I’m sitting nervously on a bone shaking tram for ten stops before I realise I’m going in the wrong direction and I’ve forgotten my kilt knife. Serbians glower strange looks as they see a bag laden angry dude curse his way back into town. I hate losing time on hitch days, and especially missing the morning commute traffic. Unperturbed and with some good fortune I find myself – belongings intact – standing in a bus stop lay-by some 15K out-of-town on a road I’m convinced goes to Novi Sad. Because a bus which said “Novi Sad” has just passed.
It’s a glorious day. The sun is shining, if there were birds they would be singing, and I’m in really high spirits. I spot a nice photo-op with my gear at the side of the road – a picture I occasionally take to document the hitching. It’s not long before some asshole decides to piss all over my fire.
I’m squatting down lining up a shot when a car swerves from the other side of the road right at me, beeping continuously and narrowly missing my head. Upon rising, the driver is angrily blaring Serbian at me. I politely inquire if he speaks English.
“YES I SPEAK INGISH. VOT ARR YOU DOING HERRE? DIS IS MILITARY BASE!”
He gestures to an open field and some trees beyond.
“I’m just taking a picture of my stuff on my hitch-hike to India. I’m trying to get to Novi Sad…”
“DIS IS MILITARY BASE. YOU CANNOT BE HERE. GO AVAY!”
He gestures again to the empty field.
“Is it invisible?” I desperately wanted to say. Damn those Serbs with their new technology. Invisible military bases. Watch out world.
“GET BACK IN CAR AND THEN GO TO POLICE!”
He then speeds away before I had the chance to explain I didn’t have a car, and if I did I wasn’t going to drive to a police station and explain I was taking a picture of a field and told to turn myself in. Public enemy number one. I imagine to myself he thought me some sort of spy, especially considering I was speaking English. I should have told him my name was Bond. I wanted to ask if the base was behind that thick line of trees nobody could see through. I should have requested if he’d take a picture of me. I thought of so many things I could have done to totally rip the piss out of his tiny paranoid mind for half an hour after he’d gone. Don’t you just hate that? Comedy gold ten useless minutes after the moment has past. I took a picture of his “base” anyway just to spite him, which you can see below. Eventually a ride interrupted the monthly talk-to-myself.
It’s a woman! Only my third one! She speaks broken English, but can take me all the way to Novi Sad. It’s a very pleasant journey with her as we try to break the language barrier, and she tells me the name of all the towns we pass through. Every time she mentions Novi Sad she sings it. “Nooovi Saaad!” With a happy trill. The douchey military jobsworth is soon forgotten as I suck on a bon-bon.
I’m dropped yards from the old town just before midday. After finding a hostel, in 17 degree sun I wander the quaint town, then head for a beer in the mid January summer. I experience a power blackout around 9pm, sleep through my alarm and wake up at 3 in the morning. So dreaming about a great night on the town is just as good as having a great night on the town right? Except you don’t spend any money. Right?! Am I right?! ‘Sake. The streets look something like the aftermath of a festival. All I’ve got to look forward to is two slices of pizza and a wank in the shower. Said without a hint of sarcasm; it’s been a great day.
Invisible bases
Government stuff
More government stuff
The Cathedral
Some dudes house
Making ears bleed
Colourful houses
The central park
Rag and bones
The fortress – Exit festival is held here every year
This guy again. Same one in Belgrade. They love their alcoholics
Hitchhike to India leg 16: Belgrade to Novi Sad and military wankers
I’m sitting nervously on a bone shaking tram for ten stops before I realise I’m going in the wrong direction and I’ve forgotten my kilt knife. Serbians glower strange looks as they see a bag laden angry dude curse his way back into town. I hate losing time on hitch days, and especially missing the morning commute traffic. Unperturbed and with some good fortune I find myself – belongings intact – standing in a bus stop lay-by some 15K out-of-town on a road I’m convinced goes to Novi Sad. Because a bus which said “Novi Sad” has just passed.
It’s a glorious day. The sun is shining, if there were birds they would be singing, and I’m in really high spirits. I spot a nice photo-op with my gear at the side of the road – a picture I occasionally take to document the hitching. It’s not long before some asshole decides to piss all over my fire.
I’m squatting down lining up a shot when a car swerves from the other side of the road right at me, beeping continuously and narrowly missing my head. Upon rising, the driver is angrily blaring Serbian at me. I politely inquire if he speaks English.
“YES I SPEAK INGISH. VOT ARR YOU DOING HERRE? DIS IS MILITARY BASE!”
He gestures to an open field and some trees beyond.
“I’m just taking a picture of my stuff on my hitch-hike to India. I’m trying to get to Novi Sad…”
“DIS IS MILITARY BASE. YOU CANNOT BE HERE. GO AVAY!”
He gestures again to the empty field.
“Is it invisible?” I desperately wanted to say. Damn those Serbs with their new technology. Invisible military bases. Watch out world.
“GET BACK IN CAR AND THEN GO TO POLICE!”
He then speeds away before I had the chance to explain I didn’t have a car, and if I did I wasn’t going to drive to a police station and explain I was taking a picture of a field and told to turn myself in. Public enemy number one. I imagine to myself he thought me some sort of spy, especially considering I was speaking English. I should have told him my name was Bond. I wanted to ask if the base was behind that thick line of trees nobody could see through. I should have requested if he’d take a picture of me. I thought of so many things I could have done to totally rip the piss out of his tiny paranoid mind for half an hour after he’d gone. Don’t you just hate that? Comedy gold ten useless minutes after the moment has past. I took a picture of his “base” anyway just to spite him, which you can see below. Eventually a ride interrupted the monthly talk-to-myself.
It’s a woman! Only my third one! She speaks broken English, but can take me all the way to Novi Sad. It’s a very pleasant journey with her as we try to break the language barrier, and she tells me the name of all the towns we pass through. Every time she mentions Novi Sad she sings it. “Nooovi Saaad!” With a happy trill. The douchey military jobsworth is soon forgotten as I suck on a bon-bon.
I’m dropped yards from the old town just before midday. After finding a hostel, in 17 degree sun I wander the quaint town, then head for a beer in the mid January summer. I experience a power blackout around 9pm, sleep through my alarm and wake up at 3 in the morning. So dreaming about a great night on the town is just as good as having a great night on the town right? Except you don’t spend any money. Right?! Am I right?! ‘Sake. The streets look something like the aftermath of a festival. All I’ve got to look forward to is two slices of pizza and a wank in the shower. Said without a hint of sarcasm; it’s been a great day.
“