TheBlondeBackpacker - Bye Bye Belgrade

There are a bevy of things to do in Belgrade, from the theatre and film festivals to scenic and cultural tours. It is one of Europes oldest cities. I wouldn’t know about any of that though seeing as we were there for about an hour. Not intentionally mind you, we had intended to spend a few days there. As part of our search for the non existent snow in Eastern Europe we thought it would be a good stop off point on our journey to Turkey, something different, why not?

Our journey began on the train. We were travelling from Hungary and set ourselves up in our own carriage. It was dark, we had no sense of direction and weren’t really sure of where we were supposed to get off the train. Just another typical day for the three waywards who refused to buy a Lonely Planet guide, instead choosing to ‘wing it’. Turns out Serbia isn’t really designed for ‘winging it.’

The train ride was full of colourful characters, including a group of youths who kept walking past our carriage, banging on the door screaming something none of us understood. Despite the fact that we had no clue about what was going on, we knew they probably weren’t complimenting our shoes. Most men when confronted by a situation like this put on their macho bravado. Most men would tell the girls they’re with that it’ll be OK, that they’ll take charge, that there’s nothing to fear. Linx on the other hand was a big girl. With each taunt and bang on the door he looked at us with panic in his eyes, each time exclaiming something along the lines of, “you girls are going to get raped. They’re going to beat me and rape you two.” Em and I looked at each other for moral support and burst out laughing at our knight in shining armour. We weren’t so concerned about getting raped as we are about the houses we were passing in the night. An unusual amount of people in the outskirts of Belgrade lived in homes without rooves. We watched people, sitting in rooms, light pouring out like an aura above their concrete boxes. As the train started to slow we wondered if we should be getting off. The station was desolate and there were no readable signs. There was another beating on our door followed by yelling. Linx winced. “We’re all going to get raped.” We sat tight as he peered out the door, impressively mind you. We thought he might have pushed us out as bait to allow himself the chance to escape. A French woman passed by and Linx asked her if this was our stop. She shook her head no but we couldn’t understand what she said after that. All we knew is that we were relieved to not be getting off at a stop that looked like the kind of place where Communists would celebrate rationing.

The train pressed on and after a few more dishevelled homes and random sites we pulled up to a large station. People streamed out of the train onto the platforms making us think we must be at the right place. The French woman burst in to our carriage and pointed, nodding, so we grabbed our packs and followed the masses. It was drizzling, but as per usual, no snow. Out of the train station we passed a small brass band busking and people all around. The streets were bustling and all of a sudden we felt better about the situation. Maybe we weren’t going to die after all. We wandered through the streets until we finally came across a hotel. It was retro eighties with pink carpet, grey leather and mottled marble. Gold metallic pots housed ferns and the reception area was panelled wood. We had officially checked into the twighlight zone. Handed our key we made out way up the elevator to drop our bags in anticipation of returning back down for dinner in the dining room.

On the way to our room we noticed that the halls were all fairly different, and once inside the room that it didn’t reflect the foyer and I don’t mean in a good way. The beds looked like they were out of the 50’s with red felt blankets placed on each of the three single wooden beds. Oh well, it was better than a dorm and it looked clean. Em decided she was going to wash her face and disappeared to the communal bathrooms. I’d never been to a hotel with communal bathrooms. While waiting Linx pulled a brochure out of the desk drawer that talked about the history of the hotel and it soon became clear why the hotel was such a mismatch. The foyer clearly designed in the 80’s versus the halls of the hotel which were pure 60’s and then the dining room which looked like it had been pulled straight from the set of Fawlty Towers. Why would you build such an eclectic place? In Belgrade you’d do this because your hotel had been ravaged by bombs on average every five or so years. Yes, you heard me, blown up. Almost boasting, the brochure talked about the regular refurbishments that the hotel had undertaken following destruction. I tried to recall if I’d ever read a brochure like this at the Hilton. The look of dread washed over Linx’s face again as Em returned from her trip to the bathroom looking equally scared, “I am not sleeping here.”

We went to investigate the bathroom. All of the lights had blown and in the pitch black we could hear a tap dripping into a full bath. Was someone seriously bathing in the dark, in a public bathroom?  In a sick way I kind of wished I could flip on a light to see what kind of weirdo would be lying there, naked, shrivelled no doubt. Realising that the hotel was possibly Quentin Tarrentinos next inspiration we raced back to the room and loaded our packs onto our backs. There was a train leaving Belgrade for Bulgaria in 35 minutes.

Down at reception the concierge met us once again with a smile. “We’d like to check out.” He nodded until he realised what we meant and frowned. He was helpful though and even gave us a refund for the other nights we’d already booked, even though we didn’t expect it. “Fastest check out ever!” he beamed.

Running down the streets in Belgrade back to the train station we were desperate. We got there in just enough time to get a ticket, go to the bathroom in a room with lights, before piling onto the train.

We got a four bed carriage with cots that looked like they were bought from the army in 1947. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and when the train jolted along the rail, dropped my tooth brush in a puddle of muddy, pube infused water on the floor. Sighing I return to the room with fuzzy teeth. There was a stranger in our carriage, the fourth bunker. I nodded and said hi, really scoping him out to determine the likelihood of him mugging us in our sleep, as I climb up the steep ladder into my bed to settle in for the night. The next day we’d be in another land.

We all lay there like sardines in a can as the train rattled along trying to fall asleep, all praying that no one let one rip.