Hope you have a few minutes and a hot cup of coffee because this may be a long one. I'm writing from an internet cafe in Novi Sad, Serbia. I wonder how many people pull out a map and see where in the world I am...probably not many. But if you want a good laugh, trace my route from Vienna, Austria, to Prague, Czech, to Krakow to Wroclaw and Gdansk, Poland, to Budapest to Pecs and Szeged, Hungary, to Novi Sad, Serbia.

Early tomorrow morning I'm off to Romania. Even getting information of what trains or buses run where and when is like pulling teeth. So travelling has been very spontaneous. Basically I just stand there and try to figure out if there is a train or bus going in any direction that could get me closer to somewhere I'd like to go. Then I board it, arrive god knows where and wait to find a new connection. It's very funny.
Mostly I want to write about Serbia. But quickly I must say that last week in Wroclaw, Poland, I found out at 18:00 that the train I thought I'd take (the Polish train website said it was available) didn't actually exist. I was eager to take any train and became almost desperate through out the hours to find something. I honestly thought I would be spending the night in the station, which I hate doing. I got on a night train to Gdansk and was so fortunate as to be the only person without someone sitting right next to me. So I curled up in a ball and slept away the night, being awoken every 40 minutes or so. What luck! Gdansk, a place I visited out of bad luck really, was stunning. It is the only place I have bought postcards so far. That must say something. I immediately went to a hostel on arrival and begged to shower for money. I was refused since it was morning and hostellers needed the shower. He told me to return in a few hours. I did, thank goodness because I was needed bathing! And I met some really cool people there. I also was able to learn about the Solidarity Movement at a fabulous museum. I overnighted it to Budapest, met up with a friend, and we continued on to Pecs. Pecs and Szeged (we went there the second day) are both charming little towns in southern Hungary. I have felt like with the exception of Prague, Krakow, and Gdansk, I've been the ONLY tourist wherever I've gone. It's refreshing! Now onto Serbia....
I hadn't planned to come here, so I wasn't quite prepared mentally for whatever it was I was getting myself into. Novi Sad is the least European place I've been in travelling this winter/spring. That is my feeble attempt at saying it is exceptionally different to everywhere else I've known. Everything has been different. The bust driver has a buddy who, in a very clean and professional looking uniform, comes to passengers after they've seated themselves and collects money. He has something that looks like a mini-typewriter from the early 20th century. He pushes a few buttons and a receipt struggles to print. The roads are so rough here, and many are dirt at least in part. There is so much trash and pollution my throat hurt last night. But things seem to be of one extreme or the other. The town centre is a beautiful square with chic shops and spotless stone streets filled with pedestrians. The river runs through town and is clean, surprisingly blue. While some people have been blatantly rude to me, others beam with hospitality. In the tourist office I picked up a brochure of ten places to visit in Serbia. Flipping through it, I'm amazed at the beauty in this country.
It is a little...hmm...foreign for me, I suppose. This morning the receptionist in my hostel handed me a thick piece of paper that was very official looking. She said, "This is for the police."
I looked at her with surprise and asked, "Will the police ask me for it?"
"Yes," she answered simply as if to say of course.
I gave a little laugh and responded, "Good to know. Thanks for the warning." If the police just approached me and started speaking Serbian to me, I think I'd get a little nervous. I spent a few hours last night from 8 to 10 ish, wandering around downtown. Had I been stopped then, I would have had neither this certificate nor my passport. And she said it's very common for them to stop you. I walked out of the pension and laughed again to myself. The trouble I'm headed towards! And I don't even realise it. Tomorrow I will be, hopefully, walking across the border to Romania. I'm sure that between now and then I will have a hundred more stories to tell. There are thousands already that haven't been told and instead have melted into my soul. Someday I will spend a month driving around this country that has suffered so much and I will know better the people and their culture. But this taste I am getting today is absolutely going to leave me wanting more!