Crossing the border from Austria to Slovakia at the lonely remains of a border checkpoint, we were simultaneously reminded that we were still in Europe, but the world as we knew it from our trip so far was subtly changing. First, and most obvious, were the deserted border crossings between Austria and Slovakia and Slovakia and Hungary. No longer necessary since these countries joined the EU, the border checkpoints look like the staff just got up one day and walked out without turning out the lights or locking the door. In Hungary, it’s more like the scene of a western movie where everyone fled after the bad guys on black horses rode in and shot up the place; wind blowing the curtains through broken out windows as the tumbleweeds roll by. Once past these ghosts of a bygone era, we were hit by the juxtaposition of old and new across Eastern Europe.
In Hungary, German stores Aldi and DM (think: Safeway and Rite Aid) spread across the countryside, shiny new Volkswagons & Audis outnumber the old GDR-produced Trabants, and John Deere machines plow the fields alongside the occasional draft animal. Up to Budapest, the landscape was mostly agricultural and we noted subtle differences from home, like the cackling of chickens streaming out of most yards. Not so subtle was the difference in road conditions and signs along the trail! The Danube Trail in Hungary departs from the river and winds through the landscape on heavily-used farm roads, as evidenced by deep ruts and holes cut into the dirt. We arrived after a big rain that replaced the gaping holes with small mud ponds. Add to that the disappearance of the frequent and perfectly-placed signs marking the bike trail; and we suddenly realized that our days of easy navigation were gone. While navigation became more challenging, so did communication. The Hungarian language is unrelated to most other European languages and neither of us knew any words of it. We quickly tried to learn the basics – hello, goodbye, thank you – and were aided by the fact that German is a second language for many of the older generation (again, historic relations with the GDR). In short, we got by fine, but we also began our gradual transition to sign language – something that became more necessary the deeper into Eastern Europe that we went.
After 4 days, we arrived in Budapest, where Mario’s parents met us for a long weekend. We found a great little studio apartment right in the heart of the city, which, after one month of camping, felt luxurious – especially since it even had a coffee maker!! We quickly settled in to our new home and set about exploring the city with Marie-Luise and Franz Josef. The Budapest skyline, marked by the decadent Parliament building on one side of the Danube and the hilltop castle complex on the other, paints a romantic backdrop to a city that has seen many cycles of glory, upheaval, decline and renewal in its long history. We explored its museums and churches, and even got to see the hand of a King-Saint Stephan, which is preserved in a jeweled, glass-topped box in a chapel in St. Stephan’s cathedral (kind of gross, really!). We also searched, often in vain, for a traditional Hungarian meal. You see, Budapest has fully embraced western capitalism, at least where restaurants are concerned. There is a McDonald’s or Starbucks on every corner in the center of the city… but, you’re hard-pressed to find a traditional Hungarian meal in a restaurant that is not over-the-top touristy. Eventually, we found the meal, but had to endure serenades of “New York, New York” and “Guantanamera” alongside our Goulash. Aside from the heavily policed metro stations, we saw few signs of Hungary’s communist past. But this history is well-preserved in Memento Park, a sort-of graveyard for communist statues located on the outskirts of Budapest. This park apparently has the largest collection of communist-era statues, which, in most other places, were torn down along with the Berlin Wall. In Budapest, they were laid to rest in this well-conceived, but sadly underfunded, park. The imposing statues hint at the oppression of the communist-dictatorship (as it is called in the Park), as one can imagine how it felt to be under the watchful eye of the 35 ft. tall evil-eyed Russian soldier.
After a long rest in Budapest, we said goodbye (again!) to Mario’s parents and got back on the bikes. We made the mistake of getting a late start and ended up struggling through rush hour traffic trying to get out of the city on roads that were already much less bike friendly than their counterparts in places like Vienna and Frankfurt. I found my mind repeating “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore!” over and over. But, we made it out ok and continued our way south through the rest of Hungary. Unlike before Budapest, this stretch of the trail got much easier as we cycled along relatively smooth dam-tops and enjoyed some beautiful views of the Danube. Here, we found our first, and only, campsite directly at the river’s edge. Another night, we unwittingly began to set up camp in the middle of a sheep pasture and found ourselves face-to-face with a wall of sheep that rounded a corner and stopped short, looking perplexed, when they saw their dinner had been sprinkled with red and green spots (our bags and bikes). The friendly sheep-herder directed his dogs to move the flock around us (it is so impressive to watch those dogs work), then came over to chat with us. Though we couldn’t understand a word he said, we think that we told him about our trip and answered his concern that we would get too cold sleeping in the field that night by showing off our high-tech camping gear. Before continuing with his flock, he pulled out a brand-new plastic jug of wine from his backpack, cracked it open and offered us a drink. This was the first of many displays of kindness, generosity and curiosity that we came across in Eastern Europe.
Further down the road, near the border with Serbia, we came to the quiet town of Hercegsanto, Hungary in search of an internet connection. The local community center had a nice computer center, but it was closed. Luckily, the manager was in the building and agreed to let us use the computers. Soon, an expat Frenchman entered and enthusiastically brought up an image, taken from the live webcam, of the local claim to fame: a 10 m. tall statue of the Virgin Mary, the patron saint of Hungary. The statue was built on an otherwise unremarkable plot of land, smack in the middle of corn fields, 2 km outside of the village. Of course, we had to ride out to see it. And, you can see it too by clicking on: http://www.vodicamariakert.hu/
A few miles down the road, we crossed into Serbia, our first non-EU country of the tour. Although sharing significant history with Hungary, it would be unfair to lump the former Yugoslavian countries together with Hungary, so you’ll have to read the next entry to hear how this story continues.
Top of page, Hungary, Former Yugoslavia , Bulgaria
The Danube forms most of the border between Croatia and Serbia; both part of former Yugoslavia. Entering Croatia, we were moving directly into land that less than 20 years was mired in a brutal civil war. Once we got to Croatia, the scars of war were visible everywhere. Yet, in both countries, we met the friendliest and most generous people of our entire trip so far. Sometimes, we found it difficult to reconcile the image of people so recently at war with the reality that we saw in the people that we met.
Like any border crossing, we passed into Croatia with no cash in the local currency. It was early morning, we had not eaten breakfast yet, we were very low on water and it was already about 75 degrees (it would get to nearly 95 that day). So we needed some local cash fast, and we assumed that there would be a currency exchange at the border. But, nope, no such luck. The nearest bank was 20 km away – in the wrong direction - so, we had to just suck it up and ride. Then, in the next village about 8km down the road, Mario spotted a Master Card logo in the window of a tiny shop. Amazed at our luck, we loaded up on supplies and continued on our way through Kopacki rit National Park. In Germany, it is next to impossible to use a credit card to buy anything short of a Breitling watch, yet here we were in a small, remote village and MC was accepted at the local mini-market!
With enough life-sustaining rations, we were able to enjoy this gem along the Danube, one of the only stretches of river that we saw the entire way where the river was allowed to flood and sustain large wetlands. However, one can’t call the area “untouched” since it is loaded with landmines laid during the war. All through Croatia we saw the ominous skull and cross-bone signs indicating that an area may still contain live landmines – despite the fact that the government has been working for 15 years to locate and deactivate all of them. We even heard the explosions they set off. Later down the road, we saw gridded sections of land where the government was systematically searching for the hidden terror. This was just one prominent reminder of the war that we would see in Croatia. But, while still in the park, so long as we didn’t deviate from the beaten path, we were able to enjoy the tranquility of the riparian forest, wetlands and wildlife. Riding quietly atop the dam (yes, there was a dam all throughout the park), we saw deer standing in the river; two baby wild boars crossed right in front of us; and many birds, including white-tailed eagles, soared overhead. Sitting at the water’s edge, we also saw loads of water snakes, frogs and tadpoles. The park was so nice that we decide to take a day off and stay another day there. We took a boat tour through the wetlands where we expected to get a calm, up-close look at the many birds that inhabit it. As it turned out, it was neither calm nor quiet – the boat had a diesel engine and it carried a class full of excited 12 year olds! We suspect that many birds fled from the roaring vessel. Nevertheless, we did see trees loaded with Cormorants taking a rest after the morning fishing expedition, along with lots of other birds.
Afterward, we spent some HOT days riding through what seemed like a monument to the war. Houses sprayed with bullet holes and bombed out buildings lined our path through eastern Croatia. In Vukovar, numerous bombed out skeletons stood as a reminder of the fierce battle that took place in this city during the 90’s Balkan war. We learned later that Vukovar was the site of an entrenched battle between a self-organized militia composed of citizens of Vukovar and the Yugoslav People’s Army. Neither of us had seen anything like this in our lives, and we left the city feeling a mixture of dejected about the state of humanity even at the end of the 20th century, grateful for never having lived through war ourselves, and intensely curious about the cause of the prolonged tension in this part of the world.
As was typical of our experience across former Yugoslavia, the next day in Ilok was quite pleasant. We met a young Croatian guy who invited us to coffee to chat about our collective travels, we visited a beautiful wine cellar built into the rock at the base of an old hilltop castle, and we were wished well by a nun while having a look at the chapel on the castle grounds. At the border check leaving Croatia, the guard expressed concern about our riding on such a hot day (another day in the 90s) and, once in Serbia, farmers in tractors waved and most passing cars gave us a friendly toot of the horn. We felt like everyone was our friend.
The trip through Serbia continued like this. In Banatski Brestovac, we went to refill our water bottles in a park at the end of a 115 km day, when a family spotted us and insisted that we use the water from their house, and come in and sit down for a drink. Several hours, 2 shooters of Schnapps made from the grapes in their garden, a cup of coffee and many cookies later, they sent us off with a to-go bottle of homemade Schnapps and memories of a great conversation! Such hospitality was repeated over and over – the woman in a bakery who invited us to lemonade so we could have time to exchange stories, the family that stopped us in the middle of the road so they could give us a bag of cherries freshly picked from their trees. Each time, we were surprised by such generosity. We also laughed as, through these exchanges, we realized that Serbians are not only friendly, but also quite direct: if they want to know something, they simply ask. A favorite example is of the sweet woman in the bakery who invited us to lemonade. She had lived in Germany for several years as a child so she spoke German quite well. At one point in the conversation, as I was stumbling through a sentence in broken German, she paused, looked at me with a sweet and sincere expression and asked “and, why is it that your German is so bad?” She meant no offense by it; she was just stating it as it is. My German is bad and it didn’t make sense to her that I could be engaged to a German and not speak the language. Fair enough. But can you imagine anyone asking such a question in the States? It would be such an offence! But, to me, in this context, it was a) hysterical and b) refreshing to see a culture where beating around the bush is unnecessary!
Throughout the first half of Serbia, the landscape differed little from that of Hungary and Croatia: flat farmland broken up by the occasional larger town. This all changed when we reached the Iron Gate gorge. Here, the Danube dug a picturesque, 80 mile-long canyon. We followed the road that hugged the canyon’s edge and tunneled through it about 20 times – some of these tunnels were long and dark, but we were well prepared with lights and our dorky-looking, fluorescent construction vests. Along the way, we caught stunning views and drank from crystal clear springs flowing through roadside fountains. Reaching the end of the gorge, we enjoyed a cold beer with our friends Stephan and Marianna, a German couple cycling the same route who we met several times along the path. These were some of our favorite days!
The Iron Gate brought us near the border with Bulgaria where we would enter the last country before reaching our first destination; the Black Sea.
Top of page, Hungary, Former Yugoslavia , Bulgaria
We crossed into Bulgaria from Serbia at a remote border crossing in the northwest corner of the country. Once again, we found ourselves in another small border town with no services to offer – no way to change money, no where to stay. I was feeling sick that day and desperately wanted to escape the heat and sleep. But, as sometimes happens when traveling by bike, we had no choice but to continue cycling to the nearest city – Vidin, a mere 30 kilometers away. Luckily, in Vidin we found a very nice hotel for an even nicer price, plus a restaurant around the corner that served great pizza and salads – just the remedy for a weary traveler! The next day our luck continued when we met one of the organizers of the Danube by Bike (http://www.danubebybike.eu/)event who invited us to a big event for long distance cyclists the next day.Danube by Bike was sponsored by the Europe Union as a way to foster interaction and dialogue among people across Europe. It invited people from all European countries to cycle part of the Danube River trail together over 5-days. We met them on day 2 of the event and on the day where they were having a big event in the center of Vidin. So, we got to be part of the festivities (with me as an honorary pre-member of the EU ;), which included traditional Bulgarian food, music and dance.
The next day our trek through the rest of Bulgaria began. We quickly got a preview of how the ride through this country would be then entire way - hilly and bumpy! The roads were in pretty bad condition, although they were being resurfaced in many places, and the path stayed far from the river in the hills to the south. On the north side of the river, the land is completely flat, but it's in Romania and we had heard that it's not such friendly territory for bikers over there. We'd heard horror stories of being run off the run by trucks and chased by packs of semi-wild dogs. So, we decided to grapple with the hills and potholes instead. Fortunately, however, we ran into very few vehicles for 8 out of the 10 days it took to cross the country.
From what we saw, the northwestern part of Bulgaria is quite depressed economically and has not yet recovered from the fall of the Soviet Union. Boarded up factories with broken out windows sat behind parking lots littered with weeds. Seeing them created the eery sensation of being in a ghost town - one imagines the bustle that once was and then, looking at the emtpy and idle scene that is now, one senses the desperation of the families as their livelihood closed its doors. From talking with people in Bulgaria, we learned that indeed many factories had shut down nearly overnight amidst the Soviet breakdown. Experienced managers fled, the market for products dried up and the languishing factories, unable to adapt to the sudden changes, soon closed. These days, it seems that not much happens here. In the villages, morning starts with the men gathered at the local shop to share a beer and a smoke. We saw much less small-scale farming and gardening and nearly no tourism (it was hard to find a place to stay or a restaurant to eat in), so we really wondered how people were earning a livelihood. On the bright side, there was less garbage than in Serbia and we learned of a few projects to restore areas of the Danube River.
Another bright spot in Bulgaria was our stay in Ivanovo, near the Rock Churches set inside the Roussenski Lom Natural Park. We stayed at the Polomie Lodge Polomie Lodge , a wonderful place run by an equally wonderful British couple and their son. Much in need of a rest after all the hills, we languished in the pool and explored the park and the churches, while enjoying the fantastic hospitality of our hosts. In the evenings, we hung out drinking beers and chatting with them and other guests. Reluctant to leave, yet anxious to get to our destination, we departed Ivanovo to complete the last two days of our trek from Germany to the Black Sea. At Ivanovo, we decided to depart from the Danube River for good and head directly southeast toward the port city of Varna.
We reached Varna on July 3rd and were delighted to be greeted that evening with a big fireworks display beside the Sea that night (either they knew we were coming or they knew that the next day was 4th of July!). OK, maybe the fireworks weren't really for us, but we were happy to imagine that they were. We spent a couple of days relaxing on the beach and exploring Varna, which is a nice city set beside a big bay with calm beaches. We got really lucky to enter the Eastern Orthodox cathedral just in time to witness an enchanting mass led by several monks singing their prayers, ringing bells and spreading incense, while monks in the background filled in the chorus. On July 6th, we took an overnight bus to our very last stop in Europe: Istanbul.