Day 24-26: Belgrade

Day 24 Back to Belgrade (Friday 25 February 2011)

The snowfall has not let up overnight and once again this morning I am up at the crack of dawn to catch my bus, this time from the central Sarajevo bus station, back to Belgrade. My bus leaves at 0600 and, should I miss it, then not only is there a two hour wait for the next one but it also departs from East Sarajevo – not somewhere I wish to revisit! I am hurrying through the snow, deep enough that it comes halfway up my shin, eager to be on time and aware that I need to pick up the pace. Almost there, as I am pass the US Embassy guard sat in his little cabin; as I glance up at him I loose my footing and go down face first into the snow, which thankfully cushions my fall, but not my embarrassment. After this tumble I have to sprint best I can through the snow and make the bus with just seconds to spare.

By the time I am once more on the stone steps leading up to the Manga Hostel it has been at least ten hours since I left Sarajevo. Inside I get a big welcome back hug from Igor. I got up this morning at 0515 and the subsequent ten hour bus journey has left me with a rather scruffy appearance and less than fresh odour. It is not long before Igor tactfully suggests I might feel better after a sleep and a shower (he is probably regretting that hug).

Tonight I travel in a taxi with Wayne and Jacob to François' place. A Frenchmen, François has a job teaching French in a Belgrade school for six months to help fund his next stint of travelling. His flat is pretty quirky; for instance, he has attached a table tennis net across his dining table, and at some point during the evening we start to play. The problem is that non of the other people sitting around the table cannot be bothered to pick up their beer cans and cigarette packets, which brings a whole new dimension to our game. Later the party moves to the awesomely named bar, Idiot, but tired out from the day's exertions I leave my new pals to it.

Day 25 Belgrade (Saturday 26 February 2011)



Kalemegdan in the snow

Snow has been falling here since I left for Sarajevo four days ago and now it has begun to settle far quicker than the army of sweepers can clear it from the pathways. I am unsure if these guys are being paid for their tireless work, or if they are admirable volunteers who have organised themselves into squadrons of elite snow sweepers. What I do know is that they are doing an admirable job and I wouldn't blame them for hiding a flask of rakija in their coats to help galvanise them against the cold. I got up rather late today and although I have not been up long the sun is setting as I take another walk through the park at Kalemegdan; it has only been four days since I was last here but I have genuinely missed being able to spend time here. Later I discover a coffee shop called Fidel where the décor resembles a communist revolutionist's jumble sale. It is the perfect place to sit for hours sipping a beer and making these notes.



Old boys play chess in the snow, Kalemegdan

It is after midnight and I am sat in the basement kitchen of the hostel talking to Jorge, a student at Belgrade University, who works the night shift on the Manga reception. After the other staff have gone home his duties seem to include chatting to the likes of Wayne, Jacob and myself whilst polishing off Anna Maria's mother's home-made rakija. Anna Marija thinks that the guests cannot get enough of her rakjia, so everyday she brings in a new batch and every night Jorge drinks it. It is difficult to know who from the staff here at Manga I like best; perhaps, all things considered, Jorge just about steals it. He is this incredibly knowledgeable and well read guy - another person with that fine quality of always having a story to tell, or knowing some bizarre fact that seems to make perfect sense only when he alone explains it. At one point he starts to tell me that “proper cockneys must be born within ear shot of the Bow Bells”; why does he know this? Another interesting thing about Jorge is that he is the captain of the Serbian national cricket team. By his own admission cricket is not the most popular sport in Serbia and his team has to be made up with a few ringers from Britain and Australia. This summer they are due to play in an international tournament for minor cricketing nationals and do battle with the likes of Iceland and Slovenia.

Day 26 Belgrade (Sunday 27 February 2011)

Today is not only my last day in Belgrade but also the final day of my journey. It is a slight shame that today is Sunday because, like many of the cities I have visited, most of Belgrade's shops and kafanas will be closed throughout the day, only opening this evening. Being that this is my last night, Wayne, Jacob and I are planning to go out later with another friend of theirs, Alexa, who is mostly to thank for introducing the guys to Belgrade's underground bar scene. This afternoon the temperature outside makes it pretty difficult to be out for any length of time but I am determined to return home with a bottle of Medovača, a honey brandy I have discovered during my time here. Jorge says the rakija bars and kafanas that serve the Medovača will sell me a bottle to take home. However, as it is Sunday, as I walk around Belgrade for a final time none of my usual haunts are open. Finally I get lucky when one of the last places I try is open and this saves me having to buy it later tonight when we are out on the town.

Alexa does not disappoint and takes us to a bar in the basement of a building that from the outside I could never have guessed at there being a bar inside. During my time in Belgrade I must have walked straight past a dozen times without noticing it. Although the city seems quiet on our way here, inside it is buzzing. Alexa points out some people he says are famous Serbs but, of course, I have no idea who they are and suspect he is probably taking the mick and they are more likely to be his friends. Wayne however, is attracting celebrity style attention; word has gone round that there is a guy who looks the spitting image of Jack Sparrow in the bar, and everyone seems to want their picture taking with him. Jacob has work the following morning and leaves us around half two, but Wayne and I stay for at least another hour. Saying goodbye to Alexa and his friends, we head out into the night in search of Burek – maybe because this is to be my last, it tastes like the best yet. While we sit eating, the baker brings out a fresh batch of cheese Burek and, needing to use up my remaining Serbian Dinar, we cannot resist seconds. Walking back to Manga, about two hours after Jacob had left us to go to bed, I say to Wayne that I fully expect to find Jacob still awake and sat at the kitchen table talking with Jorge. We get back to discover my prediction is bang on. It seems to sum up my time here nicely; the people are just so irresistibly friendly and engaging you just cannot bring yourself to say goodnight...

(c) Robert Beardsworth