Friday, 25 May 2007
It has become more difficult to keep up to date with the blogging as we are travelling around. I hope to be able to fill in the gaps when I have a chance.
Bob and I are now in Belgrade (Beograd), Serbia (Srbija), staying in the flat of Rad’s sister in a central part of the town. It is a huge change from the urbane western European style of Vienna and Budapest. We feel like we are a different, now Eastern European culture.
I had placed the toe of my foot tentatively on the seat in the train opposite for the first time for only seconds when a guard came around and remonstrated with me in gruff tones. I may not have understood what he said, however I certainly understood the meaning! Bob was out of the compartment and I fumbled around for quite a while attempting to find our tickets. The older man near the door I think told the guard that we were Australians (guileless), and on presenting my tickets the attitude seemed to change considerably.
A glimpse of Cyrillic script on a wall was the first indication that I had that we had left Hungary and had entered Serbia. The passport inspector quizzed me on how long we were staying, what are intentions were and where we were going after Belgrade. I am still unfamiliar with all the countries boundaries after the break-up of the former Republic of Yugoslavia, so muttered Croatia as our destination. Afterwards I realised of course that our next planned stops (Bar and Kotor) were in Montenegro.
Running a bit behind schedule, we passed through the names of towns and cities familiar to one from the war in the Balkans so recently, such as Novi Sad where our fellow cabin mate departed. Eventually we slowly reached the platform of Beograd where Rad’s brother-in-law, Nik was there to meet us. Now past nine pm, he hailed a cab and took us to the small but comfortable flat opposite the largest Orthodox Church in the world. Despite being built for over a century, it was still under construction. It’s large, dominant dome provided us with a ready landmark to identify our location at any time.
It was late and we took our leave and went to bed.
Saturday, 26 May
I had developed a cold, no doubt exacerbated by the propensity of others to smoke both in Hungary and locally. Mili and Nik came around at the appointed time, 10:00am in the morning, and Nik and Bob went off exploring the ‘green’ market nearby while Mili and I chatted. As she had been an English teacher, there was not confusion in communicating, although I am always embarrassed at my poor language skills and inability to speak the local tongue.
When the lads returned, Bob was like a little boy in his excitement at what he saw, and some of the things he bought at the market. He had a bag overflowing with baby spinach leaves which he bought for around dinar; a full kilo of large red strawberries ( dinar); some smoked meat; a loaf of rye bread. It was the cheese pavilion, with row after row of fresh cheese that excited him most and he was keen for me to go back to and experience this too.
First, we had some bureaucratic business to attend to. We were required to register with the police within 24 hours in order to get an exit permit to leave the country (quite a good idea). However, nothing was quite this simple, nor ever quick. We had three visits to two different police stations over the course of the day, and still have to return to tell them that we are leaving.
The kindness of some people was wonderfully displayed by the actions of a barista in a small café we went into near the main police station. Although his fine looking espresso machine was kaput, he made us good, Turkish coffee and delivered to us some small, rich chocolately treats gratis as
It has become more difficult to keep up to date with the blogging as we are travelling around. I hope to be able to fill in the gaps when I have a chance.
Bob and I are now in Belgrade (Beograd), Serbia (Srbija), staying in the flat of Rad’s sister in a central part of the town. It is a huge change from the urbane western European style of Vienna and Budapest. We feel like we are a different, now Eastern European culture.
I had placed the toe of my foot tentatively on the seat in the train opposite for the first time for only seconds when a guard came around and remonstrated with me in gruff tones. I may not have understood what he said, however I certainly understood the meaning! Bob was out of the compartment and I fumbled around for quite a while attempting to find our tickets. The older man near the door I think told the guard that we were Australians (guileless), and on presenting my tickets the attitude seemed to change considerably.
A glimpse of Cyrillic script on a wall was the first indication that I had that we had left Hungary and had entered Serbia. The passport inspector quizzed me on how long we were staying, what are intentions were and where we were going after Belgrade. I am still unfamiliar with all the countries boundaries after the break-up of the former Republic of Yugoslavia, so muttered Croatia as our destination. Afterwards I realised of course that our next planned stops (Bar and Kotor) were in Montenegro.
Running a bit behind schedule, we passed through the names of towns and cities familiar to one from the war in the Balkans so recently, such as Novi Sad where our fellow cabin mate departed. Eventually we slowly reached the platform of Beograd where Rad’s brother-in-law, Nik was there to meet us. Now past nine pm, he hailed a cab and took us to the small but comfortable flat opposite the largest Orthodox Church in the world. Despite being built for over a century, it was still under construction. It’s large, dominant dome provided us with a ready landmark to identify our location at any time.
It was late and we took our leave and went to bed.
Saturday, 26 May
I had developed a cold, no doubt exacerbated by the propensity of others to smoke both in Hungary and locally. Mili and Nik came around at the appointed time, 10:00am in the morning, and Nik and Bob went off exploring the ‘green’ market nearby while Mili and I chatted. As she had been an English teacher, there was not confusion in communicating, although I am always embarrassed at my poor language skills and inability to speak the local tongue.
When the lads returned, Bob was like a little boy in his excitement at what he saw, and some of the things he bought at the market. He had a bag overflowing with baby spinach leaves which he bought for around dinar; a full kilo of large red strawberries ( dinar); some smoked meat; a loaf of rye bread. It was the cheese pavilion, with row after row of fresh cheese that excited him most and he was keen for me to go back to and experience this too.
First, we had some bureaucratic business to attend to. We were required to register with the police within 24 hours in order to get an exit permit to leave the country (quite a good idea). However, nothing was quite this simple, nor ever quick. We had three visits to two different police stations over the course of the day, and still have to return to tell them that we are leaving.
The kindness of some people was wonderfully displayed by the actions of a barista in a small café we went into near the main police station. Although his fine looking espresso machine was kaput, he made us good, Turkish coffee and delivered to us some small, rich chocolately treats gratis as
You are getting me some chocolates, aren't you?