The great thing about hostels now is that they are so empty I’m sometimes the only guest. In this case, I wasn’t: there was a Japanese guy who snored like hell and a really tall Serbian guy…
I left the hostel in Belgrade during a break in the rain to head south and entered the unofficial territory of barky-dog land: A strange part of Serbia where stray dogs look at you, yet domesticated ones chase you for miles and snap at your spinning ankles.
I’ve never seen a refugee camp before. I didn’t know what to expect really. Makeshift wooden sign at the entrance? Security? Ikea beds?
Some pics of the trip and slice of life.