Here I am, in Serbia, and I seem to recall laughing uproariously with Rachelle about the idea of travelling to Serbia (or was it Bulgaria... either way, Serbia: who’d have guessed it?). This morning I missed breakfast, so I bought a burek sir for the road (greasy-as). The bus from Vukovar to Belgrade was supposed to come at 10:45 but it didn’t arrive until 11:15; I was afraid I’d pulled another Slavonski Brod! Why is it that the towns I enjoy the least are the ones that give me so much trouble leaving? Maybe it’s a sign that I haven’t stayed long enough to understand them. Or maybe my first impressions of them were right, and they’re annoying bastards. Either way, I was happy when it arrived, even though it meant I was leaving Croatia, which
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