27-IX-2021.: Sokobanja
On wednesday, 22nd, we distilled that batch, at ease, with an umbrella stuck in the lower branches of the apricot.
On thursday, the gadget to make cotton candy arrived. It's not too much machinely endowed, the heater needs a thermostat, so it takes some experience to hit the right time, right amount, right moment when to start gathering the threads. In the end she got a few sticks right, and a mugfull of sherbet junk guts.
Meanwhile I studied the gps's manual. One was made in 2001 and the other... is the same. Ouch... I called the guy who rent the study last time. He managed to remember us not by description but by where we're from... Well if that's the most unusual thing on us... there you go.
I also finally fixed the lock of the garage front door, by extending the holes in the metal downwards, just like I did with the rear door last week. It took less time and effort this time, I knew what to do and all the tools were ready, i.e. I knew where I left them.
On friday we silently snuck out, not wanting to wake up neither Nina nor the kids, they were all sweetly asleep. Departed at 9:45. Tried to find my way (pardon the pun), along the way, with the gps, and already at Borča I noticed its maps must be seriously outdated or covering the wrong area (there was a lot of german places in its lists). There was no Pupin bridge, and the whole three kilometers through Zemun and Bežanija it marked as „off road“.
Joda was gliding at solid clip, I ran it mostly around 130 kmh, sometimes even 145. When we took the Aleksinac exit, the gps drew our position as of few minutes ago... Whoa, I said, fuck the help. To differ from last time, they have roadsigns now, and I somewhat remember the route, so we got there in less than four hours altogether. The guy was waiting for us with the key, chatted up a little again. At 14:18 we already sat by a stein of beer („we hold only the apatin brewery programme“... but „Bavaria“ (not proper serbian Bavarija or Bavarska) wasn't bad at all), waiting for our patties - not to be confused with burgers. They were huge, like a small pizza. Told the guy to pack that for dinner.
Went to the apartment, made coffee (which she bought in advance, a smaller jar, and then forgot to pack so bought a small can of Nes now), had a catnap of some half an hour, then walk. In the park some old couple sell brandy... of fig and orange. We sipped a bit of each. Fig is really strange, probably because the fruit was dry, and the orange... well, tastes too much of the fruit. Which is wrong, it should carry a mild reminder of a taste, it's a sure sign they added some after distilling, murky business. And they talk about how the heart of a plum tree trunk is the best for coloring the brandy, the outer layers aren't too good. Really, how come, why? We've been told so... Ow fuckit can't you ever try something for yourself? Well as soon as I see yellow brandy, I reach for doubt.
(... 2 words...)
Somewhere on main street she spotted a boutique with leather jackets and stuff. And found a lamb fur jacket, with fleece inside, black leather outside, some decorative zippers, only misses a motorbike. Took some jeans for myself, a bit wider in the waist, but doesn't matter, I'll be able to show how much weight I lost (upon return I still had between 81 and 82kg). Next I dropped by the farmacy to get a nail clipper, I forgot to pack the one I got in Hungary 26 years ago. Well this one turned out much better, it cuts easier.
Then we sat to, ahem, have some rest from the trip and drink what we brought, the kruksovača (kruška+kajsija, pear+apricot). Dined on the patty leftovers and it was still too much, said they were huge. Then she tried out the jacket again, fits her nicely.
On saturday we got up quite early, had a coffee and by 9 went for a longer walk. Having not much of a clue where to go, we made a round through the market first, it's nearby. Didn't find anything special, except a half-kilo tomato, slightly pale but firm, she bought a pair for seeds, to plant next year. We saw some dry flowers sold, looking like a sunflower shrunk to 10cm in diameter, asked about it, they said „it runs the baksuz* out of the house“. On the way back we left the tomato in the trunk, and went on to that park again. The first pedestrian bridge, which led to one of the hotels above the other bank, is bracketed on this side, and obviously impassable from the other, because there a big bush, almost a tree, grows from a crack in the pavement. Looking at the shot, the bridge seems to be made of bad steel, all rusty and its floor warped. Walked up the river to the other end of the park, then crossed it over the concrete bridge, beside the water mains' station, then up the hill, following the well laid out paths... where the well laid lasts less than 100m, then it becomes more of a goats' path, sometimes quite narrow, or quite steep, or wait a bit while I catch my breath. In some parts we made breaks every 20m, this kind of slope is not a habit of ours. But then we walked out of the forest into some barren patch, a triangle of 20m a side, just stone and quite a slope. While we walked up to the bench where we'll have a smoke break, I heard a sound as if the cap fell off the eos70's lens, or perhaps it had slightly hit a stone, so I checked it and that wasn't it. Much later I understood what was it - I was carrying my jeans jacket folded over my hand, and the reading glasses were in a holster in top pocket, and they just slid out of the holster, which is quite smooth inside. That sound was the glasses hitting the stone. Had I known what happened, I could have retrieved them, but I was looking for something black and round, not transparent with a wireframe.
We didn't know the path from there to Soko Grad (a medieval fortress/city on a nearby hill), but some guy walked by so he took us down to the river along a different path - the one up would go just a tad higher to an even better viewpoint but nothing to see on the spot. He escorted us almost to the water, and pointed us to the path to the cave, as we gave up on Grad already. He asked whether she was practicing yoga. No, why? Well I spotted you before, with you sitting with your feet on your knees, cross-legged. Ah, that, „is an old habit of mine, the floor was always cold so I pull up my feet to warm them“.
And we did find, along the way, a cave. Nothing much, a meter wide and no taller than half a meter. One branch of the river flows into it, there are coins on the bottom, so this must be it. Okaaay, some cave you have.
Some fifty meters further we crossed the river over some wooden bridge, then found a bigger bridge crossing back... and there was a big tavern on the other side, what with a water wheel to turn the spit. We went across and saw the tavern snuggled under a... well let's call that a tavern, though of a real tavern it has only one wall and half of the dome, the rest is absent, that's where the river flows. But the ambience is right, all kudos, even the light falls exactly right, I made a bunch of shots, and they turned out quite well. It was only 11:00, we started early and arrived early, and the lamb won't be done before 12:30... so two steins of beer, draft niško, we had enough of walk, what walk, mountaineering for today. We even took a few selfies, having parked the eos70 across the table, perching the lens on the tozna, on remote. The smoke and her fingers mostly took the focus and attention, but even so, the light is excellent and our faces can also be seen, just enough.
We first sat as we came in, facing the house where the kitchen was. But then she noticed something on the screen of a tv, four tables away. Well, we can't have such a spoiling of the athmosphere. We moved to sit with our backs to the screen.
Around the second beer the lamb arrived. Excellent, and the lepinja (flatbread, about palm wide and two fingers thick) was good, and the roast peppers (two green and hot, three red and sweet), everything.
After a good lunch one needs to roll to a bed, for as my dad used to say, „svako jelo kune telo, što ne legne da se slegne“ (every meal curses the body, for not lying down to settle down). The waiter pointed us to a path, said we'll see the park in ten minutes. Yes, except at some point the path seemed to veer off to yet another excellent viewpoint, so we took the lower one, counting on our flatlander logic that there must be a path along the river bank. Downward it did take us, but it got steeper all the time, the path narrower, bare stone in places, mountain goats' trail. When we saw where it leads down to the river... whoa, back up. It seemed it would get us to the water quickly, far too quickly, the slope was over 60°. About face, and we took a steep shortcut up to the other path, which has meanwhile gone up - we didn't go all the way back to the point of departure from it. Took three or four breaks on those 30m. I felt a bit woozy already, the insides of my head feeling a bit shaky already, but didn't lose balance nor presence of mind.
When we hit the regular path, it also turned out to be a lot steeper than we thought it would be, but at least it was better maintained and had footholds everywhere... sometimes quite high one above the other, but luckily we both had the excellent light Kompako shoes, there are none better (that are not sneakers or specialized gear). Luckily there was no rain, the weather served nicely, this is the our weekend. Had any of this been even slightly moist...
I didn't mean to sleep much in the afternoon, estimated it at 20-30 minutes, but during that time she joined me and we went for at least hour and a half.
By dusk we wanted to try out what cakes they have, so on monday we'd buy some and take home for the kids. Tried tiramisu and trileće (sounds like „three lenses“, leća is croatian for lens), which were just names I heard of, never tried. The latter is just foam, no substance; the former was better, but we still decided to try something else the next day, to forego fancy names and take something that at least looks appetizing. Went elsewhere for a good turkish coffee, which I ordered as domaća (domestic) and the waitress passed to the bartender as turkish. Asked her about the difference and when did the turkish get renamed. She said they prefer to call it turkish, because often people mean brandy when they say domestic (to differ from industrial). Well, we wouldn't even think of non-domestic brandy, we don't ever tuch that. Dropped by the pharmacy again, this time to get eyeglasses, to replace the missing pair. Took a 2,5 - of course they don't have my 2,8/3,0 with 66mm interaxial distance (for closeups, looking at infinity it's 68). Cost a ridiculous 800 dinars. Then we just sat in the apartment's kitchen and meditated, she crocheted and I read the book I got from Dragana for birthday, then on smoke break we exchanged the experiences :). Then the domestic that we brought came along.
On sunday we decided to give up on mountainering, just went for a light walk around. Went to the park again, then crossed the bridge but didn't follow the river, rather took a street which does, at some distance, and comes back by the marketplace, then walked around some more and again somehow ended up in the center. Sat at the terrace of Amam (named so because it's across the street from hamam, the turkish bath... the languages differ mostly in the various ways they fuck the poor aitch). The kid waitress was somewhat confused, perhaps her spectacles were weak. She appeared soon enough to take an order, but then took a long time to appear when we wanted to pay. And the coffee was bad, as if the ground beans have evaporated long ago. Reminded me of all the lousy coffees I had in Hungary. We paid the exact amount, no tip.
Then once more to the park and to the other bridge, the low suspension one, that all the kids like, it rocks. Amazingly, the retiros are not the only type of guests in the banja (i.e. the spa), it's equally the young couples with little kids. We also saw more of them pushing strollers than walking with a stick. When the noon came near, we took for „Merak avlija“**, which we staked out last evening. It seemed like a largish ethno tavern, all wood and roofs, deep in the yard, where there's more room for a terace. Turned out as expected, except the size, it's barely ten tables. Took a beer, a čorba, and piglet roast. Fresh off the spit (we learned to time it right), and nearly killed ourselves of the food, and also took 200g extra (turned out to be 250) to take out for dinner.
Left that in the fridge, and took yet another walk to the park, this time to buy some toys for the kids. One stand is for all wood toys, they even had a few excellent crossbows, but that would be for me to play with, at home that would be a disaster. We took them four of the gymnast toy, which is a little human-like figure with dangling arms and legs, suspended on two crossed strings strung between two sticks, which connect with a cross-stick, H shaped altogether, and extend a hand's breadth below that. Pushing the lower ends closer will tighten up the strings on the top, which will straighten and push the dangling figure up, so it would be upside down. With good timing of squeeze and release, one can make the figure almost dance, or at least exercise like a real gymnast. To at least once we buy a toy for the kids that is not plastic junk from a chinese shop.
On the way back to center some mandov*** hooks to us, „seeing as you are a happy couple, all smiling“, and starts peddling perfumes of the famous „fell of a truck“ brand. Bargaining ensued, he keeps pulling more boxes from his bag (fits 10kg even with so much empty space around each bottle) and putting others back, this and that, here look this costs 80€ in the shop and you get it for just fifty, of course this is stolen stuff so it can go lower with the price, here you get this one too, let me spray you a sample... The first thing was original Coco Chanel indeed, and while spraying he quickly switched to rapid and fluid german, to which she wanted to respond likewise, but I saw her reflexes made her stick out her english tongue instead... He took that back and rummaged through his bag to pull it out with the extra bottle of something else, well he actually switched the first one with a quite similar fake... The 50€ he asked would be almost 6000 dinars. She pulled out 4000 and kept them in the air. He sighed, recognizing the final offer, and took what was offered. Then restarted his shtick and tried to sell more, but we quickly convinced him that the transaction was over. Later we saw that the COCO Chanel was now actually COOG Chinela (!)... which explained why he had to operate so quickly, or else we'd have the time to notice the switch. Though it's actually the same, it does smell nice, everything else is selling a name and self-advertising, no matter whether it's by our mandov or mme Chanel, same dick. And about it being stolen goods, no chance that he'd be advertising it as such to random pedestrians, one never knows who may be working for the cops. Most probably it's coming from some small and cheap turkish workshop, just as it never stopped coming for the last forty years.
The 2nd mandov
We swung by the cakeshop again, she had a piece of reform cake, and I had a jaffa. Which is imitation biscuit, just like the guy at home already has a snickers cake and something oreo-like, so is this jaffa a biscuit with little pastry, lots of chocolate and some almost marmalade but still jam-like fluid of orange, tasting almost exactly like what they produce in Crvenka, only better. We agree to take some of that and a whole cake next morning.
Another walk, this time looking for a beer. We keep looking for shades not advertising any of „apatin programme“, for if there's nothing else, then it's back to Zelengora for another Bavari(j)a. All the way to the west end of štrafta there's no such thing; about face and then next to that cakeshop there's the Žabac (frog, male) cafe, advertising Laško on its sunshades. Though there's no laško črno (black) but there's black lager... from a kraft (not artisanal, not homemade, kraft) brewery in Leskovac. Okay, let's see that. And it wasn't bad at all. While we were drinking that, yet another perfume peddler comes along, the spitting image of the first guy, same outfit, almost the same t-shirt, same bag, hairdo and general looks, just the first guy was somehow larger. She managed to swap one of the two perfumes she got from the first one, and buy yet another one for bare 1000 dinars, the same „in a regular shop, this costs...“ brand.
Thereabouts we noticed that the waiter is not just a funny guy as he was trying to look when we ordered, but also moves strangely and generally makes a whole theatre of himself. At the triple table in the opening, where the tavern becomes terrace, sat a gang of twelve (we said apostles, with two female apostles - internal pun, apostolka is a flipflop slipper), and he kept dancing around them, trying to replace an ashtray from behind a guy's back, but the back swung left and right frequently, so after a few minutes he gave up and tried from the other side of the table. His movements suggested how much he had drunk already. We ordered the second beer using signs, which he got correctly and brought promptly, all as it should be. When he brought a couple of drinks to the two guys at the outer table, he parked their glasses and bottles with theatrical slide in and stop on the spot, except the second bottle hit the glass, which wobbled some but settled, didn't fall.
When we called him to pay, I commended him for finely balancing between drink and precision, incredible and amusing to watch. Said he's actually an actor, had a hard day, someone's birthday too, whiskey, but I'm really an actor. Well it's a good act, I said, and that Anthony Perkins guy from „Psycho“ is not imitating you particularly well. „Do I come across as being from that movie?“ „Nope, I said, he got your tricks all wrong“. Still, kudos all the way, the show was memorable, and he still managed to do everything right.
In the morning we went one final time to the park, had a burek with yogurt along the way. On the way back had a coffee in some nice dark place, interesting ambience, with an incredible cat, a fuzzy syberian like ours are, just larger, even wider paws, and both the fur and the eyes in orange color. Called the landlord to see about returning the key, said leave it under the doormat. Excellent.
I thought backing out of the yard into the little alley will be screwy, with three cars between me and the exit, and the greenery guys starting their works the day before, with more machinery this morning. But no, there was only one car left and that was not in my way, and the guys closed off the street only when we left.
The trip back was almost boring, Joda ran smooth and fast and comfortable, even the music didn't have to be loud to be heard at 135, we even passed Belgrade quickly and without problems. She called home to see how they were doing, and found Lena there - walking some papers again, and only now it crossed her mind that she could switch addresses first and then do all the municipal stuff in Novi Beograd. Though, they're slower there than here, but if their network is down she doesn't waste four hours of just travel to kiss the door, as it happened today. She had more meetings in the afternoon, so scheduled the next bus back. Perhaps we'd see each other for a few minutes, if I keep this speed.
But it didn't happen. Just before Čenta, there was some fender bender, involving a tractor and a truck, so we were stuck there. Waited for cops to get to the spot (well 2nd car, one was already there), then the tow truck, then for the cops to return (one vehicle). We unwrapped yesterday's roast and lunched. Just when we were wrapping the last piece, the traffic unclogged. We arrived home 45 minutes later than expected.
The cake was a full success, the jaffa cakes so-so, the gymnasts a failure (tossed into garbage right away). Sanda had her bangs shortened to half brow, Linda is starting a partitioning. They finally look different.
Did all of the 250 photos till the evening, stitched together six panoramikses. Nina talked with Fayes and Rein, announced that she may be returning in the spring. A message from Dragana, says „Sokobanja, Soko Grad, odeš mator, dođeš mlad. Sokobanja, Soko greben, odeš pošten, dođeš j...n“ (Sokobanja, Soko Grad, you go old, return young. Sokobanja, Soko Ridge, you go honest, return f...d). Well well, here's someone who remembers the second line too. Never understood what dishonesty is there in a good fuck.
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* baksuz, probably a turkish word, is the one who brings bad luck
** merak is a tad hard to explain, it's the special pleasure a connoisseur gets from getting something exactly the way he likes; avlija is a yard in turkish
*** mandov is one of the words for a Gypsy, one that they themselves often use, isn't derogatory but does also mean a somewhat shady character, something between a con artist and a small-time street bum
Mentions: 30-IX-2023., burek, čorba, Dragana Vitas (Dragana), eos70, Jelena Sredljević (Lena), Joda, Linda Sredljevich Aquilla (Linda), Nevena Sredljević (Nina), Reinaldo Aquila (Rein), Rosanda Aquilla (Fayes), Sanda Sredljević Aquilla (Sanda), štrafta, tozna, yogurt, in serbian