A Serbic Wit

March 2025

My journey this blog...

The cycling part

The other part.

To Loutra Eleftheron Thermal Baths

I left the little campsite at Nea Karvali yesterday morning, and headed west. The drizzle came in as I hit the larger town of Karvala, and it stayed pretty much all day.

But before I left I watched Uwe polish his shoes, and he asked me if I wanted to do the same.

Well, why not!

They haven't looked this good since I bought them in Armenia, maybe about six months ago. I've worn them every day since, and have even been cycling in them, as I don't have any other shoes, just a pair of Thai sandals.

And of course my shoes won't look this good for very long.

Proof:  2 days later - see later in this blog.

The beautiful and historic town of Karvala, with its amazing viaduct.

I rolled along the coast, the small road pretty much hugged it all day.

Below Left: My destination for this little leg. Well, for both of them. It's not far now.

Below Centre: The amazing Byzantine tower of Apollonia.

Below Right: A dead fox-wolf, or whatever it is. I saw a few of these dead creatures, in various stages of decomposition, along the road. Maybe revenge-filled nasty cycle tourists killed them.

Elenuk, my Catalonian friend, had told me about some hot springs, so I headed in, looking for a place to pitch my tent in the drizzle.

It was amazing in there.

It's basically the ruins of a little village, and hippies/travellers have squatted in there at various times, leaving their graffiti art around the place.

The rain sorta held off enough for me to pitch my tent without everything getting saturated, I cooked myself up a feast, and then went for a stroll, to look around the old village, and to do some ecstacising in the hot springs.

It was totally divine in there. And hot. I'm surprised the water didn't turn black after I went in, and I think a couple of the older local men thought it probably would too, by the way they looked at me when I got in. But I got a few smiles out of them, basically by demonstrating how much pleasure I was having.

I went to bed warm, but early, as it was wet, and I was tired. Loads of young people drove in and out, well into the night. I slept, but occasionally heard them ψooφing and iioooing in Greek, somehow it seemed to go on for most of the night.

But I slept well, and woke early, to my complete surprise.

It wasn't raining, so I took the opportunity to pack up while I could, and was on the road by 8.30am.

My Goddess, now that's a first.

It was a stunning ride out of the hills and back to the coast, and then a beautiful ride along it for awhile.

Below Right: The incredible Lion of Amphipolis, a funerary monument that dates back to the 4th Century BC. It was set up in honour of Admiral Laomedon of Lesbos, a devoted companion of Alexander the Great, who held high positions under Alexander's regime, including as Satrap (governor) of Syria.

I met Calvin and Miriam there, from Vancouver city, they're in Greece for a 2 week holiday, and have hired a car to drive around the country. They were so gentle and friendly, and are now approaching the end of their journey. We chatted for a bit, and then parted ways. Another short and sweet connection.

It was pretty cold, and I stopped to get some food. I was famished, as I'd completely run out of food the previous night and had nothing much for brekky.

Below Right: A random archaeological site. Not uncommon in this part of the world, obviously.

Above Centre: Something brought this once large caravan camping park operation to heel. A disaster obviously waiting to happen, with a name like that. There was a crack army of dog beasts in there too.

Above Right: Beautiful Byzantine building

Yeah, it was another beautiful day, another beautiful campsite, and another pleasant surprise.

Koronia Volvi And Macedonian Tempe Wetlands National Park

And so now I'm sitting by the lake at this gorgeous National Park, listening to the many birds and insects zipping around, and watching the glorious shades of grey, green and brown that outline my stunning view slowly change, as the late afternoon wears on.

I've set up my tent, which was pretty wet from last night, but it had a chance to nearly dry out here before a little hint of rain just came, and I had to pitch it, just to make sure everything didn't get totally wet again.

But the rain stopped pretty much as soon as it started.

And my pleasant surprise?

Above Left: This little tube of Turkish honey, which I found in my handlebar bag, and had completely forgotten I had.

It's so delicious, with a really strong flavour of flower nectar. Perfect with fresh bread.

Yeah. Life's simple pleasures. Simple and very real.

Above Right: Completely trashed shoes

That's the thing about camping. I've been sleeping in my tent for over a week now, and even though it's small, and every night it's full of all my gear, it feels perfectly comfortable.

It's amazing what you get used to.

I'm totally used to dressing and undressing in there, retreating there if it rains, sitting somewhere on something outside if it doesn't, cooking simple meals on my little stove, washing in streams and, of course, shitting in the woods.

It all feels so bloody comfortable, even when the weather has been a little iffy.

I mean if it'd been pouring all day every day I'd probably be writing something totally different, but it hasn't.

Yesterday and last night were wet, but today there hasn't been too much rain at all.

Last Leg To Thessaloniki

I knew I had a big day ahead of me.

It was only maybe 65km to the Greek city of Thessaloniki, but there was a massive hill that I needed to climb to get there, which I knew wouldn't appear for at least 40 clicks or so.

I left relatively early, for some strange reason. It rained off and on, and the grass and fields were green and lush. As annoying as the rain can be when you're cycling and camping, it becomes less and less so when I remember how great the rain is for everything and everyone around here - the forests, the animals and birds, and, of course, for the farmers and their orchards and vineyards, the fruits of which I regularly and gratefully consume.

The lake was looking stunning in the morning mist.

Below Left: There's a lot of sheep about. This is a milking shed. Of course, sheep cheese is very common in Greece, as is goats' cheese. My Greek friends explained to me that, for example, proper Greek feta should be made from half sheep and half goats' milk. I didn't know that.

Sad and prickly ends.

What's the point of it all?

Above Right: Super quiet roads today

I stopped for an hour in a bar/café, and charged every electrical device I could, as my phone and power bank were totally dead, there was no sun whatsoever, and it was cold. And of course I was happy to chill for a while before the big climb.

And then I got to it.

It was a pretty steady doable climb for awhile, but then became ridiculously steep, and I needed to get off my bike and push. It was hard work, but luckily only for about an hour.

The views were amazing though, of course. That's always the good bit.

And there wasn't much traffic either, considering how close I was to Greece's second largest city (like only about 15 km away). No one goes to the city this way, they take the bigger roads, and zoom through all the tunnels.

Above Left: Tough long climb (and push)

Above Centre, Right: Eventually I made it over the hill, and then steadily descended into the town of Anthoupoli.

It was then a long descent through fairly new-ish pine forest to the side of the city of Thessaloniki I wanted to be on.

Back Home

It felt so good to get back to the Crossroads Hostel. The women there, Sofia, Limonya and Marianna are amazing, as is the owner Georgios.

They were so nice when I arrived, it felt really good, as we'd had such a nice connection when I stayed here last time.

After chatting for ages I stored my bike, and had the best hot shower in history, after weeks of camping. I'm sure you know just what that feels like, it's indescribably good.

And of course, I'd chosen the best day to arrive back in the city, as it was Greek Independence Day, and the women were having a big cook up, which they invited us few travellers to partake in.

It was another perfect timing moment. Last time I arrived here they were also celebrating a special day, what they call "Cleaning Monday," the beginning of the Lent fast before Easter, and we ate and drank and sang.

I said I'd bring sweets this time, and after getting advice from Sofia, headed off down the road to find a very well known local bakery.

Wandering through the backstreets.

I love this city.

The evening was a cracker. Finnish Tom, Italian Andrea, Chinese Fangyi, all the staff and I feasted on Greek Independence Day tucker, which is traditionally a sort of a battered fish served with various extras. I tried it all. Those guys also cooked up the biggest pot of pasta with octopus I'd ever seen (not that I've seen many).

For dessert we had chokolatopita, the chocolate pie that I'd bought, and Georgios then set out what looked like a box of tools on the table. They were all made of chocolate. Delicious chocolate, at that. Someone had given it to him as a gift.

We drank ouzo, homemade from Lemonya's island, Lemnos. Sounds like she was named after her birthplace.

We also sang loads. Tom plays guitar and sings as well, so we could rip out some harmonies on many of the old classics. It was yet another memorable night.

I'm so lucky.

Above Centre: One of a million Thessalonikian cats.

Above Right: Ancient Ottoman cemetery

The next day I did pretty much nothing, just drying out all my camping gear, washing clothes, packing stuff up etc, and going for a walk in the city. It was wet and very quiet. Super nice.

Again we sang in the evening, and then the next day it was time for me to leave.

I'm gonna leave my bike in the garage here for a few weeks, and head to northern Italy by bus, to hang out with my dear friend April for a few weeks.

Lucky me again!

To Skopje, North Macedonia

The next day I strolled to the bus station and eventually got on a bus heading towards Skopje, the capital of the independent country of North Macedonia.

It was a pretty painless journey, and we got there early, probably because the border crossing had been so quick and smooth. I had a few hours to kill before my next bus departed for Belgrade, Serbia. I plan to stay there overnight, to explore the city, which I've never visited, and to break my long journey to northern Italy into two bits.

It was a relatively flat zoom to Skopje, and it rained pretty much the whole way.

But when we arrived the drizzle was only light, so I went strolling into the historic old part of the city for awhile.

It was dark, and it looked pretty impressive, in all its wet beauty.

There's so many statues everywhere, classical art all over the place, monuments, grand old buildings, bridges, you name it.

I look forward to exploring this city properly sometime.

Skopje's not short on columns either, I gotta say, in true Macedonian, Greek and Roman style.

Above Centre: This old bridge is the most iconic image of Skopje, it was built by the Ottomans in around 1450, and is poetically known as the Stone Bridge.

North Macedonia became an independent nation in 1991, after the breakup of the country of Yugoslavia. The new countries of Serbia, Croatia, Kosovo, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Slovenia, Montenegro and North Macedonia were created then, although the name of North Macedonia is relatively new.

Prior to 2019 it was known as the Socialist Republic of Macedonia, which annoyed the hell out of Greece, because Greece has a province by that name, and according to the Greek government, the residents there have no ethnic connection to North Macedonians whatsoever.

Eventually both countries agreed to a renaming of the country of Macedonia to North Macedonia, but only after the EU and NATO basically used the carrot of EU and NATO membership to convince North Macedonia to agree to the change.

At least some people know how to negotiate and compromise.

A Balkanic Eruption

The breakup of Yugoslavia was the complete opposite of negotiation and compromise, and, due to the rise of nationalism and long-standing ethnic tensions between different ethnic groups within Yugoslavia, a hugely tragic series of conflicts broke out, and escalated into what's now know as the Yugoslav Wars.

The Yugoslav Wars

You might know these wars as the Balkan Wars, but historically the Balkan Wars actually refer to another series of conflicts in 1912 and 1913, when the Baltic states of Greece, Serbia, Montenegro and Bulgaria fought and defeated the Ottoman Empire, and then Bulgaria fought against the other victors to get more territory (it lost).

The Yugoslav Wars, on the other hand, occurred between 1991 and 2001, and it's important to have a little background as to why they actually broke out.

The country of Yugoslavia was only created after World War I, and consisted of a mix of different ethnic groups, most of whom were Slavic Christians (either Roman Catholics or Orthodox), and there was also a sizeable Muslim minority living there.

Ethnic tensions between Serbs and Croats erupted into violence in the 1920s, after a Croatian politician was assassinated. Nationalist movements started to develop during this time, and when Yugoslavia was invaded by Axis forces during World War II, the Axis armies provided support to a very nasty Croatian fascist organisation called Ustaše, which proclaimed a new Croatian state.

Ustaše had been around for some years, and had even assassinated the King of Yugoslavia in 1934. Their Roman Catholic members had been exiled or imprisoned, due to crimes against the Yugoslavian state.

Ustaše advocated for a Greater Croatian state, basically wanting to take over land from other ethnic groups, especially Serbs. But in return for offering Ustaše support, the Nazis forced them to actually cede large chunks of Croatia to Mussolini's Italy.

Nonetheless, Ustaše went about implementing other aspects of their fascist ideology, such as ethnic cleansing. They oversaw the construction of concentration camps, where Jews, Roma people and Serbs were massacred. Ustaše units were involved in brutal massacres of Serbs all around the country, and it's estimated that 300,000 Serbs and other Orthodox Christians were murdered by fascist Croatian units during this time.

It's important to note that Ustaše never had the support of the mainstream Croatian population, they were always a fringe group that were kept in power artificially by the Nazis.

However, you can just imagine the trauma and the hatred that Ustaše's actions created within the Serbian community.

A group called the Yugoslav Partisans, with members from all ethnic groups, fought the Nazi powers and the Ustaše for the duration of the occupation, and at the end of World War II their influence formed the basis for the proclamation of the new Republic of Yugoslavia, which included all ethnic groups, and was led by Josep Broz Tito, who had founded and led the Yugoslav Partisans.

What a broz he woz.

Tito's leadership managed to keep Yugoslavia united, by allowing for a decentralised power structure, where different ethnic communities could make decisions quite autonomously, but still remain united under the Yugoslav umbrella. Pretty smart really.

But when Tito died in 1980 almost all the ethnic groups began pushing to break up the Yugoslavian state, and form independent countries. The Serbs, however, sought to maintain a federation of states, but wanted a controlling role in the leadership.

After the Soviet Union broke up in 1990, Slobodan Milošević, the Serbian leader, refused to agree to a multi-party political system within Yugoslavia, which led to Croatia and Slovenia eventually proclaiming independence from the Yugoslav Federation. So Milošević sent in the Yugoslav National Army, which by this time was comprised almost exclusively of Serbian troops.

After years of living in a federation, different ethnic groups were intermingled in communities all over the country, not just in their original regions. So, for example, there were large communities of Serbs living in Croatian territory, and vice versa. This made independence tricky.

Croatia

In Croatia the Serbs within the country refused to become part of the new Croatian state, and created their own state within it, and they began fighting the Croatian army. Serbian troops from the Yugoslav National Army, led by Ratko Mladić, came to help them, and pretty soon there was a full blown war between Serbia and Croatia.

The tragic shelling of the Croatian World Heritage city of Dubrovnik was highly publicised at the time.

By mid-1995 the Croatian army had taken over almost all of Croatian territory, but at the expense of the "ethnic cleansing" of between 150,000 and 200,000 Serbs.

Ethnic cleansing basically means ridding a particular region of an ethnic group or groups, to make it ethnically "pure", by whatever means.

During these wars the armies used all the classic ethnic cleansing methods. These included forced deportations, the widespread destruction of property, physical violence and/or threats, the organised rape of women to ostracise them from their ethnic group (and/or to get them pregnant with ethnically mixed children), and straight out murder and genocide.

Unbelievable, but true.

A CIA report released after the wars claimed that an estimated 90% of all atrocities committed during all the Yugoslav Wars were committed by Serbians, and most of them occurred in Bosnia.

Bosnia

The Bosnian War of 1992-95 was the most horrific and tragic of the whole fucked up lot.

Like other ex-Yugoslav nations, the Bosniaks had proclaimed independence, and wanted to maintain the territorial integrity of their new nation of Bosnia Herzegovina. But Serbs and Croats within the territory had other ideas, and wanted to partition the new country, and were supported by their respective state armies.

The Bosnian Serbs, led by Radovan Karadžić, committed some of the worst atrocities of the whole of the Yugoslav Wars against Bosniaks during this conflict. These included the siege of Sarajevo, where they blockaded the city for nearly four years, the longest siege in the history of modern warfare, and the cold blooded murder of 8,000 ethnic Bosnian Muslim men and boys at Srebrenice in July 1995.

Karadžić's plan was to link the Serbian areas within Bosnia by ethnically cleansing the areas between them, and repopulating them with Serbs. The policy led to a whole tragic litany of deliberate massacres right around the new country.

The Croatians and Bosnians eventually joined forces to retake territory won by the Bosnian Serbs, and the NATO military bombardment of Bosnian Serb military targets eventually led the Serbs to the negotiating table. The new constitution agreed upon now guarantees all ethnic groups' participation in decision making.

Kosovo

From 1990, when Yugoslavia was breaking up, Albanians in Kosovo, by far the largest ethnic group there, began to be the victims of Serbian-led state-sponsored oppression and discrimination. The objective was, surprise surprise, to ethnically cleanse the region for its takeover by Serbs.

If you look at the map above you can see how Kosovo sits right on Serbia's southern border, and the northern pocket of Kosovo is actually mainly occupied by ethnic Serbs.

As a result of Serbian policies, Kosovar Albanians lost their government jobs, university faculties were dissolved, Albanian language media was shut down, and teachers sacked.

The Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA) was formed in response, and they began to attack Serbian police, military personnel and Serbian civilians within Kosovo.

As expected, hostilities escalated, and eventually NATO stepped in, and Kosovo was placed under the interim control of the UN.

The Aftermath

Just to finish up on this history lesson about stupidity and brutality, the total cost of the Yugoslav Wars has been incalculable.

It's estimated that at least 140,000 people lost their lives, 100,000 of them in the Bosnian War alone. And in Bosnia 83% of Bosniak deaths were civilians.

The wars created nearly 2.5m refugees, and an additional 2m internally displaced people - ie. people that needed to leave their homes but ended up somewhere else in the same country.

90% of all Albanians in Kosovo were displaced by the war there, although many have returned since. An estimated 200,000 Serbs have left Kosovo as a result of the war.

A huge number of refugees ended up in Croatia, around 750,000, which was a massive burden for the country, as it represented more than 16% of the population at the time. Most of them were Bosniaks.

In summary, war is fucked, and the people who lead countries into war are fuckers who should fuck right off.

And by the way, I know some of you skip the history bits, but I still write them because it helps me to understand places, and because some of you guys have told me you like to have readable descriptions of that sort of stuff.

It takes me ages to research and write this stuff, but it's good for me as I'm learning so much about where I am.

Back To Skopje

North Macedonia has a population of 1.8m, and the capital of Skopje has half a million of them.

It's hugely historic, of course.

The Empire founded by the Macedonian Alexander the Great was the greatest Empire the world had ever seen to that point, and its monuments adorn all the great cities and regions of the Mediterranean. And way way beyond.

It goes all the way to China and India.

Alexander even brought wineries to Uzbekistan. I remember that from when I was there. Uzbekistan is so so far away from Skopje.

Eventually I squelched back to the bus station, hung out in a little bakery café and ate 2 large spinach-cheese bireks for 1€ each.

Food is so cheap here.

I'll have to remember that next time I get really hungry.

To Belgrade

I got on another bus, and headed north towards Serbia.

Unfortunately we had to leave the bus with our passports and go through the exit and entrance formalities ourselves, instead of someone coming onto the bus and collecting our passports for us, like they did at the Greek/North Macedonian border crossing.

It's so much more convenient that way, especially considering it was maybe 1 or 2am when we got to the Serbian border.

I didn't get a huge amount of sleep, maybe 4 hours max, which is not too bad for an overnight trip on a bus with iffy seats. Luckily I've been getting loads of sleep lately, as you do when you're camping. Well, as I do, put it that way.

We arrived at Novo Beograd Autobus station before 6am, and I decided to stroll for an hour to get to my hostel, which didn't open till 8am anyway. It threatened heavy rain, but I only got watered a little, luckily.

The bus station district was a huge expanse of brand new and shiny medium rise office buildings, massive shopping complexes, open spaces, and wide boulevards with relatively newly-planted trees. It wasn't very interesting, maybe it'll look better in thirty years, when the trees get big.

Below Left: Colourful old trams traverse the city.

Below Centre: A billboard commemorating the tragic nightclub fire in the North Macedonian town of Kocani on the 16th March this year, where 60 people died and another 160 were injured.

Below Right: I strolled alongside block after block of Soviet-era apartments, all still occupied.

Above Right: My definition of pretty boring. A modern shopping complex.

Below Left: Many people are struggling here in Serbia, but at least there's Coke, heehee giggle like a little boy

Below Centre: Eventually I reached the River Sava. This river runs into the Danube here in Belgrade. Yay, the Danube again! It's Europe's longest river, and over the past few months I've seen it in Budapest, Bratislava, Vienna, and now in little ole Belgrade.

I finally got to the older part of the city and things started looking up. Everything except the rain, that is, which was looking down.

Above Centre: I love the Serbian way of writing Bridget Jones.

Above Left: Quiet pedestrian mall with all the mainstream wildly-overpriced  pretend-luxury brands.

Above Centre: The beautiful Republic Square, and the National Museum.

Below Left: The only genocide in the Balkans was against the Serbs. I think that's what's called revisionism.

There's some beautiful buildings around, from a range of architectural styles, including some great art deco and brutalist classics.

Above Left: Francuska Street. Named after my sweet beautiful brother, who left this earth way too young, in just his early forties. He gave us all a lot in that short time.

Don't forget, death's just around the corner. It's just that we don't exactly know which one.

Above Centre: Yeah, I guess it does.

Above Right: I found this café close to my hostel which was open, which was very lucky in my opinion, considering the ridiculousness of the hour. I sat inside, had a coffee, a (too-sweet-for-me) apple pastry, and wrote.

What on earth would I do with all my time without writing this blog?

I'd probably be online watching Netflix or YouTube, with a hazy glaze descending upon my vision, and a deepening lethargy virusing my bones.

Nah, I'm not totally cynical yet. There are some good things online, if you ferret away, and some absolutely amazing stuff too, like this blog for example.

Hostellar

I really liked my hostel, in the old part of town, really close to the action.

It's owned by a local guy called Dragan, which, of course, sounds like dragon, which he likes. He's a lovely guy, and has a great sense of humour, imbued with a Serbic wit.

As soon as I arrived and Yumi, the Brazilian/Japanese staffer helped me to store my luggage, I met Lucy from London, and we sat and drank tea and chatted about travel and life. Lucy's here in the Balkans on a short trip, and has just come from Sarajevo, which she loved. Unfortunately she lost her purse there somewhere - well she's not sure if she lost it, or whether it was pickpocketed on the tram. It's been a hassle for her, of course, as it had her cards in it. Luckily not her passport though, and she can still use her phone to pay for things.

Lucy's on her way back to London to look for another job, so she can earn more cash and then rent a shared apartment somewhere. Like many places in the world, housing prices in London are astronomical, and the only option for a single person is pretty much to rent a room in a shared flat or house. But just to do that you need a decent job with a decent wage.

Then I chatted for ages with Mila, from Buenos Aires, particularly about the political and economic situation in Argentina, where, like other Argentinians I've met recently, she despises the new rightwing President Javier Millei.

Mila's a mechanical engineer, who actually initially trained as a ballet dancer in the Conservatorium in Buenos Aires, but decided on a career change due to the short career span of dancers, and because she didn't want to move into dance teaching.

She's a super switched-on woman, who also had a lot to say about the epidemic of misogyny that seems to have been growing more quickly around the world in the past few years.

She told me that these days she's reading comments online that she never would have seen not that long ago, and, in her opinion, believes that in the past the men saying those things knew they were saying the wrong thing, but these days feel emboldened to say them because influential men and a group of nasty male leaders are also saying them.

It's a dangerous situation, and it has real-life consequences for women.

I was really inspired with Mila's determination to change things.

Belgrade

I eventually went out strolling through the beautiful city of Belgrade, the capital of Serbia, a city of 1.4m, in a country of 6.6.

Below Left: How could you beware of these cuties?

Below Centre: My street

There's loads of street art in Belgrade. I love it.

Above Left: University building. Like some other countries in the region, such as Greece and Turkey for example, Serbia has been going through a period of extreme political unrest lately.

In November 2024 the collapse of a railway station canopy in the city of Novi Sad killed 16 people, and the protests that initially erupted because the government failed to hold anyone accountable for the tragedy have now morphed into a wider political movement against the rampant corruption in the country, and against the current President, Aleksander Vučić.

They also reflect the inability for everyday people to make ends meet in the current economic conditions.

Corrupt party officials and the rich, however, are doing very well out of the status quo, thank you very much.

Belgrade is a beautiful city, with street after street of impressive buildings

Above Centre: We Still Exist. The government may have quashed the protests by force for now, but the movement still exists, and those pushing for political change are not planning on going anywhere.

Eventually I wandered over to the Belgrade Fortress, an area which once housed the entire population of the city.

The fortress was built on a hill overlooking the confluence of the Danube and the Sava Rivers, and covers a huge area, which these days comprises large parklands, various museums, and other park-ey things like kiddies rides and sporting facilities.

And there's a million statues.

The buildings there have been reconstructed over the centuries by various empires and kingdoms, and are super interesting to wander around.

Below Left: Basketball was big during the Ottoman Empire's rule.

Nah, not really.

But basketball is massive in Serbia, as the country is close to the pinnacle of the sport globally, with its men's team having won Olympic silver twice, and the World Championship twice as well, a position normally held by the US men's team of course. The Serbian men's team is currently ranked second in the world, and the women's team tenth.

The country also has a handful of hugely successful tennis players, the most famous being Novak Djokovic, who has won 24 Grand Slam singles titles, the most of anyone ever. Nadal has 22, and Federer 20.

So there's a lot of basketball and tennis courts around actually, and while I was in Belgrade a group of five Italians arrived at the hostel, specifically to watch Red Star Belgrade basketball team play Real Madrid. All the bars in the city were televising the game. Unfortunately for the locals, Real Madrid won, but it was close.

Below Centre: A row of columns.

And the Serbian flag.

There's a big military museum at the fortress, glorifying the greatness of various Serbian military victories I guess. I'm sorry, but I didn't go in.

Many boys' toys were parked up in the old moat. Way more dangerous than crocodiles.

Below Right: The confluence of the Danube and the Sava rivers.

Above Right: Pro-Putin T-shirts. It reads, "I'm doing it. I have a dream."

Below Centre: I love the last bit - "say please and thank you, tell the truth and work hard." They must've run out of ideas. It's a little wall hanging in my hostel.

Eventually I wandered back to the hostel, chilled, ate, and chatted with a whole bunch of people there. Eventually Lucy and I went out for beeries, to a great bar called Fidel, obviously named after that famous Cuban revolutionary. I've never heard of any other famous Fidels, I can say that with fidelity.

Later Scottish Dave joined us, who's been living and travelling in the Balkans, on and off, for many years, and told us a lot about life here in Serbia.

Dave and Lucy told me about the prevalence of drugs in the UK, and how, believe it or not, it's basically easier and quicker to have cocaine delivered to your door than it is to get food delivered.

The drug trade in the UK (and maybe elsewhere too, I don't know) is mainly run by Albanian cartels who, according to Dave, have little regard for human life, and who have created networks that allow Albanian citizens to be smuggled in to the UK using fake paperwork, so they can work in the drug industry and make a lot of money very quickly. I was pretty amazed at how big the drug industry appears to be in the UK.

I had three pints without really thinking much about it. Beer is so cheap here. When I got up to go to the toilet I suddenly realised I was actually a little pissed, which is pretty unusual for me. I was chatting with a young local guy at the toilets, who told me that in his opinion I've really got the "Keith Richards vibe." I took that as a huge compliment.

We eventually stumbled home, after the bar staff unceremoniously kicked everyone out, and we finally crawled into bed in the wee hours, which is exactly what they turned out to be for me, after I went to bed with too much beer in my bladder.

I Won't Balk At The Chance

Well, it's time to leave Belgrade and the Balkans, so I can hang out with April and other friends in and around Milano, in Italy.

But I'll be back.

My bike is in Thessaloniki in Greece, and after my northern Italian sojourn I plan to head back to it, and continue my cycling journey, roughly heading north back towards this way.

I know it may sound a bit weird, me constantly leaving my bike somewhere and going back for it later on.

But my friends (and the weather) have their own plans, and luckily I've got the time and flexibility to give me the chance to see my buddies when they're around. It's so worth it.

I also don't know Milan well, having only passed through it a couple of times.

But I'm super excited to discover it's treasures.

And to have an Aperol with Aperil❤️

http://buymeacoffee.com/krolesh9