All gamed out from the day before, it was just a leisurely
eight and a half hour leap up to Budapest.
I'd originally planned to get the 0720 Wien bound train, but a new 1135
service just to Budapest runs, so I was able to enjoy a few hours extra in
bed.
This meant I was able to see the beauty of Beograd station
in daylight. It is a shame that the city
has gone to so much effort to smarten itself up, yet this place, a first
impression for so many, is a complete shit hole, full of the most dubious
characters. My international train sits on the right...
....a local service, formed of a soviet era electric unit, helpfully reliveried by the locals, sits in the centre, with new Swiss built Flirt Electric units on the left.
Also in the station was the service to Villach. This heads through the Balkan states, Croatia
and Slovenia, previously carrying on to Munich, taking 16 hours, but more
rigorous passport checks mean it can only make it to southern Austria in the
same time. I did it once throughout,
drinking spirits for only the second time in my life as I spent the whole time
being plied with veal escalopes and cognac by a willing waiter, waking up on
the approaches to Belgrade in a puddle of grey and purple vomit, in the
cleaning cupboard, but with my passport fully stamped and a note of all the
loco changes en route, yet with no recollection of anything since
Ljubljana. Great times.
Over the less than blue Danube as we exited Beograd. Farewell newly found friend.
Football grounds visible from the railway; FK Indjija
Back over the Danube at Novi Sad.
Into Subotica, and a chance to see if my old adversary was
on duty.
No he wasn't, and I also have a new passport, with only a
Belarussian visa providing any possible contention. In the end, it was the most cursory of
glances, and a stamp with a nice little steam train on it.
Football grounds visible from the railway; Subotica City
Stadium, home of Spartak Subotica.
My last ride on this route was 18 months ago, at the height
of the refugee issues. Our train had
been overridden with migrants, who were all good company. This time the train was empty.
Last time the area around the rather fragile border, was
also a hotbed for migrant activity. It
was noticeable that more fences have gone up and there were a number of guards
patrolling.
We carried on through southern Hungary, into Budapest
Keleti, which always has an old school Eastern European fug about the station
in an evening.
I checked into the adjacent hotel, then headed out for a
quick spin on the retro metro-cars.
And a wander down the moonlit Danube.
Football Devoid Times
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