It’s all part of the adventure, allegedly

Monday 21 September

Keleti station in Budapest may be a little dilapidated, but I soon realised that it’s almost palatial and cosmopolitan in comparison to the main station in Belgrade. Call us naive, but we really were a bit shocked, not because there was a rag tag of refugees milling around in expectation of I don’t know what, but the general rustiness, drabness and falling-apartness as well as the  dreadful so-called facilities. I will never - ever - complain about London stations ever again. Even Brixton, or London Bridge at its most chaotic. This photo shows it as its most bland - the chaos awaits further down the platform.

We did manage to secure our reservations to Montenegro with relative ease thanks to helpful ladies at the ticket and exchange offices, and we were warmly welcomed by the young man at the restaurnan who couldn’t offer us breakfast but had all kind of chicken, burgers and pizza on offer. It seemed a bit rich for 7am, so In the end we compromised on a couple of sandwiches, Neil braving Serbian sausage, and some coffee.

The air was thick with the fug of cigarette smoke, even outside, and there was plenty of beer being drunk even at 7am as rough-looking guys congregated before setting off work. Young men were sleeping rough - I suspect waiting to find out if they would get work for the day. Everyone looked so grey and down at heel - it was so depressing, and even standing outside the station for a while to watch Belgrade get on with its day did little to improve our impression. 

I went to the public loo and was handed a toilet roll on entry as I could obviously be trusted with one, but when I got to the cubicles I was a bit shocked to discover holes in the ground which I probably last experienced on a Greek island about 15 years ago - I had to recall the technique to ensure a safe and dry manoeuvre!

After the sophistication of most stations I’ve experienced so far, I’m afraid I was looking forward to the prospect of leaving as soon as possible - I wasn’t scared, just disappointed by how downbeat it all was - but when the train came up on the board, our excitement was misplaced as  it was a definite case of out of the frying pan. As we walked along the platform - we knew there was no first class but the train was so covered in graffiti in places you could barely see through the windows - our hearts sank as we realised this wasn’t going to be the charming jaunt we’d hoped for, or I’d expected when I researched it  - thanks, Man in seat 61!

I’m drafting this on the train offline now with the prospect of wifi at our apartment. It’s not just that the train is old and rickety - it’s dirty and smelly, with no flush toilets or running water. It has old-fashioned compartments rather than open plan to add to the general sense of claustrophobia and decrepitude, and smoking appears to be ok in many sections of the train, blending nicely with the stench from the WCs. I knew that hand sanitiser was a good idea.

Neily - WTF have you let us in for??

We’d very few Serbian dinars as we assumed that euros would be accepted on the train, which was partially right but what we then discovered, having only bought a few snacks of the choc and crisps variety, was that the misnamed restaurant car sold only coffee and beer. I’ve resolved to eat nothing but fruit and veg tomorrow if I can get hold of it as I fear I will develop scurvy.

My kindle has run out and my portable Juice charger has no juice so it’s been a bit tricky to stay entertained on this long journey, and of course no internet connection. I haven’t had a wash or put fresh make-up on since the spa almost 36 hours ago, and have been wearing the same clothes for more than 24 hours. Thankfully it’s not been especially warm today so sweaty Betty blonde has not been to the fore.  First world problems eh?

On the plus side, we’ve seen some spectacular scenery through Bosnia-Herzogovina as we rattled along in the depths of rugged gorges and verdant valleys, with a beautiful church greeting us with its bells as we passed by at 6pm.  

A nice bit at the border of Bosnia and Montenegro

Tunnels have peppered the journey - it’s been like hurtling through caves. The grimness of Serbia didn’t really move on from Belgrade with lots of derelict buildings and heavy industry chucking out nasty-looking smoke lining the route - I had the opportunity to buy my usual souvenir fridge magnet at the station, but I’m not sure whether I should be blotting out this brief visit. I’m sure it’s pretty somewhere, but we didn’t really see it

We’ve also been sharing our compartment with two lively and fantastically good English-speaking young Montenegran women who have been translating for us and helping us suss out where we are. Sadly, we’re missing out on the beauty of Montenegro - the whole point of doing this journey - because we’re running the best part of 2 hours late and it’s pitch dark.

And that’s because, tragically, and we don’t know whether deliberately or accidentally, an old lady walked out on to the track  - you can access the railway line really easily - and was killed by our train on the outskirts of a town in Serbia, about 4 hours out of Belgrade. We heard it - I thought it was the branch of a tree snapping but it must have been the breaking of a body. I hope she felt nothing, and I hope the driver is ok - but it’s been a pretty awful day and we can’t wait to arrive in Bar where we hope there’ll be a car waiting for us. We’ll have been on this train for over 13 hours.

But I know I still have to count my blessings, and tomorrow is another day for us, when we will be beside the seaside before heading to Dubrovnik by bus on Wednesday afternoon to meet up with Guy. This part of my journey has been an experience, but building it into the plan was an ill-informed decision, and certainly not one I’ll repeat. I’m so pleased to have Neil with me. Solo travel is an adventure, but sometimes experiences, even bad ones, are better shared with a good friend. And whoever you were, poor lady, I hope you’ve now found peace.