Beer and book shops

You can’t buy beer here. Not at this time.

After the huge meal on Svetog Save, I tried to buy beer from a food shop. I’d been looking for a bar that was not too bright, but which had a decent reading light, no noise and zero chat, but had only come across some unsavoury looking places, one of which, in near darkness and apparent desertion, blasted Queen into a quiet side street. “Don’t stop me now - I’m having such a good time….” Not true, even if the heavy smokers, a number of whom, on approaching the establishment, could be seen hanging round the patio heaters, were giving it their all.

After giving up on finding a decent drinking spot, I found a late night food shop and put a couple of Sick Nicks in my basket to enjoy in the solitary splendour of the Hotel Slavija, before being told, with utmost courtesy, that I’d missed Belgrade’s 10pm deadline for buying alcohol. I felt immediately undone at this cultural faux pas. Things weren’t improved when I was advised I could buy some alcohol free fizz. I got out sharpish, trying, in vain, to appear ‘bemused’ and ‘eccentric’.

More shops
Away from food? I could have shopped on the Bar to Belgrade train. I had the chance not only to buy hot drinks from a broken man with a tiny tray, but also some toys from a similarly dishevelled entrepreneur. On both occasions, I resisted.

The Evro Giunti bookshop in Belgrade was half decent and had some interesting looking Serbian novels in translation, one of which I picked up. It was written by the daughter of a diplomat. For some reason - envy?, inadequacy? - this made me feel resentful. Was the book published because of who the author is/was? Happily, I snapped out of this funk in reasonable time (having endured no lasting damage) and resumed strolling. There was, however, a grumpy residue and futility which hung over me until the end of the trip.

Other links - contemporary Serbian literature in translation