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Church of Saint Sava in Belgrade

A night of horror, blood, and thorns: my difficult departure from Belgrade

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Day 4: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 8, 2025

Horror night in the hostel

Listen and shudder—the life of a hiker isn’t always a bed of roses. Or maybe it is; roses have nasty thorns, and I had plenty of those today. Literally and figuratively.

Starting with the horror night. I should have known—a dirt-cheap hostel in a big city like Belgrade can attract some strange people. Never again. Old and rickety doesn’t put me off, but shady people do. The Filipino receptionist is very friendly, and the existing group of international travelers from China, Taiwan, Brazil, and Germany already know each other and are having a great time, but as the evening progresses, things get increasingly grim. Shady types with a stench of smoke and alcohol check in. They are loud and rude. It doesn’t feel right.

Fortunately, they are assigned a different room, but I put my most important belongings under my pillow just to be safe. People are drinking, talking, and laughing loudly until three-thirty in the morning, and every few minutes someone noisily enters the dorm to grab something or lie down. It’s hell. The cold shower—just a few trickles, as there’s no hot water—is the least of the problems in this filthy hostel where everything is broken or about to break.

Saint Sava Temple

After some strong black coffee, I leave as early as six o’clock. I want to get out of here, and fast. A highlight this early morning is a visit to the Saint Sava Temple, but the outskirts of Belgrade are filthy and noisy. I’m glad when I finally walk into the woods. However, that’s short-lived because the path is completely unmaintained. There’s wild growth of brambles everywhere, and many plants have huge sharp thorns. Blood is now running down my arms and legs; it’s a real struggle. Other paths are overgrown with grass and no longer visible. I can only follow the route using my hiking app Komoot.

Blood, sweat, and more blood

Then I hit an impenetrable wall of bramble bushes. I have to go all the way back. When I take another path, I face the same problem; this path is also impassable. Going all the way back and taking the road is the only option. Exhausted, I arrive in the village of Beli Potok, where I have an ice cream and do some shopping.

Then it’s another 50-minute climb to the picnic spot below the Avala Tower. I wonder why the last stretch is always like this—it always seems to be uphill, especially when all you want to do is arrive. It’s past seven o’clock now, and cooking dinner doesn’t go quite as planned, but I finally have some peace and can go to sleep in my tent. Yes!

Church of Saint Sava in Belgrade
The Avala Tower seen from Belgrade
Avala Tower by night Belgrade
Sultans Trail Hungary - Serbia Border

The great magic trick and other bumps on the road to Belgrade

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Day 3: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#terugblik 7 september 2025

Wheelie mag niet mee in de bus

After a wonderful night’s sleep, I slowly wake up over a few cups of coffee at my hostel’s kitchen table. I feel a lot better.

The metro whisks me away to the bus station, where the bus that will take me to Belgrade soon pulls up. When the grumpy bus driver sees my Wheelie hiking trailer, he mutters crossly, “That trailer isn’t allowed.” I tell him as cheerfully as possible—since annoying him further isn’t a good idea—that I have a magic trick. I skillfully remove the handles and wheels from the trailer, leaving just the body, which is the size of a suitcase. He gives a short nod: “Alright then.” First hurdle cleared!

Seat 20a is mine, which means I’m right at the back of the bus—the spot that used to be for the cool kids during school trips. I’ve finally claimed it for myself. In front of me sits an English tour guide explaining to her followers what they can expect. She has a terribly corny sense of humor, but the ladies find it hilarious; they’re laughing excessively loud. It’s hurting my ears.

Avonturen bij de grens

It takes us over 1.5 hours to cross the border from Hungary to Serbia. First, we wait on the bus for our turn. Then everyone gets off the bus and lines up at the Hungarian customs window. Then everyone back on the bus. We drive the bus 50 meters forward, where we wait for the next barrier. When it’s our turn, everyone off the bus again and now into the queue for the Serbian window. Only one window is open, and with the less-than-diligent customs officer, it takes forever. Then everyone back on the bus and off we go. Hurdle number 2 overcome, and I have the first stamp in my brand-new passport!

Geen telefoondekking in Servië

On the bus, I try to get my SIM card with coverage in Serbia working. All Balkan countries are included in my phone plan, but Serbia isn’t. I can’t get it to work, even though it should be very simple according to the instructions. I decide to stay in a hostel in Belgrade; this needs to be sorted out properly, and I’m not sure if I’ll manage it quickly on a Sunday. I’ll just set off a bit later. Eventually, I get it working with an e-SIM. Another hurdle—or rather, a mountain pass—overcome. A huge relief.

Belgrade is a contrast to Budapest. It’s dirty there and the people are curt. This day will go down in history as a bumpy one…

Catnaps and Hungarian vibes: The lead-up to the Sultans Trail

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Day 2: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 6, 2025

Special conversations on the night train

Miraculously, I feel quite rested after my catnaps in my seat on the night train. Before arriving in Vienna, I have another pleasant conversation with my tablemates. I’m sitting at a so-called ‘table seat’ with two other travelers opposite me. The man was a freelance mountain hiking guide for 30 years and has done hikes in Canada, the Balkans, Mongolia, and the Pyrenees, among others. My lively table lady is 82 years young and tells me about her hut-to-hut treks from more than 50 (!) years ago and how special that was back then. She still walks 10 km every day, rain or shine. “Well,” she says, “I’m fibbing a little; I don’t hike on Saturdays, that’s when I clean my house.” She’s forgiven!

Budapest, what a beautiful city

I arrive in Vienna with a 40-minute delay, where I can stretch my legs for just under an hour before the bus to Budapest leaves. After a smooth journey and a few more short naps, I arrive there at half past two. It’s quite warm, but manageable. I take the metro to my hostel, check in, and head out to explore the city.

I’m pleasantly surprised. What a gorgeous city, beautifully situated on the Danube with its many bridges. The city is clean, cozy, and there’s a lot to see. The people are very friendly; I’m experiencing a bit of a ‘Spain vibe’ here in Hungary, something I didn’t expect, with the difference that everyone speaks good English. I actually feel quite at home. It’s pretty touristy, of course, but it’s not like it’s shoulder-to-shoulder—just right.

Those calories, I’ll just walk them off again

After strolling about ten kilometers through the city, I settle down on the terrace of a small restaurant specializing in Hungarian cuisine. I let them take care of ‘my kitchen for today’ and I don’t regret it; I eat a delicious chicken dish and an extravagant dessert. It tastes superb. 3,000,000 calories, sure, but I’ll walk that off over the next few weeks.

Tomorrow by bus to Belgrade. That’s where my hike starts, a section of the Sultans Trail, to Sofia. I’m really looking forward to it!

Setting off on a new adventure: the Sultans Trail

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Day 1: The Sultans Trail from Belgrade to Sofia

#throwback September 5, 2025

Exciting: a new route, new countries

Finally. I’ve been looking forward to this so much; my journey has begun. A new route, new countries. On the agenda: a section of the Sultans Trail, from Belgrade to Sofia. About 550 kilometers ahead of me. A beautiful new adventure in unknown places.

I find it exciting. Perhaps mostly because of the languages—Serbian and Bulgarian, written in the Cyrillic script—I can’t make heads or tails of it. It’ll probably all be fine, of course. These days you solve everything with a bit of googling and Google Translate. And yet… those first few days in a new country always make me nervous. I have to get used to things. To the language, the money, the people, the customs. And afterwards? Afterwards, it’s always better than expected.

By train and bus

Because I want to fly as little as possible, I’m traveling by train and bus. Actually, that’s a gift in itself. Slowly disconnecting and slowing down. Especially after an emotionally intense period where I was barely keeping my head above water. This trip feels not just like something fun, but like something necessary.

It is starting with a heavy headache and a protesting body, though. A touch of burnout, perhaps. Hopefully it fades quickly, step by step. The media training from Wandelnet, on the day of departure and something I was really looking forward to, I unfortunately have to cancel; it’s just too much right now. My body is hitting the brakes and this time I’m listening—quite a victory.

The night train to Vienna is an experience in itself. Out of (misplaced?) frugality, I booked a seat. Real sleep is hard to come by, but between the swaying I manage to catch some catnaps. At seven in the morning, a fellow passenger brings me a cup of coffee. One of those small gestures that suddenly feels huge. I’m less tired than expected.

Slowly it sinks in: the holiday feeling. My shoulders feel lighter. My head quieter.

The adventure has begun. Serbia, here I come!

But first: an afternoon and an evening in Budapest, Hungary.

The Sultans Trail is a long-distance hiking trail from Vienna (Austria), via Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Bulgaria, and Greece to Istanbul in Turkey. It roughly follows the journey made by Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, ruler of the Ottoman Empire in the 16th century. The total length is approx. 2,400 km and the trail runs through eight countries and eight nature reserves. The path is developed and promoted by volunteers from the Dutch Sultan’s Trail Foundation, A European Cultural Route.

From wage slave to nomad: my path to ultimate freedom

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Footsteps of Freedom: the path to a writing and hiking life

Resignation and cold feet

It’s been quiet on this blog for a while, but that’s about to change. The time is almost here: I’ve handed in my notice.

March 31 is my last day at work, and I hope to officially start my life as a hiking and writing nomad in May. To be honest, I find it quite exciting and get cold feet every now and then, but there’s no turning back now…

Why the best stories happen on the road

During my sabbatical (from May 2024 to January 2025), I discovered that the best stories don’t happen behind my desk, but somewhere on the road, with all my belongings in my Wheelie hiking trailer and wild camping in my tent or sometimes just under the open starry sky.

My best ideas often come after walking miles and miles, far away from everyone.

On this blog, I’m going to share those stories.

And if you enjoy that, you can always sign up for the newsletter. You’ll automatically get a message whenever a new story is published. No strings attached, of course.

A little preview: The heat of the Sultans Trail

Next week, I’ll start a series about a trek I did in September 2025: a section of the Sultans Trail. This long-distance hike runs from Vienna to Istanbul, about 2,500 kilometers long, through eight countries and eight nature reserves.

I walked a part of it, from Belgrade to Sofia. As a wage slave, I didn’t have any more time. But I’m definitely going to walk the whole route one day. This has left me wanting more.

And what a three weeks they were.

Three weeks of heat.

Three weeks of walking through Serbia and Bulgaria.

Three weeks in a world without trail markers, where the alphabet looks different, where churches are Orthodox, where monasteries sit on hills, and where paths were more than once impassable.

Along the way, I met people who crossed my path, I walked sections where the trail no longer existed, and I reached places where time seems to move just a little slower.

Starting next week, I’m going to tell the whole story. Day by day. Kilometer by kilometer.

And this is only the beginning.

What can you expect here?

As I said, I’ve since quit my job. April 1 (no joke) marks the start of my new life (emptying the apartment, final preparations) and I hope to leave for good in May. Where to exactly?

I’ll find out along the way.

What I do know: I’m going to walk, write, and share the stories here. The life of a hiking and writing nomad.

If you don’t want to miss anything, you can sign up for the newsletter. You’ll get an automatic notification when a new story appears. But feel free to choose: you can always unsubscribe.

If you do stay, you’ll be walking along with me step by step.

You are more than welcome.

Note: Just as my path on the road has yet to take shape, this website will also grow with me in the coming period. Soon you’ll be able to read my stories not only in Dutch, but also in English and Spanish. Please be patient; it’s being worked on, along with other improvements. I’m not satisfied yet!

Wasps, foxes, badgers, deer and wild boars

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#throwback – 14 June 2024

I wake up very early and do some writing. I enjoy writing most in the early morning, when my mind is clear and empty, and inspiration is at its peak. It feels as if the words just flow effortlessly from the keyboard.

All the while, I hear a buzzing sound, and suddenly I realize I’ve been sleeping under a wasps’ nest. It’s a beautiful sight: a structure built from layers of chewed wood and plant fibres, now still about the size of a tennis ball. I’m not sure whether it’ll still be possible to sleep in the hut once the nest grows, but maybe it’ll be fine as long as I leave the wasps alone.

The weather is cool but dry. There’s barely any difference between day and night — it’s 11 degrees at night and just one degree warmer during the day. I feel wonderfully zen, and what strikes me most is that I’m no longer struggling with procrastination. If I see rain coming, I immediately put the cover on my cart and get out my rain gear. I don’t wait until it actually starts raining. It’s an annoying chore, but when I delay it, I usually end up getting wet anyway. A pebble in my shoe? I stop right away and take it out. And I’ve got more examples like that. It might sound trivial, but it feels like a real victory for someone who’s long been a chronic procrastinator when it comes to unpleasant tasks.

The route is beautiful and varied — forest, open landscape, castles, and the little town of Trosa. I cook my meal at a ‘gran-di-o-so’ viewpoint and once again thoroughly enjoy my own cooking skills. On the map, I see there are several picnic areas in the Tullgarn nature reserve, and indeed I find a lovely spot to camp. Just off the trail, I discover a place by the water, where many waterbirds are busy with their nests. In the hour before I get there, I spot a fox, a deer, black wild boars, and a family of badgers. No shortage of wildlife here. After pitching my tent, I realize I can’t actually reach the water, but luckily I still have enough left for the night and for coffee. No need to be picky.

Pause on an Anthill

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#throwback – 13 June 2024

Relieved that things ended well yesterday, I let out an antisocially loud yawn as I wake up.
Suddenly, a woman is standing next to my bed. She asks if I’m okay—apparently I arrived very late last night. Turns out her tent was pitched barely 20 metres behind the hut, hidden behind a rock…

I’m mortified—by my exaggerated yawning and the loud self-coaching I did during the night. She must have heard it. She did. But it also reassured her. At least she knew it was a decent human arriving.

She’s a striking figure, with red hair and tattoos. I’m impressed by her story: despite physical limitations, she heads out to do what she can do, rather than sulking at home. Often she walks no more than 5 km a day, but she’s out in nature, truly enjoying it—and you can see it!
We agree to stay in touch. These are the encounters that matter.

Grateful for my excellent health, I continue walking.
Not long after, to my surprise, I end up right back where I wasn’t allowed to camp yesterday. I’ve taken a wrong turn, and this route was much shorter. Yesterday’s ordeal wasn’t necessary at all…

When I take a break, I spot a sawn-off tree stump surrounded by pine needles. A perfect seat.
Then suddenly—ants! A whole column of them is marching into my rain trousers. I sat down on an anthill!

They’re big red ants. I tell myself to stay calm—if I panic and start slapping, they’ll definitely bite. I carefully take off my trousers and remove the ants. I should’ve known—a pile of pine needles is often a nest.

After walking barely 9 km, I come across a hut and decide to stay the night. After last night’s little adventure, I think that’s fair. The sun is shining now and it’s lovely here.

I sit on a rock doing nothing at all—and that’s everything.

By 7:30 p.m. I’m so tired I just go to sleep. Risking waking up at the crack of dawn—but so be it.
Instead, I wake after just 90 minutes. Then, at 10:30 p.m., I drift off again—this time until morning.

Nighttime Adventure

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#throwback – 12 June 2024

In the early morning I enjoy the mist rising above the little lake—what a view from my inflatable mattress! So lovely to wake up like this and doze off again. The promised sun and 15 degrees turn out to be a sham. It rains for hours, and I stay in the shelter until half past one. It truly lives up to its name. I don’t mind—laptop open, I write for a few hours. I do adjust my route though: instead of tackling tricky mountain paths, I faff around a bit and take the easier gravel roads.

Around six I pass a small church with a fancy white wooden bench set. I cook there and use the public toilet, complete with running water, soap and a mirror. The sun even makes an appearance, making it just warm enough to linger there for a good while.

I’ve set my sights on a shelter in a nature reserve. Camping is almost impossible here due to all the rocks and uneven terrain. It’s still quite a trek, but at exactly 10:00 p.m. I arrive—only to discover that camping isn’t allowed here, not even in the shelter. Annoying, especially as it’s getting dark, but luckily I spot another hut just 2.6 km away.

But that short stretch turns into a real ordeal. I can’t see well in the dark, I lose the trail, and the area is truly rough—fallen trees, rocks, and muddy patches. It takes me an hour and forty-five minutes to finally reach my destination. By then, it’s midnight. Along the way, I catch myself talking out loud, like to a small child attempting something difficult: “Okay, one step forward… pause… look carefully… turn around… pull the cart uphill… one, two, pull… yes, that’s it… now keep going… easy… watch your step.” It helps me stay focused, avoid tripping, and reach the end without injury.

Relief washes over me when I arrive safe and sound. It takes another hour before my adrenaline finally settles down.

Life is Beautiful!

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#throwback – 11 June 2024

In the local scouts’ hut, I sleep straight through until seven. There are some mosquitoes, but they don’t really bother me. I’ve noticed there are many kinds of mosquitoes. One kind causes more trouble than another. They sting differently, itch differently, buzz differently. You could write an entire thesis about them. Sometimes they come in swarms, and other times you expect them and don’t see a single one.

In front of the hut lies a bow made from a forest branch. I try shooting with it—easier said than done, especially since the handmade arrows aren’t straight. Try hitting something like that. No bear shot, so I settle for updating my Instagram and WhatsApp before heading off.

As I walk up a hill, my shorts suddenly fall down to my ankles. I barely avoid tripping and burst out laughing. I’ve lost so much weight that my shorts are now at least two sizes too big. I usually keep them up with the strap of my Wheelie, but I must’ve forgotten this time. I’m looking forward to buying a new pair in Stockholm. These shorts are really old and faded anyway, but back in the Netherlands I decided not to get new ones—I expected to lose weight. I just didn’t think it would go this fast. And that while I eat like a construction worker.

The trail is stunning—I want to stay everywhere. I feel like I’m in love. The forecast for today and tomorrow is good too, although it has cooled down a lot. Everything seems to be going my way again. I eat at a church with a public toilet, where I also wash myself and my socks. I’ve had wet feet constantly these past days and my socks don’t smell very nice anymore. That’s putting it mildly—they stink so badly I make myself nauseous. Truly disgusting, but hey—part of the job.

After this little laundry session, I continue feeling fresh and cheerful. Around 7:30 p.m., I find the perfect campsite next to a breathtaking, mirror-like lake—with a shelter, a compost toilet (with toilet paper!), and a picnic table all to myself. Life is just so beautiful.

Sun and Deluge

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#throwback – 10 June 2024

Bad weather is forecast, and of course today’s route is long. I’ve almost run out of food, so a visit to the supermarket is a must. Just as I’m about to leave, it starts pouring with rain, so I postpone my departure for a while.

Suddenly, a man walks into the hut. “Oh, I didn’t expect anyone here,” he says—neither did I. He’s here to hang an information board about the nature reserve. He tells me he used to be a commercial photographer, but he got completely fed up with the industry. At 40, he changed course and now builds shelters and other structures in the wild. He says he notices that especially men around forty tend to be jealous. The idea of spending your days outdoors and escaping the rat race seems like heaven to many of them. It pays less, but it brings a huge increase in well-being. I can only agree.

When the weather clears, I head out. The trails are varied—some easy, others so difficult I really should have carried the cart on my back. But hey, you learn as you go. Less than a kilometre from the store… the deluge hits. Once again, I’m lucky: I spot a bus shelter. I don’t stay completely dry—the driving rain blows in—but it’s still a big help. I’m incredibly relieved when I finally see the Willy:s megastore appear in front of me. Inside, I warm up on a bench with a fresh roll that tastes like a pastry. The misery is quickly forgotten.

Nothing changes faster than the weather—suddenly the sun bursts through in full glory. I seize the moment and cook a hot meal next to a volleyball court. A touring cyclist stops by, clearly craving a chat. He sits with me for a while and shares all kinds of route tips, which come in very handy.

On the map I see that a shelter is only four kilometres away, but I end up walking double that distance because I run into two closed paths and have to make long detours. So frustrating—by then, I’m completely exhausted. At a scouting hut I finally roll out my mat and sleeping bag, and sleep wonderfully dry.