July 6, 2012

Rain over Belgrade

It is raining in Belgrade and i can feel the city welcome this refreshment. For days the heat was stuck between the buildings and returned by every piece of concrete. I can hear thunder and see thick clouds cover the usually blue sky. The plane dropped me in a huge plain of fields and acres, with some hills noticeable far in the distance, the taxi ride into town brought me to the feet of another Balkan capital. And, boy, am i loving it.

There is something i caught on my previous visit to Sarajevo as well as on this one to the capital of Serbia that intrigues me and spurs my fascination. Be it the conversation between Sava, my taxi driver and me, while riding the car into town. How with little words and many hands he made me notice how the temperature jumped by more than one degree between airport and city centre, or when he taught me that the river we were crossing is named just as him. Not to forget his laid-back attitude when he lit a cigarette and smiled at me leaning onto his car, suggesting that we'd climb up to the office in just a little moment. I could not disagree.

Certainly, my excitement for the Balkans is grounded in my appreciation for the people i meet. Like the lady at the reception who waved off my worries when i discovered that my credit card was not working upon arrival (who would have known that an American credit union blocks the use of their cards in Serbia?) - there would be enough time to fix this until my departure. Or my new Serbian colleagues when i watch them caress and take brief conscious breaks with Misha, the office cat, when they get excited over icecream just as much as i, or when we have beers after work and they passionately share with me their love and adoration for my hometown Berlin as well as for the German football team, the lovely goalkeeper, notably pointing out the different sets of teams over the decades - the latter of which i personally know nothing about.

And then, the cobble-stoned Skadarlija ulica in the Bohemian quarter, a full world of its own, and currently my home. Each restaurant equipped with its own little band of string, accordion, guitar and brass players who turn the entire street into a cacophony of sound. On my first night i was surrounded by familiar melodies until i realised that this was a Russian edition, including the Tetris sound. Moments later i found myself singing happily along to "Podmoscovniye vechera", and the woman on the table across made us admire her alto voice. Last night i got the Italian edition inspired by the Italian guests feasting at the table next to me. I do not need to mention the rich food of the region, a treat to meat- and veg-eaters alike. My hopes are high that Belgrade will gift me with a few of the pounds i lost in the last couple of months.



It is a flair of Mediterranean that flows the streets - the incredibly warm nights, the light dresses, the strolling couples, smart improvisation combined with casual neglect of perfection, the flowers, the perpetual smiles and laughter. It is a world i'd so love to indulge in more, wondering when i could spend a summer travelling the Balkans or what kind of job i could come up with that would allow me to be a part of this region for a little while. I guess there will be a way. The same way that i will now take to get my hands and mouth onto another tasty pleasure.

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