Leaving Budapest, we are reminded that the next few days will be challenging with a change of hostel every night and many miles of road in between. But it's amazing how the bus is becoming our home, the one constant as everything around us changes. Some of us are drawn to the same seat every time, tho we still try to mix it up and circulate as much as possible. It's clear that small groups are already forming as a result of age and/or interests but still we work to ensure the groups remain inclusive and no-one is left on their own unless they want to be. But it's easy to lose people in such a large group. Our leader, Lana, counts us on the bus each time we move location but as we have a tendency to move up and down as she's doing this, occasionally we gain a new unidentified team member.
Some use their time on the bus on their computers, catching up on blogs or emails or watching movies, others to recover from the excesses of the night before, Ipods on. Others take the opportunity to get to know people they haven't spent much time with yet. As the days roll on, we all get more confident at leaving bits and pieces in our new 'home' , on the luggage rack or seat, thus claiming our personal space. Nonetheless, the bags do not seem any emptier or lighter as we drag or carry them from hostel to hostel.
As we pass through the outskirts of Belgrade the remnants of a war take our breath away. Buildings half destroyed sit side by side with those half built and abandoned. Reconstruction cannot be easy during a global economic crisis. In the people, contrasts are also evident. The older generation look even older than their years. But its a global marketplace and teenagers are the same the world over. It cannot be easy walking in skinny jeans and 4” stilettoes along broken or non existent pavements.
As we try to get closer to the hostel location, and make a circular pass for the umpteenth time, it becomes clear that narrow East European streets were not constructed with coach travel in mind. Even when we have access, there is nowhere to park as the streets are littered with cars parked at various angles to the pavement. Local buses pass us with millimetres to spare as we work out how to get within walking distance. Eventually a young man comes running up to the coach, hot and sweaty from the effort. On the bus, there is a faint smell of cheese and we all check our feet. We exit the city again and conduct another circuit and are told that when we stop, we will have seconds to all got off the coach and offload the luggage. As we pull over, and the door opens, someone shouts 'Go.Go.Go' and we all pile off like SAS commandoes. A chain of luggage is established and in a couple of minutes our driver is pulling away with only a small pile up of traffic behind us. On the pavement, locals try to negotiate our luggage and avoid getting whacked as we try to hoist bags on our backs. For the first time, the boys will be in a different hostel to the girls. We girls follow the young man who had joined our bus. As we enter the building, it becomes clear that this will be our most challenging accommodation to date. We are in someone's home and the rooms are very cramped with no room for luggage by the beds, or anywhere else. There are 3 sets of bunk beds, all brand new, in our room. It is hot and stuffy, even before we enter it, so we try to open the window for some air. But the window does not open to the outside. We look across a small covered area with a chair and some personal belongings to a tiny kitchen with one cupboard, a sink, and a small kitchen table. Beyond that, we can see the shower/toilet. We are told the entrance hall is the 'lounge', 'breakfast' room and wifi area. We shuffle past the small table with 3 chairs either side and wonder how we are all going to fit. In the 'lounge' there is a faint smell of cheese. But Ivan, our host, is camp and adorable and nothing is too much trouble for him. He invites us to drink a toast of Slivovic with him. Most of us manage to knock it back in one. Some cough and splutter as the heat makes its way back up to their throat.
We have little time in Belgrade, so some of us decide to go straight to the main Belgrade attraction, The Fort. Linda leads the way and off we troupe in the right direction attracting some attention as a couple of us try to commit harikiri crossing the road in front of speeding traffic. Walking through the main pedestrian area, it is clear that Belgrade is pulling its socks up. Shops like Noa Noa, Mango, and many other 'labels' are there and the street's cafes are buzzing. In our 'travellers' clothes we somehow look more out of place than anywhere we've been before.
As we approach the Fort, there are a few stalls selling souvenirs but little else to indicate the history or a route to follow round. We split into small groups as we wander around, stopping for a group photo on some steps. Beyond the steps is a fantastic view over the city and the convergence of the Danube and Sava rivers . We linger to watch the sun go down and take some snaps. Inside the fort modern day tanks and cannons are lined up facing inwards. As Frankie prances along the ramparts to pose for photos with a 30m drop on the other side and no railings, a sign catches our eye. 'Walking in this area, you risk your life'
After dinner, we head back to the hostel, stopping to snap photos. As we make our way back in the dark, through the park with a small elegant building, there is a guard at the road barrier, although there is no enclosed area. Frankie is worried about going through the park as it is so dark so , to lighten the mood, we decide it would be good to limbo under the barrier. Kenneth (our professional photographer) stops behind to take some photos but catches the group up, ashen faced. The guard has insisted on deleting the photos, at gunpoint. We all agree, Belgrade is not our favourite place so far
When we get back to the hostel, Ivan has provided sweets, fruit, teas and coffee for us as we tap tap away on our computers, updating blogs and Facebook statuses. We notice the smell of cheese. Later in the night, I get up in the night. Ivan starts from his chair in position as guard outside our door . There is a hint of cheese in the air.
Next morning we tumble out of bed for breakfast. There is toast, jam, ham and cheese.
Some use their time on the bus on their computers, catching up on blogs or emails or watching movies, others to recover from the excesses of the night before, Ipods on. Others take the opportunity to get to know people they haven't spent much time with yet. As the days roll on, we all get more confident at leaving bits and pieces in our new 'home' , on the luggage rack or seat, thus claiming our personal space. Nonetheless, the bags do not seem any emptier or lighter as we drag or carry them from hostel to hostel.
As we pass through the outskirts of Belgrade the remnants of a war take our breath away. Buildings half destroyed sit side by side with those half built and abandoned. Reconstruction cannot be easy during a global economic crisis. In the people, contrasts are also evident. The older generation look even older than their years. But its a global marketplace and teenagers are the same the world over. It cannot be easy walking in skinny jeans and 4” stilettoes along broken or non existent pavements.
As we try to get closer to the hostel location, and make a circular pass for the umpteenth time, it becomes clear that narrow East European streets were not constructed with coach travel in mind. Even when we have access, there is nowhere to park as the streets are littered with cars parked at various angles to the pavement. Local buses pass us with millimetres to spare as we work out how to get within walking distance. Eventually a young man comes running up to the coach, hot and sweaty from the effort. On the bus, there is a faint smell of cheese and we all check our feet. We exit the city again and conduct another circuit and are told that when we stop, we will have seconds to all got off the coach and offload the luggage. As we pull over, and the door opens, someone shouts 'Go.Go.Go' and we all pile off like SAS commandoes. A chain of luggage is established and in a couple of minutes our driver is pulling away with only a small pile up of traffic behind us. On the pavement, locals try to negotiate our luggage and avoid getting whacked as we try to hoist bags on our backs. For the first time, the boys will be in a different hostel to the girls. We girls follow the young man who had joined our bus. As we enter the building, it becomes clear that this will be our most challenging accommodation to date. We are in someone's home and the rooms are very cramped with no room for luggage by the beds, or anywhere else. There are 3 sets of bunk beds, all brand new, in our room. It is hot and stuffy, even before we enter it, so we try to open the window for some air. But the window does not open to the outside. We look across a small covered area with a chair and some personal belongings to a tiny kitchen with one cupboard, a sink, and a small kitchen table. Beyond that, we can see the shower/toilet. We are told the entrance hall is the 'lounge', 'breakfast' room and wifi area. We shuffle past the small table with 3 chairs either side and wonder how we are all going to fit. In the 'lounge' there is a faint smell of cheese. But Ivan, our host, is camp and adorable and nothing is too much trouble for him. He invites us to drink a toast of Slivovic with him. Most of us manage to knock it back in one. Some cough and splutter as the heat makes its way back up to their throat.
We have little time in Belgrade, so some of us decide to go straight to the main Belgrade attraction, The Fort. Linda leads the way and off we troupe in the right direction attracting some attention as a couple of us try to commit harikiri crossing the road in front of speeding traffic. Walking through the main pedestrian area, it is clear that Belgrade is pulling its socks up. Shops like Noa Noa, Mango, and many other 'labels' are there and the street's cafes are buzzing. In our 'travellers' clothes we somehow look more out of place than anywhere we've been before.
As we approach the Fort, there are a few stalls selling souvenirs but little else to indicate the history or a route to follow round. We split into small groups as we wander around, stopping for a group photo on some steps. Beyond the steps is a fantastic view over the city and the convergence of the Danube and Sava rivers . We linger to watch the sun go down and take some snaps. Inside the fort modern day tanks and cannons are lined up facing inwards. As Frankie prances along the ramparts to pose for photos with a 30m drop on the other side and no railings, a sign catches our eye. 'Walking in this area, you risk your life'
After dinner, we head back to the hostel, stopping to snap photos. As we make our way back in the dark, through the park with a small elegant building, there is a guard at the road barrier, although there is no enclosed area. Frankie is worried about going through the park as it is so dark so , to lighten the mood, we decide it would be good to limbo under the barrier. Kenneth (our professional photographer) stops behind to take some photos but catches the group up, ashen faced. The guard has insisted on deleting the photos, at gunpoint. We all agree, Belgrade is not our favourite place so far
When we get back to the hostel, Ivan has provided sweets, fruit, teas and coffee for us as we tap tap away on our computers, updating blogs and Facebook statuses. We notice the smell of cheese. Later in the night, I get up in the night. Ivan starts from his chair in position as guard outside our door . There is a hint of cheese in the air.
Next morning we tumble out of bed for breakfast. There is toast, jam, ham and cheese.
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