From Croatia to Serbia

Today at 4pm the world cup soccer match between Serbia and Ghana was on. We thought it would be wise to try to arrive in Novi Sad before that hour, anticipating a traffic dip. So we put ourselves at the side of the road with a cardboard sign saying “Auto-Kuka-Ilok”. The early visitors of the cafe Piramide terrace in Vukovar look at our hitchhiking attempts in disbelief. We are experienced caravan hitchhikers though, and used to strange situations by now.

After only half an hour we catch a ride. We succeed in explaining our intention to an elderly Croatian man, who doesn’t speak any German or English. Dachs and I get in the back of his Opel Kadett, in between a generator and a few jerrycans filled with petrol. In ten minutes the man takes us to the other side of Vukovar. Doesn’t sound too far, but we have learned that every ride counts!

We disconnect the caravan at a busstop in front of a small convenience store. The driver of a Lada 4-wheel drive car stops to get a cold drink. He friendly waves at us and crosses the street for a chat. The Croatian man is called Igor Mihelic. He is a surveyor and speaks English very well. Igor has the day off, but offers us a ride to the border later that day, in case we don’t get a ride before that. We exchange phone numbers, but Igor already returns 15 minutes later, asking us: “Would you guys like to join me for lunch?”

So some time later we find ourselves at the table in the garden of their house on the Danube, together with Igor’s wife Marica and their children. We are also joined by their friends Boro, Ivan and Snjezana Raka. After lunch Igor and his son take us to Ilok, at the Serbian border. Along the way we pass small villages, large fields, colorful roadside flowers and stork’s nests on wooden electricity poles.

Also at this border the customs officers watch us with surprise. The Croatian border station is on one side of the Danube River, the Serbian station is on the other side. In between there is a steep bridge, so pushing the caravan across is not an option this time. A firm female customs officer quickly arranges a ride across the river. A Serbian couple, again using only body language, connects the caravan to their car. The fact that their car is not equipped with an electricity outlet for the caravan lights is no problem. The customs officers at the Serbian side quickly let us pass, after stamping our passports, looking at the situation in disbelief, and only exchanging a brief ‘bye’.

We follow the Serbia versus Ghana soccer match on Serbian radio, at the first service station of Bajka Palanka. By the loud cheering we understand that there is a goal, although we don’t yet know for whom. Because of the match there is hardly any traffic. Only when we learn that Serbia lost the match 0 to 1 traffic reappears.

After two hours with our thumbs up, Igor Karakasevic and Marco Simic connect the caravan to their ‘Kuka’. We have 42 kilometers to go to Novi Sad, Serbias second largest city. Upon arrival in Novi Sad we are welcomed by Biljana Marceta, manager of the Novi Sad tourist office. Together with Igor, Marco and Biljana we have a late night dinner somewhere in city centre, where the side salad is a meal by itself. This is no exception though. According to Biljana portions are large in this country. This is Serbia! Welcome!