22-IX-2016.

I already wrote all this, in serbian, on suština, in eight parts. In short, I took a vacation, which is rare. The last one was 29-VIII-2014., actually 03-VII-2015., but then I took just the friday off. This time we started on a thursday, wow.

First stop was at some nondescript parking at a huge box shop, probably walmart clone (for historians: Tempo), because we arranged the meeting with a guy about the eos70. I first wanted to buy it in Hungary, counting on better rates, but no, their VAT is worse than ours, getting it refunded is a hassle with limitations (in the same shop within between 15 and 183 days, valid only for more purchase in that same shop, or immediately at some joints which will skim 25% of it, and then you never know if these guys have a hotline to our customs who may be interested in the transaction and rip me off). Even by the advertised price, this shop in Belgrade, recommended by Škrba, was way cheaper, and then I'd get to use my card and take some money off that pile which is getting harder and harder to take from. The local branch of that international bank(ster gang) found a way to charge me extra 6% for each takeout from the serekeš so I stopped doing that and now we're stuck with what we actually buy, which is barely 10%. The two major sources of cost these days (majstor Mile and the friendly lumberyard) take cash only (the latter because they never bothered to install a card reader, or had one but it broke and never got fixed).

But no, this guy offered some 11% off for cash, and his price was already the lowest. So instead of about 910€ in Hungary, or 850€ in the shop, it cost 760€ provided that we don't even see his shop. So we met at the café by the shop door, had coffee (with slatko of grapes and properly chilly water on the side - excellent old custom), bought the new shooter, and then went on. The guy said the way to Surčin was actually through the airport, but to get there I'd have to make an U-turn and then cross three lanes to get to the highway, which I didn't really like, so decided to go through Novi Beograd. I memorized the map. Well, almost. It said go past Lena's new location to the end, take the right, when you hit the Bežanija slope, take a left, that connect straight to Surčin road.

Reaching that end I see a road ending in the field. Doesn't look like the map... Pulled out the GPS but I use it so rarely that I couldn't even get through the menus, I completely forgot how to use it. I'll just follow the signs.

Except there were no road signs, Surčin doesn't really exist if you look from Belgrade, and it was not "to the end" but "to the last light"... which ended up as a grand tour of Novi Beograd until I remembered a place where I can get on the highway, then bypass the airport to get to the village.

Driving through Surčin we found the place where they repair the planers (like the one we got, still under warranty, stupid and unusable), but we didn't bring it. The place is one of those panonian villages near larger cities which grow into a long business street, shops and warehouses and storage all the way. We needed to pee but for that we'd have to stop somewhere and at least have a coffee - but we just had a big one, so I pressed on (the regular 50km/h) until we finally came near Sava, into the space between the two levees, rather wide and green, so we took a walk and a leak. And I finally made a few shots with the new gear.

By sundown, we were on Divčibare. Almost got into the wrong place to eat, parked there but her instincts said go to the other side of the creek, and so we came to a rather picturesque place, made out of an old railway car, with interesting characters, interesting stories etc. We asked for some local beer, for why the travel if you drink same as at home, he said valjevsko. Well fine, we just passed Valjevo. He brings a Jelen. We turn it away. He brings valjevsko, we drink that. We order ten [ćevapčići] with onion, nice (except the bun, which is the tasteless disgusting maclike crescent dough for kindergarten, sticks to your teeth), suits the cool weather. It was +30 below, but this is a kilometer high, just +13 when we arrived, no more than 9 at night. I walked over to move the car closer and get my jacket. It is chilly somewhat. The tavern owner found us accomodation, the guy would come in 20 minutes. While we wait, we move into the wagon, which is heated, to wait. Some local alcos drinks from an incredibly small shot glass, perhaps 0,25 deci, schedules some job with someone, for monday. Then after two minues he remembers „but you don't work on monday!“. Nobody fucks him five percent*, so he repeats the sentence three more times, to the same result. It dawns on me that this is how you can distinguish between live recording and dramatic text - in real life, people repeat things. It's incredible how, once you notice this, you keep noticing how many times you hear people saying the same thing two or three times.

The good air, among best in the world.

Both the bartender and his wife complain how all the advertising goes to Kopaonik and Zlatibor. Kop is fine, they have 11km of ski lifts, but Zlatibor has only two. They have a bunch here (forgot the number) but it's not mentioned anywhere except once when one cable broke. And the ekskurzija is a rare bird now, and what enterprises had for resorts, it's almost all closed now, or sold and the new owners do nothing with it, keep them closed.

The room was really near, not 200m down the road, I can drive that much after one beer, and the cops don't come here anyway. We left saxo and the bag there, and went for a couple of beers. There's near nothing around, Divčibare aren't what they once were. I even shot a true ghost house, decrepit, ten rooms one with a light. Just the weekenders come here, those who have houses here, and they often leave their dogs that they can't support no more. One such female was in the care of the tavern, until a guy comes who promised to take her. The vet came by to check on her while we were eating, having performed some surgery on her previously. saxo reported low fuel less than half way up, but the only gas station here closed years ago. Tree grew out of it.

We found a place to warm up and have the beers.

It looked like just any other newer roadside tavern, but then I understood that the road is cut into the steep slope.

This is the fiftythird shot from the eos70, trough tavern's window. The plane of the road meets the trees at their eight meter, and those trees are much closer to it than we are. Sitting high we are. Had the beer (something generic, perhaps Amstel, but I'm becoming unable to distinguish between these apathic** beers, they could all be from the same vat)

----

* IOW nobody gives a fuck, not even 5% of it

** From the Apatin brewery, where we long ago concluded, back then in Borsalino, that apatin is the substance which causes apathy

---

Mentions: 29-VIII-2014., The friday off, 03-VII-2015., 10-IX-2022., 23-IX-2022., to Divčibare, Borsalino, ćevapčići, ekskurzija, eos70, Gradivoj Škrbić (Škrba), Jelena Sredljević (Lena), majstor Mile, saxo, serekeš, suština, in serbian