Belgrade, hanging with the Skadarska hipsters - “Belgrade’s Montmartre” according to The Lonely Planet. It looked ok in first inspection, though the overly cobbled streets and non-authentic direction posts to different cities (a la M*A*S*H and Land’s End) pushed me towards not going back.
Go back I did, however. I spent about an hour the next day sheltering from rain - heavy sheets of the stuff - watching a hardy employee of the authentic taverna I’d picked as least likely to make me break into hives hitching skirts and subjugating dignity and morale, grinning at occasional bedraggled tourists, some of whom were interested in her fancy dress national costume, but none of whom looking as if they might be persuaded to come inside. Which, given the rain, must have been pretty disheartening.
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