Arrived in Belgrade yesterday, after an 8 hour bus ride from Sarajevo, and have our first passport stamp after two and a half weeks travelling (haven't even been asked to see passports half the time)! On the negative side, Paula had her bank card swallowed by a machine, my mobile has gone AWOL and we suspect our stash of English teabags is still on the bus, probably back in Bosnia by now. This adds to the growing list that also includes a pair of bikini bottoms, a hair brush and my bag of herbs and spices; at this rate I'll just be carrying hand luggage by the time I get to Asia, as will Paula, and we'll probably have lost each other too!

But not to worry, a new city to explore! Although we're told it's 37 degrees out there right now, hence on the internet, chilling out in the hostel living room for a couple of hours, while the middle of the day passes. Updates on Belgrade to follow...

I think most people just describe Belgrade as ugly. Or other four letter words. The Rough Guide talks up the night life, the vibrancy, the warmth, and we had a glimpse of this as locals were indeed friendly, particularly our hostel hosts George, Daniel and Marko. However our budget through Europe, which involves not doubling our daily spend of £25 each with late nights boozing in bars and clubs, meant we didn't really get a taste of Belgrade's strengths in the backpacker domain. So we only really saw the city by day, and it certainly isn't pleasing on the eye. Vast concrete monoliths of offices and apartments, wide roads with unrelenting traffic, a main shopping street that could easily have been mistaken for Market Street in Manchester, all keep tourists' cameras in their cases. But that said, I still found it an interesting city, and worth a day of walking. The mighty, grey, heavyweight, stone public buildings, constructed with enormous chunks of rock, really give that taste of the Communist, Cold War era, Eastern Block, and whilst not attractive, the imposing scale of Belgrade is definitely impressive.

Plenty of other plus points, too. A full laundry service means fresh pants for the next fortnight, I reckon we've now got the hang of Eastern European zebra crossings (basically don't wait for cars to stop, they won't, so just start walking and make them), free breakfast at the hostel was the best yet, and we've learnt the cyrillic (if that's how you spell it) alphabet.

Hostel dorm-mates review, Star Hostel: mainly Aussies and a couple of Brits, would have just said young, unsmiling cool kids, however they were truly disbelieving that I'm 34 years old, reckoning instead nearer 25, so I loved them dearly. Should also mention comedy dorm mate Ryan, the bearded tour guide from Seattle, not actually a tour guide but spoke just like one, all the time, and in a slightly autistic fashion, mostly not looking you in the eye and a with stream of specific historical facts on Serbia. Nice guy, though! Also, full respect to Simon from Portsmouth, who was cycling solo around Europe.