Return to Belgrade

Don took me to the train station in Valence on Friday, Dec. 3. Stopped by a cafe for lunch before my departure and had a great potato and spinach giant hash-brown thingy. Bought the ticket to Grenoble, figuringm I'd work out the rest once there. Glad to see the Macedonian family no longer in the train station. Rode for free to Chambery. Walking the streets at night, a guy pulls up in his car, miming sleep. Eventually figure out he thinks I am homeless, and in the sub-zero air and quiet streets, tells me to ring the buzzer on an unmarked door of a seemingly-derelect building. Oh well, you only get murder-raped once. might as well have it happen in Chambery, France. Turned out to be a frost shelter for bums like myself. I sign my name, country of residence, place of birth, right along side those of Box Car Pierre and Wiley-Wooley Guibert. Given a clean set of bedding, I shack up in the concrete and tile palace, with drains on the floor in every room, for easy hose-down. The smell of the place was an artful combination of the human secretion potential, with a hint of nutmeg for the holiday season. After I got over the comically-frequent burping, farting, snoring, and hacking-cought noises echoing throught the halls, and loosened my grip on my pocket knife, I enjoyed a short but restful night's sleep.

Up and out by dawn, I got a ride about half way to the Italian border. Another two, and I was at the border, except the Alps were blockng the entry. A free ride on the train across the border, and into the mountains of Italy to a ski town, Bardonaccia. After a while, a mountain rescue guy took me down into the valley. Walked/hitchhiked the rest of the daylight hours, then sucked it up and got the 3.50 euro train to Torino. Downtown Torino is quite nice looking , high end fashion shops, baroque buildings. Cooked some ravioli on my stove in the squre next to parliament or city hall or something. Managed to fine 23 euro ticket to Venezia at 4:30 a.m. the next morning. Shivering, unpleasant night in the open air train station. The police made me sit on a steel, low-backed chair, as the rest of the station was shut down for the night. Just me, two police and an overzealous guy riding around on a floor-buffer proved to be a very long night. Finally stood up a bit before 3 a.m. Don't remember much until about 30 minutes outside of Venice, including switching trains in Milan. Venice by far made up for the previous-night's unpleasantries. Sun shining, not too many of my fellow tourists, which I hear is a rarity in this sinking city. A brisk 1 hour tour of the old town before the train to Trieste. Mistakenly bought a child's ticket, which explained the extremely cheap fare. The conductor threatened a 12 euro fine, then 50 euros, then realized that he had better things to do than deal with an American pleading stupidity, and handed back the handfull of change that I emptied into his hand. Trieste was a bitch of a city to escape from on foot. Took hours after turning back at [NO AUTOPUT] signs heading to the highway, and mountain tunnels that ran out of pedestrian real-estate only once through the other end. Finally received aid from some locals, and rode some busses into and out of town to Bassovizza. Walked from there into Kozina in Slovenia, over a mountain pass that offered a peaceful snowfall and view of Trieste and Monfalcone on the coast below. The night watch at the Kozina train station let me sleep on a bench in the heated lobby. Slept poorly, but definitely beat the misty wet exterior.


Mon. Dec. 6
Rainy morning, no rides. Get soaked, trying to make it to the Croatian border, some 25 km away. Stop to warm and have a coffee at a cafe. Someone paid for it, but never found out who. For the hell of it, raise my dripping-wet thumb outside the cafe, and within 30 seconds, I have a ride to the border. Emerging from the mist to exit the EU, the Slovenian border patrolman gave me a suspicious look, and asked if I was carrying any marijuana. I said, 'nope', and he then proceded to stare at me for the next 5 seconds. Figuring this was something he learned during a 2-hour interrogation seminar, I made sure to maintain eye contact throughout to definitively show that no, I was not masking my true purpose as a drug mule. A long, awkward 5 seconds, but once I passed his test, I was into Croatia. Learning that walking in attempts to make progress is a fool's venture when trying to make large distances, I forced myself to stay at the exit of the border patrol and wait for a ride, despite the crappy weather and low traffic volume. Only ten minutes or so before I got a ride from a guy going past Rijeka and half way to Zagreb. Failing to mask my enthusiasm, I thanked him profusely, and we set out, with me acting as the navigator. The only real turn we had to make, I told him to go the wrong way, but luckily it only took us about 5 minutes to get back on track. The guy spoke English well, and was more than willing to inform me of the greatness and idiosyncrasies of ex-Yugoslavia. He had served a compulsary year in the military in his youth and felt much of the world would do well to serve a compulsory term in the Yugoslav army... to experience the gritty life and traverse unknown lands. Not sure what to take from that, I responded by saying that our military service is a minimum 4 years. Reprimanding our "professional" armed forces, I figured this was perhaps a touchy subject, and wary of delving into my actual thoughts on joining any murderous organization under the pretense of "seeing the world", we found ourselves at a bit of a loss for words. Yay, no more military talk. The guy was very nice though, and dropping me off at the exit ramp to his destination, I once again thanked him heartily, and posted up at the tollbooth for the highway to Zagreb under clearing skies.

Another two guys were already there, trying to get rides. One got a lift right away, but I walked over to and talked to the other as we waited. He was Croatian, but spoke English well and lived a life on the periphery by preference. He had with him a large plastic jug of homemade rakija, which he shared with me as the cars paid their toll and rejected our alternating thumbs. Feeling somewhat bad for perhaps decreasing his odds of getting a ride by standing with him, I offered to sit aside, but he assured me he was in no hurry, and so we talked of jobs, life, and bicycles; the later two of which he was an enthusiast. I quite enjoyed the conversation, and so was happy when we were both offered a ride to Zagreb by a surveyor returning from the jobsite. The surveyor spoke of weed the whole time and how in his village of 1000, at least 700 smoked. Dropping me off, the two headed into the city, and I tried for a ride to a town in the direction of the Serbian border. Hours passed, and I couldn't find anyone going that way to give me a ride. Plenty of offers to Zagreb, though. Turned down about ten of them before giving up on the idea of the road to Serbia. Wrote Zagreb on a piece of paper, and had a ride within moments. The ride unfortunately must have accelerated a bit too quickly out of the gates or something, and was pulled over by a cop about 500 yards from the tollbooth. Leaving my to twiddle my thumbs in the passenger seat, he walked to the cop car. Apparently he already had an unpaid speeding ticket, and resigning to the fact that "they were going to catch me eventually", he returned to the car with a sizeable fine. Sorry about his luck, but pleased that the police had no interest in me, we continued to drive to Zagreb.

Dropped off at the train station, I found myself with a lack of will to spend a couple more days to get to Belgrade. With a train headed there at midnight, the potential of seeing Isidora by 7:20 a.m. the next morning was enough to convince myself to take the 11 p.m. train. In the mean time, I walked around the center city. It was lively, old, romantic and whatnot, but I found myself rather tired, and lacking of the enthusiasm required to fully appreciate being in a new, foreign city. So, I sat at the base of a statue in a square, and listened contently to some Croatian '80's rock band perform as tourists and locals passed, danced, and clapped. Some guy, slightly younger than myself sat down next to me and asked if I wanted to talk. Was some Austrian kid, travelling the region by himself, and just looking for human interaction. I talked to him about my travels, and he reciprocated. Looking homesick overall, he nonetheless expressed his plans to venture further, remaining faithful to his desire to experience. An admirable chap, I talked until my train departure grew nigh and wished him luck. Walking back and waiting on the train platform, I ran into an English guy and a German who probably spoke better English than either of us. We shared a car on the night train, and had a good conversation, exchanging travel stories, and our grievences toward the others' cultures. The Brit expressed particular frustration in finding the linguistic logic behind my pronunciation of 'route' as 'root'. I managed to quell my attack on their retarded way of saying 'aluminium' and 'vitamin'. Anywho, nice guys, both seemingly well-to-do. The German shared some beers with us, and upon arrival in Belgrade, I wished them luck on their respective journeys to Bulgaria and Turkey, and hopped on the 40 tram back to the apartment.

Nov. 25, 2010

Crossing into France last night on the train, the French border police removed the drunken and passed-out middle-eastern guy, despite the pleas of his friends, as well as an African dude, despite the screams of his wife. But no worries, the western whiteys, myself included, were all given a courteous smile and a half-second glance at our passports. Arriving at Chambery a bit before 9 p.m., took the train to Grenoble, as the ride to Valence wasn't until the following morning. Night air was nippy. Stopped at a Chinese restaurant across the street that was still open and had me some dumplings. Walked around a a bit, got bored, returned to the train station. Two gypsy families were curled up in blankets on the floor in the lower section of the station. Decided to join them for the night. Rolled out my sleeping bag and mattress. One of the kids approved of my setup and gave me a thumbs up. One family was from Macedonia, the other from Kosovo. Spoke my shitty Serbian to the Macedonian father. Cool guy. Light-hearted. Disapproved of the stoner family from Kosovo. Woken up at 4 a.m. by the train station security, so hung out upstairs with my lobby companions and talked about our respective countries, France, and Jean-Claude VanDamme until my train arrived. I was off to wine, cheese, and a warm bed. They, just twiddling their thumbs until the cops make it around to this end of the heated room and shoo them off into the frozen pre-dawn streets.

In Valence, got my bearings, headed to a roundabout across town and got a ride to Livron, about km from my destination in Allex. Felt chipper, and so walked the rest. Found Stephanie working in the first building I entered in this old stone village on a hill. Met up with Don, shortly thereafter in their apartment, and as they left to complete their work days, thoroughly enjoyed my first warm shower in quite a while. Helped Stephanie prepare an eagerly-awaited Thanksgiving dinner. Ate it with Stephanie, Don, and two of their friends. Slept a hero's sleep. Visited the tower/keep in Crest, accompanied Don to one of his classes at a middle school. Ate so very well. Tried the Slovenian wine I bought. It was awful. Drank proper beer, much missed. Tried absinthe. Twasn't bad. Ahh, the cheeses, No comparison. Also cheap compared to their counterparts in the US. Made some pumpkin bread. Turned out great. Was very well taken care of in my 9 days in Allex. I shall miss it.

Nov. 24, 2010

Got up at 5:30, being stared at by the two people waiting for the train to Udine on the other side of the tracks. The station would be closed until 9, so boarded the 6:44 to Treviso without a ticket. After repeating "no stazione a..." as I forgot even then where I had boarded, the ticket checker took pity on me. In Treviso, got slightly dejected and with no time to spend hitchhiking, I, sigh, I purchased the ticket to Valence, France, and saw that the random west-Italian city I had considered the night before would have taken me well out of the way. Had a bit of time to walk around Treviso, Vicenza, and Milano. All were pleasant, but Vicenza was particularly old and Italian-y.

Nov. 23, 2010

Awoke before dawn, made some boiled and reduced apples and oatmeal. Note to self: boil and reduce more apples. Another nice, sunny day, buit chilly in the morning and hard on the hands as we raked and loaded wet leaves into a hopper to set around trees. Used logs from the old house to make pentagonal retaining ledges around the leaves. Staked down the logs as Mitja made some mystery grain and amaranth with fried squash, his best mushrooms, onions and cheese. God damn great combination. Packed up my stuff as Maja came with the car. We said our goodbyes as they drive me to the train station in Stanjel. A good couple of people. With time to kill before the train to Gorizia, headed into Stanjel and bought a 3 euro bottle of wine from the barn of a drunken old winemaker for Don and Stefanie. Not that I intended to bring them the cheapest Slovenia had to offer, I just didn't know how to cajole the hiccupping, bleary-eyed purveyor into showing me the good stock. Now adding 1 kg of red vinegar to my pack, I caught the train and arrived in Nova Gorica, the Slovenian sister to Gorizia. Indirectly making my way to the Gorizia station, I was dismayed to find that the Autumn train special fare did not apply to the random city in west Italy which I planned to go. 55 euros was too much, and I hit the road. Waiting about 5 min, an army man took me 10 km or so towards Udine. Surprised to get such luck after dark, I then rode into Udine with a girl and her Columbian boyfriend. A wlcome change for some reason, they blasted Little Wayne and Michael Jackson before dropping me at a gas station. Got a ride to Pardenone with a Moroccan Tae Kwon-Do blackbelt. Leaving the city, got a pointless ride of a km or so. By then it was around 8:30 p.m. and my luck ran out. Walked towards Treviso, got tired, and headed to the train station of a small town that began with an 'F'. No more trains stopping here for the night, and the station dark and locked, I crawled under a large pine tree and curled up in my sleeping bag. A light drizzle and some thunder emanating from a large cloud headed my way. I moved camp to the covered benches lining the train station. No more rain or thunder came, but my warm pine-needle bed was now replaced by a cold, slatted wooded bench with trains suddenly passing by 10 feet away at 150 km/hr, which took about 3/4 of the night before I got a little used to it.

Nov. 22, 2010

A welcome sunny morning. Max and I went to feed the horses at the old house. The reservoir fed by the 4 m of gutter we put up was nearly full. Damn, thats about 2 cu. yds. of water by very rough estimation. Tonga had her head sticking through the window and was already helping herself to the hay. Doled out enough, hopefully, headed back and made some more of that porridge stuff, although it didn't turn out nearly as well as Mitja's. With nothing else to really do, and it turning into quite the pleasant day, went for a hike with Max in the one direction I hadn't gone. Max spotted, alarmed, and pursued a couple deer, but to no avail. Came into another small town, in which i felt uncomfortable with Max, and so made sure to be overprotective. Seperated him from another dog behind a gate, and then upon leaving the village to head to the next ridge and hopefully catch a nice view of the Adriatic, was stopped by an old wanker on a tractor coming the other way. I could tell he was yelling at me, spittle flying and arms flailing but couldn;t pinpoint what about. Then realized he didn't like Max not being on a leash. I said 'ok', and turned around as he kept yelling, pantomiming shooting Max. Whether he had a case about a leash was irrelevant. I now found myself in a furious state, feeling no inhibition in tearing off his arms and knocking what few teeth he had left in his head with them if he indeed had any inclination to carry through on his threat. So headed back home, with the put-put of the tractor in town until we returned to the safety of the woods. Layed around and enjoyed the sun in a field, washed some of my clothes to return them to a respectable tint of mud, then planted several trees in the garde that Mitja and Maja returned with. Spent the night around the fire, enjoying some wine that Boris had left, and some cake Maja had bought for my last night on the farm. Nice.

Nov. 21, 2010

No real work done today. Evaded the other guests, walked down to Gorjansko for one last go at the internet. Fucking useless. Walked back, ate some Raca, or Kasa, or something like that; I forget already. Was a good porridge, though. Taking pity on me, Mitja drove me to Katerina's to use the internet. Awkwardly checking email, as husband, son, and daughter come home to find some dirty stranger on their computer. Went upstairs to sit around with Mitja and Maja in Maja's apartment. Maja made a turnip and potato-based stew called jota(i think) and some salad. Then took the opportunity to take a showe, although the water was about as cold as that from the rain barrel next to the tipi. Refreshed and well-fed on a day devoid of work, Mitja drove me back in the pouring rain and returned to stay the night with Maja. Alone in the tipi and trapped by a silly amount or precipitation, I took the opportunity to finish the book Scott gave me and recline under a couple blankets in a state just short of shivering for the night.

Nov. 20, 2010

Raked some leaves, hauled them up to the old house use as horse matting, ate a quick breakfast, and headed to pick up Katerina and Maja on the way to Rajko's farm. Twas a gathering of 30 or so eco-village-minded people, to discuss eco-village stuff, no doubt. Worked with Katerina and against one of Mladan's kids to put a seed oil press together. The thing was a pain in the ass and produced oil only after considerable crank turning, reassemble of the parts, and wasted linseed. Raked some leaves, pitched some hay, and picked at the delicious food. Returned to the tipi with Mladen + sons, Maja, some lady and her whiny 4 year old, and Mitja's friend, Boris, the street performer, He played the hung, a melodic metal percussion instrument that produces an impressive variety of clean tones. Maja made palacinke on the fire, which was delicious stuffed with thir homemade pear jam. The kids were annoying, but I was offerened and got a Shiatzu massage from Maja before heading to bed, quite relaxed.

Nov. 19, 2010

Walked to pick up the car from Katerina and Maja's, set off to Komen for some errands and internet. Library opened at 11, so internet for another day. Picked up some groceries and 4m lengths of gutter and downspout for rainwater collection at the old house for some horses. With the pipes jutting out of the back of the car, returned, attatched a trailer to the car and hauled some timbers from the old house down to the wood pile next to the tipi. Stopping this task on account of the tires ripping up the sodden earth, we put up the gutter, fed the downspout into a plasic reservoir, and called it a day. Drove back to Komen to eat our own seperate large ham/artichoke/mushroom pizzas with an egg. Devouring mine, and feeling quite satisfied, returned to read in the tipi and then headed to bed.

Nov. 18, 2010

Raked some leaves for an hour or so before breakfast. Blue sky overhead and still the sun found a way to stay hidden in the clouds rimming the horizon. Ate me plenty of bread, butter, and jam. Mitja arrived and we set to work clearing a path to an abandoned house for the horses to use as shelter. Satisfying, consuming work with machete, axe, chain saw, and back. Worked for a late lunch- mixed greens salad with beans and pasta with squash/mushroom sauce. Spent an hour cleaning greasy, accumulated dishes, then finished clearing the path. Spent most of the time removing the final huge stone from a gap made in the rock wall. Maja and their friend, Rajko came and joined us for tea around the fire. Accompanied Mitja to Ninjitsu practice in Sezana. I did warmups with the class, my unshowered, muddy self losing the snap in my pants midway through a round of leapfrog. Not wanting to stand out even more so by having my unchowered, muddy self lose my pants, I wisely retired to the bench to take sagely observence of this hallowed art.

Nov. 17, 2010

Laid down layers of shit, dirt, and leaves for a raised garded bed that should keep warm through winter. Mitja left to stay the night at Maja's after lunch. Made another unsuccessful trip down to Gorjansko for internet. Unplugged and plugged back in server to no avail. Exhausting my ace in the hole, I walked back in the rain, read some about tipi construction, and called it a night.

Nov. 16, 2010

Shoveled, hearty breakfast, got to work clearing and putting up fence in the field. Mila, Maja's dog gave birth to 8 puppies. Cleared a way for an entrance for a wagon into the field, came back, moved some logs. Mitja went to gather mushrooms, came back with them and a snake. Without head it writhed. Without skin, it writhed even more. A disturbing sight. Fried it up with onions, ate with mushrooms + rice. No discernable snake flavor, only onions. Chewy with many small bones. The rains came, and the afternoon/evening was spent dodging drops in the damp tipi.

Nov. 15, 2010

Woke up, got to shit-shovelin'. Breakfast and a walk throuigh the woods with Mitja, observing desirable land features. Found a small cave, checked it out. Come back, chopped up branches from the trees cleared yesterday. Tiring work with the machete. Ate lunch, walked down to the internet again. Worked. Sam(son), the guy sitting next to me, was from the next village over and was ten time world breakdancing champion. Teaches kids now, but quite the interesting personality to find in Gorjansko. Returned, hacked up the rest of the branches in the pile, hung out/ate dinner in tipi.

Nov. 14, 2010

Mladenand co. leave in the morning, returning the quiet. Mitja and I clear some trees and shrubs blocking the winter sun from the garden. So many thorns. The sun came out for about 5 minutes, its last brief appearance being thursday. Hands get worked using machete. Garden salad and spaghetti with sauce for lunch. Maja came with the car and we, with Max, drive 20 minutes to the coast in Italy. No border control. Walked the quay overlooking the misty Adiatic, absent of a horizon. Stop at a cafe so that Maja and Mitja can translate a letter they wrote to a women living in Buenos Aires and owns a house in Nadrozica which they would like to purchase. Talk to a German travelling through with his 2 month old dog. He recommends Ljubljana as well as Macedonia. Leave the cafe, drive to a nearby village still on the Italian side for an osmica. Osmica is when a house cooks food and invites people for cheap, delicious food for 8 consecutive days. A popular tradition in the Kras region of Slovenia and Italy. Italian law forbids serving hot food at osmica, and so we ate salami, prosciutto, bacon, and a warn, tender meat that was like roast beef but better and probably pig. It was perhaps the best prepared meat I have had, and with some local Kras wine, the evening was quite enjoyable. Mitja and I shared 1L of wine, while Maja, being the DD and a vegetarian was perhaps left a bit bereft of the reverie, picked from a bag of semi-rotten chestnuts, but seemed content enough in conversation. Even Max, who had deftly planted himself outside the kitchen door was enjoying scraps of the meat and making several friends.

Nov. 13, 2010

Shit shoveling. Breakfast. Mitja's girlfriend, Maja, comes. An eco-villager-to-be, Mladan, visits with his 3 boys. We rake leaves for fertilizer. Mladan wears no shoes, his boys seem like they've never heard the word, 'no'. Maja makes a delicious sour cabbage stew accompanied by some grain casserole stuff Mladan brought. Ate far too much, wander down to Gorjansko to check email. Internet down, get lost on the way back. Spread a few more leaves over the soil as it gets dark. Sit around the fire in the tipi with Mitja, Mladen and sons as they play the bongos and digereedoo. Ate roasted chestnuts for the first time.

Nov. 12, 2010

Cloudy morning. Hark! and behond, there are some deer in the next field doing a spot-on Man-Bear-Pig voice. Another crisis averted. Turns out I have some dry oats left, so I down some handfulls and get to walking. Coming into a small village, I grab some grapes off a vine that are on their way out anyway, and ingest. An old man getting into his car in the middle of the village starts speaking to me. I walk over to see what he wants, and I gather that he is offering me a ride, unprompted. So I say I'm going to Homen, he nods, moves his roll and can of sardines off the passenger's seat and off we go. Momentarily wondering why an old man would be so kind as to offer a foreign-looking wayfarer like myself access into his car, I was cut off by that familiar odor emanating from his mouth as he asked me if I speak German for the third time in two minutes: he was chock-full of alcohol. Slurring and stammering his words, or all-together stopping mid-sentence, I confidently countered his unintelligible Slovenian with my severely broken Serbian, and thus we had our conversation as he managed the curvy roads with surprising skill, which was the only condition I cared about. Arriving at another small village that was technically closer but divergent from the main road to Komen, Old Man pointed down the road, gave a few hand signals, trailed off in his speech, and off I went. After several dead-end turns I exited the village and found I still had a ways to go. Luckily caught a ride at a crossroads the rest of the way. In Komen, got directions to Nadrozica: left, then left at Night Rider bar. Damn-good directions. An hour more walking, and I had arrived; the only tipi in a town of about 6 people isn't hard to find. Apparently, Mitja was expecting me a week later, but he said it was no problem and he and his bear-dog, Max, greeted me kindly. The tipi was legit and I would have my own trailer to sleep in. Three horeses, plenty of land and copious amounts of delicious fresh organic food. Planted a few fruit trees, ate salad and rice for lunch, and then accompanied him while he gave riding lessons in the field. At night, made a fire in the tipi, drank some tea, and otherwise relaxed, glad to have found the place.

Nov. 11, 2010

Set up last night atop the mountain upon ground that was bubbling and gurgling from the water flowing just below it. Located a relatively stable spot as the clouds dispersed and revealed the brilliant night sky. Fell asleep warm and dry. Then came the rain, wind, thunder, and encompassing lightning. Followed by awesomely-loud bursts, the lightening lit up the bivy sac until sound and sight became one. This was a bad spot to be, worrying about being fried inside this stupid bag or having it lose static friction and toboggen me down the hill I was resting. Losing resolve upon a seemingly-near miss of a haymaker, I decided to make a dash for a nearby gas station only to find the zipper stuck. Just what I need at the height of panic. Spending 2-3 minutes getting it free, I pop my head out and feel no drops. Also, its suddenly completely quiet. And would you look at that, the clouds parted, as if God were saying, "Nah, just fuckin' with ya." So I watch the stupid stars as I wait for my resting heart beat to return, zip up again just in time to hear one more rumble in the distance, and am permitted to sleep the rest of the night through.

Wake up, eat the last two bruised bananas and a particularly-shitty apple and post up next to the gas station. Slovenian police patrol #2 stops, radios in, and moves on. Eventually, a young graphic designer chick takes me down the mountain into central Komen. Suggests a good place to try to catch a ride. A seemingly-good spot, but after about 3 hours I am fed up and worrying about making it to Nadrozica in time, so I inquire about the train to Sezana. Only 4.50 euros, and well worth it. The ride rolled up a beautiful mountain, pocked with rustic villages overlooking the Adriatic. Rather glad to be reading alone in the train car enjoying the scenery instead of suffering the walk. Changing trains in Divaca, I make it to Sezana in an hour or so. Internally commending the Slovenian rail system, I obtain directions through town and to Komen. On the home-ish stretch with plenty of time left, I walk a few kilometers out of town and treat myself to setting up camp with daylight to spare. Find a nice open field, and with a clear sky, chance it and forego the bivy. Track the satellites arcing overhead as well as about ten shooting stars, including a particularly brilliant one, leaivng a tail. The dew quickly blankets everything but oh well, still warm and dry inside my bag. Am awoken to an unfamilar animal sound that my delerious, night-paranoid mind quickly determines could only be produced by a fisher cat or Man-Bear-Pig. Shine my flashlight in its direciton, make some grunt-squeals of my own, and the beast recedes into the night.

Nov. 10, 2010

Took my sweet time getting up this morning with the steady fall of rain on the bivy. Finally emerged around 10 to a clearing sky. Dried all my shit in the sun, packed up, and headed to center Novigrad to exchange some money and have a coffee. Got some food at the supermarket, headed out of town to hitch a ride to Buje; an old town on a hill. Walked down into the valley and the border, taking my spot again amongst the cars. This time, I was John Wayne for some reason, and after a bit of questioning, I was into Slovenia. Cop stopped me within sight of the border control, and after checking my passport, told me Sezana was past Kopur, which was just up the hill. Fucking mountain. My headlight blinking in the back, I stumbled up the endless snaking road toward the faint lights at the top. Got fed up with an annoying blister on my foot and gave it a slice. Precipitation increased and my pace slowed. Pupils got quite a workout going from darkness to blinding headlights. One car passing another coming downhill came way too close and I assume scared the shit out of both of us. Topping the hill into Kopur, I convinced myself that I deserved a beer and hot plate of food, after the 20 km or so walk.

Nov. 9, 2010

Woke up sore, poorly rested. Head out. Buy sandwich and much-needed water at a gas station. Try for a ride, but no luck. Get stopped 3 times by police in about a 2-mile stretch. 4th time total thus far. They feel the need to radio-in my passport information each time only to hand it back with a 'hvala' and drive off. Legs not cooperating today. A couple of hours and they are spent. Rest at an on-ramp. Within 5 minutes, find a ride with a logging trucker. We talk about Serbia, NATO, USA, Detroit, etc. Not exactly sure what about, but it was a steady conversation. Drops me off about 160 km shy of Zagreb. Legs now stiff from brief inactivity, I plod along for an hour or so, getting no rides, until I get to a gas station and see Isidora's brother, Alexa, waiting for me. He had spotted me on the way to Rijeka and now I had a familiar ride almost all the way to Slovenia. Being a horrible co-pilot, I slept half of the way. We parted ways outside Rijeka, and within 10 minutes, a guy named Bojan gave me a lift to Novigrad, in the N.W. corner of Croatia on the Adriatic. He showed me a spot in town where I could camp for the night, and I dozed off under so,e evergreens and a clear sky.

Nov. 8, 2010

Spent a few hours fixing a sound software problem on Isidora's computer. Upon realization that speaker jacks were in the wrong plugs, I was ready to go. Took 77 bus into Novi Beograd and walked from there. An hour later, at the outskirts, noticed a 77 bus terminal. Oh well. Bought a map, walked on past the aerodrom as the sun set. Pack heavy, legs tiring, I set up at a Lukoil to hitch a ride. Hop on board with a friendly trucker who has a son, Mladan, who played basketball while at university in Texas and then Alaska. While serving along the road, dras me a nice hitchin' sign for . Drops me off at Ruma toll terminal, then graciously gets me a ride to Sid after arguing with another trucker in the middle of the road to take me. An awkward, quiet ride. Walk the rest to the Croatian border. 8 km of dark road and aching feet. Strap headlight to the back of my head so as not to get accidentally splattered. Take my queue behind the cars, passport in hand. An odd sight, no doubt. "Jesse. Jesse James!" Thaat's me. And on into Croatia. Totally exhausted, feet in pain, fences on both sides of the highway, I make camp behind a road sign for a rainy night, readily broken by the lights and rush of passing semi-trailers.