Old-school Youth Hostel

From Sarajevo to Belgrade, I shared a train compartment with the most ADORABLE little old lady named Ivanka who, after I established very clearly through hand gestures and blank stares that I did not understand a word she said, continued to speak quite companionably to me in Serb throughout the nine-hour trip. In that time I gathered that a) she thinks my name is pretty and b) she has been to Australia. The Australia trip was sponsored by the number "two" - I DO understand the word "dva" with two fingers held up.

So either she has been there twice, or she went for two weeks. Or perhaps she went there with two people, or visited two cities, or enjoyed two beers.

I would continue this line of reasoning to suggest that she may have seen two kangaroos, but she didn't pantomime any hopping so I kind of ruled that one out.With one hour remaining we were joined by a handsome Serb named Milodrag, and I assure you I am not spelling that right. "New York City?" he said, "America...Red Hot Chili Peppers!" So we hit it off right away. "Faith No More...I hear them, festival, EXIT, in Novi Sad." Andy, I hope you are reading this.

At the conclusion of the trip I helped Ivanka leave the train by carrying her bowling ball collection (I'm guessing), much to the appreciation of her son who met us on the platform. He was very nice to me, and Ivanka and I said a fond goodbye. In all - and this is borne up by my experiences today as well - Serbs are extremely friendly. Andy was right - you find yourself really liking these people, and then you're like, "But wait, they bombed the smack out of the Bosnians for pretty much the entire time I was in high school."

Leaving the train station, I found my hostel very easily. I'm staying in the sort of place that I alone can enjoy. All of my past traveling companions - I'm totally talking to you, SAM. And Andy and Nick. And hell, let's throw in Dan and Sharon and Shaheen and Elaina and anyone else who's ever traveled with me - would shudder in absolute horror at the dorm bunkbeds, the grainy patchwork seersucker sheets, the crowded, mildewed unisex bathroom down the hall, the smoke-and-noise filled lobby. And, ok, I couldn't do this forever. But for 3 nights, I'm happy. There's something satisfyingly uncomplicated about locking all of my possessions into a bedside cubby. I was assigned the bed closest to the air conditioner, so I get to regulate it all night according to my own comfort level...no helpless freezing or sweltering for me. (and there's no one around to steal my blanket in the night, ahem, you know who you are!) The young guys running the front desk are super sweet and helpful. When I checked in, they looked in confusion from my passport to me and said, "Whoa. You look a lot younger than you are." I'll take that any day, thanks.

And being surrounded by the chatter of ten-years-younger travelers of all European nationalities is better for me right now than sitting in a hotel room alone with my thoughts. This was probably the best place for me to go after saying goodbye, one by one, to the guys.The "Balkans Bonanza" adventure of me, Andy, Nick, and Sam is over, but I'm only 1/8th of the way through my overseas sojourn. Mostly I feel pretty great about it - I feel lucky that I don't have to leave yet - but I do miss having the guys around.

I'm only on my own for a week, though, before I arrive in England for Naomi's wedding. (!!!!!)