Friday, 13 January 2017 to Thursday, 19 January 2017
It was Friday morning and we had another mountain trip planned with Patrick and Oi and this would also not disappoint, just like our magical mystery tour of two weeks ago. It was after 09:00 that we met up with the pair and departed along the ring road towards Manaem. At Soi 1 we turned left, rode up and past the Sereena Restaurant that we visited a while back and enjoyed the mountain road ride towards Lamai. It really is a lovely ride with wonderful tropic scenery.

We reached the t-junction, took a right, then left, then right… and then I forget, but Patrick sure does know all the back roads on the island, he is like a walking talking Google Map. The road went up and up and around and up, weaving its way up and up and ever steeper, it felt as if we were heading towards heaven, and it was.

The road which later on fizzled out to a sort of a pathway is not for the fainthearted and my heart was not faint, I had the ECG from Monday to prove it. Adri had not had an ECG so I was not sure of the state of her heart but it seemed okay, she was quiet on the back… or maybe she had fainted? I was riding along looking at some of the breathtaking tropical scenery when Adri suddenly piped up with “Stop looking, please!” When I responded “Okay, I’ll just close my eyes” she quickly retracted her demand and I continued to enjoy the scenery.

Out final destination on this trip was the Pra Buddha Teepangkorn Temple at probably one of the highest points on Samui. The temple is beautiful, the views from up there even better. I don’t think too many people take the time to make this journey which is well worth the effort. The road is rather challenging but a good 125cc bike or 4X4 will suffice to make it there.

 

On the way down, just before turning right onto the Ring Road in Lamai I noticed a sign referring to it as the Island Road, which I thought was a much more apt description, don’t you think? Anyway, Oi was hungry and we realised that we were too so decided to go for lunch.

Patrick guided us to the Sa Being Lae Restaurant southwest of Lamai, situated right on the beach. It was such a beautiful setting, the food was almost of secondary importance, not that there was anything secondary about it. The big Chang was ice cold, the view was stupendous, the company was fantastic, I could truly spend a lot of time there. And all too soon we had to once again say our sad farewells to Patrick and Oi, whom we won’t see for a while, but who knows, maybe they will plan a trip to visit us in Europe?

We have been monitoring the weather in Belgrade – where we will be heading on Monday – and noticed that there was an unusually cold spell passing, not just through Serbia, but the whole of Europe. We needed something slightly warmer than shorts, a t-shirt and plakkas, for sure, the temperatures were mostly forecast at freezing point.

While making our way home we stopped off at a number of shops for wintery clothing, also at the Tesco in Lamai,  but needless to say, we found none.

Our last shopping stop was The Red Snapper Restaurant. You would be forgiven to question “But you’ve just had lunch?” or “Shopping for winter clothes at a seafood restaurant?” But, that’s the directions we received form Wayne during dinner last night for where we may find some winter clothes. The directions were actually, ride down the Chaweng beach road until you reach the Red Snapper, park your bike, walk across the road and right to the back of the little market. There we were supposed to find a shop that sells winter clothes but alas, all we found were numerous little shops that had closed down… pity.

We looked through some of the other stalls and at one particular one Adri tried on a garment. Asking the price the lady responded “You buying?” When Adri replied with a “Maybe” this pushy lady pointblank refused to give her a price. Wow, no wonder these businesses are going out of business… fast you know.

On our way back home via the ring road we stopped off at Thea and Andre’s office to say a final final sad goodbye. We’re really gonna miss all our friends here on Samui. But, like Patrick and Oi, they may be taking a trip to Europe this year so maybe we will see them before too long, in sunny Europe this time.

After our substantial lunch of this afternoon with Patrick and Oi I simply could not face supper. What I could face though was a substantial snack. After we got home from our tiring shopping spree I opened that big Chang that had been patiently waiting for me in the fridge. I made myself comfortable on the patio and started cutting up that biltong (dried meat) I received from Andre into thin slices. Man oh man, was that good! I have not had biltong in over a year but the recognition was instantaneous, there was no mistaking, this was the real stuff. This was an unimaginable treat, just awesome… I so do love my billies…!

Saturday morning found me blogging, Adri was busy washing clothes and preparing for the eventual packing expedition that would unfold during the course of the day. This packing would obviously culminate in frenetic packing in the morning as we race against time, every time.

We had sufficient ingredients for our last breakfast on Samui although we had run out of eggs. While Adri went on her egg hunt she also stopped off at reception and announced that we would be leaving tomorrow, one day early, and also arranged our transport to the Lipa Noi pier. She turned out to be quite the negotiator… the trip to Lipa Noi pier is 800 baht, but if we paid today, they would give it t to us for 600 baht.

It was just after 14:00 when we packed our beach bag and set off for Choeng Mon; what a beautiful beach day it was. The beach was abuzz with what I guessed were the last of the holiday makers as most people normally leave the island by mid January.

While soaking up the sun and people watching, I noticed a man in the sea doing backstroke, in a slow deliberate and trancelike fashion, heading towards the beach. I feared that he may continue on over the beach and hit his head on the retaining wall beyond.

We then drove to the north-eastern tip of the island where one part of the rich of Samui live. Last year we drove around this area and watched many sunsets from a beautiful house that was being built. I’m sad to say that the house has still not been completed and I’m starting to worry that it never will.

 

 

From there we went to The Emerald Condominiums – where we stayed previously for a few months – to visit Eran and her daughter Cyan. How great it was to see these two again, seems like the island life is still agreeing with them very well. We caught up with all the skindernuus (gossip) of Samui and goings-on at the complex; it’s always great to have a good old chinwag with Eran.

While we were having a bubbly chat Larry walked by and stopped to say hallo. He had used his time on the island wisely and had finished writing his book called Maybe It Will Rain which was published in October last year. He describes the book as “Historical fiction inspired by the truth”, drawing on his experiences from the Vietnam War and thereafter. He now has a second book that is being readied for publication.

From The Emerald we went to the Samui Mermaid on Bang Rak beach for our final sundowners. There we found great views across the bay – which was so still and peaceful after the rains – where a number of yachts lay at anchor with not even a tiny tug at its mooring lines visible.

After sundowners it was to be out last supper on Samui and Adri would have it nowhere else other than at the Bang Rak Saturday Market. Today, with no rains like last week, the market was back to its full size and it was buzzing. We had papaya salad, porkies, grilled rice cake and biryani with chicken. Dessert was exactly the same as last week, chocolate waffle and a syrupy sweet roti. Amazing!

While I was dabbling in my beer I overheard an old farang conversing with a Thai guy “Yea yea yea, I’ve known him since 1972”, holding up 9 fingers. Huh? That one got me. Trying to figure that combination out was just way crazy… maybe he just added the last two digits together, or maybe… maybe he was just way too drunk to be mathematically competent.

By 06:30 Sunday morning Adri was already packing, by 09:00 Ian had picked up the bike and I had paid for the water and electricity, received my deposit back, and by 10:00 we were on our way to the Lipa Noi pier for our Raja Ferry ride to the Donsak pier on the mainland. We said our goodbyes to Jerry and Book from reception, two lovely chaps; always ready to assist with whatever it is that needs assistance.

The Replay minivan driver made good time and delivered us at the pier just before 11:00. Our ferry was booked for 12:00 but we were just in time for the 11:00 departure so we were ushered onboard just as soon as we received our tickets for the ferry and bus ride to Surat Thani. By the way, these tickets are all included in the Airasia flight price. We were given the option of paying 30 baht per bag for a luggage service, which we obviously took, it is well worth is.

I remember a year ago there was no such service and we had to lug our two 25kg bags up those small steep steel steps leading from the hold to the seating level up in high heavens. Not fun. I remember struggling with my bag up those steps, pearls of sweat forming on my brow and body and below, with the best intentions of going back down to lug Adri’s bag up as well. A huge Russian guy had taken pity on me, or probably on Adri, took her bag by the scruff of its neck and floated it up like it was a feather, up to where I was still struggling. This guy was a monster, or maybe I was a mouse.

We made ourselves comfortable on the ferry and it was not long before I stole a few snoozes from that overstocked storeroom, Adri raided hers as well. We woke up a few moments before we docked in Donsak at 12:30. At 13:00 our bus headed out the gates where I caught a fleeting glimpse of a large sign that read “Bon Voyage – Thank you”. Just past 14:30 we breezed into the airport which was the first time we made contact with our heavy luggage since we handed it in on Koh Samui. Rather cool.

Arriving at the Don Muang Airport at 18:40 we waited almost two minutes before our luggage came crawling towards us on the carousel. From there we were off to Gate 6 at the international arrivals hall to catch the shuttle bus to Suvarnabhumi Airport. Outside Gate 6 is a counter where the attendant checks that you have a legit flight, gives you a stamp on your right hand after which you’re good to go when the bus is good to go. At this time of the evening there is a bus every 30 minutes, ours departed at 19:30.

The bus takes an hour or so to get to the Suvarnabhumi Airport, depending on traffic, so we arrived at 20:30, way ahead of our scheduled flight at 02:30. We had time to kill. Adri forced me down to Level 1 of of the terminal building to the Thai food court which she visited last year when fetching Lisa from the airport for her visit with us in Hua Hin.

And that’s where I found the stall that sells Vietnamese baguette which Frank used to rave about. When we were still contemplating going to Vietnam Frank promised us that it would become our staple diet there. So of course I had to try it out. Adri came back from her food gathering exercise looking miserable. The Vietnam baguette stand had just closed as she was about to order. Now we would have to visit Vietnam!

By 11:30 we were standing in front of the check in counter where a huddle of airline staff formed around our passports. They quickly gathered that we did not have a visa for Serbia but then pointed to the French visa with an “Ah!” just to realize that it was only valid from 10 March 2017. Now the frowns and concerns were deepening and I managed to interject above the hubbub with “US visa”. They looked at me, rifled through the passport one last time… and smiled with another “Ah!”. We were checked in without further incident.

We found one of the Diners Card lounges and presented our cards and passports to their reception. As we have not used these cards in over a year we were not very confident that there was any influence left in them. Our fears however were unfounded and a minute later we were allowed entry into this little piece if heaven. Adri commented “We are so lucky”. I could not resist responding, tongue in cheek of course, with a quote from that wonderful movie called Empire Of The Sun; You know, the funny thing is, the harder I work the ‘luckier’ we get?”. Always loved that line, you will find it about one minute into the clip below.

I had some savoury puff pastries of all kinds and a Heineken followed by a wonderful little spaghetti bolognaise with chicken, followed by a gin and tonic. Adri had the bolognaise chicken, and then a bolognaise chicken, it was that good, each accompanied by a glass of red wine.

At 02:30 Monday morning we started the engines and the 7.5 hour flight to Dubai was set in motion. My body, mind and muscle were ill prepared for this trip, maybe I was just too tired, but I seriously did not enjoy this leg of the trip. I slept most of the way waking up from time to time, more times than not, actually, but felt much more rested by the time we arrived in Dubai. I was now actually looking forward to the next and final part of our journey.

The gate to our connecting flight to Belgrade was not far from where we entered, we had about 45 minutes plus to spare. We needed coffee… like now. We looked for the Diners Card lounge, found it pronto and despondently approached the counter once again. This time it took considerably longer with more frowns before we were let in. Adri started to comment “The harder you work the…”

There were breakfast stuff on the buffet table but first we attacked the cappuccino machine, pretty good for an auto coffee maker. I had scrambled eggs, Cumberland sausages, fried

tomato, olives and potato chips, man, this was a treat. I ended with a croissant with honey and a Danish washed down with a second cappuccino. Adri had similar fair but ended up with a second course of Cumberland sausages and humus, washed down with that last cappuccino.

The flight between Dubai and Belgrade was thankfully just six hours long. When breakfast arrived the male attendant insisted on speaking to me in Serbian – thinking I was from such descent – requesting my choice for breakfast. Not wanting to belittle his assessment I played along and denoted my choice with a nod of my head. I received the corresponding breakfast, not sure what my other choice was. Do I really look the part of a Serbian? Maybe he knows that I am the son of Serbia, you know, we share the same birthday of sorts.

My birthday is on 15 February, or so my parents told me, the same day that Serbia celebrates Sovereignty Day which is also known as Statehood Day. It marks the anniversary of the First Serbian Uprising in 1804 and the first Serbian Constitution in 1835. It is a two day holiday and is the National Day of Serbia. Hmm, methinks I will from now on also take a two day holiday on my birthday…

Breakfast was served in a box and a tin foil container. The tin foil container contained an omelette with a marvelous melted white cheese inside, a Cumberland type sausage and potato slices. This was breakfast, so what’s in the box? A cheese stick with crackers, pineapple pieces in its juice, orange juice, mini Mars bar, baked oats slices and finally a roasted almond bar. Now this was a breakfast of note.

The girl in the aisle seat next to me had one of those studs in her nose which Andre warned me about just last week, he has a healthy fear of it. “Just imagine” he said “that girl blows her nose, like hard, and the pressure created in that enclosed cavity forces that stud out like a slug on steroids, heading straight for your eye” And he was right, that thing could decapitate you. She also had a stud through her earlobe which looked pretty harmless but I still studied in with suspicion. Now all this studying of studs reminded me of a skit by that wonderful comedian George Carlin on exactly this subject. Please watch the full skit below; the most relevant part is right at the end of the video clip.

Flying over Serbia we noticed that the country seemed to be all snowed over, it was white upon white down below. We landed in Belgrade and proceeded to Immigration. There was a queue for Serbians, one for “Countries not requiring visa” and one that said “Countries requiring visa”. We joined the last-mentioned queue even though we did not have a visa per se. I approached the Immigration officer – a very pleasant fellow with good English – who stamped the entry stamp without a question and with a big smile he waved me on, this US visa sure worked its magic for us.

We needed Serbian Dinars for our taxi ride home and approached the array of ATMs despondently. This was always a moment of truth of arriving in a new country, will this thing give me money or not. The first one decided not to, the second one had the same idea, I was starting to sweat, just a tad. The third one spewed out Dinars, the sweating stopped.

Our landlord, Miha, advised that we use the official taxi at the airport and 1800 Serbian Dinar later we were deposited in front of our apartment block in old Belgrade. The first thing that hit me in Belgrade was our new colour scheme which had turned from a brilliant kaleidoscope of tropical colours to black and white. Black and white or rather multiple shades of gray, maybe not quite 50.

Miha met us as the taxi disappeared and helped us with our luggage up to the third floor; elevators had not been invented at the time this building was built. Miha left only after he had given us a thorough information session on the apartment and the neighbourhood, where to get good coffee, good food, and the like. Miha is not Serbian but was born and grew up in Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia, which is where Steve and Marina now live. He moved to Belgrade 12 years ago, got married and two kids later he still finds himself here and loving it.

We went for a walkabout in the hood to get some stuff for supper; we were tired, we weren’t going to venture too far afield. We walked through the fresh produce and all else market called the Skadarlija, or the Bajloni market, which was busy winding down for the day. This market is one of the largest and most important markets in downtown Belgrade, located in Dorćol, below Skadarlija (Skadarska) street. It’s divided in four parts, and you can find practically anything in or around the market.

Thickly dressed we strolled icily down one road in -1°C temperature, back on the other side and then down another one which took us home. We found a number of delis, bakeries and small supermarkets and plenty more right here in the immediate hood, this was great.

At one such bakery we bought one of Serbia’s staples, burek, which is a phyllo pastry with plenty of a white creamy feta type cheese inside. A burek mostly comes filled with cheese but you get them filled with meat or anything else the baker decides upon. The one we had was the size of a small pizza; we bought two quarter pieces which came to 180 Serbian Dinars (US$1.55). This was our supper, we could not finish it.

We’re staying in old Belgrade so all the buildings are, well… old. Our apartment inside still reflects some aspects of the original but has obviously been updated and is very comfortable indeed. You emerge in an entrance hall area as you enter through the front door. The first door to your left leads to a living room/tv room with surround sound and all and also a well equipped kitchen and dining area.

The second door to your left is a large well appointed bedroom. The door to the right is a second bedroom, which is locked up; it contains some of Miha personal stuff. The door at the far end of the hallway is the bathroom. And this is a bathroom, not a shower room… no shower, but a bath is the only thing one requires in this weather, believe me.

When we got home I drew a bath and soaked my weary body in its contents and felt the travels and travails of the last 36 hours wash off my body and mind, a truly relaxing experience. As I emerged from the bathroom I saw Adri staring through the window, mesmerized. It was just past 18:00 and snow had started falling, ever so gently, all around. By 19:00 the streets and cars below had a thin white veil covering it… magical.

Tuesday morning the snow was falling lightly and then it intensified slightly. From being housebound by tropical rain in Thailand we now seemed destined to be housebound by arctic snow in Serbia… we’re sure getting a lot of resting done.

And just when the snow intensified once again, Adri decided that we should go for a walk, it was -2°C outside… and yes, it was still snowing.

Most Serbs that we have interacted with thus far understand and speak pretty good English. At the delhi though, the lady behind the counter did not understand how much of the pork cold meat we wanted. The lady right behind us in line assisted and ordered sto grama (100 grams) on our behalf. I wanted to try to order the next myself and asked her what 200 was. So I pointed to the salami and ordered dvesta grama (200 grams). As the helpful lady moved to the checkout counter she offered ”I’ll be over there if you need any more help”.

As the lady paid up and got ready to leave I asked her what “Thank you” is and was told hvala (pronounced kwala). As she left I greeted her with a hvala, confirming that she was a good language tutor. She then left me with my last lesson in Serbian, “Dovidenja, and that means goodbye” she said as she opened the door to leave. Wow, all the Serbs we have met thus far have been absolutely fantastic, friendly and most helpful.

Just as a point of pricing reference, we bought 200 gram salami, 100 gram pork cold meat, 200 gram gouda, 200 gram edam cheese, 10 eggs, a tub of margarine and cooking oil for the grand price of 900 Serbian Dinars (US$5.20). Groceries really do seem to be very reasonably priced here.

Across the road we bought a very fresh bread from a small bakery you can’t enter, you point and order from the street. The lady smiled as she took our money and pointed to the bread next to the one we ordered and said “Very good, very good, maybe you buy tomorrow?” I nodded, and I will.

Walking back home via the market we bought black pitted olives from a friendly lady and tomatoes from yet another friendly stall. It was still snowing slightly and getting colder, I needed a head covering. We found Cecilia’s stall, who’s English is excellent, and that’s where I bought a beanie for my exposed head. Again, Cecilia was such a lovely person, ready to chat the day away.

It was a welcome relief to be back in the warmth of our home. In the apartment there are a number of wall mounted heater panels set to 23°C which keep the home nice and cosy. The bathroom has a very old but very effective bar heater and the only place that is not heated is the hallway area. Of course we could leave all the doors open to warm up the hallway but we decided to keep the doors closed to keep the warmth selfishly in each room that generates it.

We had lunch of all the delicacies we had just acquired and as I suspected, I could have this type of fare for breakfast, lunch and/or supper, for days on end… amazing stuff.

The rest of the day was spent setting up all our devices, unpacking and just generally getting organized and settling into our new home.

Further to my earlier Serbian language lesson in the deli, I learnt that the Serbian language is a standardized variety of Serbo-Croatian, a South Slavic language and the primary language of Serbia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Montenegro. Whenever I arrive in a new country I download the local language to my Iphone’s Google Translate app, to be used in offline mode when called upon. Although Serbian is available in Google Translate online it is not available to download for offline use. With the above information at hand, I downloaded Croatian which seems to work rather well; it has found most of the Serbian words I have looked for thus far.

It was around 10:00 Wednesday morning when there was a knock on our door which we did not hear. We only realized that something was amiss when a man entered our cosy lounge area unannounced. It was Miha who, thinking that we were out, let himself in, bringing with him stuff that we had requested, like a kettle, two extra towels and so forth. What a great landlord.

We relaxed in the warmth of our apartment as we watched the snow intensifying throughout the morning. The snowflakes were swirling and twirling all over and around, rather fantastical, seemed like they were having as much fun as us.

I watched as people were waddling about like ducks, trying their best not to slip on the snow, giving baby steps as they moved along. I wondered whether one could refer to it as duckling steps?

The snow petered out after midday when we donned our layers upon layers of clothing and braved the cold to go across the road to the market. We headed straight for Cecila’s store to get Adri that beanie model she did not want, but was now forced to buy, it was just too damn cold to keep that old noodle exposed to these elements. After chatting with Cecilia we stopped off at another few stalls for fresh fruits, shelled walnuts, dried berries and halva.

After dropping off our purchases we ventured up the road and after about 150 metres we came upon the start of the famous Skadarlija cobble stoned walking street. This street is well known for its restaurants, bars and cafes, with people sitting outside in summertime under lush green trees, having drinks and something to eat. Of course in winter it looks very different and today specifically, after all the snow, it looked like a true winter wonderland. The trees were bare, the tables were bare of people, snow all around, it had its very own winter personality. As we walked along we looked through some of the menus at the various restaurants, and we surely will return there soon.

Skadarlija Street is only a few hundred metres long and emerges a block or so down from the Belgrade National Theatre. The theatre has two stages. The Main Stage in the Grand Hall is home to large operas, dramas and ballets and the Raša Plaović Stage, which is much smaller, is home to smaller scale dramas. What is rather unique about this theatre is that there is a different performance on both stages each night, quite amazing.

Now I can handle the cold snowy weather without a problem, I think, but when the wind starts blowing it becomes hellish, and that is what happened when turning down some of these streets and alleyways on our way home. That wind cuts though murg en been (marrow and bone), through any number of layers of clothing you might have on, just to emerge as cold on the other side, ready to attack the person behind you.

It was just after 16:00 when we reached home and decided to get takeaways for supper from the little takeaway restaurant up the road, looked a tad Turkish. I got the bifteki which is a large thin hamburger type patty inserted into a pita bread with the normal shawarma type trappings added, with French fries inserted in there as well. Adri had the more conventional gyro with pork meat.

The guy that prepared our meal handed it over saying “500” and then added with a big smile “No worry, Dinars, not Euro”. By the time we got home 100 metres later the food was already rather cold, a testament to the ever worsening weather. The food was great which Adri had with a glass of red wine and I with a Niksicko beer. The beer was great but I must admit to preferring that Tuborg I had yesterday.

As the weather had turned colder than what we could have imagined, Adri had in the meantime acquired a black coat which is as warm as they come. We know that we have to layer our clothing before going outside, but this was getting ridiculous. When I venture outside, I first put on my socks, wonderfully thick 100% cotton ones I got from Uniqlo on Samui. Then I pull on my long johns, newly acquired from the marker in the hood. This is followed by a tight fitting t-shirt, mind you, they all seem to be tight fitting these days. This t-shirt, also from Uniqlo, is tucked into my long johns. Then my long pants, jeans or otherwise, follows after which I slip on a long sleeve shirt.

And with that the end is not yet in sight. The scarf is then neatly wrapped around my neck, doubly and twisted, followed by my leather jacket which gets zipped up and press studs snapped closed. Now I’m nearly ready, the only thing missing is my newly acquired beanie which gets pulled over my head with the sides pulled down over my ears. There are no gloves; I’m not a glove kind of a guy, so my hands are buried deep into the warm pockets of my leather jacket which is much more than adequate.

It was still dark Tuesday morning when Adri got up to make coffee; it was just past 06:30. I was having my coffee in front of the large window, watching the hood come alive from three stories up, while the sky was lightening up. Suddenly it got slightly darker again, it was 07:00 and the street lights had just been switched off.

I could see an icy wind was up as it tugged at the loose banner of the fish stall in the market. Then I saw a cardboard box what looked like it once contained 12 bottles of red wine, came hurtling down the road all by itself. I was not sure whether it was propelled by the icy wind or whether it was self propelled down the very slippery gently sloping road. Maybe it was a combination of both.

Adri still needed decent boots; she’s been wearing her takkies with two pairs of socks which is nowhere near good enough. Fact is, we’ve been walking the cold streets looking for boots but she just could not make up her mind which pair to buy. I think today the increasing cold made her mind up for her and she settled for a rather snazzy looking pair.

While I was blogging Adri went out for a walk to the market to get some stuff, not sure what. It was -2°C and the weather app said it should be snowing right now – although it did not – but that did not deter her. She returned a while later with additions for breakfast which consisted of Greek yogurt mixed up with banana discs, walnuts and dried cranberries. The other main event was the starter, a freshly baked croissant type pie, chocolate on the top with almonds, more chocolate inside, magnificent.

Early afternoon we took a stroll to and into the National Theatre to purchase tickets for the opera Carmen which was on tonight. While purchasing the tickets I noticed that the man had a Putin mug. Not that he looked like Putin, but on the shelf behind him was a coffee mug with the mug of Putin adorning it.

From there we reached the pedestrian zone of Knez Mihailova, a wonderful area to wander and wonder amongst high street shops, dipping in here, then there, mostly having a lot of fun.

The opera started at 19:00 so at 18:30 we took a slow stroll up to the theatre via Skadarlija Street. The theatre is great and although a bit jaded here and there it is a wonderful place to visit. The performance of Carmen by Georges Bizet was wonderful and well delivered, we will be back.

After the opera we headed home and although we were not really hungry, we entered the Sesir Moj Restaurant on Skadarlija Street for a little something. I had the thick meaty Serbian soup, and Adri the lamb soup which were served with mounds of the most wonderfully fresh bread, still warm from the oven. A great starter supper was had.

As we walked into the restaurant there were a number of musicians serenading a couple in the corner. By the time we left, they were still at it! Take a listen to it below.

We spent the evening cosy as cubs in our apartment, reading, relaxing and watching TV. We had a multitude of channels to choose from, even quite a few English ones, and more importantly, news channels such as CNN, BBC, Euronews, RT, the list goes on. Life was cold, but life was good.

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