An Eastern European Adventure, Part II: Serbia

And so the adventure continues…onto Belgrade! I must admit I was rather surprised by the 8-hour trip from Budapest to Belgrade. It was, in fact, rather pleasant. We passed by many small Hungarian towns, noticeable from a distance only by the rise of the tall church steeple at the center of town, multiple lakes and ponds, farmers tending to their cows, and probably fifty tiny train stations whose name I could never even dream of pronouncing. Once we passed the border with Serbia, passports freshly stamped, I noticed the train began to roll at a strikingly slower pace. I can’t say I wasn’t warned about the Serbian railways, but I do believe I could have run faster than the train at some points.

Belgrade graffiti

Not much changed in terms of scenery until we pulled into Belgrade. Very bleak with few new buildings, it looked as if nothing had even been built since the 1960s. Drab weather contributed to the overall depressing look of the city, and at first glance, we were glad not to be spending much time in Serbia. Around dinnertime we got into our hostel, the “Chillton” (I wish I was kidding), changed, and headed out for a meal. We had asked those working at our hostel if they had any recommendations for somewhere to eat, and they pointed us towards a restaurant called “?” (again, not kidding), the oldest restaurant in Belgrade. We asked for traditional, and definitely were not let down. Before eating, we ordered the domestic beer on tap, Jelen, and glanced at what I can only say was a very Serbian menu. For dinner we started with a honey- and walnut-covered polenta, which a) I never knew was Serbian, and b) was absolutely delicious. Brad then continued with some fried pork bonanza that was essentially a flattened and breaded piece of pork rolled into a long tube, stuffed with cheese, and then dipped into a deep-fat fryer. He claimed he was loosing muscle mass on the trip because I didn’t eat as often as would have liked, so I assume this helped make up for some of the weight loss. I had a sort of pork stew served in a whole wheat bread bowl, complete with onions, mushrooms, pork, and small bits of bacon. Not thrilled by the looks of the meal, I was hesitant to dive in, but enjoyed it thoroughly in the end.

Questionable pork stew

After dinner we headed to the grocery store to stock up for the 16-hour train ride we had to next day to Bucharest, Romania. Not in the least delighted at spending 2/3 of my day in a more-than-probably dilapidated train car, I was tempted to buy copious amounts of alcohol. In the end, we would be happy that we didn’t, but that is a story for later. Upon bringing our groceries back to the hostel and checking my bank account, I ruled going out not an option until I had allocated more funds from my American account into my French account and was sure that the money had gone through. While sad to not go bar hopping on our one night in Serbia, I nevertheless had to pay attention to what my bank account was telling me: “Perhaps this would be a good time to reevaluate your finances instead of sticking your face in a mug of beer, ok?”

At the Kalemegdan, overlooking where the
Danube and Sava rivers meet

Thursday morning we got up very early to explore the city, as we only had until 3pm, the time of our train departure, to do so. We went first to the old fortress, Kalemegdan, which is the oldest part of the city of Belgrade. Originally built by the Romans in the 3^rd century, the fortress sits high up on a hill overlooking the place where the Danube and Sava rivers meet. Attacked and invaded many times, the fortress had to be continually rebuilt over centuries. Rebuilt by Justinian in the 6^th century, it remained under Byzantine control until the 12^th century when it fell into the hands of the burgeoning Serbian state. The name of the city, Belgrade, or Beograd in Serbian, means “white town” or “white fortress”. After the Battle of Kosovo, the fortress was partially destroyed, and had to be rebuilt by the new occupiers, the Ottomans, in the 15^th century.

While at the fortress, Brad and I met a lovely Serbian journalist, who spoke to us for a long time about the history, politics, and current events of the country. Both feeling remiss about not having studied up much on Serbia before coming, this was a great way to learn about the city, and country, we were exploring. We learned that the situation with Kosovo is a delicate matter, with most Serbs wanting to separate peacefully so both countries can then enter separately into the European Union. “It is like when you have a person in your house who is sick, but then dies. You are sad, but you feel relief,” Dragan, the journalist, mentioned, as he explained how Serbs felt about Kosovo. He also explained that Kosovo is the real heart of Serbia, home to many churches, palaces, and important monuments. Truth be told, there aren’t very many in Belgrade.

The Victor, showing you his ass

Dragan also spoke in depth about Ratko Mladic, general of the Bosnian Serb forces responsible for the many atrocities carried out during the 1990s, and, at that point, a war criminal still at large. Listening to him speak about how important it was for Serbia to catch and prosecute this man before the capture actually happened, has made this past week’s current events all the more interesting and meaningful to me.

As we walked around the fortress, we passed by a large monument of a naked man, called “the Victor”, erected after WWI to commemorate Serbia’s victory over the Ottoman and the Austro-Hungarian empires. Built by a Croatian artist, it faces out across the confluence of the Sava and Danube rivers towards what was, at the time, part of the Austro-Hungarian empire. Originally the statue was meant to stand in Terazije Square, but ended up in its current location after people complained about his nudity. Dragan told us that to this day, people continue to complain about the statue because it was built by a Croatian (Croatia and Serbia are rivals). People say, “Just look at that statue, showing all of Belgrade his ass!”

Bombed building

From the fortress we walked down to the train station to get our tickets to Bucharest. We got a little lost along the way, as all the grey, dirty, and graffiti covered streets and buildings pretty much look the same, but we eventually made our way there. We then headed out to the far eastern side of the city towards Sava Cathedral, passing two bombed buildings from WWII along the way. The Cathedral of Saint Sava, the largest Orthodox cathedral in the Balkans, and one of the largest in the world, is dedicated to Saint Sava, the founder of the Orthodox Church. The cathedral is built on the grounds where the Ottomans burned his remains in the 16^th century. From the outside the cathedral is truly remarkable.  Built in the traditional Orthodox plan, the exterior is a bright white topped by multiple blue domes. The interior, on the other hand, is nothing to rave about. It looked like a giant empty parking garage with no levels. It is completely grey with no art on the walls, and most of the art and artifacts they did have were huddled off to the side in some sort of makeshift shrine. Okay, yes, probably under renovation, but all in all, a glorified car park in the shape of cool dome.

Cathedral of Saint Sava

Leaving the last item on our tourist to-do list, we made our way back towards center city to the “bohemian quarter”, called Skadarska, to grab some lunch. Told that this was the best area for restaurants, cafés, and bars, we decided to lunch down a small cobblestone pedestrian street, probably the only beautiful place in all of Belgrade. For lunch we split a “mixed grill”, which in Serbia clearly means “mixed fry”. Served with French fries, the pork, two types of sausage, and hamburger were probably the least healthy option on the menu. Mixed grill, ha! Not a single thing on that plate had ever even been near a grill.

After lunch we raced back to the hostel to grab our bags and head down to the train station. Not knowing what to expect for the ride, we waited with bated breath as the train approached. When we entered the train, Brad and I had completely opposite reactions. As he looked around and took stock of our surroundings, he got a little angry, wondering what in the world I had gotten him into, and if he could quickly get off the train and beat up the ticket agent for giving us what was, I kid you not, the most disgusting cabin aboard the train. For a ticket that was double the value of our first journey, it was 100 times worse in quality. While Brad got a little peeved, I, on the other hand, could not stop laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life. Simply the fact that I had to spend 16 hours in this cabin made me laugh so hysterically that I cried. Literally, tears poured down my face as I stared at the trash and dirt all over the floor, the tattered curtains that were falling down, the windows that had not been washed since the train was built in 1900, the seat cushions that were torn from the walls at awkward angles and practically impossible to sit comfortably on, and the overall state of utter disrepair that our cabin was in. Yes, we attempted to switch cabins, but after being yelled at by our Serbian conductor, we decided it would be best to stay put. “It’s a good thing we didn’t get alcohol,” Brad said, “because I probably would go punch somebody in the face if I drank anything right now.”

Our delightful train cabin

I spent the first hour laughing as Brad tried to find a silver lining. “Let’s just be thankful we’re not on an overnight train in Pakistan.” Well, he made a good point, I suppose. However, in truth, there were not that many positives to find. During hour #2, as I gazed around the cabin, I seriously regretted not purchasing a tarp to cover the upholstery. But instead of letting ourselves get too preoccupied with the disgustingness that surrounded us, we played games to entertain ourselves during the ride. As we rolled slowly through the Serbian hills, we would pretend we were the royal couple and wave out of the window to passing groups of women and children. Surprisingly more fun than it sounds. We spent the rest of the time devising methods to prevent people from entering into our cabin: perfecting nervous ticks, inappropriate stretching methods, weird laughs, strange voices, etc. As the journey wore on I became more and more aware of the fact that I desperately needed to use the bathroom. Having glanced at the toilet on my way onto the train, there was no way I was going in there without reinforcements. Realizing that I only had a small bit of toilet paper left from the roll I expertly packed in Budapest, I knew I was going to have to make other arrangements. I needed to get creative. Out of the many books we had in the cabin, we chose the one we thought could spare the most pages. Our choice? Brad’s Let’s Go travel guide from 2007. The country? Sorry, Ukraine.

Not pleased with the train...

After that harrowing experience, the journey wasn’t too bad until nightfall, when the train conductor decided to put the heat on full blast in the cabins. Of course, it being our cabin and all, we had a thermostat that was clearly broken and our cabin turned into an absolute furnace. I could not escape the nightmare. Around midnight we examined cabins around us and found one nearby that was open and remarkably clean. We moved our stuff in and actually managed to get a little bit of sleep until 6 large Romanian men came bursting in at 5am to share the space until we pulled into Bucharest around 7am. Moving was not an option, as all the other compartments were equally filled, so we stayed put with the space (and smell) until we finally got into the city at 7am.

Call me weird, but however awful and disgusting that train ride was, it is by far one of the fondest memories I have of my trip to Eastern Europe. I don’t recall ever laughing so hard at a situation I was powerless to change. My thorough enjoyment was the lemonade out of life’s lemons, for sure.

And so, that’s it for this installment of the Eastern European adventure. Check back soon for Part III: Romania.

An Eastern European Adventure, Part I: Hungary

         2 days before I was set to fly to Morocco, a bomb tore through Marrakech’s central tourist district, mere feet from the hotel where I was meant to be staying. Needless to say, that put me a little on edge. After much contemplation and discussion with my friend and travel partner, Brad, we decided to cancel the trip. This left us with about 24 hours to come up with something entirely new. Frantically searching the internet for cheap airline flights, hotel deals, and exciting itineraries, we landed on eastern Europe. Neither of us had ever been there before, and to be honest, felt unlikely to go back later in life. And so, with little hesitation, we booked a flight to Budapest, Hungary, and a return from Bucharest, Romania, with no plans in between. Exhilarating as it is to travel “by the seat of your pants”, it can also be somewhat nerve-wracking. And as the story unfolds, you’ll find out why (mostly in installment #2).

Budapest

            I met Brad in London’s Luton airport Sunday afternoon. With a delayed flight, we had five hours to catch up. Friends from our study abroad program, Semester at Sea, it had been a few years since we had seen each other, but memories began to flow as we sat down with a few beers. When our flight finally boarded at 9pm, we were excited to be off on a less-than-planned journey. However, what we didn’t account for was that our cheap-o flight on WizzAir would turn out to be more trouble than it was worth. What exactly do I mean? Well, when we had been sitting on the runway for about 45 minutes, listening to the flight attendants chattering incessantly into the microphone in Hungarian, with no clue as to what was going on, we were getting a little exasperated. When they finally decided to inform the non-Hungarian speaking passengers what was going on, we found out that two of the plane’s tires had inexplicably burst on the runway (hm…), and it would take two hours to fix them. In the mean time, we would stay put on the plane because they thought we would “be more comfortable that way.” Personally, I found the situation quite funny. Things like this are always bound to go wrong on trips, and all you can do is laugh. And while I couldn’t help but burst out laughing when looking at Brad, I’m not entirely sure he had the same mentality…

Budapest Great Hall Central Market

            After two and a half hours of work, they finally decided the plane was ready for takeoff. I must admit, I did not feel too secure. Off on somewhat of a wrong foot, but sure to right ourselves somehow, we braced ourselves for a bumpy ride. At 2:30am we arrived in Budapest ready to begin an adventure. Adventure #1: finding a taxi that wouldn’t rip us off. We had heard from guidebooks and travel forums that taxis in Hungary could be somewhat scary. They tell you not to, under any circumstances, take an unmetered taxi. What did we do? We took an unmetered taxi. There were very few taxis at the airport at this time of night, and the guy seemed to have some sort of official taxi driver badge around his neck. So we thought, why not? However, as he began to lead us towards the lone black sedan in the parking lot, I grew more and more nervous. Before allowing him to start the car Brad asked for some sort of identification. His replied, “Eh, taxi driver, little English,” with his hands pushed together as if in prayer. Remembering his official-looking neck badge, we decided to chance it. In the end our concerns were for nothing, as we arrived at the hostel after just a short ride. But once inside, our sleep was not to come so easily. In our 8-person bedroom, we were lucky enough to have a Finnish man with a serious snoring problem. So affectionately dubbed “737” by Brad, he honestly sounded like he had a jumbo jet up his nose. Thank God for earplugs.

Langos

            In the morning we were in serious need of caffeine, so our first stop was a local café for some coffee. We ordered two “lungos”, having absolutely no idea what they were, but appreciating the caffeine-boost. Afterwards we walked the short distance to the Great Hall Central Market, an amazing indoor “everything” market. The first floor was all sorts of foodstuffs, including vegetable vendors, butchers, and liquor stalls. On the second floor, vendors were selling traditional Hungarian goods like lace table runners, hand-embroidered table cloths, and clothing, mixed in with touristy items like shot glasses, t-shirts, beer steins and postcards. After wandering the market a bit, we stopped at a stall for langos (note: different from lungos), a Hungarian fast food specialty. Not something I would ordinarily immediately opt for, we had been told by more than one person that this meal was the way to go. Essentially deep-fried flat bread, it is eaten warm, topped with any number of meats, vegetables, and cheeses. I got one topped with “Hungarian sauce”, which seemed to be sausage marinated with a lot of vegetables in a tomato base. I then added tomatoes, peppers, cheese, and some pepperoni. When in Hungary…I guess.

Danube River Monument

            Since the weather was amazing outside, we did quite a bit of walking around before meeting the free walking tour we would take for the afternoon. We walked up the Danube towards Parliament, which is apparently the biggest parliament in the world built in a historical style. On the way we passed a curious little monument on the riverside that was composed of many pairs of shoes, all shapes and sizes, facing the river. Not knowing what it was that I was looking at, I asked a nearby woman and her son. She told us it was a monument the Jews killed during WWII, who were lined up here, shot, and pushed into the water to drown.

            Around 2pm we started a walking tour of Buda, the more historical side of the city. Our guide, Adam, clad in Sketchers, a neon green hat, and a fanny pack, was possibly the most hilarious and yet most awkward person I have ever met. He also claimed that Hungarians were the best race of people in the world and practically invented everything. Example: bike protests. Random. He told our group very curious facts about Hungarian people, including that they all “look Chinese” when they are born. In addition, since we were, “conversing as friends,” he gave us pieces of much-needed advice, such as, “Casinos I don’t recommend because this is a place you can lose your money,” and “Hungarian is only possible to learn through love.” The second one I don’t doubt though, because the language looks incredibly difficult to learn. Before we started the walking part of the tour we got some facts about the beautiful city of Budapest. Originally two different cities, Buda and Pest, separated by the river, the now-joined metropolis is home to over 2 million people. Buda, meaning water, and Pest, meaning oven, refers to the city’s very famous natural hot springs, which are all over the city and are believed to have medicinal powers. We also learned that Budapest has continental Europe’s oldest metro, built in 1896 (nothing has changed since then).

Adam

            As we walked along the Danube, the 3000km-long river, Adam explained that it by far the most international river in the world, passing through 10 different countries. From the Pest side we looked across to Gellert Hill, on which there is a fortress that was originally built by the Austrian army, and a liberation statue from 1990, when the country broke free from communism. Of the 9 bridges in Budapest that cross the Danube, we crossed from Pest into Buda on Chain Bridge, the first bridge across the river in the city.

            Once in Buda, we hiked up to the Royal Palace, once home to Hungary’s kings. The once-inhabited building, completely emptied and destroyed by communists, provides incredible views of the Pest side of the city. You can easily make out the tallest buildings in the city, St. Stephen’s Basilica and the Parliament, each at 96m tall, in honor of the year 896 when the Hungarian nation was first formed. No building in the city is allowed to be any taller than these two buildings, just like Washington, DC and the Capitol. We walked around the Buda side of the city for a while, listening to various Hungarian myths and legends, stories about the president, and the long-winded history of the invention of the Rubix cube. We passed a Trabant car, a very old car literally made out of plastic, which is apparently very popular in Hungary. Adam bought one himself in 1990 for a total of…I kid you not…60 euros. 40 for the car and 20 for the radio!

            Our final stop on the tour was Matthias Church, originally built in the 11^th century, and later popularly named for the 15^th c. king of Hungary. Reconstructed in the Gothic style, the church lies in the center of Buda’s Castle district and is the coronation church of Hungary. The colorful ceramic tiles used to decorate part of the roof are a Hungarian secret, and many buildings in Budapest are covered with them. Behind the church is the Fisherman’s Bastion, a neo-Gothic and neo-Romanesque style terrace that gets its name from the guild of fisherman that defended this part of the city in the Middle Ages. In total, the tour was meant to be two hours long, but instead it took 4 and a half seemingly never-ending hours. When it finished, we crossed back over to the Pest side of the city for beers, deciding to drink the local beer, Dreher. After a few much-needed drinks, we took a sunset cruise up the Danube, watching as the city transformed, newly clad in its majestic evening robes. When we were finally ready to grab a bite to eat it was 11pm, and there was nowhere to go! Everything was closed, so we settled for a less-than-inviting Chinese restaurant before calling it a night.

60€ Trabant

            With another night of fitful sleep, 737 being still there and all, we again roused ourselves early. Our top priority of the day was to go to the train station and book our train to Belgrade for the next morning. The process of getting our train tickets was incredibly laborious and time-consuming. Still trapped in the 1980s, the system the Hungarians use is in no way computerized. They take paper impressions of credit cards and write out each ticket by hand, a process, which, for us, lasted until lunch time.

After lunch we made our way to the Terror House Museum, a museum located on Budapest’s finest street and dedicated to the victims of both the Nazi and communist regimes in Hungary. The building itself is the former home of the secret police of both the Nazi and communist governments. In fact, many of Budapest’s Jews were executed in the basement of this building. The exhibits in the museum are clearly designed for Hungarians, as all of the writing on the walls is in Hungarian. However, the English paper explanations, provided in each room, help non-Hungarian speakers to understand the meaning of each room. The exhibits in the museum finish in the basement, where many prisoners were kept and tortured. I couldn’t help but think back to Auschwitz, and how the misery of Hungary’s double occupation mirrored much of Poland’s own.

Scechenyi Baths (not even remotely close to
the number of people there at the height of the afternoon)

            From the museum we walked up the tree-lined boulevard Andrassy, past Heroes’ Square, and on to the most exiting stop of the day, the baths. As I mentioned, Budapest is famous for its natural thermal springs, which shoot water out of the ground at an astonishing 175°F. Obviously this is too hot for people to bathe in, so the water is cooled, and the bathhouses all over the city keeps pools at varying temperatures to suit everyone’s needs. The Szechenyi thermal baths are the public baths of the city, so we decided to go there (instead of some touristy place) to get a real feel of what Hungarians do in their free time. And Hungarians certainly do love their baths. I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people. I swear, I had never seen more people in one pool in my entire life. Now those of you who are like me, and don’t really like to share their swimming pools with a thousand other people, would be reluctant to enter the baths. Sort of disgusted by the idea myself, I thought, “When in Hungary…” and decided to get in. Now from what I gather, the water itself has special healing powers, being chalk full of minerals and all. I’m not entirely sure whether or not that’s really true, but the locals (and many tourists) certainly seem to think so. I even met a woman who had come all the way from Michigan to sit in the waters and heal her ailing arthritic knee. From the pictures, you’ll probably think that these “baths” are glorified swimming pools with jets, which, essentially, they are. But I will tell you something, the pool that’s kept at 18°C is the coldest water I have ever felt in my life. I practically sprinted back to the more thermal waters. Trying to get our money’s worth, Brad and I paraded around the baths trying every single pool, sauna, and steam room available. And there were plenty. They even had menthol steam rooms with increased medicinal properties (or so we were told). Being a slight prude, I must admit that all the naked ladies in the bathroom were a bit off-putting. I felt accosted by hundreds of pounds of doughy flesh from which I could not escape. Eventually I did escape though, and I had 10 very pruney fingers to serve as testaments to my many hours there.

In front of St. Stephen's Basilica

            After the baths we had one last major sightseeing item left on the list: St. Stephen’s Basilica. The church was built to honor Saint Stephen I, the first king of Hungary. Along with the Parliament building, it is the highest building in Budapest, standing at 96m tall. The inside of the church is pretty, but very dark, as much of the decoration is in deep red, green, or blue marble. However, the biggest attraction of the church is neither the resplendent gilding nor the ornate use of marble, but rather the right hand of St. Stephen himself, which sits in a reliquary in the Chapel of the Holy Right Hand (I kid you not). Closed to the public after 4pm, the hand was of course unavailable during our early evening visit. But I saw a picture, and I’m pretty sure a dead guy’s hand is a dead guy’s hand, no matter what kind of box you keep it in. I was only mildly disappointed to miss the opportunity at seeing a nasty, crusty, old hand.

            As evening drew on, we meandered back to our neighborhood for dinner. Not wanting a repeat of the night before, we erred on the side of caution and had an early dinner at a small Hungarian café that had been recommended by one of the girls in the hostel. To start, we split a bowl of goulash that was absolutely to die for. Hands down the best thing I ate in Hungary. A traditional Hungarian meal, goulash is essentially a beef stew made with lots of vegetables and seasoned with paprika and other spices. Reddish-brown in color and incredibly tasty, it could have been a meal within itself, but as it was the only Hungarian dinner we would have, we had to press on. For our main course, we split a “grilled specialty”, which was basically a giant platter filled with rice, potatoes, salad, grilled chicken, grilled pork, steak, and roast duck. We washed it all down with a local Soproni beer, and felt like we had enough fuel to last at least through the next day. Really an unbeatable meal and a great price.

Goulash

            After dinner we headed back to the hostel to pack for the next day and get ready to go out. We had heard from friends that a bar called Szimpla was pretty amazing, and decided to check it out. And it was such a fun bar. Teeming with expats, the bar had a really cool, grunge atmosphere that was complimented by some pretty amazing music. Spanning two floors, and tons of nooks and crannies, the bar had tables squeezed into some pretty bizarre spots, with every kind of chair imaginable, including an old bathtub. However, girls - I do not recommend using their bathroom facilities under any circumstances. Take my word for it.

            Wednesday morning we were up early and hustled our way to the train station so as not to miss our train. By 10:30am we were safely in our seats and on the way to Serbia, an adventure you can read about in the next installment of “An Eastern European Adventure”.

Until next time…