Mamoth

Srdjan took me to Mamut (aka 'Mamoth'), the largest book store in the Balkans.

Mmm...books.

We wandered upstairs to the English section and I was in heaven. Ok, it was one floor, but it was English and it was cheap.

They had a whole section of Eastern European politics. I picked up The Balkans : A Short History by Mark Manzower, a book on the complete works of Bosch (my second favourite artist) and, miraculously enough, Rebecca West's Black Lamb and Grey Falcon: A Journey Through Yugoslavia.

I was almost finished Balkan Ghosts and the author quotes liberally from Ms. West's book. At one point, he claims he would rather lose all his money and his passport than his well-thumbed through and annotated book. It was written in 1937 and published in 1941. Amazon describes it as:

"Part travelogue, part history, part love letter on a thousand-page scale, Rebecca West's Black Lamb and Grey Falcon is a genre-bending masterwork written in elegant prose. But what makes it so unlikely to be confused with any other book of history, politics, or culture--with, in fact, any other book--is its unashamed depth of feeling."

I didn't even know if it was still in print! It was almost $40.00 CAD but it was worth it. At almost 2000 pages, it'll keep me occupied for a while!

Srdjan dropped me off at the train station and I bought 1 kg of burec. He tied up the bag so I wouldn't be able to get at it, as I planned on freezing it when I got home. Thirty minutes after he left, I was patiently working at the knots. I contentedly munched on a small piece while finishing up Balkan Ghosts. I must have dropped a few crumbs because soon I was surrounded by a flock of pigeons. One of them had a deformed leg so I threw a few pieces its way.

The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys was playing on the sound system. That came out in what? 1988? 1989? I still remembered all the words.

Naturally, my train's quay wasn't listed (although I'm getting quite good at reading Cyrillic), so I had to ask a controller for help. I got on the right train and settled into my car.

I got out my ticket and realised that my beloved Balkan Flexipass expired the day before. I had no idea what to do. I flagged down another controller and tried to explain the problem. He didn't speak English and I don't speak Serbian. He told me not to worry and ended up selling me a ticket for 10 euros. Ok, that's decent.

I had no problems with the border guards or ticketing agents after that. However, when we crossed the border, the Romanian agent claimed that my ticket was only to the border. He wanted to sell me another ticket for 10 euros. I gave him my "confused tourist look" and then he asked if I was a student.

Ok, I do not condone lying, but I really didn't want to spent another 10 euros. So I said "not exactly' and then pulled out my university student card (I really should take the pub membership stickers off the back one of these days). He told me he always felt bad for charging students who have no money, so he ended up only charging me 5 euros.

I'm annoyed that my "month of travel" was only 29 days. Hmph.

The train ride back was fine. The sun was setting over the Serbian hills and I leaned by head out of the window like a dog in a car to get some fresh air. Unfortunately, we were driving by a factory and the smell was indescribable. Something like diesel and I don't know what else.

We stopped for almost an hour at the border. As stated below, I like being in a place where I know exactly where I am. I sent about five SMSes to various friends saying "Hi, I'm somewhere on the .ro/.yu border".

I got home and got to bed. But not before making a delicious soup to use up the rest of my squash.

And yes, I ate some more burec.