The Balkan Express now only runs between Belgrade and Sofia, and just during the high summer, but until a few years ago it was the one the great trains of Europe. Conveying through sleeping carriages from Vienna to Sofia, Belgrade to Istanbul, and Budapest to Athens, the motley selection of multi-coloured rolling stock slowly snaked through the Serbian countryside, usually a couple of hours (or more) late. 

I have travelled on this train a few times, but my most memorable journey was back in the Spring of 2010, when was travelling to Bulgaria. The through sleeper from Vienna to Sofia was not attached for the Vienna to Budapest section, so I had to take a couchette (a basic padded bunk car) from Vienna to Belgrade, and a seated coach for the remainder of the journey. Since these were simply different carriages attached/detached to the same Balkan Express, it made no difference to the journey time. However, as I soon discovered, it also made for a rather different travelling experience.

A Serbian train, stopped in the middle of nowhere.

Pleasant scenery en route to Nis

Comfortable accomodation

South of Belgrade, the train travels during the daytime, and as we headed south through the pleasant, slightly hilly, countryside, I had the compartment to myself. It was nice just to sit back and watch the scenery while listening to the sound of the train. Every now and then we’d stop at small stations and watch the red-hatted stationmaster wave us off, or stand, flag raised, as we passed through non-stop.

Heading towards Nis

Nis – not the end of the line

In the early afternoon we stopped at the city of Nis, where the electric locomotive and the Greece-bound carriages were taken off, and big dirty diesel engine added to the remaining portion, a through sleeping-car for Istanbul, another sleeper for Sofia, and the ordinary seated compartment coach in which I was, until then, comfortably ensconced. However, along with the new, rougher-looking locomotive, we also gained some new, rougher-looking passengers, a collection of around thirty men, women, and children with the most enormous quantities of luggage. Soon, the peace of my compartment was shattered as the empty seats were filled – and I found myself opposite a rather formidable-looking woman who appeared to know all the other passengers. In addition, two police officers also boarded the train, along with two conductors.

Shortly after leaving Nis on the single track line towards the Bulgarian border, many of the new passengers started unpacking their luggage and fiddling with the seats, the walls, and the panels on the ceiling. Their luggage seemed to consist almost entirely of large boxes of cigarettes. Despite me looking pointedly at the no-smoking sign, they began to rapidly stack the boxes on the floor and to open more bags containing even more tobacco products. I was getting the feeling that they were up so something, so I pretended not to notice and looked out of the window. At just that precise moment we chugged through a small station and I watched a woman in the next compartment through out an package in a plastic bag. As I looked back the station receding in the distance, I saw the station-mistress bend down to pick it up. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was why, a few minutes later, we got stopped for an hour at a red signal in the middle of nowhere.

As the train jerked to a stop, conveniently next to a level crossing, the driver shut the engine down and got out for a smoke (presumably he knew what to expect) and the conductors and police officers were conspicuous by their absence. Presumably they were relaxing in one of the sleeping cars, having been persuaded to turn a blind eye. Meanwhile a motorcyclist stopped next to the train and began a conversation with one of the ‘passengers’, while others started to open ceiling panels, unscrew air vents, take off seat cushions, and at one point, remove the entire window. Into the various cavities (including under the voluminous folds of the woman opposite) went the boxes of cigarettes.

Eventually the operation was complete, and as the driver sounded the horn and the train jerked into motion, the panels were screwed back in place, cushions fixed, and windows secured. As we then headed towards the border, and after another ‘drop’ to a station-mistress, the passengers tidied themselves up so that anyone would have thought they were just on an excursion to Littlehampton.

Half an hour later we reached the Serbian checkpoint, where guards boarded and made a show of searching the train. Not finding anything (and not having looked very hard) they waved us off and we continued over the border to Kalotina, the Bulgarian checkpoint and therefore the entry to the EU. As we drew to a stop, the confidence of the ‘passengers’ quickly evaporated. The platform was lined with border guards, tool boxes and step ladders in hand, and it was clear they meant business. As the guards got to work and the train crawled to the larger station at Dragoman, I also began to worry. What if the guards thought I was ‘one of them’ or, more worryingly, what if the smugglers thought I’d seen too much? I didn’t want to think of the consequences.

Already I could hear some shouts and arguments from further down the carriage, and I realised that I had one advantage over all the other passengers: My luggage was not screwed behind a panel and the timetable book I’d been avidly pretending to read told me that there was a local service to Sofia on the next platform…

I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I remained on that train. Would the guards have found the contraband? Would the smugglers make a deal and get away with it? Would they have all been arrested or sent back? Would I too enjoy some unique Bulgarian hospitality and make new friends. As I sat back on the local stopping service, and the suburbs of Sofia came into view, I breathed a very large sigh of relief.