I have always known that coffee had special powers, but I've never seen its magic work as strongly as it did in Belgrade.
I arrived on the overnight bus, a little after 6am. I was tired.
The air smelled of smoke, all kinds of smoke. A black sky mixed in with the brittle streetlights, turning the city into a pencil-sketch of greys. Even the cold felt grey, an invasive slithering creature that bit at ears and feet and fingers.
Bent double, knock-kneed, I walked off. Why was I here? And why here? I could be in Naples or Zurich or Vienna, where the grass was greener and birds sang in the streets and honey poured out the public fountains.
But then I had a coffee, a good one too.
I physically felt the caffeine climbing into my brain, and my eyes seemed to open wider.
Looking out the window, a few faint pastels began appearing out of the soupy grey. A splash of red in the distance turned into a market. The growing light revealed more detail and colour and brightness, bringing with it the appearance of warmth if not the physical temperature. By midday the sun had arrived and driven off the fog to reveal a pale blue sky.
It was a city transformed. I felt like I was living through the process of colourising black & white photos.
Now try doing that with a diet Coke.
***
Belgrade is a place where subtlety has long been foregone for the pleasures of the plain and the obvious.
Military museum? Have a clutter of tanks and artillery pieces lined up outside.
Think inflation is bad? Have a 500 billion (yes, with a "B") dinar note.
A monument to the 15th century Serbian leader and despot Stefan Lazarević? Make it 4 meters high (admittedly he was nicknamed "the tall").
Even the flags flying outside the National Assembly are comically large.
Having arrived from Bosnia and Herzegovina, I felt the cultural difference strongly. Here, over 90% of the population are Christian and just 3% are Muslim, compared to a nearly 50-50 split in Bosnia. I passed people selling wheat sprouts and dried oak leaves, part of traditional Serbian celebrations for Orthodox Christmas celebrated on January 7th each year.
Perhaps the most bizarre moment in the city was visiting the glasshouse in the Botanic Gardens. A collection of agave plants, cacti and tropical ferns just doesn't seem right in a place like this in the middle of winter. In this case though I'm glad it's here. On the long list of things we humans have done "because we can", this doesn't seem that egregious, and the extravagant plant life provides welcome relief from the stubborn flora of the Balkans.
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