retiredmartin

October 2023. Belgrade. Serbia.

No, not THAT Nutshell.

These foreign posts don’t get a lot of views because a) No-one else has been there and b) No-one else intends to go there. Oddly, it’s the unsung towns that get the most views.

But in the last week I’ve referred to three posts from Ron, Duncan and the European Bar Guide folk and I’m sure if I live long enough my posts on Cuban pubs will be useful to someone, though possibly not the nice American lady we met last week who’s visiting every country in the world (except Cuba, obvs).

We did eventually find the more ornate bits of Belgrade,

but Mrs RM was more interested in photos of the trams.

Belgrade seemed a safe, easy to negotiate place, and the trains and buses all left on the dot.

Our departure across the border into Bosnia & Herzegovina on the Wednesday morning gave us a final chance to admire the architecture,

the bus station 20 minutes south of the modern centre with some glorious ghost signs.

Extra bonus points (bonus points towards your Doom Bar) if you can pronounce the name of this shop,

or work out what it is.

It was at this point I saw the confluence of cultures that could define Belgrade. An Italian trattoria with yellowing net curtains, a gaggle of school children putting Panini stickers in their football albums, a couple of Chinese tourists taking photos of a tram, and a soundtrack from somewhere of “Living On A Prayer”.

I was warming to the place just as we had to go, and the monument to Stefan Nemanja (top) outside the old train station is a masterpiece.

Only now do I notice that Old London Pub in the top right-hand corner; perhaps I will never know whether I missed out on Draught Bass, or whether the Pride was drinking well.

But I think I can guess.