No water is the first thing I realise this morning so I have my breakfast which is getting tastier by the day. Oats, Yoghurt, Banana and fruits of the day all soaked in tonnes of med (honey). Perhaps I may have misunderstood the meaning of med on the 40 or so stalls selling honey in Nova Sad. I head over the road to see if anybody is about to get some water to wash my dirty dishes and get the bottles full for the morning. I find the owner in the driveway of his garage bent over a stove cooking red peppers. He comes over and lets me in through the front gate. Water no problem, he says in English. I ask him what he is doing with the peppers. He is preparing them to make "Ajvar". Burn the peppers on the stove and then peel off the skins and clean the pips and pith and mash up and probably add some magic ingredients and bottle it. He asks if I would like a tea. I have just had my first coffee on my new coffee pot but tea sounds great. His wife comes out to say hello. Nina is a retired architect and Dani (short for Slobodan) is a retired structural engineer. They moved out here about 10 years ago and now run a small farm. They are both lovely and before long a tray arrives with a cup of serbian mountain tea and a pot of honey. The honey is produced on the farm and tastes and looks different to the honey I bought a week or so ago. It may be even nicer. I try some off the spoon and then add some to my tea, delightful. No sooner have I started on my tea then a gift of homemade damson jam is presented to me. It's a big pot and weighs a tonne. Then we talk about my book and how Stevens went to the Hofbrauhaus in Munchen and Dani decides this is the perfect opportunity to break out some of the 2008 home made raki. It has labels on it with its name and year, very professional. No point arguing so I sip slowly on the fire water. Mental note, don't mention alcohol in any way, shape or form at breakfast or lunchtime. I mention that I like the honey and how it is different to the other stuff I have and Nina zips off into the house and retuns with a pot to add to my collection, and about half a hundred weight of damsons and a pack of mountain tea! Fearing what might appear next I keep my mouth well and truly closed until I'm invited to have breakfast with them. This of course I can't refuse and very soon a plate of eggs, chorizo type sausage and bread, tomatoes, hams, salami and cheeses fills the table. Everyone tucks in and it doesn't take long to realise the lion's share is aimed at me. Maddy claims to have a pudding stomach, which is why she can find room for a pudding even if she can't eat all that is before it. I believe I have grown a hospitality stomach, as I can now regualarly eat two meals straight after each other. I know if I start to rely on hospitality it will not be forthcoming, but if I make myself a breakfast or a coffee, I'll probably end up getting offered it 5 minutes later. Whilst a hungry cyclist on a budget can always use the extra food, it's the genuine warmth that you feel when being fed or watered that makes it rude and hard to refuse. Dani 's English doesn't quite allow him to say something to me and we both come up with the idea of google translate at the same time. He whips inside and gets the laptop out and off we go. When I was riding up the road last night I was definitely not expecting to find a house with a laptop and broadband. But out here the internet comes in via the satellite TV dish, so can be had anywhere. When I leave them and pack up its about 1.30 and the next 5km I've been warned is quite steep. Unfortunately this is true and I climb at a gradient of between 8 and 10% for the next 5km. I am at least rewarded with stunning views and a gentle descent for the next 10km or so. I then join the main route to Istanbul and trucks aplenty are twoing and fro-ing between Europe and Turkey. There is not much of a hard shoulder and the trucks go by pretty close and at quite a speed. It's a bit hair-raising for a while but hanging on for dear life and a general attitude of gay abandon seems to help. My goal is to visit Bela Palanka and then get as close to Pirot tonight. Stevens does Bela Pelanka no favours with his review after staying over night because of bad rain, unfortunately it doesn't do much for me either. A one road town, a bus station with miserable looking people constantly looking at their watches does nothing to change it's review from 130 years ago. I stop and eat some lunch at the Bus Station and find an internet cafe. This is the first time I've used one on the trip, but I have to make sure my plane date is changed with enough notice so have no choice but to spend the 25p for half an hour. Although this isn't a tourist town, the cafe still has that seedy air to it that I think all internet cafes posess. I don't like them, and even if they were free I would still probably choose a McD intstead! I have now changed my flight date to 10th October. This decision was made in Belgrade but I've only just got round to changing it with OrangeJet. This has really taken the pressure off and is probably the reason why I have had such a good time in Serbia. I leave Bela Pelanka happy that the flight has been changed and I feel very relaxed and positive. Although I don't want to reach Pirot tonight I have no choice as I have no cash nor what I think is enough food for dinner. So when I reach there in the dark it's a bit annoying. I find a supermarket and get some grub. I then go back looking for a camp spot and bump into an old man on a bike who shakes me warmly by the hand and I ask his advice. He points to the wood and shakes his head and says nicht to my suggestion of down by the river. I investigate the road up to the woods but its too much hassle in the dark. I've played this game before. No thank you. I head for the river. There is a small dyke running the length of it. A factory and industrial units lay on the other side of the stream, rather than river and a few small farmsteads back onto it my side. Still in the light of the street I just pick a spot and start to set up camp. As I descend the dyke all of 2 metres the temperature plummits. On the good side I appear to have chosen a field of mint to camp in and a lovely smell comes up at me every time I move about in it, on the bad side I somehow manage to snap a tent pole. My brain is telling me the quick solution to this problem is to mend it properly. My body wants to eat and go to bed so I do a bodge job, eat less than what I would have eaten if I hadn't come to town and climb inside the broken tent. Music is playing in one of the units on the other side of the stream. Not loud, quite soothing. Some kind of classical Serbian orthodox. If there is such a thing. It sounds quite serious but it's nice in the background. Strangely the dog barking is hardly noticeable tonight. Another day nearer my destination, another night in tent land. I've gone to sleep quite early and I wake up shivering about midnight. I put some extra clothes on half asleep and curl up in a ball. At 3am I wake again freezing, it's easily the coldest night of the trip so far. I'm hungry and decide to start on the Nob Lice, just one I tell myself and before long I've consumed the whole box. Nob Lice for the uninitiated is a brand of chocolate biscuit, I had to buy it with a name like that:)
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