The Secret Diary - Day 7 continued

Sunday, 27th October (still)

1345 Visegrad refugee collecting centre. The centre lies some miles from the town, along a narrow lane. At one point there is a narrow, wooden bridge to cross - a bit tricky for Roy in the artic, but he managed. As we came along the !ane we were passed by an open lorry with the back filled by young men. They all cheered as we passed them. We learned later that they were from the camp and were on their way to watch a football match in town. The camp boss-man was just about to join them when he heard that we were coming and decided to stay at home.

Our first sight of the collecting centre

First sight of the camp was a couple of containers on top of a bank, the containers used on container ships etc. But these had windows and chimneys and were used as houses. The main part of the camp is on other side of road in old school buildings, plus numerous plywood shacks. Looked quite picturesque through the trees from the top of the drive but a man shaving at the outlet of a stream beside the road spoiled the picture. Much mud, and obvious wood chopping area. Many clothes hanging out to dry and it is clear that they try to keep themselves clean. Impossible to get the artic down the drive, but we manage the Leyland with a bit of a problem getting under a low power line. Hooked that up and over the lorry with a plank of wood.

The main part of the centre

Refugees very pleased to see us and start to unload with a will. At least, the women and children do. Some of the men helped later, but most stood and watched. That seems to be the custom out here. Brian said that the old bat would never let him get away with it.

We were all pressed to take refreshment and visited the dormitories. Difficult to describe inside the main school building. Passageways lined with pathetically small bundles of personal possessions, no lighting even though it was getting dark. Dormitories are in what used to be classrooms, one now sleeping 84. Bunks two high, 3 feet between rows, head and back boards butting against each other. Each bunk about 5 or 6 feet wide. This is a family's living area. Privacy only found by hanging clothes around the bunks - there's nowhere else anyway. Cooking on ancient wood-burning stove. Made to take the best seats as honoured guests. Only about 6 or 7 seats anyway. Bottles of Yugoslavian whisky produced and elaborate brass coffee grinders. Whisky distilled from plums in the camp.

Living space for one family

Bossman explains he was a bus driver in Germany till his work permit expired. He returned to Mostar but found his house in ruins. He and his wife and three children have been here for 5 years. Difficult to understand how they maintain their stoical, almost cheerful, patience. The dignity of some of the older people is wonderful.

One or two girls speak English. Tanya is 20, and another girl 15. She tells us her name several times, but we can't get it right and decide to call her Sneeze, the nearest we can get.

Bill is captured by an old lady and given a Serbian forage cap, then she takes him into another room to show him the sewing maching on which she made it. At least, that's his story.

It begins to look as though they intend to get a meal for us but we have no intention of taking their food and we don't trust the water, so we ease our way out tactfully. We hand out cigarettes and cigars and promise to return at 9.00am tomorrow.

1615 Depart the camp, Oliver leading us to the best hotel in town. Actually, it's in the mountains a few miles from the camp. Getting back across the wooden bridge is even more of a problem for Roy and in the end the guardrail has to go. Pass a hot spring on the way and dream of steaming hot showers! Hotel looks magnificent, built for the 1984 winter Olympics, perhaps? Remember Torvill and Dean's nine perfect 6.0's for their Bolero routine? Won't let us have rooms for the evening only, so we book 2 twin-bedded rooms for the night. Katy and Manda will sleep in one, Sue and Bill in the other. Roy, Tony and Brian will stay with the vehicles. At least we can all have a hot shower and a decent meal in the hotel. Some hope! The hot water is the tepid side of cool - and that's when you can get any at all. Still, some are brave enough for cold showers. Reception want passports for the four sleeping in the hotel. But where is Bill? To get things moving, Brian produces his passport, so Bill and Sue end up as Mr & Mrs Slater.

We ask directions to the bar and are sent to the far end of an enormous dining room. There must be tables and chairs for 200 people. After a few drinks we repair to another section of the dining room where something seems to be happening in the way of serving food. Tables are laid up and there are local people scattered around. We gather that we can sit where we like, so we do. The waiter comes and takes our order. Then bedlam! A man dressed as a nurse (psychiatric?) screams at us and we gather that he wants us to leave. Can't think what we have done wrong - or is this a case of the patients running the asylum? Two or three of the locals tell him to stop making a fuss. "No problem", they say. At least, that's what it sounded like. However, we decide to withdraw and sit at another table in the posher part of the restaurant where we were eventually served with almost cold meals. Katy's was hot, but only because the waiter forgot to order hers. We decide that the hotel is being used as a treatment centre of some sort and that the other part of the dining room was for the patients only.

Leaving the restaurant, Roy leads the way through the 6 foot gap between a pillar and the wall, only to find it's not a gap but a plate glass window. Roy's OK and the window is undamaged, but Roy's glasses fell to the tiled floor and one lens is smashed.