Vukovar: the shot city

This morning we got up early, had breakfast in the sun and started to push! Fifty meters to the border. I expected a lot of hassle, but the Hungarian customs officers only came out to take pictures and look at the strange scene unfolding. After I did a spontaneous concert they offered us a drink and let us push on towards the Croatian border station. Here too we get a few bewildered looks, followed by stamps in our passports, and we are cleared to leave the European Union.

We enter the Balkans on a long, gently sloping country road, with poppies and other field flowers growing on both sides. Exciting, another new country for me, a new region. Despite the early hour, the sun is very strong. After pushing for another 200 meters I write ‘Auto-Kuka, Osijek’ on a piece of card board, using a big black marker. Yesterday, the cafe owner ensured us that there would be a lot of traffic crossing the border on Saturday, but in reality it doesn’t look that way.

After half an hour a Frenchman passes on his bicycle and stops for a chat. He tells us that he got on his bike on the day he retired from work, to make a long journey along the Danube River. Like us, he is on his way to Istanbul. It is nice to meet other travellers. It is inspiring to see people following their dreams. We wave goodbye. Kind of sad to see him disappear over the horizon behind the wheat fields. People on a journey…

A local worker in a van stops at the caravan, but he doesn’t have a tow bar. Many people friendly wave as they pass us by, but nobody gives us a lift. The road is too steep to push the caravan here. Two hours later, just when I am wondering how long we are going to stay here, a Mercedes with a German license plate pulls over. A 60-odd year old Croatian hooks up the caravan. In the car he tells us that he partially lives in the Croatian town of Tenja, and partially in Oberhausen, Germany.

Even after all these kilometers it still feels special when someone pulls over to take along a total stranger, a dog and a caravan. The situation becomes even more special when our driver invites us to his home. He opens the door behind his metal workshop to proudly show us his aviary, holding 38 parrots. He has a great collection of colourful ara’s, grey parrots and cocatoes.

After the brief stop at his house, our German-Croatian friend brings us to the town of Vukovar. We park directly in front of the newly opened Cafe Piramide. Waitress Selina serves us pizza and a salade. Then she tells us about the town of Vukovar, that was so badly hit during the Balkan War.

It is impressive to be confronted so directly with the violent traces of war, so close to home and so recent. Against midnight we walk past many shot houses, with bulletholes in the walls. We pass the abandoned railway station and the remains of a few completely destroyed buildings. We also discover a war monument, right next to the local soccer pitch. The sprinklers on the field are on to replenish the grass with water. After three hot days without a shower I climb over the fence and run around the field, washing away the heat, the sweat, the dirt and all the emotional impressions.