Today is my last riding with Roman, he has a warm showers organized in Batina and I will start to get some miles done. When we investigate the area we are camped in we find a creek with old fishing boats. Nothing is new, with the herons soaring and squawking over the water it feels prehistoric.
Can't remember the morning much, will fill it in as it comes to me. When we reach Batoina it is with heavy heart I say goodbye to my new French Friend. He lets out a little sigh of disapointment as I ride off, which really touches me. Within 5km I am totally lost. I ask some old boys sat on a bench and they point me in the opposite direction. Following Roman and his working GPS and good map have made me lazy in the navigation dept. I get back to the point where we departed and notice the road I've missed. It was closed to cars. Off I trot thinking this is the perfect cycling road. A new bypass being built with tarmac laid but not open yet. This lasts about 10 minutes then turns to rubble. I slink off the road at its finish and into a town. I try out my new found language skills on a few locals but no camping opportunities present themselves. I'm nearly through the town when I spot a man in a driveway and do a quick u-turn and go up the drive. The A group of people from grandmas to kids are sitting round a table. I ask about camping opportunities and am told that I can camp in the car park for free. I feel a bit bad when I'm told its a bed n breakfast. Luckily for me Alexander the son speaks really good English and I entertain the crowd with my tent. They make sarastic remarks about the tent having another room once you get inside. Alexander lives here with his wife and kids, mum n dad and at the moment two Serbian guys are staying in the bnb. His cousin and wife and kid are also visting from up the road. Once camp is set up I'm invited to join them and they furnish me with some of the next door neighbour's home made white wine. They drink it with carbonated water, spritzer style. I try one of these but decide it's better without the fizz. Apparently Alexander only drinks it like this and red wine only with cola. It's not my idea of a nice drink but each to his own.
Apparently they dont drink beer of an evening because its too expensive, just wine. After much chatting with Alexander as my interpreter the Serbs are given a good ribbing by the croatians. It's a just a bit of banter that you see all the time back home between Northerners and Southerners or the English and the Welsh or Scots. I ask about camping in Serbia and the croatians say in Serbia you can camp in the streets. They all then teach me the wrong word for cheers to great hilarity as I tell evryone who arrives to “f*ck you” as I raise my glass. Then the homemade raki comes out. More firewater and I'm shown the distillery in the back garden where they make it. Very healthy, Alexander keeps informing me. At around 9pm various people go home or go to bed and acorns keep hitting us on the head as the wind picks up. Mum decides there will be storm tonight and insists I sleep in one of the spare rooms instead of the tent. I try to say that the tent will be fine, but she is not a woman to be messed with. Off I go to a proper bed, TV and power sockets. I really am spoilt. All this time as I'm finding happens quite a lot in these situations I have not had a chance to eat anything as the hospitality has taken precedence over dinner. I eat a lump of cheese and ham and have peculiar dreams about raki and acorns.
Can't remember the morning much, will fill it in as it comes to me. When we reach Batoina it is with heavy heart I say goodbye to my new French Friend. He lets out a little sigh of disapointment as I ride off, which really touches me. Within 5km I am totally lost. I ask some old boys sat on a bench and they point me in the opposite direction. Following Roman and his working GPS and good map have made me lazy in the navigation dept. I get back to the point where we departed and notice the road I've missed. It was closed to cars. Off I trot thinking this is the perfect cycling road. A new bypass being built with tarmac laid but not open yet. This lasts about 10 minutes then turns to rubble. I slink off the road at its finish and into a town. I try out my new found language skills on a few locals but no camping opportunities present themselves. I'm nearly through the town when I spot a man in a driveway and do a quick u-turn and go up the drive. The A group of people from grandmas to kids are sitting round a table. I ask about camping opportunities and am told that I can camp in the car park for free. I feel a bit bad when I'm told its a bed n breakfast. Luckily for me Alexander the son speaks really good English and I entertain the crowd with my tent. They make sarastic remarks about the tent having another room once you get inside. Alexander lives here with his wife and kids, mum n dad and at the moment two Serbian guys are staying in the bnb. His cousin and wife and kid are also visting from up the road. Once camp is set up I'm invited to join them and they furnish me with some of the next door neighbour's home made white wine. They drink it with carbonated water, spritzer style. I try one of these but decide it's better without the fizz. Apparently Alexander only drinks it like this and red wine only with cola. It's not my idea of a nice drink but each to his own.
Apparently they dont drink beer of an evening because its too expensive, just wine. After much chatting with Alexander as my interpreter the Serbs are given a good ribbing by the croatians. It's a just a bit of banter that you see all the time back home between Northerners and Southerners or the English and the Welsh or Scots. I ask about camping in Serbia and the croatians say in Serbia you can camp in the streets. They all then teach me the wrong word for cheers to great hilarity as I tell evryone who arrives to “f*ck you” as I raise my glass. Then the homemade raki comes out. More firewater and I'm shown the distillery in the back garden where they make it. Very healthy, Alexander keeps informing me. At around 9pm various people go home or go to bed and acorns keep hitting us on the head as the wind picks up. Mum decides there will be storm tonight and insists I sleep in one of the spare rooms instead of the tent. I try to say that the tent will be fine, but she is not a woman to be messed with. Off I go to a proper bed, TV and power sockets. I really am spoilt. All this time as I'm finding happens quite a lot in these situations I have not had a chance to eat anything as the hospitality has taken precedence over dinner. I eat a lump of cheese and ham and have peculiar dreams about raki and acorns.
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