Dancing up the Danube: Part Deux

So having left the balkans and into Hungary and the Secheng region where border controls are no more, I reflected upon the native people I'd spoken to, those that were part of the former Yugoslavia and had witnessed the wars. The feeling I got was of passion and a belief that the way things were in the former Yuogslavia were of a better time.

Things weren't better now, the fractions still there, but the fighting had now stopped. With the war criminal Mladic and his atrosities going through the relevant channels, there were occasional protest and marches in Sarajevo, afterall it was 8,000 Bosnian men and boys he callously ordered genocide upon whilst England was preparing to host Euro 96. Why did this go on? Had we not learnt from previous evil dictators? With the crap in Syria going on, why are, the Democratic and very self righteous West, so slow to react? Why were things so bad to some, that the decades of unrest that follow were fought so violently for? Leaving the Balkans had left me with a feeling of happiness in the courageous and welcoming people I'd met, but sad that nothing was done to help the majority who actually didn't want massive change...

Into Hungary and Budapest our journey laid us upon 'Grandio Party Hostel'. I've been to several good hostels who party hard, but this was something else. The state of the place was terrible, the staff so hungover and decrepid it took an age to book in.

Once done, we embarked on a massive walking tour of Budapest, a lovely city that straddels the Danube, one side Buda, the other, Pest. We traversed both sides, crossing the gorgeous Chain bridge to get great views of the Parliament buildings and St. Stephen's Basilica, which we'd earlier climbed the heavy 308 steps to the top.

We carried on walking, but stopping for Goulash, when a military chopper came zooming over the Danube, low and fast performing some pretty sweet manouvers. We'd been told Die Hard 5 was being filmed in the city, and the several repeat flights, in conjunction with a support chopper swooping but always focusing on the military chopper, led me to guess this was more footage for Die Hard...

That night we went out on a bar crawl organised by the Hostel, it was OK, until Hutch and I got split and I was left on my own. I got back to the Hostel and had a beer or two, then hit the hay. Hutch, apparently, wasn't far behind me after his night managed to collide back with the crawl.

Next morning we got ready for the next and final stop on the Danube tour, to Bratislava, a casual 2 hour 40 minute journey. After some frantic rushing to get tickets, we cruised into Bratislava late. A small and quaint city with classically architechture, we did the main sights within a couple of hours, however the main sight for two fellows, was the quality of the female species.

Now, throughout the tour, there have been some lovely ladies, but the Slovaks are a different class. Tall, mainly brunette and with all the correct curves in the right places, these ladies were the highest quality seen so far!

The next stop was to the first host city, Wroclaw (pronounced 'vrats-whaf', don't ask!) The train journey took us through the Czech Republic, and we weren't supposed to stay long. However, the Czechs were in Wroclaw for the first day, and panic ensued in the train station with hundreds of people and our grip on Czech not great. We missed our connection, and ended up late into Wroclaw. We missed the first half of the Poland Greece game, the one notable bonus, seeing how empty the streets were as we made our way to the hostel as Poland played out a draw. We downed tools and headed to the fanzone, and started a few beers, seeing out the first game, preparing for Czech vs. Russia.

The atmosphere in the fanzone was tepid; the majority of fans were Czech and those boys took a thumping. We saw few Russia fans. Until we hit the hostel. We were essentially staying in mini Moskva! Rauchus Russians downing vodka like it was water was an enjoyable sight, their steely nature in conversation whetted my passion for Russia, I pushed on for conversation, eventually earning swigs of Vodka from the victourious Russians.

Upon going to bed, our room mate was in... a giant 6'10 Ukrainian, named Sas, who followed the motherland as his mother was Russian. His English poor, but his French much better. We conversed briefly in French, before all deciding enough was enough and bed beckoned. The still partying victorious vodka drinking Russians were still audiable, but the 12 hour journey and subsequent grog meant I was out for the count.

Dancing up the Danube: Part 1

From Sarajevo, we our Journey took us to another war torn fall out from the hedonistic days of the former Yugoslavia, the states former capital, and now capital of Serbia, Belgrade. The journey departing Belgrade left at the bleary eyed time of 6:00am, the previous nights BBQ and beer not encouraging much enthusiasm for a 5:00am awakening. The journey was again sumptuous, bouncing through gorgeous tree filled swathes of aggressive hilly terrain. This included seeing spots marked off by tape, an indication of land mine filled countryside. The final approach to the Serbian border was a captivating lake, which the road followed the lakeside, with gorgeous backdrops of a slightly mountainous view. I had little idea that this lake was part of the border between Bosnia and Serbia, only twigging when the occasional Serbian flag was seen on the other shoreline.

Going through the border was again slightly drawn out. Hutch's desire to get a 'Welcome to Serbia' sign on the border, was less welcoming that he'd imagine, getting frog marched back onto the bus! This was the second land border we had crossed, and the second time Hutch had pissed off a border guard, following his topless approach into Bosnia and the failure to produce the passports in record time, resulting in the border guard in Bosnia to scream at me!

Once through to Serbia, the landscaped changed as did the use of the alphabet; the Serbian's use Cyrillic, the landscape now flatter and less scenic. Poverty also seems to slightly improve, with better established housing and more cars scattered as we headed to Belgrade. Once dropped into Belgrade, another currency was required to ensure we could have the statutory arrival beer; The Serbian Dinar, with a conversion rate of ~150 to the pound.

In a scorching hot Belgrade, we were due to meet a friend who was on a 6 month placement. The last time I had seen her, she was in New York on a different placement. What a contrast, but nonetheless, we were in Belgrade, and Charlotte Read had foolishly agreed to not only meet us, but host us. Before the rendezvous, we had a meander through Belgrade (via a split toe nail for me; lesson, don't wear flip flops on undulating pavements in Belgrade), and settled at a recommended lunching spot. To our surprise, the traditional menu hosted:

• A Calf's Head in Tripe
• White Glands (Bulls Sex Glands)

Once opting for and consuming less outrageous food, we departed in a taxi to Boleč. We arrived to a jubilant Charlotte, who was glad to see English people. Once having a beer and idle chatter, we worked our way into downtown Belgrade, ready to experience the reputed party capital of Europe.


There was no disappointment. We stumbled upon a frantic private party on a boat on the Danube and were welcomed to the party by the ever so stocious Ivan. The back drop from the boat was the gorgeous Kalemegdan Park and more of Belgrade. We partied hard until 6:00 and knew it would soon be time to go, when Ivan was carried off the boat looking pretty ill. Ivan will forever be known from this trip as Ivan the Terrible after the former Grand Prince of Moscow. Belgrade didn't disappoint for nightlife; we were there on a Monday night, and the appetite was buoyant and the locals welcoming and encouraging to our requirement for a party!!


When we gently awoke, we got ready and headed off, but not before being struck but something strange. Rain! It was the first time on the tour we had experienced it, and thank goodness for my borrowed Anderlecht jacket. After a tour of the previous nights back drop, Kalemegdan, and other pivotal sights in the city, we headed into the bohemian quarter Skadarlija for a final beer in the city before heading back to Boleč to go to the station for our next Danube destination: Budapest. The final beer was a thanks and fairwell to Charlotte for hosting and joining us; Hutch and I have offered a reunion meal upon Charlotte's return to Nottingham.

Once aboard our new host, we settled into our sleeper carriage and started consuming the couple of beers we had for the journey. Upon departing Novi Sad, a sudden flashing and banging occurred (I know I've mentioned this in a previous stat post, but for continuation I will include in this post). Initially I thought it was some firework being launched towards us, but this flashing and banging continued for 30 seconds or more, I started to fear for my life; we were in Serbia, and the possibility of coming under attack was high. As soon as it had started, it disappeared, the train coming to a sudden halt during the 'attack'. After some moments, we were informed that it was from the high voltage electric cable. It had fallen onto the train, causing high powered static and plasma explosions. The fact the cable had come down on our carriage accentuated the visual and sound quality. To also find it hanging precariously outside our window was not only confirmation, but fascinating. 

Whilst we were looking out, Hutch noticed another curious passenger poking his head out, further up the carriage; he too had the cable, but hadn't seen it's proximity to his head; centimeters. Hutch pointed this out, and the passenger had a sudden jump and was panicked. Accordingly, Hutch was rewarded a hero; he had just saved this dudes life.


The repercussions of the cable meant we would be behind schedule, whist the required repairs were executed. The jubilant mood of our first sleeper train had been killed, and in between the noises of the repairs, we slumbered in our carriage until we got to Budapest, only being awoken at the border for Passport checks (this one went without incident, given the two previous troubled crossings). I was also fortunate enough to quickly make a reflected sun camera, to witness the rare transit of Venus, over our life source, the Sun. This was fortunate because it was due to occur at sun rise, just as the border control was happening. If you missed it, the next one occurs in 2117.