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There was a day to kill before the Eternal Derby. I needed an adventure out of Belgrade for the day. The bus station is an adventure of sorts in it’s own way. It turned out to be the wrong one. The helpful locals eventually got it through to me that all buses to Smederevo depart from the Lasta bus depot across the road. Time to take my life in my hands again. The delay in finding the correct departure point was a minor inconvenience, as buses go evry ½ hour or so. I settled down for a trip through the Belgrade suburbs and soon found myself recognising the floodlights of FK Obilic and FK Sindelic. The bus was pretty empty – perhaps Smederevo wasn’t much of a draw after all. The suburbs soon gave way to a more lowland alpine type scenery – vines and chalets – before following the course of the Danube as it made it’s way across Serbia.
The city centre was not at first glance an iconic venue. It certainly didn’t strike me as another Novi Sad. I stayed on the bus until the terminus at the bus station. The logic was at least I could
work out the return journey times. It transpired it was a more convenient stop for the fortress. Smederevo grew up as an ancient capital of Serbia with it’s fortunes linked to the building of the fortress. The Turks then intervened, before it became Serb capital again in the early 1800’s. The position is a commanding one on the bank of the Danube and although there was apparently a lot of damage in World War 2, it still looks pretty impressive. I walked across the rail tracks by the station to the fortress grounds. Network Rail’s safety messages have not spread this far. The core of the fort is just basically a big park, bordered by the river and occupied in the early morning by the usual combination of exercise devotees and stray dogs. The battlements facing the river still have an imposing presence. I walked along the edge of the fort to the old city docks, now largely silted up and a haven for the local romany population on their collecting missions. Amazing how much cardboard you can muster. A few fishermen enjoyed the spring sunshine. They didn't look full of confidence on landing the big one, but it was
some fresh air. The town behind me did not resemble a city of over 100,000 population.
The big village feeling was reinforced as I saw some of the early morning exercise crew as I sat in Republic Square in the city centre. There wasn't a great deal to going on apart from the comings and goings at the Town Hall. The church was a haven for those either seeking to pray or keep cool. The cafes were surprisingly full. There seemed an almost complete absence of shops and certainly no chain stores. A lone seller peddled large inflatable balloons. There was perhaps an edge of town shopping complex that I was unaware of.
Smederevo is the home of Serbian steel. It wasn’t quite on the same scale as Teesside. The rail sidings skirted the river all the way to what I presumed was the new port area by the fortress. A deep water terminal it wasn’t. The rail tracks were occupied by a series of wagons. The operatives eyed me suspiciously as I took photos. In the old days, I probably would have been dragged off as an industrial spy. There wasn't a lot of work going on.
I walked along the river heading north out of town. The good weather had brought out those wishing get their boats ready for the summer and a few old guys were busy making sure that the bowls pitches were similarly in pristine condition. The river was home to a range of house boats, floating bars and restaurants and a nightclub. I kept walking to the steel furnace and on to the old home of FK Smederevo, which was presumably used as a training base. There was no sign of life. A couple of hundred metres further on was their new stadium. The rise in fortunes must have been dramatic to fund such an upgrade or perhaps it was financed by the steel company. The groundsman waved me in for the photographic forray and seemed pleased that somebody was taking an interest in his hard work. The stadium appeared to have no ticket offices, club shop or offices and from the outside seemed to be a work in progress.
I waited in vain by the stadium for a bus back into town. A number of people assured me that I was in the right place, but to no avail. I
Old Docks
.......colecting cardboard decided to walk. After another hour or so looking for the hidden Smederevo, I decided it was time to exercise the return portion of my ticket and headed for the Lasta station.
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