Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
20. Yugoslavia
I flew to Split, half-way down the Adriatic coast in Yugoslavia. Katz and I had hitch-hiked there from
Austria. It took four days of standing on baking roadsides on the edge of a series of nowheres watching
carloads of German tourists sweep past, so there was a certain pleasure even now in covering the same
ground in hours. I had no choice: I was running out of time. I had to be in Bulgaria in six days or my visa
would lapse.
I caught a bus into town from the airport and was standing at the harbourside in that state of mild
indecisiveness that comes with the sudden arrival in a strange country, when a woman of late middle years
approached and said quietly, as if offering something illicit, 'Zimmer? Room? You want?'
'Yes, please,' I said, suddenly remembering that this was how Katz and I had found a room in Split.
'How much?'
'Ten t'ousan' dinar,' she said.
Five dollars. This sounded like my kind of a deal. I considered the possibility that she might have four
grown sons at home waiting to throttle me and take my money - I hve long assumed that this is how I will
die: trussed up and dumped into the sea after following a stranger offering an unbeatable bargain - but she
looked honest enough. Besides, she had to trust that I wasn't an axe murderer. 'Sure,' I said. 'Let's go.'
We took a bus to her neighbourhood, twenty minutes away up a long hill, and stepped off on a
nondescript residential street somewhere at the back of the town. The lady led me down a complicated
series of steps and sunny alleyways full of scrawny cats. It was the sort of route you would follow if you were
trying to give someone the slip. It wouldn't have altogether surprised me if she had asked me to put on a
blindfold. Eventually we crossed a plank over a narrow ditch, made our way across a grassless yard and
entered a four-storey building that looked only half-finished. A cement mixer was standing by the stairwell. I
was beginning to have my doubts. This was just the place for an ambush.
'Come,' she said, and I followed her up the stairs to the top floor and into her apartment. It was small
and plainly furnished, but spotless and airy. Two men in their twenties, both vaguely thuggish-looking, were
sitting in T-shirts at the table in the kitchen/living-room. Uh-oh, I thought, casually sliding my hand into my
pocket and fingering my Swiss Army knife, but knowing that even in ideal circumstances it takes me twenty
minutes to identify a blade and prise it out. If these guys came at me I would end up defending myself with a
toothpick and tweezers.
In fact, they turned out to be nice fellows. Isn't the world a terrific place? They were her sons and knew a
little English because they worked as waiters in town. One of them, in fact, was just off for work and would
give me a lift if I wanted. I gratefully accepted on account of the distance and my considerable uncertainty as
to where I was. He donned a red waiter's jacket and walked me to a dusty blue Skoda parked on a nearby
street, where he fired up the engine and took off at a speed that had the back of the car fish-tailing and me
holding the armrest with both hands. It was like being in one of those movie chase scenes where the cars
scatter dustbins and demolish vegetable carts. 'I'm a little bit late,' he explained as he chased a flock of
elderly pedestrians off a zebra crossing and turned on two wheels into a busy avenue without pausing to
see if any cars were coming. There were, but they generously made way for him by veering sideways into
buildings. He dropped me by the marketplace and was gone before I could barely get out a 'Thank you'.
Split is a wonderful place, with a pretty harbour overlooking the Adriatic and a cluster of green islands
lurking attractively a mile or two offshore. Somewhere out there was Vis, where Katz and I had spent an
almost wonderful week. We were sitting at an outdoor caf￩ one morning, trying to anaesthetize hangovers
with coffee, when two Swedish girls came up to us and said brightly, 'Good-morning! How are you today?
Come with us. We're going on the bus to a beach on the other side of the island.'
Unquestioningly we got up and followed. If you had seen these girls, you would have, too. They were
gorgeous: healthy, tanned, deliciously fresh-smelling, soft all over, with good teeth and bodies shaped by a
loving god. I whispered to Katz as we walked along behind, massaging our eyeballs on the perfect
hemispheres of their backsides, 'Do we know them?'
'I dunno. I think maybe we talked to them last night at that bar by the casino.'
