Fifth installment

So here I was in Yugoslavia which was one of the few undemocratic countries left in the world walking further into the heart of this bastion to communism and to think I always said that I would never visit any country that was still communist. For the first five to ten kilometers all I saw were lorries and busses waiting to leave the country and go on to their destination, it seemed it was easy to get into the country but getting out was a different kettle of fish. The lack of traffic passing me was also evident as this was not a time for tourism, there were hardly any people on the streets, perhaps they had all left because of the war. Walking in this country did not seem a good idea so I tried sticking my thumb out and hoping for a lift but it was not to be. No one stopped, all they did was pass me by although most of them looked as they sped past, I was getting tired so I thought about catching a bus, where was the bus stop, how was I going to tell the driver what I wanted mumbling to myself in the end I decided to keep on walking. Why everyone I pass stare at me, was it because I had short hair or they were just curious. The best thing to do was to keep on walking, the bergan got heavier and legs got more tired with every passing kilometer, it was strange that I for a long time started thinking kilometers not miles, my stomach kept runbling telling me I was hungry but I had to go as far as I could while it was daylight. Then up ahead I saw a sign maybe for a town or village so I decided to look for a shop as I was passing through, I had to have something to eat and perhaps find a bus stop because I knew that I was heading firstly for a place called Novi Sad before going cross country to Vukovar, so I thought that if I pointed to Novi Sad on my map then the driver might understand what I wanted or that's what I hoped. Whenever I had been on my travels all I needed was a map and a phrase book for that particular country, I had the map but no book. The locals in the West seemed to respect the fact that you were trying to communicate in there language but this was not the West or part of Europe, this was commie land and the people were different perhaps even hostile to visitors invading their country and privacy but I had to risk that happening, I had to find somewhere to stop and take a break, "shit I was a nice enough person, they were bound to help" talking to my self as usual.

As I walked through the it seemed like a village there was hardly anyone to be seen, funny but I carried on, while walking I passed a bar with people inside, I didn't need a drink just something to eat and perhaps a little bit of information. A few meters past the bar there was what looked like a shop but it was closed just my luck. On the side of the road where I was standing was a sign but of course I didn't understand what was written on it but because of the layby underneath it I assumed that it must be a bus stop so I took off my bergan, sat on it and waited, how long I did not know but I was glad to have a rest. The minutes passed by and then I spotted a middle aged woman walking towards me so I decided to attempt to ask her what time the next bus was, I stood up and as she came closer to me I said in English"excuse me"as if she was going to understand me. Amazingly she stopped to my surprise, what to do now or what should I say, I decided actions speak louder than words so I pulled up the cuff on my coat to reveal my watch and then pointed to the sign and to my utter astonishment she pointed to the number six"thank you" I replied in English and she walked away. Oh well it could mean one of three things, there was a bus every thirty minutes, every six hours or at six'o'clock whatever she meant I was fed up so I decided to sit down and wait.