Sibiu to Serbia…

The Hotel Ana in Sibiu was good value for money...

It was misty and wet when I left, hence the rain suit...

It rained for most of the night, and in the morning a thick mist enveloped Sibiu…

Although it was not raining when I left, I knew that spray from cars and trucks would get me soaked, so I put on my rain gear, and headed west for Deva, and Lugoj beyond that…

Apart from a badly potholed section of the road which went through a heavily forested area, I remember the ride as being a good one… I refueled at Lugoj, enjoyed two cups of coffee while I watched the locals come and go, and then rode on to Timisoara, which is one of the largest cities in Romania…

The traffic got up my nose as usual, and I battled my way through it all until I reached the southern outskirts of the city, and once on the DN59, blew the diesel fumes out of my nostrils by hammering south for the Serbian border…

Throughout rural Romania, you will encounter old women such as this one, walking through their villages, bent under loads of fruit or vegetables, or carrying other heavy stuff, like firewood... A hard time they have of it...!!

Flags fly in the wind as I pass through Timisoara...

You know that I am bored when I start taking pictures of myself...

There are very few towns and villages to speak of in Western Romania, so I made good time to the border, where my passport was checked on the Romanian side, and the bike photographed by the “biker enthusiastic” border guard…He wanted to know where I was going, and where I had been, and we stood chatting for about half an hour, while I satisfied his curiosity…

At the Serbian border, things were not as friendly, and far tighter controls seemed to be in force… I was stopped by a grim-faced official, who after walking around the bike, asked to see my Green Card…

Entering Serbia... A "warmer" reception awaited me...!!

This was the very first time in over 15 000 km of riding in Europe, that anybody had asked to see this document, which basically covers you for Third Party Insurance… You are not allowed on any road in Europe without it…

I had to get off the bike and open my Top-Box to get my document folder out, and with a smile, handed the Green Card over to him… He looked at it for a minute or so, then in a gruff voice said,

“This is not valid for Serbia…!!”

A chill went through me…

“But I paid €450.00 for the whole of Europe…!” I protested…

He pointed to the row of columns where all the countries are listed and there, plain as day, were the letters “SRB” crossed out, indicating that I was not covered in Serbia… Nor was I covered in a number of others as well…!! I had never taken the time to study the document very carefully, but I know saw that I had been riding through more than half a dozen countries, blissfully unaware that I had no third party insurance…!!

I did not have to act surprised, because that is exactly what I was…!!

Huge Orthodox Church in the town of Vrshac...

He then asked me where I was going, and my mind clicked into overdrive…

“I am riding right through Serbia and into Croatia today…”, I lied…

He gave me a long look, then spoke to another official who had come up to see what the problem was, and after a few minutes of head shaking, I was given the Green Card back, and told I could proceed…

Before they changed their minds, and made me buy more insurance, I hopped on the bike, muttered a thank you, and got the hell out of there…

Thanks goodnes for translated signposts, otherwise I'd still be riding around in Serbia...

I rode the 100km to Belgrade worrying about the fact that I was riding in this country illegally… Had I known what a disappointment Belgrade would be, and how close the Croatian border was to the city, I would have ridden straight through Serbia and turned my little lie into the truth…!!

I had been on the road for 8 hours already, and ridden almost 1500 km in the last three days, and needed to find a place to rest up and write…

Belgrade was not the nicest city I have visited… Tram lines criss-crossed the main road, making riding a bit of a mission… Many of them stuck up through the tarred surface, and at one stage I had to ride between the lines for over a kilometre, not knowing from which direction the tram would come, and not wanting to meet one head on, or feel one nudging my back tyre either, for that matter…!!

The traffic was a nightmare, every street I turned onto looking for a hotel, was jam-packed with vehicles of every size and description… The GPS had no hotel listings for Belgrade at all, which I found very disconcerting… The closest one listed was back in Romania…!! There were no signs in English advising where a hotel might be, and after half an hour of aimless riding, I was a very unhappy child…!!

None of the people I stopped to ask directions from, spoke any English, or they refused to, but on the whole, Serbians seemed like an unfriendly bunch to me…!! I eventually managed to find a taxi driver willing to help me, and after a few wrong turns, I found myself on the biggest roundabout that I had ever seen… It had eight entry and exit points, was six lanes of traffic wide, and had a tram line running between the lanes…

Traffic was directed by eight traffic officers, waving batons and blowing loudly on whistles… Thousands of pedestrians milled about, waiting for their turn to cross over a section of the circle… On the far side, I spotted a hotel sign, and taking a deep breath, eased my way into the madness… I made it through in one piece, having narrowly dodged a tram and one of those “concertina” type buses that stretch forever…

There was no parking in the immediate area, so I rode up onto the pavement in front of the Slivinja Hotel, and went to see if there was a room available… Inside the huge foyer, hundreds of young people in track suits milled about…

I had arrived in town in the middle of the World Junior Kickboxing Championships…. Over 340 kids between the ages of 13 and 18 were booked into the hotel… There was however still rooms available, and I had to hand my passport over to the management before they would accept me as a guest… They insisted on keeping the passport, which made me a little uneasy…

“You cannot park your motorbike on the street,” I was advised, “It will be stolen by morning…!!”

First time I had seen a sign like this on my trip...!! My sense of unease grew...!!

I was directed to an underground garage half a block away, where the bike would be secure… I then had to lug all my gear back to the hotel, making three separate trips to do it all in… My room on the second floor of this ten storey hotel was comfortable enough, but flushing the toilet was an experience all on its own…

When the old fashioned lever was pulled down, it sounded like the hounds of hell had been let loose… Plaster rained down from the ceiling, and I am sure I could hear the tiles on the wall cracking… The pipes in the wall rattled and I am sure the noise of the water gushing down into the bowl could be heard out of the street…!!

Despite this, I stayed there an extra day…  I had to write up a few postings and did not want to fall too far behind… I was however uncomfortable in Belgrade, and Serbia for that matter… Perhaps it was the insurance thing, or that I did not have my passport on me anymore, or that the people on the street never seemed to smile, or that little or no English was spoken by anybody I tried to speak to, or that my card would not work in the first two ATM’s I tried, or thoughts that the Big Fella might be tampered with…

I did not feel safe on the streets at night when I went out to find something to eat, and I did not see a single person who I thought might be a tourist… As a result, I did not carry my camera around with me, and took not a single photo of Belgrade…

I was never at ease, going to check on the bike every few hours, and all this took its toll on my nerves… I couldn’t wait to be shot of the city which felt more like a “state controlled” institution than a town…

©GBWT 2010