The Road to Novi Sad

Loznika – Novi Sad, Serbia

Not rain, nor snow, nor mountains. Not fruit, nor farmers, nor fortresses. 

In the end, nothing can stop Diana when she wants to go for a swim. 

Yesterday started out ugly. Just as we were going to push off from Loznika the sky opened up with a pretty good downpour. 

Now, Diana and I have a little bit different perspective on riding in the rain. I’m more in the camp of waiting it out. The prediction was rain until early-afternoon – then clearing. So I’m like: “Um, how about we wait until early-afternoon? We have all day . . .”

Yeah, that’s not really Diana’s style. The plan was to leave in the morning, so Diana was going to leave in the morning. Period. 

Let’s just say she has no patience for waiting around. 

After a brief battle of wills, we ended up going to a nearby coffee shop. (Now, this may appear to be a victory for my team. But the thing is, it started raining pretty darn hard during our conversation, and my sense is that Diana kind of wanted to be convinced in this particular instance . . .)

Sadly, after 45 minutes or so there was a break in the rain. The radar showed that there was more significant rain coming – but I know better than to try to debate with Diana in a situation like this. No rain means we are biking – no ifs, ands or buts about it . . .

So we started off for real. Of course, right about the time we left the town – and all the potential coffee shops – behind, it started pouring again.

We made it about three miles before we were forced to seek refuge in a bus shelter. 

Wet and cold with no hot beverages is not ideal. But I did manage to use the bus stop time to accomplish a few things. Retrieved some old plastic bottles from the neighbor’s garbage and made a fender for my bike – so that Diana could theoretically follow behind without having water shooting up in her face. And re-zip tied my phone holder thing into place. So that was good . . .

But eventually we ran out of things to do – and the rain never stopped. In the end we agreed to just grit our teeth and bear it – because, even I have to admit, once you’re cold and wet it’s better to just go . . . At least the effort of biking helps produce a little body heat . . .

The next twenty miles or so are a blur. Just put your head down and pedal. Not the worst biking we’ve ever done – at least it was flat – but not exactly a party either . . .

At some point along the way we catch up to a tractor. It’s big and loud and right in front of us. Diana wants me to pass the thing, which I could do, but that would take a lot of energy. It would basically mean pedaling with all my might just to go a tiny bit faster. Or on the other hand, I can sit behind, enjoy the draft, and barely pedal at all. Seems like an obvious choice to me . . .

It’s maybe easy to get confused when considering this from your couch, or the kitchen table, or wherever it is that you may be consuming this faraway information from. The thing is, it’s not always that easy for Diana and I to communicate as we bike along. There’s the wind and the rain, and the cars and trucks make plenty of noise. And, in situations like this – there’s the tractor itself. It wasn’t exactly some new-fangled electric John Deere or something. No, this baby was probably made in Siberia in 1957 – and if there ever was a muffler it’s long-since gone. 

The point is that when Diana told me that she wanted me to pass because she didn’t like the fumes, it was pretty easy for me to pretend I didn’t hear her. The other option was to have a whole discussion about how the tractor had a high-up exhaust pipe that would tend to make it so that we wouldn’t be breathing the nasty stuff, or to tell her that because there was a trailer on the back of the tractor that we weren’t really that close to the bad stuff in the first place.

But conversations like these were way too subtle for the situation. Nor would Diana be impressed by these arguments anyway . . . The upshot is that I finally gave up and went around the tractor. 

So now I’m working my tail off again. But when I look back I see that the tractor is still just right behind us – because without the draft I can’t go that fast without making the day into a total time trial. 

Meanwhile, the farmer/driver is enjoying all of this immensely. He’s thinking it’s a competition – and he’s going to win. So I can hear him creak the old beast into high gear, and now he’s right behind us, and speeding up. 

I’m really not interested in this race. What do I have to prove? I have a fully loaded bike and I’m racing a gas-powered behemoth. 

This is dumb. 

So I let him pass – and now I’m enjoying my draft again. 

Diana? She gives up too. She falls even farther back – because she’d rather bike on her own and use more energy – just in order to avoid the fumes. 

Eventually Farmer Vlade comes to his destination – and stops right in the middle of the road. He waves as we pass, clearly enjoying all of this . . .

Alright, now remember all that – it’s kind of relevant later in the story . . .

Oh, and the rain has stopped by now. So that’s good . . .

We end up pulling into a campground for the night – one of the few campgrounds in all of Serbia . . . 

It was okay – just good to camp again, if only for one night – but a few things to note . . .

It cost 30 Euros – which is equivalent to about $36. On the more expensive side for the U.S. But, the thing is, we’re not in the U.S. Diana has been reserving whole apartments for us for like $30. Seems kind of wrong to pay more for a little bit of grass than for a place with a roof, a bed, a shower, a stove and refrigerator, air conditioning, and a terrace. 

Then Marcos, the owner, told Diana that the campground was near a national park. We walked over, and there is, indeed, a green space – but we’re surprised to find that it’s actually a petting zoo for donkeys and goats. I mean Serbia is small – but I think it can do better than that . . .

Then there was dinner at the campground restaurant. Diana was excited to have roast lamb. But when she orders she gets a confused look. “No.” It’s almost like they think it’s kind of offensive that she wanted something so outlandish. 

Diana is not abashed. She points at the menu: “But it says lamb.” 

“No!”

She gives up and we order Cevapi again. You remember Cevapi. We loved it the first time we had it. We liked it the second time too. But now we’re realizing that Cevapi is like the hamburger of the Balkans. Can’t think of anything else? Cevapi. And the thing is, this Cevapi wasn’t even good. They probably have a big bag of frozen sausages in the kitchen. Throw ‘em on the grill for a few minutes and call it Cevapi. We didn’t even get pita bread or sour cream with it. Just a few half-hearted French Fries – the world’s equal opportunity throw-in . . . 

I guess Cevapi is a lot like hamburgers. They can be good – but you have to go to a good hamburger joint to get one . . .

Alright, we’re only half-way to Novi Sad. 

Let’s get to the rest of the journey . . .

Today was beautiful. Perfect weather, with those nice wispy clouds that come after a good rain, and highs in the mid-70s. 

But the day was not without its own dramas . . .

We’re following our Mapy biking directions and it’s all good, but then Mapy tells us to take kind of a strange right-hand turn. Off of the main road . . .

We head down into a park and then back up a steep grade, right into what appears to be a fruit company campus of some kind. 

Whatever – we just stay on this for a kilometer or so and then we re-join another bigger road that will take us to Novi Sad. 

So we keep pedaling . . .

Not so fast. 

An old guy on a tractor approaches – wagging his finger with the international sign language that means something like: “tsk, tsk – can’t do that . . .”

He pulls up and starts in with some rapid-fire Serbian. I manage to pick out the word “ferme” – which, I think, means closed in some language or another . . .

We show him Mapy and explain we’re going to Novi Sad and it’s only a little ways and then we re-join the main road – pointing ahead. 

Tsk, tsk he says again with his finger. More Serbian. Something about going around and how it’s not that long. But Diana and I have talked about this before; people always say this or that is just right around the corner – because in a car it all seems so easy.  

Diana, in particular, is having none of this. Even if it wasn’t far to go back around, there’s the matter of the hill that we just came up. If we go back down and then go around, we’re likely to have to do that same hill twice to get where we want to go. 

Or we could just proceed forward a few hundred yards and we’re good. 

“Tell him we’re just going to go,” she says.

I’m thinking if she wants to be the pushy New Yorker she should just do that herself. Us Minnesotans are more of the retrace-our-steps-lest-we-cause-a-scene variety . . .

But I’m in kind of a Minnesota Paradox. I can either tell this guy that we’re going ahead despite his warnings, or I can argue with my wife. Either way there’s a confrontation . . . It’s a lose-lose situation . . .

Finally I decide that it’s better to tell the old guy. He won’t understand anyway – doesn’t speak a lick of English . . . Plus – and this gets back to the tractor from yesterday that I told you to pay attention to – after yesterday I’m pretty confident that I can out-run the tractor for the short distance to the main road. 

So we start biking right past him. 

Old Guy is very agitated . . . 

As we head out I can hear the tractor start up. Okay – time to turn it on – hopefully we can get to the road before Old Tractor Guy can catch us . . .

I glance back and it looks like we’re in the clear and we can relax a little . . .

Not so fast . . .

Now there’s an ATV type thing behind Diana. For sure faster than the tractors. 

But now I see that there’s a closed gate between us and the main road. 

We’re definitely busted now. Probably going to prison for international fruit smuggling or something. (Which, by the way, would not be Diana’s first offense . . . Recall when we crossed into Chile and they asked whether she had any fruit: “No. [No, I do not have any figs that I just picked in my front pack right now.]”)

I pull up and try to pull the gate open – but it’s wired shut and won’t move. 

Foiled again. 

This might be a good time to mention that we recently figured out that Gru from Dispicable Me must be Serbian. The diabolical plots. The evil-sounding accent. The Mom with the big hair. It just all adds up. Anyway – I mention this because we’re kind of in a Gru-like situation now. We just need an evil stun-ray or something to get out of this jam . . .

And I just have to mention that this is all Diana’s fault. If they take us into custody I’m definitely going to be looking for a good plea bargain for myself. “It was all her. She made me do it. I was just following orders. She wanted to steal fruit. She’s done it before . . . Can I go now?”

Fortunately, for us, and for our marriage, it’s not the old guy. The ATV is carrying two young guys who can speak English. They explain that this is private property and the gate is closed, but when Diana asks them if we can just go through, they open the gate and we’re all good. (Do you remember in Star Wars when Obi Wan Kenobi plays mind tricks on the guards? I think Diana is doing the same thing here: “We’re not stealing fruit. We’re just going to Novi Sad. I need to go for a swim. Open the gate . . .”)

Of course, I knew it would be fine the whole time. I don’t know what Diana was worried about. Much shorter this way. Why would we have ever gone around?

Alright, that’s enough celebration. It’s not like we’re in Novi Sad yet. No, first we have to go over a big mountain, and then we have to get through a big fortress. 

Well, it was a big mountain. But it’s not like we haven’t seen big mountains before. We handle that one easily. 

And the fortress? Well, that one almost did us in. There’s something about these ancient walls and the cobblestoned paths around them. They’re like Popo’s Driveway. The whole day was comfortable and nice. Then we start walking up toward Petrovardin – the fortress – and we’re instantly hot and thirsty, and hungry. 

And, of course, there’s nothing to eat or drink. 

It was cool. But to properly enjoy these places you really need to focus on your stomach first. Rookie mistake on our part . . .

Still, we make it to Novi Sad and I enjoy a Jelen Fresh – basically a Serbian Radler, complete with 2% alcohol (you know – kind of a real man’s drink)

– and Diana swims in the Danube. Pretty nice. So good to be back at a swim-worthy latitude (we’re right at 45 degrees now – same as Minneapolis!). 

I think the plan is to make these two days into one standalone Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome type movie. My understanding is that they’re going to call it something like: Dr. Liu: The Road to Novi Sad – with Diana doing lots of martial arts and stuff – but, hello, who do they think the hero is anyway?

Okay, I know we’ve been in Serbia forever, but we finally run out of real estate tomorrow. And then on to Hungary and Budapest and our rendezvous with our girls. Pretty excited . . .