Dog Day Afternoon

Filiasi, Romania – Kladovo, Serbia – Donji Milanovac, Serbia

I don’t really know what that title means. But, as I think you will see, my sense is that it does a pretty good job encapsulating our last two days.

When we left off Saturday evening we were having dinner at the Zanzibar Hotel, Pool & Restaurant in Filiasi. We had already established that there were no rooms left at the hotel. The only options were the less-than-ideal hostel with no air conditioning or trying our luck at wild camping somewhere. 

After we ate, we headed over to the hostel. But as we approached we observed some pretty seedy activity. A number of semi-vagrant people milling about. Diana suggested that maybe I take one last look for a place to camp. 

I zipped around a nearby park type area but it was Saturday night and there seemed to be people around every corner. Didn’t look super promising. 

By the time I returned, Diana had had an extra few minutes with the vagrant types.

”Anyplace else we could try?”

I looked at the map on my phone (again, the problem with the tiny screen). There was one more green space not too far away. Hard to tell, but it looked like maybe it was a cemetery. “Well, we could check out this area,” I suggested, indicating that area.

So we headed over there. Sadly, even from a distance it was apparent that this wasn’t going to work; you could see the tombstones right away. (Who remembers Poultergeist? “They’re here!” We didn’t really want an evening like that . . .)

Looking around, we saw that there was a big abandoned factory thing on our left – with a bombed out looking warehouse, and lots of tables set up on sawhorse type things in the surrounding “yard.” 

“Maybe we could stay here?” I suggested.

On closer inspection, we found a little patch of grass that had been mowed – and it was kind of hidden behind a little building. 

“Should we ask someone if we can stay here?” Diana asked. 

“It’s getting late, but if we see someone for sure we can ask,” I returned.

So we set up our tent. 

Just as we had things about ready, Diana pointed out that there was a person walking back into the property – heading to the far side of the warehouse. 

I ran over to ask about camping. 

As I approached I observed that it was a guy pushing a wheel barrow – which looked to be full of junk. He was heading to a much larger junk pile, where he deposited his load. 

I quickly scrawled on Google Translate: “Is it okay to camp here for the night?”

Wheel barrow guy took a look and nodded. “No problem,” he added, in English. But then I could see that he was considering a little bit and he started talking in Romanian. Once again, Google Translate to the rescue . . . I put the phone up to his face, and he started talking. (Amazing what these things can do . . .) 

“Tomorrow is Sunday. It will be busy in the morning.” And he indicated the whole area, and the tables on saw horses.

”We’ll be out very early,” I told him with Google Translate.

That seemed to satisfy him, and he headed out . . .

Now, with some semi-permission, we head to bed. I’m sleeping fitfully – kind of with one eye open, as they say – but we do manage to sleep at least a little bit. 

As I go in and out of sleep I hear dogs barking in the distance. I half-consciously think to myself that I hope they don’t come our way. I’m not sure how much later it is when I realize that the dogs have, indeed, come our way. 

There are at least six, and maybe as many as ten, dogs. They are barking and growling. They are circling the tent. 

This is all very alarming. First of all, they are incredibly loud. But they also sound pretty vicious. And then there is the fact that I didn’t even bother to put the tarp on the tent because it’s cooler with just the screen. (Did I mention that it is still like 70-something degrees – even in the middle of the night?) Basically, if any of the dogs even pawed at the tent, the screen would be destroyed and there would be no barrier between us and the Hounds of Hell – who, presumably, just came from Pet Sematery, which was, of course, right down the way . . .

In my half-asleep mind, I survey our posessions for some type of weapon I could use to ward off these beasts. I’m really not coming up with anything. And anything that might be useful – maybe the pump? – is with the bikes, which are leaning against the little building some twenty feet away. Definitely not readily available from inside the tent. 

And then there is the whole not-really-having-permission-to-be-here problem. 

“What if neighbors start to wonder what this horrible pack of dogs is barking at?” I think to myself. Also, for the same reason, it seems like it might not be a good idea to yell at the dogs. 

I decide our best plan is to just ignore them and hope they go away. But they just keep on:

”Aaargh, Aargh, Aargh!!!”

”Grrrrrr!”

”Ruff, ruff, ruff!”

It’s a complete stereo surround-sound experience. 

Oh, and there is a streetlight that illuminates one part of the tent. When the dogs pass between us and the streetlight we get this great shadow effect on the side of the tent. Envision a wolf’s head with big teeth in silhouette . . . It’s like a really good special effect in CUJO!

Finally, one of the dogs – who seems to be the most mangy, and also angry about our very presence – ventures up so he’s about six inches from our heads, just outside the tent. 

“Aargh! Grrrr! Grrrrrrr!”

I sit up and give him a little “Get out!” – in my most nasty and angry voice.

He backs off – seeming to jump back about ten feet in about half-a-second.

Well, that’s good. At least he’s afraid. (Later, I realized that they seem to be like the Cowardly Lion. They can give a big roar, but one little rebuke and they turn tail . . .)

I’m not sure how much time elapses. Probably about ten minutes. They’re a little farther away – but they still have the full chorus going: “Aargh, Grrr, Ruff, Aargh, Grr . . .”

Eventually I detect that a few of the barks are starting to fade off into the distance. They seem to have found something more interesting to bark at. 

But mangy and angry is still at it. He is just really offended at our presence. He keeps barking and growling – and I feel like I detect some dog language embedded in there:

”Hey guys – don’t leave. We need to keep barking here. This is really important . . .”

After a while, though, even mangy gives up. With the rest of his pack onto something else, he slinks off after them. 

I guess even in the dog world peer pressure is a big thing . . .

Well, that was not fun!

And now I’m pretty jacked up. I’m not sure I fell back asleep for at least half-an-hour. 

I never looked, but I think all this happened at about 1 a.m.

The next time I’m awoken, there’s a car driving into the warehouse yard. At first I’m nervous that it’s a police car. I’m waiting for it to swing around and shine it’s headlights at us. Fortunately, that never happens. It just pulls in, the lights go off, and that’s it. No one gets out, the car is just parked there. 

I’m really not enjoying this camp space. 

More fitful sleep . . . A little more, anyway . . .

And then, you guessed it . . . The Hounds of Hell have decided to return. (Is this all they do all night? Just go around barking at anything they can find?)

Mangy is leading the way. 

”Over here, guys. This is an affront to our very existence. Bark like there’s no tomorrow . . .” 

And they fall in around him – and around our tent. 

This is intolerable! 

Oh, and now that they’ve woke me up again, I have to go to the bathroom again (Do you know how much water you need to drink when it’s this hot?).

So this time I clamber out of the tent, grab a full bottle of water that I have sitting by the tent, and run the dogs off, threatening to throw it at them. Most of them see one sight of real resistance and decide it’s time to leave. But Mangy – he takes more convincing. I end up having to chase him all the way past the old warehouse – a few hundred yards away . . .

I really hate these dogs. 

I head back to the tent once again . . .

Within a minute or two there’s yet more action . . .

A big white van drives in. Same thing. Just parks and sits there – with no sign of life.

I give up and read for a while.

I mean, I try to sleep, but it’s pretty much useless . . .

And then at 5 a.m. a little babushka gets out of the van, opens the rear doors, and starts spreading out all of her junk. It’s apparent that there’s a big bazaar here on Sunday mornings – and Babushka Lady decided she needed to arrive extra early to get the best spot . . .

This is only getting worse . . .

It’s already pretty much light and we had agreed that we would get up by 6 a.m. in order to beat the heat – so I wake Diana up. 

Well, that was the good part of the day . . .

Diana was irritated that I woke her up. Neither of us got much sleep. And by the time we were done riding it was over 100 degrees. 

The day saw very little of our usual banter. Just slog it out. By the time we arrived in Serbia I was exhausted and dehydrated, and I collapsed into bed and slept for a few hours, while Diana went to the town beach on the Danube and swam. 

Not our best day. Between dogs, heat, and pointless bickering, it was a day that we’ll maybe laugh about in the future . . .

Well, can’t leave things like that, now can we?

I won’t give a blow-by-blow of today – but I will give you a few quick highlights . . .

Once again, we got up at the crack of dawn in order to beat the heat. That wasn’t so bad – but 6 a.m. starts don’t exactly say “relaxed, fun bike tour,” now do they? 

After four days of very flat, we had a much more interesting ride today. Rode by the Danube for a while.

Went over a big mountain through a National Park.

Saw a (presumably wild) pig.

And met Nenad – our new Serbian friend, who shepherded us through the rest of the day. 

We’ll come back to Nenad again tomorrow, but a few words of introduction. Nenad is a big cyclist. He’s a time trial guy – with fancy disk wheels and arrow-bars and everything. He’s a silver medalist in his age class (60-64) in Serbia. He lives in Belgrade, and has two grown children. 

Nenad lined us up with a place to stay for the evening, he showed us where it was, he showed us where to swim in the river, and we’re going to have dinner with him tonight. 

Okay, that’s almost enough for today.

Last thing I wanted to comment on is Romania and Bulgaria. We definitely enjoyed Burgas in Bulgaria and Bucharest in Romania. But I wouldn’t say these countries are going to appear in our top ten list when we’re done. The scenery was okay – but maybe not as interesting as it is in many other places. But the big thing is that we just didn’t connect with a lot of Romanians or Bulgarians. Maybe that was just chance. But it just seems so easy in some places – like with Nenad here in Serbia. 

Tomorrow we continue on our way to Belgrade. Nenad showed us that we can take a ferry across the Danube at one point – that will make the ride a little shorter and a little less hilly. He says all the cyclists go this way . . .

Oh, and tomorrow is the last really hot day. Thank God – because I don’t think we could take much more of this . . .