Belgrade’s New Ada Bridge

I mentioned the new bridge recently and we walked there on the weekend. I thought it might be nice to provide a detailed look of the works as they are at the moment. Some locals will find this informative, as I hope will my audience of friends, family and colleagues who have lived, worked or visited Belgrade but have not been here for awhile – the words have you in mind.

Why am I so interested? Why is the bridge so important? Well, the fact is that for the huge population of Belgrade that lives south and east of the Sava river, and south and east of the city, getting into the city and getting to New Belgrade is, and for many years has been chaotic, time-consuming and frustrating beyond expression. This huge population (most noticeable during rush hours but visible at all hours of all days) currently travels along the Sajam (Vojvode Misica) to the Gazela bridge or into the city along Savska or Knez Milos or heads to the same destinations through Senjak. Gazela was never built to handle the current level of traffic, and each approach one takes is incredibly slow.

The new bridge will handle all traffic to New Belgrade from the population of this part of the city. All of it. The Sajam and Gazela will no longer cater for this group of people, and will return to more normal traffic flows. Travel time (and engine-running time) will be reduced significantly. As a bonus, the bridge includes tram lines down the middle and pedestrian/ bike lanes in both directions, creating real opportunities for different types of commuting, opportunities that are severely hampered currently.

It is a very big construction, and for mine, very beautiful. Here is an external link:

All the photos below were taken by the Redhead with whom I share my life.

Entering From/ Exiting To Pozeska Street

Do you remember dipping down from Pozeska, near my green market in Banovo Brdo? You go left to head towards Vojvode Misica, Gazela and the Centre and right for the Hippodrome and the old level crossing.

Pozeska Street - heading towards the Centre.

This is the corner where you head down. The right turn is closed, all traffic being directed left. This is because the bridge will actually end (begin) right here (for Banovo Brdo). The approaches are being constructed.

Pozeska Street Bridge Approach

And another. I believe the Bridge will actually end almost exactly where the candy-striped sign is.

Bridge Approaches - End of Pozeska St

All of this is an aspect of what has been for me the most important part of the bridge development process other that the actual bridge over the Sava – addressing the dreadful hippodrome level crossing. Do you remember the level crossing? Staying in the queue on either side of the railway line for up to 45 minutes while a series of trains passed? Do you remember being the last car not let through, then waiting 8 or 10 minutes and then watching a two-car train pass? Do you remember your anger (I do!) when 6 or 8 idiots overtook 300 cars waiting (sort of) patiently for the boom gates to open and then forcing themselves in, in front of the queue?

All that has been in the past for some time now – probably 6 months – as the bridge development included removing this bottleneck. What does it look like now, and how will it finish? Let’s have a look.

The Hippodrome and the Level Crossing

Hippodrome, bridge in the distance

Hippodrome - road where we always approached the level crossing.

Nothing has changed, eh? Actually, all traffic from the Ibarska Magistrala was diverted here this day for bridge works. It is usually chaos these days (to remind us of the past) but not this bad.

The Bride's Current End

Here is a nice perspective of exactly what the current situation is: the pillars are almost complete that will allow this dead-end to be extended to the Pozeska bridge approaches as shown above. The cars that are visible are travelling on the old road to the level crossing – you can see here how the bridge is being built above that road through to its linkages onto Pozeska.

The Bridge Toward Pozeska

This is a shot back towards the current end of the bridge – the previous photo – from on the bridge. You can see how, after coming over the bridge from New Belgrade you turn right and this will be your route towards Banovo Brdo. This follows the path of the old road, and this photo was taken immediately above the old level crossing.

The Hippodrome Interchange

Coming from Banovo Brdo, this is where you will go left to the bridge or Vojvode Misica, right to Topciderski Zvezda and Red Star Stadium. There is no access from here for Senjak – that will happen underneath, on the old road.

Tunnel Entrance

Yes, that is correct. Ultimately the brown hill will become the tunnel entrance – the tunnel going under Senjak and coming out near Partizan Stadium.

The Bridge

This is the view across to the bridge from the Hippodrome Interchange. The rail line we used to have to cross over is visible below. The roadway curving up is the entrance to the upper level from the old road. The whole set of roads we use to drive on are being extensively re-worked as they will continue to be used for local access. The lighter section visible in front of the crane, in the background, is the bridge itself, curving around to the left before it straightens to go across the river.

From the Bridge

This shows where traffic will leave the bridge from New Belgrade.

From the Bridge

As does this. This is the view of where we will come from into the Hippodrome Interchange from the bridge. So on the other side of the fence on the right is the road out of the Hippodrome Interchange toward the bridge and Vojvode Misica/ Sajam.

From the Bridge

Another view of the exit route from the bridge. The curve of the bridge is quite noticeable on the left.

Under The Bridge – The Old Road

Entrance to the Interchange from the old roads.

Serbian Surfers

This is a view of the old road we travelled from/to Vojvode Misica/ the Sajam and to/ from the Hippodrome level crossing or further. You can see how it is being rebuilt and the construction of the bridge above.

Under the Bridge

Another perspective on the roads under the bridge.

Entrance to Hippodrome Interchange from the Old Road

So if you are leaving the actual Sajam and driving to Banovo Brdo via the Hippodrome Interchange you will come this way. If you are coming from Vojvode Misica you will come through the travel circle, The Radnicka Interchange - which is described below.

Under the Bridge - The Old Road

Nice shot of how the old road and the bridge work together. The next shot is from 180 degrees around – facing the river.

Under the Bridge

The bridge itself curves around to the left, the road ahead goes to Vojvode Misica and the Sajam.

The Bridge Frames The Bridge

Construction of the exit area from under the bridge out to the Sajam.

Upgraded Tram Tracks Next To The Bridge

The Bridge And The Radnicka Interchange

Here is another external link:

The Evolving Traffic Circle

For so long I was unsure how everything would tie together, as there are so many links required from and to the bridge. Then I learned about The Radnicka Interchange, under the bridge. This interchange, when completed, becomes an interchange for traffic onto and off the bridge from the Vojvode Misica, from Vojvode Misica towards the Hippodrome and vice versa, as well as to Banovo  Brdo.

Access From The Hippodrome Interchange To The Traffic Circle

The dead-end visible above will connect into the Radnicka Interchange. That connection is one way for people from Banovo Brdo to get onto Vojvode Misica, and to the Sajam.

The Radnicka Interchange From The Hippodrome Interchange

Visible behind me is the other end of that connection. The angle and perspective make it difficult to see the whole of the Radnicka Interchange, but the bridge itself is visible above. Visible also is how this part of the bridge leads onto the main section.

Connector Between Hippodrome Interchange And The Main Section

Here we can see the scaffolding underneath the connector between the Hippodrome Interchange and the main bridge section. The scaffolding will be removed soon as this section is complete. This scaffolding is actually beneath the connector to the Radnicka Interchange, with the main bridge behind.

Existing Tram Bridge

The lower bridge behind is the existing tram bridge from Vojvode Misica to Banovo Brdo. It will be brought into a soon to be built traffic circle for trams that will allow them to interchange between existing tracks and the new bridge.

The New Tram Bridge

The new bridge has tram lines down the middle. Construction of these tram lines is visible in this photo. While the roadway continues on the the Hippodrome Interchange, the tram lines will drop down to their own circle – the downward angle of the tracks is clearly visible.

Tramway and Roadway

Here is clearly visible the new roadway on the bridge with the downward angle of the new tramway and underneath that the existing tramway.

The three following are different views from directly below the bridge, from the existing tramway.

The Bridge From Beneath

The Bridge From Beneath

The Bridge From Beneath

As well as the Radnicka Interchange, it is also possible on one side of Vojvode Misica to get onto and off of the bridge. The following shot shows, in the distance, the exit from the bridge onto Vojvode Misica towards Ada Ciganlija. The foreground is the connection between the Hippodrome and the main section – almost completed.

Bridge Exit In The Distance

And below we have the entrance to the bridge from Vojvode Misica, at the Sajam. Note my favourite bridge in the foreground – it is probably being re-asphalted today again, for the 300th time this year. Throughout this whole process I had hoped some disaster would mean it would have to be rebuilt, but sadly this has not happened.

Entrance

Again, my favourite bridge and the entrance from Vojvode Misica. And below, entrance constructions causing traffic delays.

Entrance Construction

The Bridge

It has been a long process – the following show some perspectives on what we will have when it is done.

Update, 9 January 2012.

Sadly we were travelling in Romania (subject of a soon to be published post) the day of the Grand Opening, on 1 January. We arrived home yesterday and I’ve been over the bridge 8 times since then, twice when we arrived last night and 6 times today doing things. Previously ‘normal’ commute times to Delta City from home – 25 to 45 minutes. Today – maximum 15. I just think of all the time people are saving. All the engine idling being saved. I have no idea when I will cross the ‘old’ Gazela Bridge again – hopefully never.

We’ll walk around on the bridge soon, and post a further update, but here are phone photos from this morning.

Bridge access from the hippodrome.

From the Old City side towards New Belgrade.

It feels like normal living again, to travel short distances in short periods of time. Time will tell, but I am delighted so far.

 

3,3 – Our ‘Lovely’ Zlatibor Weekend

We like to walk. We do it around Belgrade a lot, either around Kosutnjak – near where we live – or around Ada. Recently we have spent many a Saturday walking from home to and around the new bridge. This last has become somewhat a ritual for us over the past year and a half as the bridge has taken shape. It is not far from us – we walk down to the hippodrome and then walk around under the bridge getting a construction perspective of things or go up on top to see how close the finishing works are. Today we just kind of walked and walked out into the middle of the construction – this is Serbia, so no one stopped us. It is very close to being finished. Will we be driving on it in 2011? I have my doubts, but if not, it will not be long into 2012, that is for sure.

New Bridge At Ada, On The Sava River, Belgrade, Serbia - August 2011

This walking habit of ours translates into bushwalking (hiking) weekends from time to time. I described one some time ago in my post on Durmitor, Montenegro (http://jimnewkirk53.wordpress.com/2009/09/04/durmitor-montenegro/). That weekend we had as our fearless leader Mika Marković. Last weekend we walked with Mika again, this time to Zlatibor (http://www.zlatibor.org/english/English-Zlatibor.htm). The idea was two days of walking, and we drove from Belgrade to Zlatibor on Friday after work in order to get an early start on Saturday. Irena and I brought the cat, which was a clear indicator that we would not be walking Sunday, due to check-out times, which turned out to be a wise decision made early.

Mika had his GPS, as usual – he is a regular, serious bushwalker and uses the GPS regularly, although my earlier experiences with him were with maps. As he does, Mika downloaded a track for our walk. This too, as many will know, is normal practice. Someone in Belgrade had walked on Zlatibor, with their GPS, and upon finishing their walk they posted the ‘track’ online. Mika had downloaded the track, and the plan was to simply follow it. Yes, we made the incorrect assumption that Mika had already walked the track. The plan was for a 16 kilometre walk – almost exactly 10 miles – and for the other 5 of us, this was just about perfect on a brisk, November mountain morning.

The first 8 plus kilometres were also exactly what we expected, but at that point things went wrong.

A Cold, Foggy November Morning In Zlatibor

Wrong, I suppose, depending on perspective.

At some point we realised we had missed a turn, and then Mika’s track, which we understood continued to follow small roads, led us into the forest. The forest diversion had no road, no path and no clear direction for us. It was however, a track on a GPS, so we followed it to the best of our ability.

Zlatibor Forest

We followed it down, and down and down. Loose rocks covered by wet, icy grass and loose, wet leaves. Two kilometres we climbed down, killing our legs, slipping regularly and, at times, in dangerous places.

Slipping Through The Forest

Just so difficult to relax, struggling all the time with footing on this seemingly endless downward trek.

We did get down, where we found a logging road that was likely the route we were supposed to have used, but who could be sure? It was nothing special, but would have been a real improvement on the cross-forest route we took. Unfortunately, upon completion of the down section we knew we were under some time pressures as dark falls quickly and early in Zlatibor in November. The plan for the day was to visit five waterfalls on our loop walk, and to then return, meeting our outward leg with some 5-6 kilometres left in the walk. So, with no rest stop, we headed up the creek in search of the waterfalls, as well as our way home.

The Route of the Return Trip - Up A Creek

And I thought the downward leg was hard! The rocks were wet and slippery, and most of them moved when stepped on. We tried moving along the side of the creek, but in most places it was impassable due to heavy undergrowth, fallen logs or purely because it was too steep, and we were inexorably drawn back onto the rocks and, from time to time, into the water.

We found one of the five waterfalls.

Zlatibor Waterfall

We slowly worked our way up, while anxiety levels began to develop as the brightness of the day began to wane in the deep gorge. We found a climbable slope and an apparent ridge above, and began an arduous climb out, again drawing on very limited reserves of energy in our legs.

Pain and the Upside

We found the ridge, and about a half an hour later houses. It was still light, and much brighter on the ridge, but the houses although empty gave us a Plan B if we struggled to make it back to the cars.

Mountain Dwelling On Zlatibor Mountain

We followed a long, steep slope down to the road, and discovered we had to go up the road, which meant we should not have gone down at all, rather directly across. But we were on a road, and heading back. Someone asked Mika how far it was to the cars and he said 3,3 kilometres ‘as the crow flies.’ We walked as quickly as possible as the sun went down and dusk claimed us. About 90 minutes later Mika told us we had missed a turn and would have to go back. It was by now completely dark, although only about 5pm. We had been walking since 9 in the morning. We had gone some 45 minutes past our turn. Mika proposed a short-cut along a ridge, which we followed until the track petered out into forest and we returned to the road and retraced our steps, finding our correct turn with no problems, except the return was up a particularly steep track which sorely tested our now very tired legs.

We asked Mika how far to the cars, and he checked the GPS and said 3,3 kilometres.

Top Of The Hill

At the top of the hill, half an hour later, deep in dark and with the battery torches lighting our way, the GPS battery failed. The reserve also had little charge, so we walked along the road for sometime with no details of direction, somewhat comforted by the fact we were near civilisation – we could see lights and hear dogs. There was much discussion about the fact we were on the same road we had travelled on in the morning, and I had no intention of saying to anyone that I did not recognise one tiny bit of it, particularly the wooden fences running along the road. We moved forward, and Mika turned on the GPS to check where we were. The obvious question brought the same, non-joking, response. 3,3 kilometres to the cars – as the crow flies. My toes hurt, my thighs were dead, there was a steady drizzle now that was making us all wet and drawing our warmth and strength.

We moved forward, clearly not on the same path but clearly drawing closer and closer to some sort of village. At this point the batteries in the torch also failed, but I was no longer worried – just dead on my feet. We found a bitumen road and stopped at the first house where we learned we were less than a kilometre from the cars, which we arrived at to our great relief.

You know it is cold when Mika wears a hat!

Our Fearless Leader Mika and I

Almost 24kms.

9 hours, the last 2 in the dark.

Fabulous place, Zlatibor, fabulous. And a lovely weekend.

Our Trip To Cabo Frio

My first wife (Karen) and I went to live and work in Brazil in September of 1979. I have held this story for some time – it is interesting to me that I remember this experience rather often, having not been to Brazil for more than 30 years. It had been a tough year in our marriage, but I do not know if either of us expected this significant change to help us in sorting things out. Nor do I know if it did – my memories (snippets only and foggy) are more of the difficulties we experienced external to ourselves than anything to do with us, personally. The project we worked on, in a village called Bananeiras, was not a particular success, and both the other couples on the project team were having marital difficulties. As well as our young selves, there was a family of refugees from Mozambique and a small contingent of teenagers with us.

Bananeiras is nestled in the mountains east of Rio. And ‘nestled’ is really the right word. We had little direct sunlight each day because of the steep hillsides on all sides of the village. They weren’t so high, but climbed steeply up from the river that ran past us. At one point, having been in Bananeiras some three months, I had occasion to make a business trip to Recife. I can still remember the wonderment I felt disembarking from the bus on arrival in Brazil’s north-east – Recife and environs are so completely flat that the size of the sky shocked me a bit.

To get to Bananeiras we travelled through Niteroi, up highway 101, passing Rio Bonito and heading to Silva Jardim, the nearest town of any size. As I write I have diverted to Google Maps to locate Bananeiras exactly, but my memory just does not suffice. I am quite confident we took the RJ-126/ RJ-140 north and east, to the end of the road, but I could not swear on it. What is certain is that it was around 20 kilometres from the highway turn-off (a bit of dog-leg from the Silva Jardim corner) to Bananeiras.

Karen and I worked as volunteers on a community development project. As this was late ‘70s, ‘development’ wasn’t the industry it is today. I would not for a minute suggest it was less capable, or achieved less outcomes – I merely point out that today ‘development’ is an industry, and practitioners often earn excellent incomes. In those days it was heavily church organisation and/ or heavily volunteer focused. We were provided room (literally about 3m x 3m), board and about $30 a month (although we didn’t always get this money). We also had health insurance and travel paid for. I won’t dwell today on these things – better to write specifically about them in another post. For this ‘remuneration’ we were engaged in the project for six and a half days a week. We had off from Saturday afternoon until Sunday, later in the day when we gathered as a whole team to eat the Sunday meal.

This is a story about our ‘day off’.

We caught the bus around 8 am – one of the two buses that came to Bananeiras daily, the other being around 6 pm, on which we would return in the evening from our trip. At the corner, where there was a small tienda (shop) that serviced travellers, where we would drink a cafezinho (very short, very sweet Brazilian coffee) while waiting for the bus. We then boarded a second bus for Rio Bonito, where, at the bus station, we found our third bus for the day, to Cabo Frio. It all went like clockwork, and we arrived in Cabo Frio late in the morning.

I’m the anxious one about travel, and suggested upon arrival that we should confirm the return time for the bus before going to enjoy ourselves. No more ‘like clockwork’ – the bus had already gone. We were more than 100 kms from home, had about 20 words of Portuguese and probably about $5. The anxiety kicked in heavily, and we spent all of 15 minutes at the beach before starting to hitchhike back to Rio Bonito. For over 30 years I have regretted this decision – it gained us nothing in terms of our trip home, and I have no memory at all of Cabo Frio or the beach there. And I imagine I was a bit of a stressed-out idiot the whole day.

No one wanted to pick us up. We walked and walked and walked, for what my memory tells me was hours, before finally being picked up by a group in a bright pink Volkswagen. They dropped us in Rio Bonito, where we caught the bus to the turn-off at the corner near Silva Jardim.

We saw our bus for Bananeiras driving off into the distance.

It was summer, so there was daylight until later in the day. It was however Brazil, and while in no way was it the jungle of the Amazon, it was a heavily forested area, and 20 kms or more home. What to do? We were getting plenty of advice – too bad we could not understand most of it. I’m fairly confident we would have had a cachaza (cachaça) or a Brahma Chop. Or two. Everyone knew of us, everyone was interested in our predicament and in trying to help us, everyone had suggestions and no one had the answer. No bus until morning, no taxi, only one villager with a car and in any case no way to contact them, no hotel or guest house. We calculated the distance and the likely time, and whether or not we would make it before dark (no chance). We talked about making a wrong turn and becoming lost. We talked about poisonous snakes. There was quite a lot of argument about whether or not we should just walk home – argument to which I (at least) added significant detail, making excellent use of the alcohol I was drinking and those 20 words of Portuguese.

A key player in the discussions was a tall man with a moustache to match his personality – big, full, alive. I have always felt about him that he was quite a bit older than me, but on reflection I would guess he would have been early 30s (to my 26). He had a great appreciation of cachaza, and as the shadows lengthened he became more drunk. As evening came he took more and more interest in our well-being, and when we insisted we would just walk home he was adamant that we could not. He insisted we come home with him, although it took some time before we could understand that this was what he was suggesting.

About 10 pm his wife arrived – quite likely on her nightly trip to the tienda to collect her husband. She was cute, darker than him, shorter than him and just as insistent as him. They basically herded us out of the tienda, and led us west, along the shoulder of Brazil Highway 101, towards Rio. We walked about a kilometre, crossed the highway, went through a break in the guardrail and followed them down a narrow dirt track. After a couple of hundred metres we came to their hut.

Made from sticks and mud, the hut was square, about 4 metres on each side with dirt floors and two, equal-sized rooms inside, one of which was the kitchen/ dining room the other the living room/ sleeping room. Their three darling children were already well asleep on mats on the floor. The couple insisted we sleep on their double bed – they retired to a cardboard mat on the kitchen floor. In the morning we met the children, enjoyed a coffee and meal they had prepared for us and made our way to the corner in the company of our moustachioed friend.

We returned a few months later to thank them. I have silly visions of visiting them again. Although they probably tell the story themselves, I can hardly find Bananeiras on the map, how would I ever find the family that grew out of those two lovely Brazilians in their little mud hut who gave up their bed to us to sleep on the dirt floor.

(As I wrote this I got snippets of memory flooding in – people and things to make me laugh and things at which I just shake my head. I remember Guillerme and his family – they ate only bananas; Nucim – black, dynamic, fun; ‘the Mountain Drunk’, and how he was a source of great hilarity for the community; Brahma Chop, a nice local beer; the two Berlim and their small tiendas (shops); the Doctor – for the level of his education, not because he had a medical degree; walking to the Doctor’s home, and crossing the river on a narrow log to get there; the night the ants marched through in their millions. I remember two of the owners of banana fazendas (plantations) but am sure there were at least three. I remember the night Brian’s hut burnt down. I remember our two dogs – Hinky (always fly-blown) and Mutti. If I was a good writer I’d get a great story out of Brazil, and a book out of Peru.)

Belgrade

I’ve been here 10 years now, and I love it.

But I’ve never sat down to think clearly about why. We had friends (Wendy and Roy) here from Bristol, in England, for the weekend and I decided I’d take the opportunity of talking about the city (and country) to listen to myself, and them, and to make some notes about what I heard. I did that, and this musing is the result of my reflections on my reflections.

Belgrade isn’t Prague – you don’t come here for history and architecture (although you do). Beautiful baroque and gothic buildings, and the history they evoke, is not the focus of a visit to Belgrade.

Belgrade isn’t Dubrovnik. It isn’t this stupendously beautiful walled city jutting out into the Adriatic, wanting to be looked at – and deserving the look.

Belgrade isn’t Florence. There is no David here, and no Medici Palace of great stature hiding on a modern thoroughfare.

Belgrade is Belgrade, and what attracts is what it is now. Today. History ripples through Serbia and the Balkans – long history, hard history – and indeed one strong component of interest here is Belgrade’s (and the Balkan’s) place as the bridge between ‘East’ and ‘West’. But I would argue that this is not the real reason to visit. Or maybe better to say not the main reason.

Buses, Boxes and Bowels

Late September 1980

Friday

Bloody alarm at 3am. The bus doesn’t leave Lima for Pukalpa until 9.30, but there’s a lot to be done to get there on time. First of all, I light the almost useless un-pressurised kerosene stove and put the pot of water on to boil. Then back to bed for 45 minutes while the four litres heat up.

Alarm again at 3.45. I hurry outside and carry water from the below-ground tank into the container inside the reed ‘shower’ cubicle on the back veranda. I dip the small container in the larger one and top up with boiling water. Over the head it goes – not bad, warm enough, but those chill September winds through the reeds are anything but enjoyable. I do it again and then shampoo and soap. Then three more dips and top-ups and I hurry and towel down before freezing. I’ve showered without the heated water before, but it is a once per week proposition. I shaved the night before – with electricity from only 6-10 pm, some things are best done at night.

Durmitor Montenegro

Just back from a simply fabulous (if physically tough) long weekend in Durmitor National Park Montenegro. There is just so much about this place that recommends it, but what always sticks in my mind is what I might call stark beauty and what the Montenegrin tourist agency calls Wild Beauty. I’ve been here many times, but never for more than one night, and never to actually enjoy the mountains for what they, specifically, provide. Durmitor is part of my Balkan Loop (http://jimnewkirk53.wordpress.com/2009/08/06/the-balkan-loop-cultural-bridges/), but this weekend was for the mountain itself.

The Belgrade Beer Fest – Some Random Thoughts

1. I like beer.

2. Serbs look, well, like Serbs. I have this thought from time to time, often in these crowd situations, and I know it sounds a bit funny. But, Australians look English, Irish, Aboriginal, Chinese, Vietnamese, Sudanese, Lebanese, Greek, etc. If you are in a big crowd at the MCG, watching the footy, this is what you see. Here then, I just cannot escape seeing how people look like they are from the same stock. And of course they are. Nice looking, tall (generally), angular features. But mostly I notice they look like Serbs.

On Driving In Serbia

As is my wont, I have badly wanted to write about driving here in a positive light. I just prefer writing positive things. Problem is, as often as I prepare my positive comments I am delayed in putting them to paper by one, or a series, of not so positive experiences. So, as we might say in Oz, stuff it, I’m going to write anyway.

The Balkan Loop – Cultural Bridges

The Hram (Orthodox Temple) Belgrade

Having arrived in (what is now the Former) Yugoslavia in 1999, with no intention of being here more than a few months, it is surprising in some ways to still be here 10 years later. Certainly my wife’s friends revel in asking Irena: ‘you married an Australian and you live where?’ Indeed I only stayed those few months. I returned later however, seeing this second posting as my bridge to my second (or third) career. I should have known – the Balkans have always been a bridge – between East and West most obviously. As with many members of the invading armies who fought wars on this land over the past 2000 years, I never really got off ‘the bridge’.