I had planned a tight regime for us to be up and out within 30 minutes. It was 7am, so John was less inclined to be rushed. We showered, gathered last minute bits for the small backpacks that will travel alongside us, and packed our remaining items into our large traveller backpacks.

We were ready 5 minutes before the scheduled arrival time of our minibus. Yesterday, I confirmed the details with the travel company via email. I was still a little disappointed that we wouldn’t be repeating my journey by train 5 years ago, but at least I would get to see a different route through the rough terrain to Bosnia-Herzegovina’s federal capital.  After 10 minutes of peering down from the window, I noticed a white minibus pull in underneath up. Surely this was ours. So, as we gathered our things and began to lock up, the driver called me. I said that we would be down momentarily. We posted the keys into the mailbox in the lobby as instructed, then pulled the door to. The driver clambered out of the van and said hello, whilst motioning us to the back of the minibus. We bundled our luggage into the back, and got in, joining a woman in her 30’s who must have been the first to be picked up. The van had two seats up with the driver, three in the middle, and three in the back. We opted for the back seats, with the person we joined occupying the middle row. We drove off uphill towards Trg Republika and stopped moments later outside a hotel where we picked up another person. We then drove from there, across the eerily quiet town, to Trg Slavija, picking up another fellow traveller from a side street; and an older woman in her 70s.

We then dashed downhill along the tramlines, from Trg Slavija towards the railway station, turning left and then merging right on to the east/west motorway. I was still a bit drowsy and unaware of my surroundings, but within 15 to 20 minutes, we were out of the city and into flat agricultural land. We coasted along the motorway in near silence, the chatter between the older woman and the driver having died down – perhaps saving themselves for the long haul.

We turned off at an unassuming junction and pulled in on a dusty slip road. My curiosity was piqued, but I was not concerned. It appeared that we were picking up two further people, who seemed to have had a relative bring them here to be taken onward on their journey in our minibus. A rather odd location to be picked up from, I thought. The drama in my head saw the scenario play out as a body-in-the-bag, criminal gang exchange farce. Happily, that was not the case. The man sat up front with the driver, and the woman was in front of John. With the last of our passengers on board, we travelled away from the motorway in a south-westerly direction towards Sabac.

The high speed and relative calm of the initial journey took a sharp turn (only to be superseded later on) as we moved away from motorway/bypass type roads to rural ones. These ones had ditches on either side most of the time that aided the irrigation of the fields that lay all around us. The driver had obviously done this route hundreds of times, and wasted no time nor any opportunity to overtake cars, trucks, even tractors. Blind corners, for John and I seen as death traps to overtake at, were taken on with either arrogance or faith. Neither reassured us. And to add to my discomfort, the day was getting hotter and the seats were made of leather! I had no chance of getting to the end of this journey dry as a bone.

As long and slender villages passed by, broken with the odd larger town here and there, we took a petrol and rest break. We arrived at a small, modern petrol station that had a shop-cum-café attached to it. To confirm the driver’s frequent use of this route, as he entered he was greeted by the staff as a familiar friend. In-between trips to the loo, we scoffed at warm cheese and ham croissants and milky coffees, and then purchased a couple of extras for the rest of the trip. As we had access to Wi-Fi, I looked up the route we had just taken, and possible routes we were about to take. It seemed that the border with Bosnia was not that far away, a mere 1,000 meters.

After 25 minutes the group was back together in the minibus and off we sped. Minor personnel adjustments were made, with the motorway couple swapping places. The roads were a bit quieter now as we travelled towards Loznica and the nearby border post. Out of view, but nearby, was the Drina River, which we would have to cross to get into Bosnia. A small wood to our right cleared and revealed a wall of hills seeming to indicate geographically a different realm. Indeed, as we approached a junction to turn right, the border posts on either side of the bridge confirmed that these hills were indeed those of Bosnia.

And what a quiet crossing it was. On the Serbian side, pseudo-Heraldic flags, long and slim, hung down from tall flag posts. We gave the driver our passports, with the other passengers providing less formal National Identity cards. We stuck out like a sore thumb. Once on the bridge, which had similarities to ones an army would erect, we waited in a queue of 4 cars before getting our documents checked. The flag poles on this side mirrored those we just passed but had two different flags on them, the familiar blue and red flag of the Republika Srpska entity and the yellow and blue of the Bosnia-Herzegovina federation. We drove off into Bosnia within a matter of minutes.

The geography was certainly different. We followed the river south for a short while, before turning west towards the centre of the country. We meandered between the hills and mountains, through the steep and beautiful gorges where the roads we were travelling on could only be built. Many turquoise lakes with short-lived vistas lay along the route, providing relief from suffocating cliffs we ran alongside. In between appreciating the views, I had a novel on the go since we started in Skopje and was 80-100 pages from the end, so I decided to try and finish it before we reached Sarajevo in order to start my next book.

The early start, rising heat, and constant swaying of the minibus along the windy roads must have conspired to send me to sleep. I awoke as we were climbing our way up the last mountain, beyond which Sarajevo hid. Evidently we had passed over into the Muslim-Croat entity some way back, and were now passing through an overtly Bosniak town. Vogošca had a number of mosques with the green flags of Islam hanging from their minarets. All public signs were in the Latin script, and government buildings were easy to spot with their sole flag flying, that of the federation. There seemed to be a chain of towns along this road, the scene changing from shops and transport hubs, to housing and schools, and back again; all the while continually rising in altitude. The peak seemed to be reached at the same point where a brand new mosque, the largest seen up to that point, dominated a hillside spot looking over the descending hill from which we had just climbed. We curved around its grounds and then began our descent into Sarajevo proper.

Given the drivers’ erratic abilities at the wheel, we seemed to ‘land’ in Sarajevo, hurtling down a main road that soon flattened into the main valley floor in no time. The train station appeared on our right, the same direction in which we then turned, as we sped off west in the opposite direction to our BnB.

We ran parallel to the main east-west road that ran through the city, and turned into a high-rise estate in anticipation of our first fellow traveler leaving us. The young woman, who was first in the van, and the older woman began talking. The gist I got, from the fragmented bits of conversation I could transliterate into English, was that the older woman was quizzing the younger one on why she lived here and not in Grbavica – a stone’s throw away across the river. The response I couldn’t decipher. But the brushing off nature of it by the younger woman wasn’t what surprised me, but the reason for asking the question in the first place did. To some, it seems the question of where you lived is still linked to your ethnic/national identity, as Grbavica was the extent of Serb inroads into the city during the siege. We then departed to drop off the rest of the passengers before arriving at the Baščaršija to be dropped off ourselves.

In the narrow streets, lined with track for the characteristic tramline, the minibus pulled up and hogged half of the road. A small commotion was made of our arrival, but we grabbed our belongings, thanked the driver for getting us here (alive), and then I led the way to our BnB. A mere 100 steps away, John observed for the first time the open space of the Baščaršija where the Sebilj is located, ringed by a platoon of pigeons. The Sebilj was the historic centre of the old town where those who travelled through the city would congregate and quench their thirst at the water fountain. We were now at a T-junction, the centre of which had a small water pipe (lots of these are dotted all over the city), where we now turned right and up a steep incline turning left into a makeshift car park almost immediately.

This was our place of rest for the next few days, and had not changed one bit from my previous visit. The décor was still kitsch, containing a collection of paraphernalia gathered over the years with what looked like ethnographic examples of rug making. Our room was a twin and in keeping with the theme at reception; carpet from the early 1990’s (in the UK at least) that had an almost regal theme to it. I believe it was the exact same room I stayed in when I was there 5 years previous. What a coincidence.

We decided that after our long journey we needed showers, bearing in mind it was still in the early 30s temperature wise. As I showered with the window open for the breeze, the old town below was buzzing with the noise of people and cars. This reminded me that when I was last here, alone, I didn’t travel outside of my comfort zone. With John as my comrade in arms, I felt eager to explore a lot more of Sarajevo and Bosnia during this visit. I was really looking forward to hiring a car in a few days time to travel east to Potocari and Visegrad – different reasons for both.

We left once ready and went straight to the old town to have a wonder. The place is all ground floor level shops with glass fronts and terracotta-tiled roofs. The only buildings taller here were the mosques and newer additions such as hotels that stood mostly at the perimeter of the old town. The streets were slab-paved, with water gulley’s to disperse the rainwater into the Miljacka River nearby. We sought refuge in a canopied courtyard surround by the backs of the shops where I ordered Bosnian coffee and water. The shade was a welcome escape from the searing heat.

After this we walked the ‘History Route’ as I call it. This pedestrianized segment runs the middle of a loop of road making up the main east-west road through the city. At first it encompasses the old town with its Ottoman Turkish and Islamic heritage. It then immediately stops, and turns to Austro-Hungarian architecture with pastel plastered buildings soaring to 3 or 4 storey’s high. Along this stretch are a myriad of 19^th century religious buildings of two of the four major faiths - Catholicism and Orthodoxy. We pondered these, then I pointed out to John the Sarajevo Roses and the symbolism of these to the siege. Even here, the streets were narrow and sort of suffocating, with the tops of the hills to our left, on the south bank of the river, lurking over us.

Once we merged with the westbound car traffic, noting the eternal flame monument to mark the freedom of Sarajevo during World Ward Two, the buildings changed to have an earlier 20^th century, modernist feel before breaking into brutalism as we approached the Presidency building. It was at this point we looped back and followed the eastbound main road back to the old town alongside the river.

At newly renovated City Hall, I was keen to push on but I think John had enough at this point in the day. Yet, I persuaded him into climbing up the side streets to the Yellow Bastion to take in a view of the city. As we climbed up the steep hill alongside one of the cemeteries that serve as reminders of the war, the heat and sun really began to beat us down. I had to stop a number of times to either catch breath or wipe my brow of sweat, guzzling water when I could. However, the prize at the top of the hill was the splendid view across the valley westward as the sun hung low in the sky. A smattering of tourists were with us, on this unkempt rampart from Ottoman times. After a short while, we made the return journey with ease, and decided to rest for a few hours.

Not wanting to stay out late, we dressed and went off for dinner. I recalled the restaurant I visited last time that served chocolate steak (or chicken) as a specialty. We sat out in front of the narrow and intimate restaurant, with the now famous poster of a Cellist in the ruins of the City Hall looming behind John. We ate a meal washed down with wine and returned to our BnB after our exhausting day.

Around the Balkans in 20 Days - Part 1

Berlin Schönefeld had just recently opened one of the newest Wizz Air routes, connecting the German capital with the capital of the Republic of Macedonia – Skopje. We departed the few remaining friends, gathered for a short weekend of renowned Berlin nightlife, to depart on our own trip to the states that once made up the central and eastern republics of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.

A short two-hour trip, on our budget yet comfy flight, saw me return to the city on the Vardar for my fourth time. For John, stepping out of arrivals at Alexander the Great Airport was his first visit to any territory once under the rule of Josip Broz Tito. I can only imagine that my feelings of familiarity were equally matched by John’s feelings of intrigue and wonder for the twenty days ahead.

Yet, as we met the hostess and her father for our Airbnb apartment, we soon changed tack as to whether we would arrive in the city centre at all. A well intended instruction of not needing to use our seat belts as we got into the car, feeling obliged to indulge in local practice, soon turned into stomach tightening regret. We awkwardly gripped on to the handrail as we zigzagged between lanes of the motorway whilst hurtling towards the city centre at 100km per hour.

Thankfully, reduced speed limit signs as we entered the city limits seemed to have an effect, slowing down the driving and making it seem less erratic. As we approached the city from the east, the Millennium Cross began to emerge, and turn towards us as we arched around the mountain upon which it was perched. The orange glow of the city soon came into competition with it, distracting us from our friendly chat with our hostess. We covered the usual – what we did for work (us, politics and charity; her, actuary), what brought us here (visiting the region, I mentioned my multiple visits that took us on a tangent), how she learned such good English (TV and school), and where was good to visit. The latter was more to confirm that the research I undertook could be confirmed as fair to explore by a local. A winery, Matkasee, the Millennium Cross, and the Kale Fortress were all met with our hostess’s approval, including directions on how best to get to them.

Once the Kale Fortress appeared to our right, a hundred or so meters above us lit up like a 1920’s cabaret stage, I knew exactly where we were and began to calculate the route that our hosts would take us to the apartment. Although approaching almost midnight, evidence of the summer’s demonstrations against the VMRO-DPMNE Government could be seen. The ‘Colourful Revolution’ saw protesters attack the newly constructed facades of state and other prominent buildings and monuments with a palette of paint worthy of Kandinsky. While I was explaining these events to John, our hostess proudly informed us that her building was one of the few in the centre not to have its façade so appallingly done up to the ‘Neo-Classical’ style now de rigueur thanks to ‘Skopje 2014’. No doubt my ‘tour guide’ act was already becoming tiresome to John. It was past midnight. John must have been thinking “Only 19 days to go!”

We pulled into a triangular courtyard off one of the side streets that leads to Macedonia Square. We collected our stuff, headed out on to the main Macedonia Street, and were met with rows of waited tables bursting in to the street from the abundance of cafes, all pumping out pop music. The cooking of corn on a makeshift barbecue along with the smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the still of the night, both lent themselves to my first noticing the enveloping heat that the evening still possessed. Romance was lost however, when a lone pensioner began wailing on a nearby bench. Over the course of our stay, we would hear her a couple of times, even at this hour, howling without interruption from residents or passersby.

We made our way up to the 6^th and top floor of the apartment block, the entrance to which was opposite the wailing lady, and entered through the door to the left. Our studio apartment was ideal for the two of us, but the balcony that overlooked Macedonia Square was its USP. Once our hostess made arrangements for our morning visit to the police station to record our visit, we unpacked essentials for the morning, turned on the air con, and called it a night.

My Images of SEE – 16:24, Friday 26th August

I left the hotel refreshed, cooled, and spoken to my mum. It was still awkwardly hot and I had decided that I would go into town to eat, so I passed the train station, and series of squares, north at night. Surprisingly they were quite busy. The main square was also rammed with people. I turned west from there, buying a drink on the way, and arrived at the small square I visited this morning and afternoon. I found a table near to where I sat for lunch and ordered water and wine. I’m quite partial to a carbonated water now. I read whilst my order of chicken and bacon skewers was cooked. I ate, then read more in the bustling square, as it was at 21:00. I finished my wine and decided I’d had enough, so walked back to the hotel. The square in front of the train station was also busy. I had a lovely nights rest.

I woke up before my alarm, so I went for breakfast straight away whilst it was fresh. Fully fuelled, I went to bed and relaxed until 11:00. I then jumped in the shower, changed, and then packed. That thing gets heavier, but I managed to cram it all in. I departed the hotel, paying the 20kn ‘City Tax’ then made it to the train station for 11:55. I bought a sandwich at a kiosk at the underground shopping ‘mall’. The sweat was pouring off me. I went into Konzum and bought crisps, water and flavoured iced tea.

I then went to the tracks as the board still said that the train would arrive at 12:30. As I ate, a lad approached me to see if it was platform 1, and whether the train was going to Slovenia. I confirmed the two queries. He was South Korean, 21 and got chatting. He had started in Dubrovnik 2 weeks ago and went up the coast until Zagreb. He will finish in Budapest. He was studying Business Management. He sat by me and when the train arrived we boarded together he sat in front of me. It was like a decade old Pendolino with proper seats, air con and curtains. I learned through the journey that there were also refreshments on offer and clean toilets! Wow!

I bought the Guardian again, seizing the chance, and settled down to read that when three police officers came up and were checking passports. How efficient. After stamping mine, the ticket conductor waived me past once I flashed my Interrail pass. Within 40 minutes I was having my pass checked, and passport, by border crossing. I’m not used to the speeds the train was doing. I was now in Slovenia. However, this was the first time I saw someone getting chucked off. A woman of 30-odd was asked to leave. Don’t know why, but she was in tears as she departed.

Slovenia was more hilly than mountainous at first. Lovely green trees filled the small valleys surrounding the river running parallel to us. We arrived at Ljubljana at 15:00. So I got off, walked 10 mins to locate cash, then returned to eat at the train station. I then took a rip off taxi to the hostel charging me €15 for a 10 minute trip. I arrived, checked in, then had a quick rest.

My Images of SEE – 18:10, Monday 22nd August

I walked to the market and bought a couple of magnets, 4 postcards and a key ring. I then went to the museum near the Latin bridge about the assassination of Franz Ferdinand. It was simply a large room, but covered the Austro-Hungarian occupation and then the incident itself. They actually had Gavrilo Princip’s clothes and gun used on the day. Very intriguing. I then walked alongside the river out of the old town, west. Again the sun was piercing.

I reached the Parliament building that was opposite the shopping mall I went to two days ago. I took a photo and continued to the museum. The first one I went to was closed today; So I continued to the next one. It was housed in a Soviet-esque building, with weeds growing in the cracks in the tiles and being shrouded in bushes and trees. I went in, paid, and bought a programme.

In the main atrium there was a board, 20 ft long that was a wall that Sarajevans were asked to put up info on loved ones last year. It was housed here now. There were news clippings, photo’s of loved ones murdered, photo’s of people houses – then and now. But two things specifically stuck out. One was a blue and white-stripped jumper. It had a dark stain on it. Below was a photo of a 7 year old boy, who was wearing the said jumper Luckily for me, the viewer, the photo was of a happy occasion. But it got to me, emotionally, that the boy was no more – and would have been a young adult now. The second was a series of photo’s. 4 A4 sheets, 2 photo’s on each. On it was written the town of Visegrad. It showed men cowering, near red plastic chairs in what must have been a former canteen, and in the process of being bludgeoned to death. From cowering, to blood soaked, to laying there motionless. I felt sick.

I went upstairs to a room split between 2 exhibitions. I continued with the siege first of all. There was the story of the siege, in government documents, photo’s, newspaper articles – and a range of exhibits such as uniforms, weapons, make shift cookers, food examples, and evidence of continued culture and arts. It was very emotional. I left a comment in the guestbook.  I then went around ‘the history of 1,000 years of Bosnia’ exhibit, that was more a written experience, but had a couple of exhibits. Back downstairs in a side room was a small explanation of the first written acknowledgment of the Banate of Bosnia. In another, there were several before and after shots around Sarajevo. I then left and went to the mall. I ate at Viapiano again. I wrote my final postcard to Kirsty and Sean then.

I walked back to the old town, with resources for the train ride from the mall. I found a post office near the Bezistan, and sent it off. Around the corner I saw a pub the other day, “Cheers”, so I popped in for a drink and read. After an hour I left for the hotel again.

My Images of SEE – 10:19, Monday 22nd August

Again, once it became dusk, I ventured out. I wanted to look for a proper restaurant i.e. one I could eat and drink at. It seems that you can only do one of the other here. So I wondered around the old town, walking past a lot of food places. I then walked to the more Habsburg part of town, then back into the old town. I picked a place called Hacienda. It was quiet, and I was the only person inside what seemed to be a mini nightclub. So I had cocktails and fajitas. To finish I had chocolate pancakes. It came to 35km, the most I had spent so far. By the time I left, the old town was quiet – as some shops hadn’t been open all day, so those closing now added to the quietness. I saw a bookshop with English titles on display. I then left and returned to the hotel.

It was a hot night, so slept uncomfortably. At 09:20 though I went down for breakfast and opted for cheese rather than Nutella for a change. I talked to the receptionist, thanking her for the tip regarding the view. I asked her where the Parliament building was, and she said it was by the museums & Holiday Inn – where I planned to go later. I then got changed to leave.

My Images of SEE – 15:19, Sunday 21st August

I asked the receptionist where the best place was to walk to, to get a view of the city. She said that a 20 minute walk up the hill near the hotel would get me that. So I walked to a corner shop for refreshments. I then walked north up a quiet road, past a Muslim cemetery. A lot of the dates of death ended between 1992 and 1995. I continued in the blazing heat up the very steep hill. I was wet with sweat by now. At the top of the hill, I took a sharp right where the road flattened. I walked 200 yards to the edge, near a tower’s base and saw the city. The hills of the long valley were steep and green: peppered with terracotta-roofed houses, becoming less in density as they went higher. The valley stretched out for a good few kilometers, until Soviet style blocks guarded the entrance to a wide plain (although still in a valley) where the airport is located. I then walked back down to the old town, the other side of the cemetery.

I walked around the old town, through it towards the river. I wandered along the river to the Latin bridge, and gazed upon the plaque that notified me of the site on which Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sofia were shot by Gavrilo Princip. I then walked into town, towards the Austro-Hungarian built area, then stopped at a café for lunch. It was just outside a mosque and, for 5 minutes during my stay there, a call to prayer sounded out. After an hour I left and walked through the old town looking for gifts, but gave up after a while and retreated back to the hotel.

My Images of SEE - 20:43, Friday 19th August

The young couple departed 2 stops later, in the suburbs of New Belgrade/Zemun I presume. We chugged along slowly to the next stop and 3 railway workers came into the cabin. I just read. I think they were getting a lift to near the border (which they indeed did, to Sid). I just read in the stifling heat that was produced with no really open windows and 4 men. The journey to the border, through the Vojvodina, was what can now be described as a normal journey – Stop-Start-Stop-Start. There must be a rule that train drivers shouldn’t trust car drivers at crossroads, as we always seemed to slow or stop and have a few blasts of the horn.

Anyway the scenery was what I came to expect of Serbia too – flat. Save for a parallel hill that seemed to follow us to the border; to the north, all there was were cornfields. One thing to note is that we didn’t pass another sizeable settlement until Bosnia. What there were copious amounts of were villages and hamlets. Some no bigger than 20 houses. The journey to the border was quicker than expected and the Serbian customs quicker than usual. We then crossed over. Now I was in recent history.

This was the border region of the early 90’s conflict between Croatia and Serbia (or Croats and Serbs I should say). Again the geography was similar to Serbia. The dwellings were the same too. But now there was the Latin alphabet. We passed through Vinkovci train station. It felt eerie to me, as I know that the town of Vukovar was only kilometers away, and was one day a bustling town. Then it was razed to the ground. Incredible.

The train continued west to Strizivojne Vrpolje, where we then turned south. 20 minutes we were at the border again. A swift check by the Croats let us then go forth over the Sava to Bosnia & Herzegovina – but technically “Republika Srpska”. We then went through another swift check and were free to continue. For a while the geography remained the same. Then it began to get hilly, then more so like the Conwy Valley, or Llangollen. They were covered in a ripe green expanse of forest. We meandered in-between hills and through valleys. Occasionally we went through the hills. Slowly we reached Doboj, still in Republika Srpska – just.

About 20 minutes from here I noticed two things that stuck out. One was that every village or small town we passed there were minarets and towers topped with the crescent and star. They were so numerous such as like passing Welsh village by Welsh village and coming across chapels and churches. Except these were new, and in use; not decrepit and in disrepair. It was an odd yet satisfying sight, as I now knew I was closer to Sarajevo and in the Croat/Muslim Federation of BiH.

The second was my first physical proof of the war. Pock-holed buildings were springing up. It caught me off guard actually, and made me look at my surroundings a lot more clearly and with context. If they didn’t have pockmarks, then they had filler plugged over them. But the scar was still underneath. Also to note was that there were a lot of houses being built, or had recently been built, from Croatia to Sarajevo in fact.

An old man came in, then left. Then a young lad came for the remainder of the journey. We then came up to Zenica, which is the largest town I’ve seen since Belgrade. An industrial city from appearances. But very much Muslim dominated. We continued on.

From here, a new road must be in construction as road works made the traffic build up as we scuttled past. At 18:00, and with the sun on its final descent to dusk, we arrived. Just a short 10 hours. 

I walked out of the station, towards a main road that would lead me directly to my hotel. Along the way I passed the ‘famous’ Holiday Inn hotel, I passed market that was mortared by the Serbs ending scores of lives, and skirted the Old Town. I also withdrew cash.

After 25/30 minutes of walking I reached the Pansion Stari Grad; a friendly guy welcomed me and explained about breakfast and wifi. I went up and showered, then had 20 minutes to myself. The old town is on the doorstep. So I had a little walk around, when a firework went off to mark the end of fasting.

I sat in a restaurant-cum-fast food place and sat next to a young lad. I had cevapci – the veal sausages with naan style open bread and onions. Lush. And only for 10km (£5) with a Coke. I then had an ice cream for 2km then walked to 60 seconds to the hotel where I relaxed, then slept. 

My Images of SEE – 08:17, Friday 19th August

Liam snoozed and I relaxed whilst waiting for my clothes to dry. I went down and the lady at reception had put them into a basket for me. So I went up, woke Liam, and we got ready to leave. We left the apartment, through the High Street, and down a little maze of side streets to the Brankov Most – the bridge to the ‘New Belgrade’ side of the Sava. The view north was amazing, just a horizon of forest.

We walked over the busy road bridge, which took us 20 minutes, to a park on the other side. Immediately in front of us was a shopping mall. So we hid from the evening heat inside and grabbed a snack. We then walked around the mall and up a blocked off road to a park. 

This was where the Beer Festival was being held. An adjacent road to it was crammed full of people going to it: teenagers, middle-aged men and women, families – the lot. We had a light padding down at the gate and walked down a security alley to the main arena. There were stalls of the different beers all around, the ground messy from a few days of partying. We grabbed a £1.50 beer each and went to the arena. The sun was creeping slowly behind the stage.

A nice folk band were on – 8 members I think and a man in his seventies on lead vocals. Songs lasted about 10 minutes long it seemed, and had an almost ‘Greek’ feel to them, although it was definitely a Serbian set up. 

We happily listened for 30 minutes, grabbing another beer, but then made our way back as dusk was approaching. More people were arriving as we exited. We walked back across the bridge at just the right time. The sun was leaving a glorious day, and we say the city light up on its banks. The fortress just glowed from the forest around it. 

St Sava’s Church the other side of town was a Christian beacon for the city. We walked to Republic Square, which was still busy, and had a couple of cocktails. We then went to the 24-hour convenience store next to our hostel and grabbed snacks for the morning. We watched some shows on my phone then slept.

We woke at 06:45. We showered and finally packed before living the hostel at 07:20. We walked the last time through the High Street, then down Balkanska to the train station. It was hot already. My train was at platform 4, and we confirmed Liam’s. We sat opposite the train for 10 minutes then said our goodbye’s. I was now on my own.

The train hardly filled up whilst I waited until the 08:15 departure. I had a young lad and girl for company as I departed Belgrade over the river Sava.

My Images of SEE - 08:44, Thursday 18th August

The cabin was hot, so we opened the window. But the noise from the train was loud as it was the next thing to our carriage. We took in the dusk, then played some card games. We then went on to our separate bunks. Still being hot, but with the shutter being down to save the morning night pouring in, I put a loo roll between it and the window ledge. That gave me some respite from the heat. At 05:00 we were awoken by Romanian border control. Passport then customs questions. 30 minutes later we had the same on the Serbian side. We then drifted off again. Prior to this, at one station (presumably Timisoara) we heard LeAnn Rimes play into the night – odd.

We woke properly at 08:00, but, as guessed, the train wouldn’t arrive at its scheduled time. However, the Vojvodina was beautiful. Severely flat, covered in corn crops or sunflowers, it was a rural idyll. We travelled along at a leisurely pace until Belgrade was in the distance. We passed over the mighty Danube (or Dunav), which was a good 400-500 meters wide. Forest on one side, and urbania on the other. At a snail’s pace we meandered through the city to our station. Another glorious day to welcome us to a new city.

We departed our train then went to reservations. We needed information on our separate train journeys on Friday. The lady there, speaking great English, said that there was a straight through train to Sarajevo. That was for 08:15. For the Ljubljana train too, it was straight through at 10:20. Neither needed a reservation.We left the Austro-Hungarian inspired building of canary yellow and walked uphill to the centre. 

The geography of the city does explain why it was a favoured bastion for all past empires and nations. Before we reached the main shopping street, we turned back and could see New Belgrade across the Sava. New bridges connecting to something akin to a financial centre. Around us were the odd Soviet block, but they were dominated by their Austro-Hungarian counterparts. We walked up the shopping street, very similar to Cardiff on a sunny afternoon, and left it by one block to reach our hostel.

We climbed the five flights of stairs to it and were warmly received. Our room was just being prepared, so we were told to wait. We checked up on the Internet, whilst the hostess took our passports. 15 minutes later we were in our room. It was a double, but small yet comfortable. We showered then went exploring. We continued our walk up the modern shopping street, with table and chairs scattered everywhere for all the cafés and restaurants. At the end we crossed the road in to the park that contained the Kalegdan Fortress. We wondered through the trees and souvenir stalls to reach the western part of the outer wall. The views were exceptional. High walls meant you could see down, as well as across. New Belgrade was on a hill too; in the distance, Zemun. Just before the Sava linked up to the Danube proper, a part of the Danube seeps in a kilometer beforehand creating an island – War Island to be exact. A massive forest engulfing the island at the confluence of the two rivers. The Sava a tad greener than the Danube, a duller green/grey.

We walked clockwise around the walls, we passed Ali Pasha’s tomb in the grounds, an Austro-Hungarian wooden house, then a church. The fortifications were robust, especially its buttresses. We found a café in the walls so stopped for a beer. The views behind us were awe inspiring. 

As the heat progressed, we walked back into town, via the purchasing of souvenirs, then found a café to eat in. Service was slow but my savoury pancake was to die for. We then went shopping for the first time on our trip. Liam bought a nice top, and I saw some English books on the area’s history. After a walkabout, we returned to our hostel.

After a refreshing sleep we then went out for dinner. This was on Liam as a thank you. We walked past Republic Square on to the Skardarijia. This was a cobbled street on a low rise hill that was dimly lit. It has about 15 restaurants on and was pleasant in the evening sun. We went to one on the corner that had a band playing. The waiter took our drinks order and offered us a starter. This is where the feeling of Skopje began to return. He brought over some toast and hummus, then took our main meal order. We both ordered steak. Our candle was lit, and we were sat on homemade log benches and table. It was lovely appreciating the hustle and bustle.

Then our true starter arrived, a massive portion on prosciutto, cream cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, butter/cream and starch muffins. We ate a quarter of it. Then our beef came. It was massive and lovely, but we ordered a salad too. We didn’t touch that. We declined dessert.

We left then walked down the leafy street and turned left. We reached a bar with an outside area and had some cocktails whilst chatting. We left at 22:00 and slept.