Last Thoughts
This morning I left Smokvica at 8am to wander down to the local market. The sky was cloudy and the temperature has dropped 10 degrees down to 22. I even had to wear a layer over my dress, but it was incredibly pleasant.
The outdoor market is a huge area of stalls in what looks like a lesser-loved part of town, with everything that you could possibly need to buy, plus some stuff that you would never have considered buying. For fear of offending I didn't take too many photos - the large mens underpants were in that category. A stall just for toilet paper, and another for taps and leads and Stuff. I say Stuff because I'm not sure where in the scheme of things some of these things belong.
Serbia was the biggest grower of raspberries this year and these sweet little berries were everywhere. I bought a pottle of a raspberry/blackberry mix and consumed them for my breakfast.
I was clearly a tourist in this market, and I didn't spot any others - I stuck out like a sore thumb. I set up a sort of competition with myself to see whether I could elicit many smiles. I failed. And I'm normally good at this game. Not a single smile from the flower ladies.
I shuffled into a kafana and bought myself a coffee (best one so far) and watched the lovely teenagers (all the girls with long hair) and the boys - tall and dark- buying pizzeta (pizza slice) on the way to school. It's the second day back today, and everyone was in high spirits, especially the boy who made a run for it from the pizza bar without paying - and well done that pizza guy who ran him down, even risking his life across the busy road. Dogs barked, kids roared with laughter, old ladies stood stock still to watch.
As I sat, the woman who smelt badly of urine and kept asking for money left (praise be), and a man sat for coffee and struck up a conversation with me. He said 'hi' to me because he presumed I was American. (How is that I can never blend in. Ever.)
One coffee turned into two. From Miami, he has just finished filming a foodie tv show in Russia and he is here to do the same thing in Belgrade. We exchanged impressions of Serbia (and the other Balkan Countries) and talked about American Culture (his perception) in the context of the world's perception (mine). We talked about racism and immigration in the world (from an American perspective, particularly illegal immigration). This guy was not a Trump fan, but did agree with some of his ideas. It was a deep conversation for two coffees apiece.
And then I left like a Cinderella...
And I choose this apartment block if I have to live in Belgrade..
The outdoor market is a huge area of stalls in what looks like a lesser-loved part of town, with everything that you could possibly need to buy, plus some stuff that you would never have considered buying. For fear of offending I didn't take too many photos - the large mens underpants were in that category. A stall just for toilet paper, and another for taps and leads and Stuff. I say Stuff because I'm not sure where in the scheme of things some of these things belong.
Serbia was the biggest grower of raspberries this year and these sweet little berries were everywhere. I bought a pottle of a raspberry/blackberry mix and consumed them for my breakfast.
I was clearly a tourist in this market, and I didn't spot any others - I stuck out like a sore thumb. I set up a sort of competition with myself to see whether I could elicit many smiles. I failed. And I'm normally good at this game. Not a single smile from the flower ladies.
I shuffled into a kafana and bought myself a coffee (best one so far) and watched the lovely teenagers (all the girls with long hair) and the boys - tall and dark- buying pizzeta (pizza slice) on the way to school. It's the second day back today, and everyone was in high spirits, especially the boy who made a run for it from the pizza bar without paying - and well done that pizza guy who ran him down, even risking his life across the busy road. Dogs barked, kids roared with laughter, old ladies stood stock still to watch.
As I sat, the woman who smelt badly of urine and kept asking for money left (praise be), and a man sat for coffee and struck up a conversation with me. He said 'hi' to me because he presumed I was American. (How is that I can never blend in. Ever.)
One coffee turned into two. From Miami, he has just finished filming a foodie tv show in Russia and he is here to do the same thing in Belgrade. We exchanged impressions of Serbia (and the other Balkan Countries) and talked about American Culture (his perception) in the context of the world's perception (mine). We talked about racism and immigration in the world (from an American perspective, particularly illegal immigration). This guy was not a Trump fan, but did agree with some of his ideas. It was a deep conversation for two coffees apiece.
And then I left like a Cinderella...
And I choose this apartment block if I have to live in Belgrade..
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