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(the article below accompanies this video)
Remember Yugos? They are still around in the former Yugoslavia!
It was time to say goodbye to Bosnia and Herzegovina today. Which was a shame, because at all three towns we had visited (Mostar, Sarajevo, and now Višegrad) we had had friendly, excellent service from the places we stayed, and had real conversations, not just touristy speeches. The hospitality, the food, the landscape, and the sites were all excellent.
But Masayo and I had to move on, and the next stop was Serbia. I checked my BG at 8:00 and it was 177, a little high but not bad after the large home-cooked meal we’d enjoyed yesterday. We ate the last of our muesli and yogurt with scrambled eggs and bacon, and packed up.
#bgnow 177 in the morning
Dogs in the morning sun next to a cemetery
Waiting for the bus to Belgrade
We walked up the road just a few meters to a disused gas station where all Serbia-bound buses stop, and after about thirty minutes the bus came. We got on and headed into the winding mountain roads, watching the snowy but sunny surroundings slip by.
At the border, we were worried because neither of our passports had gotten stamped when we entered Bosnia. But it went smoothly: a Bosnian guard got on to take everyone’s ID, and then he left for a few minutes. The bus guy eventually came and handed everyone’s ID back, and we drove ahead a few meters to the entrance to Serbia.
At the Bosnia-Serbia border crossing. You’re generally not supposed to take photos at these places, so I usually don’t. I thought this one was ok, if not terribly fascinating.
A Serbian officer got on and took our IDs again, and the bus guy again handed them back a few minutes later. This time, Masayo and I both had stamps. So we were official!
With my passport and new Serbia stamp
Snowy hills in western Serbia
At 1 pm I checked my BG and it was a surprisingly high 275. I gave the finger to my OneTouch, but took some Humalog and ate the “Corny Big” cereal bar and some crackers for lunch. Simple, and easy to dose for: the carb counts are on the packages.
#bgnow 275 on the bus — surprisingly, so I gave it the ol’ offensive digit.
Humalog shot for a small snack on the bus — surely this will bring my BG down!
It didn’t matter though: at 3:30 pm, I was 320. 320!! How??? I had no idea. But I took some Humalog and sat fuming.
#bgnow 320 — another impossible but true reading. CURSES.
In Belgrade, we walked to our room, a rather long walk up hills in the darkness, but we found it. Belgrade seemed really nice, but we really just wanted to check in and relax. We found the building, a regular city apartment building, but couldn’t figure out how to get in.
The sign outside had a series of buttons with tenants’ names beside them, but nothing indicating our apartment company’s name. We decided to go find a wifi cafe so I could email them; their reviews on booking.com had said they were good at answering email.
We couldn’t find a place, and decided to just go press every button on the board and ask people if they were expecting us. Somehow, in English.
We started this: most buttons resulted in no answer, though one older woman answered and then hung up on me. When I pressed one, they buzzed the door open without saying anything. Thanks, stranger!
So we were inside, but didn’t know where to go. There was no elevator, so we walked up about four flights of stairs — I thought I remembered someone on booking.com saying the room was on the 3.5th floor — but each apartment just had a Serbian last name on it, no apartment company.
We sat, exhausted, on the stairs, and I took my computer out of my bag. I found an open wifi network that didn’t require a password — a security risk, but the apartment company had pushed me to this. The network worked.
Masayo waiting on the staircase. Where were those apartment people??
I sent the people an email — we were here, in the stairwell, how can we get the key? We were hungry and wanted to get on with the evening. It had never been a problem before, in all the dozens of places we’d stayed in all the countries. What was the procedure?
They didn’t reply. I sent several emails, about 10 minutes apart. Finally I told them to either show up now or cancel my reservation without a fee, because I thought we’d be better off finding another place nearby (there are several).
Masayo had a phone, with no service, but with Skype. She tried to call the number of the apartment company, and they finally answered, but the connection was good. All they kept saying was “hello? hello?” Masayo tried to send an SMS but wasn’t sure if it went through.
Then after an hour I got an email: they’d be there in 15 minutes. About 20 minutes later someone came running up the stairs, shaking our hands and apologizing. I was not humorous, and refused to smile or talk much.
Anyway she let us in, gave us the key, and took off. We put our stuff down and went out to find dinner, putting the unprofessional apartment people behind us.
We went to a Lebanese place we had passed that looked good and cheap. And it was, both: we ordered a plate of falafels to split, and I got something called “kapse lahme” as my main course. It was described on the menu as “lamb, rice, tomato, onion, garlic, carrots, chili pepper, cashews, almonds, raisins, arabic spices”, and if that sounds delicious it’s because it was.
Kapse lahme meal in Lebanese restaurant, Belgrade. T’was every bit as delicious as it looks.
It was also served on a huge bed of rice. Difficult to dose for. But I was hungry, and I took a large Humalog shot for it, and ate every bite. Man, was it good. Nearly as good as the homemade food from yesterday (but not quite).
Humalog shot in the Lebanese restaurant
Then we found a small market called Shop & Go, but whose logo was the same as Food Lion in America, for some carbonated water for the room. Then it was back home — our new apartment in our new country!
I didn’t think I would possibly be below 300 after that rice, but I was pleasantly surprised: at 11:30 pm I was 73. How about that! I ate a single bar of Twix to make sure it wasn’t too low, and went to sleep.
#bgnow 73 after a huge rice dinner? Really?? From the bottom of my ornate mirror-loving heart, thanks!
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