Our trip today took us through beautiful scenery but over some very rough roads. It is obvious there is not enough money for infrastructure maintenance in Serbia so many of the minor roads are in quite a sorry state of repair.  The other  thing we noticed was the appalling amount of  refuse which people had thrown out  of their cars in these beautiful mountain roads.  The roadside was littered with cans, plastic bags and general rubbish. Obviously, there is no feeling that just chucking a can out the car window is a bad thing. Unbelievably, we encountered a land fill site overlooking a breathtaking valley view. The wind had blown hundreds of plastic bags onto the surrounding vegetation and nobody had thought to collect them. We felt slightly uneasy being critical of this lack of respect for the beautiful environment but it's hard to understand how anyone would just throw a can out a car window in an area of such beauty.

The high point of our trip today was a visit to Leidl supermarket. You might think this a strange statement but we have been shopping for the past week or so in very small local stores where the choice is extremely limited. Liedl was like a visit to the promised land. There was a cornucopia of tasty treats just waiting to be put into our trolley. Delicious Caesar salad, bewildering choice of breads, yummy c<span;>grapes<span;>hocolate biscuits, tempting containers of Tiramisu and juicy . We loaded up as the place we are staying is at the end of a long dirt road and there isn't a shop for at least 15kms.

Unfortunately our GPS decided to have some fun at our expense and we ended up on a truly worrying four wheel drive rutted track up a mountain in a decidedly two wheel drive car. It's the first time I have been seriously worried that we might get stuck in a remote area.  The ruts were as deep as the tires but someone had helpfully thrown in small sandbags every 5 metres or so in a vain attempt to make them drivable.  There was no choice but to grip the steering wheel tightly and try to avoid the tires going into the wet muddy ruts.  I tried not to let Gill see my alarm or my white knuckles but thankfully the track suddenly joined the paved road we should have been on the whole time.

When we arrived at the house it was a little disappointing in that the pic on Booking.com showed the house overlooking a deep canyon. In reality a house had been built in front of ours since the pic was taken, so there was no view.  In addition the living room was bare with just one uncomfortable sofa bed and no chairs other than wooden dining chairs. This might sound like self indulgent whining but when you are travelling long distances you want to be able to relax in comfort  at the end of the day. Little did we know what was in store!

Before we had an evening meal we went for a walk along the track leading to the canyon's edge. As we approached a horned cow wandered up another track towards us. I could sense Gill's increasing unease as it approached. Cattle look very benign at a distance munching grass peacefully but this cow seemed to be approaching with a purpose. I also hadn't fully appreciated the sheer bulk of cows at close quarters. There was a small island of grass with a dilapidated shed in the middle of the open area we found ourselves. We decided to place it between us and the cow as a precautionary measure, but in a casual unhurried way so as not to let the cow know we were apprehensive about its intentions.  The cow however advanced round one side of the island so we circled in retreat, peeking around the corner of the shed to see where the cow was heading.  At an opportune moment we strode purposefully and confidently away from the shed hoping the cow wasn't further interested in us. Luckily this proved to be the case as she had found some spring grass that was obviously more to her taste than visiting tourists.

The house was warmed with a pellet burning stove. It heated water which was circulated through radiators by a pump. The combination of pump and water running through pipes and radiators produced a sound rather like that you'd expect to hear if you were sleeping just above the engine room on a car ferry across the cook strait. When you are tired after a long day and lying in bed the sound takes on a whole new dimension. It begins to invade all corners of your brain pushing out all rational thought. The volume is also amplified in a totally silent house. It becomes like Edgar Allan Poe's beating heart getting louder and louder. Then in the dark night several dogs began barking loudly and incessantly at some unseen danger. Misfortune never comes alone.

By morning it was obvious that we couldn't sleep another night in the house. The problem was how to tell the kind hosts that their house was both uncomfortable and noisy without looking like namby pamby soft over-sensitive city dwellers who couldn't cope with rustic country life?

The added challenge was that I had to communicate through Google translate.  I composed what I thought was a tactful note, knocked on his door and held my phone out so he could read the translation.  I watched as his face fell. He looked devasted.  He explained that pellet stoves were the only option in that area for heating and he was truly sorry we had not slept well. I said that we would pay for the night we were not staying but he would have none of it. I felt truly terrible because he was genuinely upset at the situation.  To make my discomfort worse he asked if we could cancel the night through booking.com as otherwise he would have to pay a commission on payment which he did not receive. I tried to do this but it was impossible. I offered to pay the commission myself but he shrugged sadly, smiled and refused.  At this point I was ready to apologize and say the whole thing was a terrible mistake and, of course, we would stay another night. Gill, however, was standing in the door looking tired and drawn after her terrible night so I decided that backtracking was probably not a great idea.

I told the owner that we were heading for Montenegro. Immediately he wagged his finger and spoke excitedly into his phone for Google to translate.
"You cannot go GPS route. If you go there you will be threatened."

In a series of exchanges I understood that we had to retrace our steps so that we could cross at a specific border crossing rather than the more direct route suggested by GPS  which was for locals apparently. I did not have the presence of mind to enquire who exactly would be doing the threatening, or what form the threats might take.

What with the cows and the threatening locals we decided it was high time we fled to Montenegro.





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