The
The bus stopped for lunch at a restaurant beside a stream so we picnicked by the water, gazing up at the mountains surrounding us. A bridge had been made from two long birch trunks, with wood attached to make the path between them, leading to a field where there were four kennels spaced out, each with its resident dog on a chain. There was a little building protecting a religious painting of the Madonna and Child in the middle of the road and a large billboard of a young woman in a bikini for contrast on the roadside at the same point.
After more beautiful natural scenery and a sprinkling of habitations, which increased in density until we were passing villages now and then, we crossed the mountain top and very suddenly we were in
We got off the bus at an out of town bus station, but we had very good information from the hostel, which recommended that we take a bus or tram since the taxis tend to rip off tourists. Keith asked the man at the ‘information desk’ where to go to catch a bus or tram but was told that there are none, only taxis. He then asked if we could get a minibus into the centre and again was told there was none; take a taxi. He then asked some nearby people if they spoke English and nobody did. Off he went around the corner, leaving me to guard our luggage. Everyone was looking at me sympathetically and going through the range of other languages they spoke, but none spoke French. Keith returned with nothing and we were about to succumb to the taxi option when the stall seller called us over. They looked at the address we had and one man in the crowd said that he had a few words of English and would take us to the trolley bus station. It was only one hundred metres away so Keith was pretty wild about the ‘information’ man whose real job was apparently to feed tourists to his waiting taxi shark cronies. At the bus we couldn’t buy a ticket because we had no Bosnian money, so the kind driver just waved us all on and we were away. Later we heard that ticket inspectors are vigilant and there are heavy fines for travelling without a validated ticket. Our helper, who was a chess master living in this city, accompanied us on the bus and then all the way to our hostel office. There, he just saluted and, with a friendly wish for our future travels, set out on his return journey to the bus station.
Armed with maps, we took a quick walk around to get some money out, and to familiarise ourselves with the central square area of the old city. We were driven up the hill by one of the hostel workers, to where the hostel looks out over the city and a cemetery full of graves dating from wartime. This hostel is for female travellers and couples only, and was run by workers who have a lengthy list of rules to enforce and incredibly long hours manning the reception desks. They have beds nearby for dozing on if the opportunity arises, so sometimes we had to wake them to attend to us
Laws to restrict smoking by bus drivers while working appear not to have been passed yet in Serbia.
No comments:
Post a Comment