No Guns Allowed!
Trip Start Apr 25, 2012
16Trip End Ongoing
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Where I stayed
What I did
Beer and Girls
It sucks being sick on the road. Have I said that before? It
seems to be never ending lately. I can't seem to shake this awful cough,
probably because I refuse to rest up and just keep going hard every night. I am
travelling after all.
So when I arrived in Belgrade I felt awful. First step was
to go to a chemist and get some cough syrup (because I hadn’t learned my lesson
from earlier). Second step was to finally buy some new shoes, because my feet had
turned into flaky potatoes
some great people, but unfortunately I missed a perfect opportunity as I hadn’t
slept on the overnight train and missed out on a singles party on a boat
because I passed out after being drugged up on the cough syrup. I was shattered
because I rate the Serbian girls right up there with the Slovakians, but maybe
this was for the best.
I decided to rest up a bit, as I had big plans ahead that I
wanted to feel well for. A couple of blokes from the hostel decided to make a
last minute decision to go to an international soccer friendly. It was Serbia
vs. Ireland, and the locals are known for their hooliganism. It seemed a rather
tame affair however, and we were dumbfounded that the police wouldn’t allow us
to sit with the Serbs, demanding that we take our place with the tiny Irish
contingent in the corner
simply because we didn’t speak Serbian. This was despite the fact that I wasted
my money on a Serbian scarf outside the venue.
My last night there had a bit of drama. We went to the Belgrade
beerfest, and there was a sign that clearly stated that we had to leave our
guns outside. Despite the lack of firearms the British blokes that we were with
somehow got themselves into a bit of a fight with the locals. I was
disappointed to miss it as I was too busy dancing, watching other fights break
out, and getting photos with people. I found the others out the front being
detained by the police, but they managed to get a couple of local girls to help
explain their story and were free to go without any complications. I’ve
defiantly met some interesting characters while travelling, but without a doubt
the British are the most hilarious people to be around. Their reputation as bad
travellers is justified however.
So I left Belgrade because I had to make it to Sofia, so I
could catch a flight to Cyprus. Sofia was boring. I spent pretty much the
entire day trying to find a place to withdraw some of the local currency, as
well as being yelled at in Bulgarian by old ladies who were angry at me for not
being able to pay to use the bathroom. It is common in Eastern Europe to have
to pay for the toilet, and I felt as though my human rights were being abused.
While I had no luck finding anywhere to withdraw cash I had my ass saved (yet
again) by a kind stranger who saw that I was having trouble trying to buy a bus
ticket to the airport. He graciously purchased it for me, and translated for
the clueless old lady at the ticket counter. God bless that young man.
With my sickness giving me grief I had half a bottle of
cough syrup with me when I arrived at the airport
bring it with me past customs. Some of you know that I suffer from flight
anxiety, and I figured that with the mellowing effect of cough syrup I might
just feel calmer on takeoff if I finished the whole bottle. This was a mistake,
because I learned that day that when you overdose on cough syrup, it has a
laxative effect. After nearly crapping myself on takeoff I spent most of the
flight in the lavatory. But I had successfully made it to Cyprus, and I can’t
wait to share some of the stories there.