When I awake and look at the big house I realise it's still a building site. I hadn't seen this in the dark.
Dusko arrives in the car with two sachets of Nescafe and gets the coffee on whilst I pack up. Dad comes out to join us at the table. It's 8am and they have got me drinking home made whiskey. I only say yes to a tiny one so as not too offend. The kindle starts to work so we can have a very very slow conversation via google translate. It turns out that the family are Bosnian Refugees who moved to Serbia during the conflicts in 2006. This comes about as I say I am very grateful for their hospitality and I think what Dusko tries to say is that he understands what it is like to be a stranger in a strange land. The big house is being built by Momiras (Dusko's wife's boss) who is something big to do with Heidleburg press in Germany. Dusko works in a sock factory/shop and insists on giving me a pair of B-twin socks to match my cycling top. They have been well used already when it gets cold at night as my sleeping bag now has a hole in the foot dept. Milka, Dusko's mum comes out and asks me to have breakfast and a fine plate of chorizo, eggs and tomatoes arrives.
I'm loaded up with more fruit and a bottle of home made hooch. I'm truly touched by this family's kindness. They have no running water here and the toilet is an outside affair that looks like it's about to fall down. Whilst using said WC it's interesting that as a composting type of toilet there is very little smell. It's actually very nice with the shafts of sunlight coming in, and no worries of trowel disturbance. I leave the family very moved and have a bit of a wobble on my way to Novi Sad. I go in search of gas for the stove but everyone tells me the same thing; only piercable type here in Serbia, not screw on that my stove needs. This means I will have to use petrol or something similar for the first time. This should be interesting on the bone dry grass. I will make a point of testing it on concrete first. As I head towards Novi Sad concrete looms large in the landscape and I'm not really in the mood for a city. When I get there I am rewarded with a 12ft high penny farthing. I ask a girl on a market stall to take a photo of me. She is selling organice fruit and honey and asks me to try a small orange fruit in a paper like shell/leaf. I think its a physallis. I didn't like them when I tried them at home but here the cold juice inside is so refreshing, like little bullets of energy on this very hot day,so I buy a punnet. I have a small lunch in a bar with wifi and then go into the old town. A traditional folk dance is taking place, put on by people of all ages and the music is delightfully haunting as I watch in the shade, hiding from the ever present orange heat. The mood is rather spoilt when the CD starts to jump so I go into the market. A few sovenir stalls at the start of the long parade of stalls gives way to honey, honey and yet more honey. I stop counting at 40 stalls. They each proclaim life giving and medicinal qualities and some people proudly display cups and trophies for their prize winning nectar. I'm not a big honey man so I leave empty handed. I hear music of the Serbian brass band variety, which I particularly like. The band is gathered outside a church and are waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. Then two accordian players turn up, rivals to the brass entertainment and when the betrothed arrive they choose the latter for their wedding entertainment. When the newly married couple leave to get in the car Romany types hassle them for money and cigarettes. No one seems to be bothered by it except the bride and groom. No one steps in to usher them off, perhaps it's accepted practice. No one gives them anything either. I leave Novi Sad and cross the water to Petravaradin, have a quick look around and head off on the euro velo 6 to Belgrade which is 95km away. As soon as I get on the path the signs disappear. I follow my nose and end up in a sand pit where excess water is being expelled from some works going on in the river. I heave the bike back through the sand and take a different turning. This takes me through a small collection of tiny huts and shacks, each has a portion of land joined to the next and each has about three dogs in. (If this is incoherent bare with me, I have a 5 year old girl talking in my ear in Serbski whilst I'm typing).
I decide not to stay here. I follow the track and at last it turns into road and I join the main drag to Belgrade. I stop at a shop for water and beer and the young lad tells me they had two strangers in about an hour ago:)
I search without luck for a camp, asking a few people, but no one is biting. I go down another track and past a brickworks, here I find a scrub field with wild flowers growing in it. It's behind some 10ft tall pamperass grass and seems to fit the bill for the night. Bread and cheese for dinner and I hope that the train 30ft behind me stops running a bit later on.
Dusko arrives in the car with two sachets of Nescafe and gets the coffee on whilst I pack up. Dad comes out to join us at the table. It's 8am and they have got me drinking home made whiskey. I only say yes to a tiny one so as not too offend. The kindle starts to work so we can have a very very slow conversation via google translate. It turns out that the family are Bosnian Refugees who moved to Serbia during the conflicts in 2006. This comes about as I say I am very grateful for their hospitality and I think what Dusko tries to say is that he understands what it is like to be a stranger in a strange land. The big house is being built by Momiras (Dusko's wife's boss) who is something big to do with Heidleburg press in Germany. Dusko works in a sock factory/shop and insists on giving me a pair of B-twin socks to match my cycling top. They have been well used already when it gets cold at night as my sleeping bag now has a hole in the foot dept. Milka, Dusko's mum comes out and asks me to have breakfast and a fine plate of chorizo, eggs and tomatoes arrives.
I'm loaded up with more fruit and a bottle of home made hooch. I'm truly touched by this family's kindness. They have no running water here and the toilet is an outside affair that looks like it's about to fall down. Whilst using said WC it's interesting that as a composting type of toilet there is very little smell. It's actually very nice with the shafts of sunlight coming in, and no worries of trowel disturbance. I leave the family very moved and have a bit of a wobble on my way to Novi Sad. I go in search of gas for the stove but everyone tells me the same thing; only piercable type here in Serbia, not screw on that my stove needs. This means I will have to use petrol or something similar for the first time. This should be interesting on the bone dry grass. I will make a point of testing it on concrete first. As I head towards Novi Sad concrete looms large in the landscape and I'm not really in the mood for a city. When I get there I am rewarded with a 12ft high penny farthing. I ask a girl on a market stall to take a photo of me. She is selling organice fruit and honey and asks me to try a small orange fruit in a paper like shell/leaf. I think its a physallis. I didn't like them when I tried them at home but here the cold juice inside is so refreshing, like little bullets of energy on this very hot day,so I buy a punnet. I have a small lunch in a bar with wifi and then go into the old town. A traditional folk dance is taking place, put on by people of all ages and the music is delightfully haunting as I watch in the shade, hiding from the ever present orange heat. The mood is rather spoilt when the CD starts to jump so I go into the market. A few sovenir stalls at the start of the long parade of stalls gives way to honey, honey and yet more honey. I stop counting at 40 stalls. They each proclaim life giving and medicinal qualities and some people proudly display cups and trophies for their prize winning nectar. I'm not a big honey man so I leave empty handed. I hear music of the Serbian brass band variety, which I particularly like. The band is gathered outside a church and are waiting for the bride and groom to arrive. Then two accordian players turn up, rivals to the brass entertainment and when the betrothed arrive they choose the latter for their wedding entertainment. When the newly married couple leave to get in the car Romany types hassle them for money and cigarettes. No one seems to be bothered by it except the bride and groom. No one steps in to usher them off, perhaps it's accepted practice. No one gives them anything either. I leave Novi Sad and cross the water to Petravaradin, have a quick look around and head off on the euro velo 6 to Belgrade which is 95km away. As soon as I get on the path the signs disappear. I follow my nose and end up in a sand pit where excess water is being expelled from some works going on in the river. I heave the bike back through the sand and take a different turning. This takes me through a small collection of tiny huts and shacks, each has a portion of land joined to the next and each has about three dogs in. (If this is incoherent bare with me, I have a 5 year old girl talking in my ear in Serbski whilst I'm typing).
I decide not to stay here. I follow the track and at last it turns into road and I join the main drag to Belgrade. I stop at a shop for water and beer and the young lad tells me they had two strangers in about an hour ago:)
I search without luck for a camp, asking a few people, but no one is biting. I go down another track and past a brickworks, here I find a scrub field with wild flowers growing in it. It's behind some 10ft tall pamperass grass and seems to fit the bill for the night. Bread and cheese for dinner and I hope that the train 30ft behind me stops running a bit later on.
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