Into Slavonia

In his excellent book Another Fool in the Balkans, Tony White writes:

"It seems to be a minor convention that books about the Balkans begin with a train journey across Slavonia. ... I too found myself travelling by train across the Slavonian plain from Zagreb to Belgrade in September 2001. The sheer novelty of travelling through the Slavonian maize fields, a few miles from the border of Bosnia-Herzegovina on my way to Serbia - a journey that would not have been possible a short time before - meant that the landscae was nagging at the periphery of my vision, practically tapping on the window to get my attention, and I spent most of the journey watching it all go by."

As I drove into Slavonia I did not have the luxury of lazily gazing out at the maize fields; I had to pee so bad that I actually had a towel over my legs and a bag positioned underneath, and if the bus didn’t stop for "pet minute" (five minutes) in Karlovac when it did, I would’ve had to just do it there in my seat.

Thankfully, the rest of the way to Slavonski Brod was a little easier afterwards and I could spend a time looking out the window dreamily, rather than trying to will a service station to appear.

When I arrived in town and had a hell of a time finding Strossmayer Street, where I was staying. I asked a street vendor where it was, and thankfully I understood when she said it was past the "crkva" (church). I had to call the place, Magnus Rooms, to get someone to let me into the (very nice) room. It was already quite late, so I ate dinner at - surprise! - a pizzeria. Grrr....

There I was in Slavonski Brod and I wasn't entirely impressed. In fact, this is the first and only city in Croatia where nothing wowed me right off the bat. I was noticing the dirt, the rundown-ness, the holes in the buildings, and I was uncomfortable. I was, to be fair, starving, cold and half-lost, so I was willing to Slavonia the benefit of the doubt, hoping tomorrow I’d be a bigger fan. Thank God I smoke and drink, otherwise I don’t know how the Hell I’d make it through most of my evenings!

I decided to invoke my "Don’t do something just to tell others you did it” rule, and I went home right after dinner rather than going for another drink. I watched half of the God-awful movie “Money Train”, and was surprised when I woke up this morning and realized I'd slept through the whole night.

This morning, I left the room at 10am (I left my bags just sitting in the yard ... hope they’re safe!). My first stop was a “Chinese Shop”, where I had no choice but to buy a pair of jeans because I don’t have any with me (and I plan to wear them every single day for the rest of my trip!). I bought a gross ham and cheese pastry from a pekara (bakery), then walked down to the waterfront.

The river here is called the Sava, and I think it's quite beautiful; it’s brown, but the yellow and red trees are reflected in it. I felt like Huck Finn was about to float by on his raft at any minute.

I had a quiet walk around there, stopped for my bijela kava at a cafe-bar called Alter Ego, then checked out the Franciscan Monastery (a little more lavender and more groomed than the one in Pula).

After that, I went to the fortress, the main site here in Slav. Brod. To be honest, I nearly passed right by it. I guess it houses a school now because I heard a bunch of loud school kids yelling inside. It looks half-demolished and abandoned and wasn't really worth the visit.

However, I did see a funny piece of graffiti, that said "Don't fear, Burek X is here!". I wonder how a tough a town can be when their main gang is named after a phyllo pastry!

I started to make my way back to the hotel to get my stuff, but needed a drink first (it’s early in the afternoon and I don’t care!), so I came into this pub where I'm enjoying an Ozujsko and reflecting.

I’m happy to be travelling, don’t get me wrong, but I’m starting to feel that maybe I shouldn’t be doing it at this time of year. It’s cold and wet and I’m sure I’d have a different opinion of this town if it were summer and the outdoor seats weren’t put away and I wasn’t freezing to death. But then again, I also kinda think maybe this is the perfect way to experience Slavonia: it shouldn’t be sunny and nice because this wasn't a sunny and nice place. When Lonely Planet names Croatia as its number one destination, this is not the part it means. In fact, the Lonely Planet Croatia guide doesn’t even have a section about Slavonia.

But I could walk through this town and have no clue that there was war here. The buildings have peeling paint and some of their roofs are caved in and there are construction sites everywhere. I’m looking for signs of war but I'm not sure I’d recognize them if I saw them. There’s a small hole on the top of that house - a shell mark? The back of the Monastery is being worked on - was that the part damaged in the war? I keep asking myself, ‘where is it?’ as though I’m expecting a giant tank to point the way. The thing is, I don’t know what to look for.

I was ten to fourteen years old when it happened. My diaries from those years don’t mention a word about Yugoslavia. I mentioned that Bill Clinton was President and that something was going on in Iraq. I remember the first Iraq war clearly because it annoyed me that television footage of air strikes pre-empted episodes of Seinfeld. I wrote: “There is war everywhere”. So maybe I knew about Yugoslavia, just not the specifics.

Anyway, whether I like it or not, it's making me think. And, unfortunately, it's also making me drink, which is bad because it's a long day and I have miles (1km uphill, to be precise) to go before I sleep (or have wine).