On our second day in Belgrade we were greeted with thunderstorms, peals of laughter met with looks of trepidation from locals and the impossible hunt for breakfast food.
In all honesty, I think we were tired. It was the midpoint of the trip, we'd covered far too much ground in far too small a timeframe, and all we needed was a rainstorm. And then the heavens opened up, the waiters dashed outside to grab their tablecloths and silverware, and Jen and I languished in front of espressos and the Serbian Cycling Network.
Coffee really looks the same in every country; but the Serbian Cyclcing Network was housed roughly ten feet above these cups.
And then the rain ceased so we walked to the travel agent to sort our travel plans to Montenegro the next day. This involved three travel agents pointing and cackling in our direction in Serbian. We found out that it is indeed possible to cackle in a foreign language. And let me tell you, if you've never been cackled at in an alien tongue, it's only slightly unnerving and humiliating. Turns out, on friday nights, loads of people pay £30 for the experience of the overnight train to Bar, Montenegro. And loads more shell out an extra £10 for the sleeper car. We were asking for the world. And in the end, we got it, if you could call it that. But we're not at that part of the story yet.
We're at the part where we wandered through The Kalemegdan Fortress in the humidity, stealing sidelong glances of the Mighty Danube meeting the Sava River.
fortress entrance
holding myself back from correcting the lack of comma
Sava meet Danube
And then the wandering through, Skadarlija, the Bohemian Quarter of the city, where more Roma children accosted us for money, or spaghetti, mid-twirl.
But finally, we decided the best thing to do with 500 extra serbian marks and an impending 14-hour train ride was to buy bad snacks and cheap wine housed in a container that passed as a poor man's carton. delish!
Coffee really looks the same in every country; but the Serbian Cyclcing Network was housed roughly ten feet above these cups.
And then the rain ceased so we walked to the travel agent to sort our travel plans to Montenegro the next day. This involved three travel agents pointing and cackling in our direction in Serbian. We found out that it is indeed possible to cackle in a foreign language. And let me tell you, if you've never been cackled at in an alien tongue, it's only slightly unnerving and humiliating. Turns out, on friday nights, loads of people pay £30 for the experience of the overnight train to Bar, Montenegro. And loads more shell out an extra £10 for the sleeper car. We were asking for the world. And in the end, we got it, if you could call it that. But we're not at that part of the story yet.
We're at the part where we wandered through The Kalemegdan Fortress in the humidity, stealing sidelong glances of the Mighty Danube meeting the Sava River.
fortress entrance
holding myself back from correcting the lack of comma
Sava meet Danube
And then the wandering through, Skadarlija, the Bohemian Quarter of the city, where more Roma children accosted us for money, or spaghetti, mid-twirl.
But finally, we decided the best thing to do with 500 extra serbian marks and an impending 14-hour train ride was to buy bad snacks and cheap wine housed in a container that passed as a poor man's carton. delish!
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