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.