Food phrases for possible use in the Balkans
Montenegro - “Cooking me an omelette to order is much appreciated. Really, I shouldn’t grumble. But please, use cheese that doesn’t turn into white stinking water.”
Serbia - “Sorry, that’s not coffee. Coffee shouldn’t have swirling, burned, bad flavours. It shouldn’t necessarily be sweet either, even if it is black. One can, after all, “sweeten”; whereas without the help of chemistry, one cannot “de-sweeten”.”
Pre-departure research suggested that Belgrade’s WASTEELS desk would be a real treat. Man in Seat 61 described the WASTEELS’ rep as an incredibly helpful man dispensing advice about the labyrinthine Eastern European rail networks. I fully expected either a khaki clad Empire type with a squint and stutter, or an affable trilby-wearing spiv with frothing ear and nose hair. While the WASTEELS man proved to have a bit of both, despite the best will in the world, he wasn’t helpful. Not in the slightest. This wasn’t his fault; he had no computer access, so couldn’t sell me a ticket to Sofia nor, rather disappointingly, could he confirm the departure time, or even the price of the ticket. I was directed, instead, to the main ticket office and was deprived the opportunity to bandy and bluster with some unofficial bloke in a station with quasi-coded useful local intelligence. Imagine.
The service at the main ticket desk was fine. Belgrade station is grand, with a hugely impressive frontage, but you don’t need to look too closely to discover that Tito’s big blue loco needs a decent wash, while inside, there’s no roof, very few trains and a surfeit of aimless looking people. It’s not a bad place, nor is it intimidating; indeed, the bar proved a decent place before setting off for Sofia. It’s just that, taken as a whole, the station looks as if it’s forlornly awaiting modernisation before its exhausted infrastructure and rolling stock rot into the ground. Much like St Pancras, Marylebone and numerous other London termini used to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment