Nis ... who knew?

This morning, I headed out of the room before Mike woke up because the sounds from the open market below my window were calling me with their promise of delicious fresh fruit.

Unfortunately, the produce was rotten and disgusting, so I took a few photos and got out of there.

I wandered into town and, ashamedly, got a Happy Meal for lunch.

And that, of course, made me think of Osijek, and how much I miss Croatia.

I went back to the room at noon to fetch Mike, and we went for a wander.

We saw a Serbian-Idol type of show holding auditions (sadly, no one there spoke enough English to explain it to us), and then we sat on a terrace, had a coffee, and people-watched for an hour. The cafe was very cool; the interior was like a train, and you actually had to open a sliding train door to get into the bathroom.

We found a fortress and walked around there for a while, noticing how different Nis feels from Belgrade and Novi Sad. We're quite close to Kosovo here, so perhaps there are a lot of Albanians around? I'm not too sure. Showing up in Nis unexpectedly has thrown us for a loop!

We knew we wouldn't be back to Serbia again, so before we got on the bus we wanted to spend Mike's remaining dinars (worth about 5 euros total). What a mission that turned out to be! We bought all kinds of snacks, drinks, everything else that we needed for the next couple of days and we still didn't go through it all!

We caught the bus at 4pm and had a really nice ride with some very cute soldiers in uniform sitting in front of us.

I'll save the story of our arrival in Sofia for my next entry... it's a doozy!

We've left Sarajevo ... Nis one!

We finally extricated ourselves from Sarajevo ... yay!! (not that I'm happy to be gone from one of the most precious cities in the world, but I was starting to get afraid I might never leave!)

Last night I had the worst sleep ever. I couldn’t swallow because my glands were so swollen, I had heartburn, and I couldn’t stop coughing. I knew I was keeping Mike awake, so I tried to do anything I could to stop: I ended up sitting upright, propped up with a pillow against the wall, sucking on a candy cane in hopes that the mint would soothe my throat. I must’ve been quite a sight!

We woke up at 6:45 this morning (brutal) and caught a bus to Nis, Serbia, planning to head to Sofia from there.

It ended up being a bus ride from Hell that never ended: 7 hours passed, then 8 hours, 9, 10 ... 11 HOURS LATER we arrived in Nis, and we weren’t too happy about it.

We decided that catching a midnight bus to Macedonia wasn’t an option, and catching a 4:30am but to Sofia was just silly, so we had to spend the night in Nis, wherever the Hell that is.

We got a fairly nice room by the bus station, then headed into “town”. There is some sort of castle here, plus a very fast-flowing river, and a fair or something happening on the main street; frankly, we don't know a thing about this city.

We ate dinner at McDonald’s. Correction: I ate there. Mike is anti-McD's and actually had to go into the bathroom to give himself a talking-to in the mirror, Vincent Vega-style, because he was so tempted to have a McMeal.

We then went to a pub for a few beers (I had a Lav Pivo and Mike had a Jelen Pivo: they mean Lion and Deer), bought some apple pie on the way home, now we're watching “One Tree Hill” in bed. We have a few hours to kill here tomorrow, so hopefully we'll find out what the deal is with Nis.

Guess where I am ...?

Yep, STILL IN SARAJEVO!!

Jesus, this city is like a black hole!

Right, ONE more day, and then we should feel satisfied that we've properly done and dusted Sarajevo!

But how do you leave when every day is better than the one before?

Yesterday, we walked through the rain down Mula Mustafa road, to the big yellow Holiday Inn that housed journalists during the siege. Along the way, we finally saw some Sarajevo roses on the ground (where mortar holes were filled in with red paint).

They were also on the walls in the open market that had a bomb land right in the middle of it.

On the way back, we stopped for a couple of beers at the very lively City Pub, then had another dinner at the Steak House (we're becoming regulars there ... the quirky little promoter-guy actually gave us a flier for their OTHER restaurant!).

Afterwards, we had one drink at Hacienda, then went home to bed.

This morning, we woke up late, and headed straight for the History Museum.

We stayed the extra day today so that we could see it ... and boy am I ever glad we did!

It has a huge collection of photos from the siege and info and we left feeling flabbergasted that the war happened so recently and we really didn't know much about it.

I have no idea why the same type of thing doesn't exist in Vukovar, which, after all, suffered the same fate.

It was freezing in the museum and outside, so we went for a warm lunch down the street (and enjoyed the funny caricatures on the walls).

Coffee at Baghdad Cafe, beers at Hacienda, cevapi for dinner ... it was a perfect final night in Sarajevo.

Let's hope we escape tomorrow!!

A Sarajevo snowfall...

I never thought I'd live to see this!

And because the snow is so magical, we decided to spend ONE more day in Sarajevo. Mike, however, would be happy to spend the rest of his two-week holiday here because he loves it so much (and so do I). I'm happy I met him; I wouldn't want to be here without someone else to enjoy it with.

So, after the little fairy-dusting of snow last night, I awoke to a serious blizzard. A foot of snow on the ground, at least, and there I was with only thin little shoes that are too small and are hurting my feet already. The pain, plus the snow, made wearing them all day an impossibility, so I was determined to find new footwear.

Miraculously, I found a pair of boots in a thrift shop; they are 2 different shades of pink, fur-lined, and one size too big. But for 9KM (5 euros) ... they'll do! In fact, they've given me so much comfort today that I don't think I've ever been happier with a purchase in my life! They're the ugliest things I've ever owned and I love them dearly.

Dripping with snow, I decided to relax and celebrate my purchase with another gorgeous caffe latte at Cafe Alfonso. After a good hour, I met Mike, and we went for lunch at The Steak House. ). We sat for a couple of hours, enjoying our food and coffee, surrounded by funny old South African ladies on tour. Then we returned to Cafe Alfonso and drank green tea while watching Fashion Television and feeling cozy in our seats.

Mike went home after an hour or so, and I went to mass at the Cathedral next door. It wasn't as spectacular as the one in Osijek, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

I then went to a restaurant called To Be Or Not To Be: the Not To Be was crossed out during the siege to make it seem more positive, and they kept it that way. There was great jazz playing and cool posters on the walls and I enjoyed my Sarajevsko Pivo until Mike arrived.

We trekked to the other side of the river to find a cinema, but the only movie playing was in Bosnian, so instead we bought some delicious goodies from a bakery and walked over to Hacienda. We sat upstairs and there was great disco playing, and we had a beer and a glass of wine and a great chat.

I'm happy to have found, in both him and Patrick, people I get along with extraordinarily well.

I LOVE THIS BEAUTIFUL WORLD!!

I love Sundays (especially in Sarajevo)

Sundays are so chilled out, and if it weren't so drizzly outside I'd like to sit on a park bench all day.

Sarajevo has far surpassed my expectations, and I can see how a person could get stuck here for a very long time.

Yesterday I spent a good amount of time at Baghdad Cafe, then I wandered around Bascarsija, bought some socks (that now have holes in them... and they weren't cheap!), and returned via the river path, past the bridge where Franz Ferdinand was shot, to the big fountain in the middle of Bascarsija, with pigeons in surround sound, where I met Mike at 6:00.
We headed back to Baghdad Cafe for a little tea and a catch-up, and afterwards went to dinner at The Steak House. I had the GREATEST veal with potatoes, tonnes of vegetables, and a beer. Delicious!!




At 8:00, we met two people who had been in our room the night before, plus their friend from Brisbane, and we all went to the Guinness Pub to watch the England-South African rugby final (South Africa won). That was pretty cool; it was good to meet some different people. But they all study together in Budapest, so they weren't super interested in getting to know us.

We went for a few more drinks at Hacienda (a very cool bar which Mustafa recommended), then headed home at 2am, chatted for a little while, and went to sleep.

I got up at 11:00 this morning and walked around on a huge mission to find a Catholic church amongst all the Mosques. I really wanted to see a mass, hoping it'd be as great as last week in Osijek. When I finally found a church, its mass had already come and gone, so it was coffee-o'clock instead. I found a very chic cafe called Cafe Alfonso, with Fashion TV on big screens, catwalks raised among the tables and Moloko on the loudspeakers. Fantastic place!

I meet Mike in the afternoon and we had our first (of many) cevapcici at a little fast food joint, then took a stroll through the markets, looking at brass coffee/tea sets. We were accosted twice by a crazy old gypsy woman looking for money.

We both drank from the fountain by the Mosque; they say that whoever drinks from that fountain will definitely return to Sarajevo, so I wanted to hedge my bets.

We had planned to leave Sarajevo today, but neither of us were quite ready to go, so we're staying until tomorrow (I'm having flashbacks of Cesky Krumlov).

After spending a long day in town, we went back to the room to relax a bit. We lay on our beds and laughed, talking about how the poor Serbian Tourism bureau must have a really tough time marketing such a crappy country. Mike suggested their motto should be: "Serbia: the launchpad of Europe" (because everything else will look great in comparison!).

I now understand Serbian expansionism: they wanted to keep some beautiful parts of Yugoslavia because they have none of their own! (but even saying that, poor Serbia, being any part of the Balkans, will always put a smile on my face).

As we were about to head out again for dinner, we met a new couple staying across the hall from us: Gee (a nice girl from New Zealand) and her boyfriend, Dave (from England). They invited us to dinner with them and we accepted. We ate at a traditional restaurant full of locals. I had some sort of bean soup, salad, and a really good time.

We decided to head over to the Sarajevska Pivara Brewery across the river; it is a huge place with really delicious dark beer and good music (Richard Marx and Bryan Adams... can't beat that!). We had a lovely time.

When we left, the snow had started to come down so we threw snowballs and took photos and marvelled at the beauty of it all.

Sarajevo is really going to have a special place in my heart.

First day in Sarajevo

(first things first: I'm about to eat a breakfast but I have no idea what it is. Eggs, bread, and a kind of chocolate/vanilla/jelly/mousse concoction that looks strange but tastes delicious. Just in case it kills me, you'll know what it was).

So, the bus ride from Belgrade yesterday took 7 hours. It wasn't too brutal; Mike and I chatted for most of it and watched one of those movies about the 2 Grandpas that Sasa showed me (oh! Sasa!).

We arrived in Sarajevo at 11:00pm. We watched the temperature gauge drop as the bus drove along, so we were prepared for chilliness (thank God I bought my new coat!). At the bus station, we squabbled for a few minutes with a taxi driver who we were sure was trying to rip us off, finally deciding to find our own way to the hostel.


We first got on a tram going the opposite way, but quickly figured out our mistake and turned back. I was disappointed to arrive in town after dark because I knew it must look spectacular and I wanted to see it.

We found the hostel reception in the centre of town and a nice man brought us by car across the river and way uphill to our room. It was a dorm room in little house with a separate lounge and kitchen. Unfortunately, the place is FREEZING, but other than that, it's peaceful and quiet.

We were pretty tired, but hungry, so we had some green tea, a plate of plain rice and a smoke, then went to sleep.

This morning, I woke up and left the hostel before anyone else woke up, and I'm now waiting to go on a tour.

Haven't really seen anything yet, but I'm well impressed with Sarajevo thus far.




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It's seven hours later, and I'm officially in love with Sarajevo.

It's basically like travelling to Morocco without all the shit parts of Morocco, plus all the great parts of the Balkans.

Absolutely incredible.

And even though I'll probably have frostbite somewhere by the time I leave, I couldn't be happier.


So, the tour was very interesting. There was me, 3 snobby Slovenian girls, and a very keen Asian guy. Our guide was named Mustafa, and his father used to smuggle people out of town during the war, so he was able to give really interesting personal accounts.


First, we drove to the tunnel museum, up in the mountains, that was used to smuggle supplies in and people out of Sarajevo during the war. We got to walk through the little stretch of tunnel that is still there, really narrow and deep and dark. You can't even imagine people going up there with their whole life on their back, afraid to be snipered at any minute.


After that, we drove to the 1984 Olympic Village in the mountains (it was seriously, really cold up there ... my feet have yet to recover), where there was a nice lookout over the town. Part of the old luge still sweeps over the road, where ten years later the snipers set up shop to shoot down on the town. There are still signs posted warning of landmines.



Besides the history lesson, it was absolutely beautiful up there because there is snow on the dark green trees, and some of the leaves are yellow, so it makes a striking contrast.

I'm really impressed with the way that Sarajevo embraces and discusses its war history, unlike Osijek or Vukovar. The Sarajevo roses (haven't seen any yet), this war tour, plaques on the National Library that the Serbs burned down, a plaque on the bridge where Franz Ferdinand was assassinated. These are all good things to have, I think, because they ensure that people won't forget what happened here.


Slavenka Drakulic says, in They Would Never Hurt a Fly, that not talking about the past is a big problem in Croatia: "My father never spoke about the four years he fought as a partisan under the command of Josip Broz Tito in the Second World War. He wanted to forget it, and for a long time I saw this as a sign of sanity and self-preservation ... And the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that the combination of his silence and the official version of the historical events of 1939 - 1945 made this latest war possible ... Only now can I understand how easy it is to start a war in the absence of facts".


In Sarajevo, I feel comfortable with it because I understand it and am learning about it. Plus, I'm a bit disappointed and outraged that this went on not that long ago in these beautiful countries and apparently we all just stood back and helplessly watched? Of course, I recognize the place names, but why don't I know more?

Mustafa dropped us at the hostel reception and I had a wander through the old town, called Bascarsija. Lots of people and smells, a Mosque in the middle, windy alleyways and narrow streets. Just what I wanted today, to walk around in a peaceful area, away from exhaust fumes!


I'm now in the pefect Baghdad Cafe, just finished a delicious coffee, and I don't want to move for an hour.

Life could not be more perfect than it is right now. (Unless it were just five degrees warmer)

Cyrillic Labyrinths in Belgrade and Novi Sad

It really blows my mind to think that it’s only been one week since I left Pula! Seems like forever ago!

So, last night turned out to be pretty funny. Mike and I walked around for two hours trying to find the Bohemian Quarter (Skadarska Street). After two hours of walking in circles and never finding it, we finally settled on pizza slices down the street from the hostel.

After dinner, we had a couple of drinks at a bar, got delicious ice cream, then went back to the hostel and watched “Legally Blonde”. I know we should be taking advantage of Belgrade’s supposedly excellent nightlife, but I haven’t seen any places that have really caught my attention (they're hiding somewhere in this Cyrillic maze).

This morning I left the hostel at 9:00, had a delicious piece of cake and a sub-par coffee in a hotel, then caught the bus to Novi Sad. It’s supposed to be the nicest city in Serbia; so far, it’s just as exhaust-ridden as Belgrade, and just as much of a Cyrillic Labyrinth.

I got lost in some random suburb, then finally found my way back to the main square, which is quite pretty and full of colourful spires and painted cows. I have so little sense of direction that I couldn’t even determine where the Danube was; I finally found it, and remembered that I’m not a huge fan of that river.

I crossed over to the fortress and spent a few hours wandering around there.

The EXIT music festival is held there and I can imagine it would be a pretty cool venue.

It’s really hot outside and I searched for somewhere shady to sit and read but couldn't find anywhere out of the sun, so I went to a nice, traditional restaurant on the Danube, which reminded me of the one I ate at with David in Prague. I ordered a Greek salad and was a little afraid the waiter was going to bring me a fish paprika, but the salad arrived and it was exactly what I had in mind.

When I got back to the hostel this evening, Mike had left a note on my bed that he'd be back later in the evening for drinks. Luckily, two guys from Sarajevo had arrived and I chatted with them while I waited.

They got me really excited to visit; one of them talked about how so many cultures live together in the one city, three religions side by side. He described Balkan people as “primitive and passionate: when we love, we love, and when we hate, we hate.”

When Mike returned from his busy day, he informed me that he’d done reconnaissance work and found the Bohemian Quarter! We walked there together and had a drink at an outdoor patio, then went for one more drink at a bar called “Only Fools and Horses”. There were a bunch of locals singing along to the live music there and I really enjoyed the place and the night. It's nice to have some company for a change!

I'm back in the hostel now, where my room tonight is an oasis of quiet, unlike Mike’s room, where someone is snoring already.

We are going to Sarajevo tomorrow and, frankly, I’m happy to be getting the Hell out of Serbia. I had a good time here, but the exhaust fumes are going to kill me and I’m ready for a bit more beauty than it has to offer.

I know how I got here (now where the Hell am I?)

Just had to stop and write a quick entry while I sit in front of the biggest and most incredible church I’ve ever seen - the St. Sava Orthodox Cathedral.

I've always wanted to see the Taj Mahal; now I don’t know if it’s necessary. This thing totally blew my mind! It’s white with green domes and gold crosses, very simple but astoundingly huge. It’s under construction so it’s basically empty inside, with dark, cold stone. But there’s music playing and people praying and bowing and lighting candles amid the scaffolding. Wow!

So, as usual, I had nothing to worry about last night and everything worked itself out.

I had a delicious meal at the restaurant, then I went back to the hostel, planning to just go to bed. When I arrived, the girl who works there, Jasna) and her beautiful, black-haired Macedonian friend, were sitting in the lounge watching television, so I sat down with them.

They told me about a popular Macedonian singer named Tose Proeski who was killed in a car crash yesterday. They were almost in tears talking about him, apparently both of them grew up with his music. It was touching to listen to them.

An Aussie guy named Mike came into the hostel at around 10pm, and we started to chat. Turns out we’re travelling to exactly the same places for the next few weeks, so we’re going to stick together for the rest of our journey.

Isn’t it amazing how things work out? I'd been lonely and planning to leave that hostel, and within an hour, I found a travel partner for the rest of my trip.

We stayed up until 2am talking: the latest I’ve stayed up in ages!. I got up this morning at 9:30, had a brutal shower, (and actually had a brutal sleep as well, but the hostel is starting to grow on me). My first stop of the day was St. Mark’s Cathedral (which HAD impressed me before I saw this Church of my life).

The street signs and the map are impossible. I’m amazed that I've made it anywhere other than just walking around in circles!

I decided to have a look at Tito’s Mausoleum, but if I’d known the ordeal it would become I never would’ve bothered. I had to cross to the other side of a major highway (a mission in itself!), and the whole area stunk of exhaust fumes and big-city-grossness.

I had no idea where I was, which street I was on, or where that bastard Tito was buried; at one point, I walked past a horrible shantytown and felt really nervous in a Sherman McCoy type of way.

I nearly gave up and went back to the centre, but when I spotted a couple of security guards, I asked them the way and they helped me. I arrived at 15:10 - it closed at 15:00. Awesome.

It took me forever to walk back into town; luckily, I could see the astounding St. Sava from miles away, so I enjoyed it from many different vantage points. I’m still completely turned around here, even though I’ve been walking around town nonstop for two days! I usually hate to pull out the map and mark myself with a big T for tourist, but in Belgrade I never put it away, not that it even helps!

I’m having dinner with Mike tonight: a real, live human being!

How'd I end up in Serbia?

Here I am, in Serbia, and I seem to recall laughing uproariously with Rachelle about the idea of travelling to Serbia (or was that Bulgaria? Either way, it's odd to be here).

This morning, the bus from Vukovar to Belgrade was supposed to come at 10:45 but it didn’t arrive until 11:15; I was afraid I’d pulled another Slavonski Brod! Why is it that the towns I enjoy the least are the ones that give me so much trouble leaving? Maybe it’s a sign that I haven’t stayed long enough to understand them. (Or maybe my first impressions of them were right, and they’re annoying bastards).

In any case, I was happy when the bus arrived, even though it meant I was leaving Croatia, which is never a happy occasion. But I'll be back.

Just outside Belgrade, we passed a massive shanty town that was as shocking as anything I’ve ever seen. There was so much trash lying around, clothes, furniture, linens, garbage, and in the middle of it were adults sitting and smoking, and kids running around playing. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

The bus ride to Belgrade was a quick three hours, but the walk to the Three Black Catz hostel was the longest hour of my life. I apparently took the scenic route, and I still have no idea how I got there in the end, because I can’t read the Cyrillic street signs or the map! I finally had to ask the Tourist Info where the hostel was, and turns out it’s right off the main square, which I didn’t even know I was standing in when I was in it!

I’ve decided to stay in Belgrade for a few days and take day trips from here, because I can’t be bothered to lug all of my stuff around the country.

After I dropped off my bags, I headed back into the streets. There’s some pretty sweet shopping here (Zara and Morgan de Toi almost made my mouth water!), and I had to take out money before getting amongst it. I took out 10,000 dinars (I’m not exactly sure what the dinar is worth, so hopefully that’s a normal amount to withdraw in a day!). I spent a blissful hour shopping; I decided it was well and truly time to buy some new shoes so everyone will stop looking at my sandalled feet in horror.

I went for a stroll down the main street and was lured into a park by the surreal pink and purple sunset over the Sava (it later dawned on me that the gorgeous haze is actually smog, but nevermind). In the park was the fortress, which I checked out for a little while.

I headed back to the hostel, hung around there for a few minutes and left again. I decided tonight will be my last night there. The guy who runs it, Mladen, is quite nice, but it has that unfriendly European-vibe that I hate and I felt a little uncomfortable there by myself when everyone around me was speaking in different languages. I’m at a restaurant now, about to eat dinner, and after this I'll head right home to bed, and find a new place to stay tomorrow.

Rediscovery: Vukovar

Read this article on RoadJunky at http://www.roadjunky.com/article/1783/rediscovery-travelling-to-vukovar

There was no ignoring the fact that something bad happened in Vukovar.

There was an abandoned tank parked on a front lawn, leading the way into town.

As I walked through the centre of town, I didn’t see a single other person. There were no mothers, no elderly ladies, no open shops or grocery stores. Just me, looking through the holes in buildings with pop cans and old newspapers strewn around the rubble inside. A sign for the Diksi Bar on an empty building. A blue square address plaque on the only wall left of a house that was no longer there.

I followed signs leading to the Hotel Dunac. It’s located on the bank of a narrow section of Danube. The grass around it was dead.

On one side of the hotel was the brown, garbage-strewn Vuka river that emptied into the Danube. A man and a little boy were fishing along the bank. On the other side of the hotel was a giant building, completely gutted, that must have been majestic at one time. I thought it might have been a government building; I was later told it once was a cinema.

The concierge was a big man who didn’t smile; he took my money, gave me a big key and told me to leave it at the front desk if I went out. My room was at the end of a hallway with no lights but big, bare windows at one end. I quickly dropped off my things and left.

I walked around town for an hour before finding the water tower. It was cone-shaped, the bottom half grey concrete and the top a band of burnt red. A Croatian flag flew on top of it.

I walked around it, careful not to step on broken shards of beer bottles. The tower was 50 metres high and too enormous to fully take in. Patches of blue sky shone through the giant bomb holes all over it that had been left as a reminder of what happened here.

It is the symbol of a city that was symbolic for the rest of the country.

Because Vukovar was heavily populated by Serbs at the beginning of the breakup of Yugoslavia, this small city in easternmost Slavonia, an hour away from Serbia, became a target in 1991 as Serbia tried to claim as much territory as it could before Croatia declared independence. Since Croatia had no substantial army yet, some 2000 Croatian residents defended their city, and Croatians around the country were glued to their televisions; if Vukovar could keep back the Serbian invasion, there was hope for the rest of them too.

The Croatian citizens were able to defend Vukovar for 87 days through the siege which caused destruction on a level that is often compared to Stalingrad. One thousand people were killed during the fighting; 5000 were taken prisoner.

Vukovar remained under Serbian control until the war ended and eastern Slavonia was placed under UN control for two years. It was re-integrated into Croatia in 1998.

I couldn’t help but draw comparisons between Vukovar and Sarajevo.

I knew very little about Sarajevo’s history when I first arrived, but within a couple of days I learned a good deal of its history. It has a museum with photos, newspaper articles and artifacts detailing, sometimes excruciatingly, what happened there. There are Sarajevo roses on the ground: mortar holes filled in with red paint so they can’t be missed.

There is a guided tour to the tunnel that lead Sarajevans to safety when they were under siege. The tour guide, Mustafa, showed us the spot in the mountains where part of the Olympic luge sweeps down through the trees, which at one time was the point from which soldiers fired down into the city.

There are commemorative plaques everywhere, like the one on the former National Library that says: ‘On this place Serbian criminals in the night of 25th, 26th August 1992 set on fire National and University’s Library of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Over 2 millions of books, periodicals and documents vanished in the flame. Do not forget, remember and warn.'

Unlike Sarajevo, there are no signs on Vukovar’s buildings, no red markers calling attention to its wounds. The city remains divided, the ethnic communities split evenly into separate churches, separate schools, separate coffee shops.

The justice process has been long and drawn-out, with new charges still being filed almost two decades after the siege. The infrastructure has not been restored and unemployment is estimated at 40 per cent.

The symbol of the city looms over the town with gaping holes that have not been filled in.

At 5 o’clock, I was ready for a drink. I didn’t want to offend anyone by going into the wrong bar but I couldn’t tell which was Croat and which was Serb. I went into the one nearest to my hotel.

I wanted to talk to someone, but how do you ask questions about war? I sat alone at a table on a covered patio, the heat trapped inside by thick plastic walls.

And then a question was asked of me.

“Excuse me, are you a foreigner?”

I’d noticed him when I first arrived. He’d been sitting with friends, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. There was a motorbike helmet on the chair across from him.

“Yes, how can you tell?” I asked.

“I can just tell,” he said. “What are you doing in Vukovar?”

“I’m traveling around Croatia and Vukovar is an important city, so I came to see it.”

“Why is Vukovar important?” he asked.

“Well, because of what happened here during the war.”

He lit a cigarette.

“Well, I was here during the war and I can tell you about it. I want the truth about Vukovar to be heard.”

I’d been so afraid to bring up the past and here he was, offering me it to me with a fresh beer.

I shouldn’t have been surprised; you don’t need to be in a conversation for very long before a Croatian will almost always bring up the war. It’s still such a part of their lives.

As I gathered my things and moved to his table, he said, “I should also mention that I’m Serbian.”

His name is Nenad, which means ‘to become suddenly’. His father was from Serbia, his mother, now widowed, is Croatian. He has lived in Vukovar all his life, except for five years when he moved to Britain. That was in 1999, two years after Vukovar was returned to Croatia and he no longer felt welcome.

What I couldn’t get past were his eyes. When he spoke about the war, they stayed fixed on me. He told me about living in his basement in Vukovar for a year and about having to see a post-traumatic stress counsellor in London. When he smiled his tight smile his eyes didn’t change.

He told me about dead people lying on the streets, decapitations, about seeing people every day who did bad things during the war.

“So they killed a few people, who am I to judge?” he said, his eyes just staring.

There wasn’t much laughter in our conversation, even when he talked about the house he lived in just outside town with his mother and eleven stray cats and dogs, hens, plums and apples, or about going for a swim in the Danube when he felt stressed.

I would normally feel callous for asking the questions that I asked Nenad, but he seemed to want to talk about it. He spoke in a hushed tone, like we were conspiring.

“I’m not like anyone else here,” he said. “People here are mad but they don’t want to do anything about it. It is like they are dead. I’m different from everyone else, but I can act. I like acting.”

He said he felt disconnected to Vukovar and hates the people in it for not doing anything to change their situation. But that’s exactly the impression I got from him. A man who wanted to leave but doesn’t know how or where to go.

A couple of hours and a pack of cigarettes later, the smoke inside the plastic walls was suffocating. Nenad offered to take me on his motorbike to the hospital museum.

There was nothing I wanted more than to be told the story from someone who knew it first-hand.

When we reached his motorbike, he held out his hand to me.

But I passed up his offer.

There was something in his eyes that I didn’t trust.

I’d been angry at the silence in Vukovar; I wanted the story spelled out as vividly as Sarajevo roses. But when it came right down to it, when offered a chance to find out what happened, I wasn’t ready.

That night in my small hotel room I couldn’t sleep. I woke up a couple of times in the middle of the night and went to the window. The sunny day had turned into a bitterly cold night with a shrill wind.

The town square outside my window was still empty.

Welcome to Osijek

From the second I stepped off the bus in Osijek, I was lost. My backpack felt too heavy, the sun was too hot.

In Slavonski Brod I’d been wondering if the pockmarks in some of the buildings were war-damaged, and I couldn’t be sure.

In Osijek, I was sure. They were everywhere.

Osijek is the town of Vanja and Sandra.

Kids living in basements for two years, drinking in bars at 12 years old and the bartenders allowing it because these kids were a lot more grown up than most adults. Little girls watching the friends they played with blown to bits in an apartment building.

This is Sasa’s town.

I found the centre of town and, correctly assuming there was no hostel in Osijek, I decided to find the cheapest hotel. I spotted Hotel Royal just off the main square and ventured inside. There was no one at the front desk so I looked into the attached restaurant. A young waiter jumped up to help me.

“Room, for hotel? Yes, yes, come with me.”

He bounded up the hotel’s wide staircase without paying attention to whether or not I was following. The hallway was long and empty, and I felt like I’d wandered into The Shining.

When he opened the door and lead me into the room, even he could barely keep a straight face. There were no blankets on the tiny single bed. The walls were stark white with no paintings or decorations and there was no tv. I wondered if the hotel was even open to the public yet. This waiter, surely, was taking the mickey out of a poor, unsuspecting tourist.

“It's okay?” he asked.

If I hadn’t been a little afraid for my life in the empty hotel, I would have laughed out loud.

When he offered me the key I politely refused it and turned away. The vineyards in Brodski Stupnik would have been a better choice of accommodation.

I then tried the Pension Regina. When I knocked on the door a lady answered, dolled up in a black, velvet suit and sparkling jewelry. She told me that the titular Regina was out but she would call her immediately. She offered me a seat, then a cup of tea and I’m sure she would have offered to cook lunch if she’d been able to ask in English.

Regina arrived twenty minutes later, relieving her poor mother - or mother-in-law, I didn’t quite catch that part - and showed me a room. She, and the room, were lovely, but more expensive than the swanky Hotel Waldinger down the street. Not having the heart to refuse, I told her I needed to pop out quickly to a bank machine, and I headed straight for the Waldinger.

To this day, there might be people at both the Hotel Royal and the Pension Regina holding rooms for me.

I’d heard that Osijek was the gastronomic capital of Croatia so even before I got there, I expected to have great food.

But even in the gastronomic capital of the country, for the love of God, I was hard-pressed to find a restaurant where I wanted to eat.

I wandered the streets that first night, increasingly cold, tired and frustrated. The few restaurants I found were either too empty or too crowded for me, or totally unappetizing.

I had no guide book with me and I couldn’t find tourist information. I tried to follow Davor’s advice and eat in the hotel restaurant, but it was closed.

I knew I’d hit rock-bottom when, after hours of searching for somewhere to eat, I wound up in McDonald’s. And it wasn’t even particularly tasty McDonald’s. My descent into madness was accelerated by a group of screaming children having a birthday right beside me.

While I bitterly shoved french fries into my mouth, a man and his young daughter started making the rounds through the restaurant asking for money. The man couldn’t have been older than thirty and the girl was a toddler.

“Ne govorim Hrvatski,” I said when they reached my table.

“Money! Money!” he nearly shouted.

I shook my head.

They stood there. The little girl reached for my tray and I handed her one french fry, which she happily shoved into her mouth. Osijek had turned me into the selfish bitch who was stingy with a pack of fries that I wasn’t even enjoying.

That Saturday night in Osijek was one of the coldest and loneliest I’ve ever had.

After dinner, I forlornly walked the streets. I was desperate for a drink but afraid to meet anyone, in case they were somehow linked to Sasa. I finally settled on a pub that was empty except for two old men watching a football game with the bartender. I sat in a corner, writing in my journal, smoking a cigarette and drinking a huge Osjecko.

On my way home that night I passed the burnt-red Cathedral and there was a group of men standing outside. A wedding ceremony had just ended and the guests were still milling about. The men had ukeleles and guitars and were singing joyously, and I watched for a few minutes before getting too chilled.

I went back to the Waldinger and bundled myself into the enormous Hotel Waldinger bed. Supersize Me was just starting on TV, an ironic little jab for that night’s meal.

The next morning I woke up late and wasn’t able to partake in the beautiful hotel brunch for as long as I’d intended. I made a mental note to force myself out of bed the next day.

I went to the front desk to ask for another night and ended up chatting to the receptionist.

"Did you go out in Tvrda last night?” she asked.

I knew that was the best area to go out partying, but I’d felt intimidated just walking around the quiet streets, let alone heading into a nightclub.

“I wish I’d known you were here,” she said. “I would have taken you out.”

She then asked me what I was doing in Osijek. It’s a common question posed by Croatians, not only in Osijek which, granted, doesn’t see many tourists, but even in Zagreb or Pula. What are you doing in Croatia? And when they find out how long I’ve been there, What do you like so much about Croatia?

I left the Waldinger at 11am, not sure where I was heading. As I passed the red Cathedral, I realized that Sunday mass was about to start. Although I'm Catholic, I never attend mass when it isn't connected to a wedding or funeral.

I went inside.

I sat down at the end of a pew, trying to stay out of the way, but had to move into the middle when more people arrived.

There were two girls, probably 19 or 20 years old, sitting in the pew in front of me. At one point when the congregation stood up, one of the girls dropped to her knees, hands folded in front of her, eyes closed. She wasn’t embarrassed to do it, she paid no attention to the friend with her or anyone else, and no one paid attention to her. I couldn’t imagine one of my friends at home showing their devotion so strongly in public.

The words of the sermon were as foreign to me as the Glagolitic lettering on the church walls. But somehow, I understood it. And when it came time to shake hands with our neighbours and say a few words, the handshakes I received from the women on either side of me were firm and heartfelt, even though I could only respond to their words with a meek smile.

I left the Cathedral an hour later and the day was crisp and bright blue.

I don’t know if it was the church service or the great sleep I’d had the night before, but I was suddenly full of love for Osijek. I decided to take it slow, like Slavonians, or like the slow-moving Drava river that I walked alongside for most of the day.

I explored the Tvrda area, an old army barracks, and I stopped for a bijela kava in the centre of it. Then, in the middle of the Sunday afternoon, I sat down on a bench atop a little hill, surrounded by autumn leaves and fresh grass, the sun warm on my head. I ate the sandwiches I’d made that morning at breakfast, and I read my book for hours. Something I’ve always meant to do but have never had the time.

I wandered around residential neighbourhoods that evening, wondering if Sasa and Vanja had grown up in one of those houses. I got lost around every corner but the Cathedral spires that rose up into the sky helped me to find my way home.

Osijek is a city best enjoyed for its simple pleasures. For all the trouble it had given me the night before, turned out to hold one of the dearest places in my heart.

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).