Buenos Aires - The Quickening

Buenos Aires (Argentina)

02 OCT - 06 OCT

10 OCT - 15 OCT

I'm standing out on the grounds of Castenera Sur, an ecological park on the eastern border of Buenos Aires which fronts the Rio de la Plata. Rage Against The Machine have for over the last hour delivered a ferocious, brutal set that has lit the fuse of testosterone amongst a predominantly male audience. The intensity of the performance, the power of the delivery and the common themes within the  lyrics of their songs of raging against the establishment, fighting oppression and standing up for ones rights are not lost amongst the Argentinian faithful. The tumultous political history of this country and some of the horrors suffered by its people fits the message that Rage delivers like a glove. As if by design the rain increases in intensity during their set, assisting in the transference of an invisible electric current through a 50,000 strong audience so that at the point where  they drop the bomb of 'Killing in the name of', the charge is released, lifting the crowd off their feet in unison, bouncing bodies off one another like protons in a nuclear reaction.

[Rage Against The Machine - Testify - 1st song of set - 13 OCT 2010] 

Recoleta - Buenos Aires - Argentina

For this last hour I've been carried along by both a wave of emotion and  the immovable force which is the vast sea of people around me. This moment and this particular time however, for me, has been more than just the music, more than the energy, even more than the sum total of the individual components of the event. Drifting in and out of my own thoughts whilst relinquishing myself to the ebb and flow off the human tide that has consumed my being has strangely enough given me the opportunity of being able to connect with myself without distraction. As strange as that may sound, the unanswered  questions that have been rolling around my head for some months, those of which I really hadn't attacked, for some reason at this point in time and in this space required a little attention.

The Obelisco de Buenos Aires - morning of arrival

Casa Rosada - the official seat of the executive branch of government - Buenos Aires - Argentina

Absorbing the towering skyline of Puerto Madero that served magnificently as the backdrop to the stage my mind traced a line back to the origins of where this journey actually began, poetically almost, a year ago to the day. Back then the decision to up and leave felt like a decision literally made within seconds but really, it had been at least 5 years in the making. My life had become sterile and sedate, driven by routine and obligation. Starting my days at 6am, working the standard 9-5 gig, rolling on in the evening for hours of lectures and study, sacrificing away my weekends for the sake of relatively arbitrary results, in the end didn't add up to much. It wasn't a stimulating existence nor did it make for a particularly interesting individual .I guess at the crux of my thinking therefore was the truth of the matter, the fact that I had hidden from my own demons for such a long time with the assistance of a self inflicted routine that the true root of the issue only felt like a symptom rather than the cause. The end result whilst being uniquely subjective, in the way that only self analysis can be, came back as this. Essentially I know that I'm just you're average guy, not much of  an inspiration to anyone, not a marvelous intellect, sometimes even just a plain boring person! What the hell had the last five years  really done to me or for me for that matter? Now, I know that I also have some great qualities also, but those are the ones that aren't causing me the concern, so please, don't feel obliged to provide me with a list, I'm not sad or depressed here, I'm just looking for a way to better myself and this type of reflection is a necessary part of the process.

Punta de la Mujer - Puerto Madero - Buenos Aires

Che Guevara mural - San Telmo - Buenos Aires

San Telmo - Buenos Aires

In Dead Poets Society the English teacher John Keating asks his students at one point to venture out into the hall and look at the photos of alumni from yesteryear.He asks them to lean in and listen intently for their voices echoing down through the years. Rather than quoting the typical line that usually arises from that movie the one that I feel to be most pertinent is this, '...make your lives extraordinary'. From somewhere I hear the sound of a hammer hitting a nail flush on the head - 'make you're freakin' lives extraordinary'. Doesn't that sound like the right thing to aim for? In addition, whilst journeying through Argentina for the last few days I've just touched on a collection of essays by one of Mexico's most well known writers, Carlos Fuentes. Quoting Marsilio Ficino at one point he says '...nothing is incredible, nothing is impossible, the possibilities we deny are but the possibilities we ignore'. With those quotes in my back pocket I really had to ask myself, 'in the truth that will be true only for you, in what manner will you deem your life to be extraordinary?'. For those wanting me to answer that, for right now, I don't have clue. Is it to love fully and to be able to completely give myself to another person? Is it about being a well rounded human being and having deep pockets of knowledge in several areas rather than just selected specialised fields. I don't know, again, I don't have answer for myself at this point. It could be all those things and much more. What I do know is that there is a need for change and that the journey that I placed myself on a year ago was 100% the best decision that I made for just myself at the time and one that I think has put me on a path that has allowed for this type of self realisation. As cheesy and as daft as it may sound, coming from a sceptic like me, this process of soul searching has felt like exactly the right thing to do at this moment.

Sunday sunshine - San Telmo - Buenos Aires

Tango in La Boca  - Buenos Aires

Calle Caminito - La Boca - Buenos Aires

After Rage Against The Machine finishes their set the massive crowd disperses into a damp and cold Buenos Aires evening. I find my way out of the crowd and catch up with Dina who had watched the gig from somewhere towards the back. Oddly the  intensity and demands thrown out my such a combative band had affected the thought processes of this self confessed pacifist also. After my initial rant as to how fantastic I thought the gig was D let loose with snippets of thoughts from her mind that suggest that right at this moment she was mentally 'spinning'. Now for anyone that doesn't know,  this girl is SWITCHED ON, as in her intellect outstrips mine by a factor of 50. When someone like that is in a moment where their thoughts are in a 'spin', well then you better prepare yourself for the wicked ways in which their mind will construct a momentary thought, question or statement. There could be 20 things that gets them to their final summarised outcome which they're in turn now putting to you for assessment. As an aside to this however, what I have come to find out over the last few weeks is that like everyone she carries around a bag of her own worries struggles and slight insecurities. Without mentioning any of them here, because it's not my place, I can say that its kind of poignant that she's travelling along with me at this point in time as it seems that in a strange way we're kind of looking for the same thing on this journey.

Dina, did you pack the cat? .....smart girl but still she can´t get the basics right!

Avenida 9 de Julio - Buenos Aires

Wondering the streets for a few hours after the concert we end up in the barrio of San Telmo. This area is 'old school' in terms of its architechture, lovely cobblestone streets and old style colonial buildings, it is known to be the oldest barrio in Buenos Aires.. On this night we're able to find ourselves a bar that his able to provide us with a few bottles of Malbec that will keep us going until 5am. A few days earlier however, after having made our way back from the disaster of visiting Argentina's close cousin, Uruguay, we had walked down La Defensa in San Telmo on a glorious Sunday afternoon in order to pick our way through the markets. Now, when I say that these markets go on for miles, I literally mean that as far as I could see down this road there were people trying to scout themselves out a bargain. The activity and the atmosphere was just so warm, friendly and good natured that you didn't really even take notices of the hordes around you. Whats more, once we had made our way almost to the end of La Defensa the San Telmo samba 'crew' started up with an improptu display of drumming and we were effectively coerced  back to Plaza de Mayo at the top of La Defensa via the magical samba rhythms that had unwittingly intoxicated us all.

San Telmo - Buenos Aires

San Telmo samba

Ernesto lives on!

San Telmo samba

La Defensa - San Telmo markets - Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires is kind of a tough city to get a grasp on straight away. Each barrio is its own entity, different in character and style from one to the next. For that reason it took me a little time to be able to connect with this town but when it happened, and when the roots were firmly planted, I really fell for it as a whole. On one of our daily excursions into this city we headed down to the barrio of La Boca, another old neighbourhood that's considered to be one of the towns' most authentic, colourful and energetic. The area had originally been settled and built by Italian immigrants that had worked in the warehouses and meatpacking plants in the area. Considered to be one of the  poorest barrios in BA, it's major drawcard is Calle Caminito, effectively a small street with bright colourful housing that now serves as the centre for all things tango, tacky and touristy. Not that it's such a bad thing, the surrounding streets do provide you with the opportunity of walking around and taking in the creation of a famous Argentinian artist by the name of Quinquela Martin. His inspiration for the creation of these colourful streets originally came from the conventillo (shared housing) that use to be the predominant type of accommodation in the barrio. Originally the houses in the area were mostly tacked together with scrap corrugated metal and wood from the local shipyards. Families would then make use of any leftover paint from the port in order to spruce up their doors, windows, or facades generally in bright colour combinations that was traditional for the predominantly Genoese migrants that inhabited the area. Whilst the old style convetillo's were pulled down and eventually replaced by dull, lifeless small rise apartment blocks, the streets inspired by Martin stand proudly as a reminder of those times. They can also easily draw hours out of the tourist that goes in a little trigger happy on their camera. Unfortunately on the day that I was there my battery died within the first few minutes otherwise who knows when I would have left and who knows what the outcome may have been.

Calle Caminito - La Boca

Tango boys - kickin´it old school style

Recoleta and Palermo are the barrios with the greatest number of inhabitants. They lie to the north of the city and are considered to be predominantly areas of the middle to upper classes. Their streets have a distinctly European feel, reminding me of such places as Madrid or Paris in terms of architecture, street life and even temperament. Again, they're interesting places to walk around and experience although it takes a little bit of work to convince yourself that you are in one of THE thriving metropolises of South America and not elsewhere. Most of our time in this space was spent in Recoleta, scouting out their main museums such as the Museo National de Arte Decorativo and the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, the latter being a real highlight due to the fact that my crash course in art history over the past few months was starting to pay dividends,albeit small ones considering that they were now being delivered in pesos and had to deal with a volatile exchange rate.

The remains of the day - Recoleta

I really thought I had a shot with Mafalda!

Punta de la Mujer - Puerto Madero - Buenos Aires

Overall I have to say that Buenos Aires is a place that I think that you need to feel rather than it being a place that you can capture purely through aesthetical beauty. Whilst there are definitely places that you can see and be satisfied in that respect, some of the things that enticed me dealt more with the impact that it had on my emotions and collective senses rather than those that were distinctly visual.  From the  distinctly meaty smells that waft from one of the many paradillas located in the backstreets of San Telmo, to the uniqueness of the tango which originated in the area of the Rio de la Plata, to a drunken improptu salsa on the streets, to dulce de leche, to the plethora of happy perros that roam the back alleys. Buenos Aires to me was a feel, a place that I had the  opportunity of connecting  with and a place that in my own personal searches allowed me to ask and seek answers from myself that may have otherwise gone unchallenged.


The post that follows this is Colonia del Sacramento - Riding the red wine and empanada revolution  for the period 07 OCT - 10 OCT 2010, and then,

 - Mendoza - The smoking gun theory for the period after 10 OCT 2010.

San Sebastian - At the top of the list, it's all toast!

San Sebastian (Spain)

24 SEP - 25 SEP

I had spent over a month in Belgrade and my time there had been fantastic. It always amuses me as to how my perception of time shifts in the last few days of a holiday or stay in a specific place. In the beginning I'm able to convince myself that I have all the time in the world and then as the final days close in days and the final hours dwindle away I get to wondering how exactly it was that I let all that precious time slip by. Don't worry, 'we all do it'!, apparently? Well, it's enough to convince myself that I'm not the 'standout' when it comes to this way of thinking.

Heading out of Belgrade on my final morning I encountered a taxi driver who for some reason was so enamoured and enthralled by 19th and 20th century Serbian writers that he thought it would be in his best interest to 'make a list'. By the way, this was no ordinary list, this was a list of such proportions that his cab was filled with foolscape notebooks of names, years and odd notes regarding major works of those that he enjoyed inparticular. Kind of startled and taken off guard at the life work of this man I kind of didn't have it in me to question him on the purpose of the 'end game' of such an endeavour and it wasn't even that I wanted to judge the guy in accordance to what his passion is, but mate,can you at least keep your eyes on the road when you're explaining to me that Laza Kostic was more than just a writer and more than just one of the greatest minds in Serbian literature, and please, stop flicking through your meticulously kept pages with both hands when explaining to me his legal career whilst in front of you all sorts of mad manouveres are occurring. I think what was more troublesome for me was the fact that he also went into some detail regarding a 'new list' that he was working on, one which would comprise his favourite 1111 songs of all time. Why and for whom this list was going created I had no idea but he seemed quite adamant that the golden number was to be 1111,determined also to cull all those songs whose lyrics did not have significant meaning to him, even if their sweet melodies had placed them onto the original first draft. As for the meaning behind 1111, well the best this man could offer was 'well everyone wants to make a list of their top 1000', 'Geez, do they? Alright, please continue', 'Well I then thought why not an additional 100, then why not an additional 11, and then finally why not just add one more?'. Please, if anyone can find any sort of meaning or sense behind that type of deductive reasoning then could you kindly let me know of the key elements than I'm missing!

Hanging out at Belgrade airport was an absolutely abyssmal affair. Not that it's the worst airport in the world, far from it, but because I had such a great experience with my family there it was kind of hard to bid farewell to all of that and know full that my most optimistic projections would have me back in this part of the world in approximately three years.I recall sending JJ a text text telling her that I was feeling somewhat soft and was suffering a bout of homesickness, asking her essentially to send me a reply demanding me to harden up! What I received in turn was 'Oh, princess, if I see you in Australia before the 13th of Oct you'll never hear the end of it'...well I'm kind of paraphrasing there but you get the gist, and what's more, it did the trick! So thanks JJ, I owe you for that kick up the tail! What's more, once Dina rocked up to the gates and it actually dawned on me that South America was now becoming much more of a reality than a cloudy dream, those sentimental feelings subsided and I hardened up, a little. Can't be a princess forever hey!

So there we were, D and I, about to board a couple of flights to Madrid and then take an extended ride to San Sebastian without really knowing a hell of a lot about one another and both wondering how exactly we would fit as travel buddies. In reality we both took relatively large punts based solely on a handful of facts and a bucket load of intuition hoping that the result would work in one anothers favour. That in itself however is another story best to be told in a later write up. In addition to this I did wonder in advance where the 'friends of friends' collision would station itself once we made it to San Sebastian. Cutting a long story short, Jay andI had decided to catch up in San Sebastian this specific weekend in September when we'd both settled on the fact that we'd be in Europe at the same time whilst D had piggy backed onto the plans that I had set in motion several months earlier. Kind of trusting my own instincts and I think, correct me if I'm wrong, being a reasonable judge of character, I assumed that both those personalities would gel in a productive manner albeit with a slightly debaucherousresidual  effect of which I was hoping to be the welcoming beneficiary. 'Oh yeah, let the good times roll people!'.

San Sebastian film festival - throwing out the ´Welcome´mat

Flying out of Belgrade to Madrid via Stuggart meant that technically our first port of call on this two month escapade was to be in the Bundes Republik. This German city of disarmingly odd baggage carousels, Tweety bird soundtracks, flag conventions and Movenpick madness assisted in showcasing the talents that both D and I have in 'taking the piss' out of the most inane of situations. It could be considered to be somewhat 'droll' humour certainly and that in itself would not have been something that I would have quite understood until my travelling buddy quickly picked up on my incorrect use of the word. Damn, hate it when I'm wrong! Anyway, several hours later we were in the heart of Madrid for an evening stopover checking out the working girls on the north side of Puerto del Sol plying their trade. Old men and young Latin American girls make up a large part of the human traffic on Calle De la Montera, odd in itself as there is a police station located halfway down the street which operates with the full knowledge that illegal activities are taken place at the top of the street. Do the sums for yourself.

Urumea river - San Sebastian - Spain

The next day it was five hour bus ride out of Madrid and myriad of picturesque landscapes and moody weather pattern shifts that decided to frame themselves in the gallery of my memories. After 52 runs of the shorts for the Anthony Hopkins film Fracture on the 'inflight monitor' we finally entered into San Sebastian-Donastia, a town in the Basque country of Spain situated quite close to the French border on the southern coast of the Bay of Biscay. Taking a short ride from the bus station and heading north alongside the Urumea river for a few kilometres we crossed over onto Avenida Zurriola and parked our bags at the door of the apartment that Jay had lined up in the truest form of the travelling gypsy. Without a way of contacting Jay and with no method of entry into the apartment complex where our Bris-Vegas protagonist was residing I had the briefest insight into our potential future as globetrotting destitutes,being stranded on the streets of a magical town in the midst of the cities greatest yearly event - The San Sebastian film festival. It was only then that I heard it, those fimilar 'Skippyesque' whistles floating gently along the Basque coastal seas breezes which I inherently knew meant that another Australian was in close proximity. How my Kiwi travelling partner picked on that unique sound I'll never know but I'm kind of thankful that she did otherwise I would have been staring at the empty balcony of a second floor apartment situated directly above my head for what may have been hours.

View of Monte Urgull from Zm´s - San Sebastian - Spain

Now I don't know what it is about catching up with a good mate on the otherside of the world but there's always something about being the odd men out in a foreign land that galvanises that nationalistic notion of solidatary and paves the way for all sorts of possibilities. So after doing a quick round of introductions and getting that intial 10-20 min 'feeling out' process out of the way we headed down to Z'ms, a place located right on playa Zurriola which Jay had expertly scouted out during his days of solo reconnonasance. This was to be the testing ground for the three dimanond dynamic that would need to successfully negate its way through several Donastian autumn days. So with cerveza's in hand (please see canes for the Basque equivalent), a magnificent outlook onto the beach and a mischeviously cloudy, tempermental Gipuzkoan sky, we settled into a holiding pattern of good 'ole fashioned banter that would have us on a sustained laughter loop for the entire weekend.

Like true Donostiarris we attacked Parte Vieja that evening,(the Old Part of San Sebastian and the traditional core area of the city), with vigour and intensity. I kind of had it in my head to let Dina know in advance that with Jay on point it was going to be inevitable that a late Friday evening was going to transition into the orange and pink hues of a Saturday morning,but really, why spoil that surprise? As we wondered the streets in search of various forms of liquid  poison and the Basque-style tapas called pintxos I tried to absorb as much as possible the unique architecture, cobble stoned streets and general atmosphere of this town. What I did notice once again, much the same other destinations in Spain, is that this place is alive. Conversation, activity and life simply flows out of all cafesand bars. It only takes a moment to be intoxicated by the buzz and activity, to immerse yourself in that welcoming atmosphere before you're fully invested. After those initial few hours in the town had drawn us into its clutches the party hats made their appearance, the eventual 'end game' for the night was now to be anyone's guess.

Bar hopping through an old district filled with tapas bars, restaurants, streets traders and Friday night donostiarri revellers, the 'Jungle Spanish' that both Jay and I had picked up in our time got a bit of a Basque spanking. Not that our attempts at Spanglish weren't amusing to the locals or that they didn't appreciate the attempts, you could tell by the trail of smiles that we left behind us that at least some of what we left behind was amusing...and the more we drank the more our jungle Spanish turned into plain old jungle boogie. It was somewhere around this time that Jay suggested that we set up shop at a placed called the Bee Bop, a relativeley small venue with a wooden dance floor, old school tunes and fun lively atmosphere.

With my man Jay at the BeeBop - San Sebastian - Spain

That my friends was the last we all saw of the small carrying bags of 'sensible' that we had politely carted around for the few hours whilst we were getting to know one another. As we were drawn into the open and inviting Spanish way of doing things the night marched on, leading us further into debt by which recovery would only be allowed with the aid of the surplus hours of sunlight available the next day. From memory it was somewhere between the point where a Colombian guy by the name of Mike had ordered our fifth round of 'tequila surprise' shots and where Jay had commenced his 16th random discussion with a Donnastiarri innocent that we decided we'd walk back to base for a little recovery.

Passing through the early morning drizzle with all the misguided finesse we could muster I realised that San Sebastian was more than likely going to leave us all a little dishevelled come early Monday morning. With Jay making a b-line for his room and crashing out on impact and Dina setting up shop with her sea salt chips on the living room floor I knew than San Sebastian was going to end up having a lot to answer for at the completion of this mission.

Jay and Dina @ the BeeBop

D with her new toy boy

The post that follows this is - San Sebastian - Debt recovery

San Sebastian - U2 @ the Anoeta Stadium

San Sebastian - (Spain)
26 SEP 10

Right off the bat let me say that I had an absolutely EPIC time in San Sebastian! I can assure you that the write up about that weekend will be making the blog relatively soon and I can´t wait to lock in those ´good times´ for the sake of posterity, integrity and all things hysterical. However, without any disrespect to Jay and Dina, the reason that I had San Sebastian on the agenda in the first place was because ´the boys´ were going to put on a show in this town and I simply thought, well when in Spain get yourself a dose of  ´Unos, dos, tres, catorce!´As for my perception of the gig, how I felt and how the boys played, well I´ll leave that until after I post this photos - you´ll understand why in a minute.

...Oh yes, I took this shot - U2 - Anoeta Stadium - San Sebastian

The Edge - Adam Clayton - Bono

The Edge - during ´Mysterious Ways´

Bono - during ´Mysterious Ways´

The stage at the Anoeta

Adam Clayton

The Edge and Adam Clayton - Intro - ´Return of the Blue Stingray Guitar´

LMJ - during ´I´ll go crazy if I don´t go crazy tonight´

Adam & Bono

´City of blinding lights´

Bono - during ´Sunday bloody Sunday´

Adam Clayton - during ´City of blinding lights´

Close out - ´Moment of Surrender´

The Edge - during ´Mysterious Ways´

Adam Clayton

Bono on the charge - during ´Sunday Bloody Sunday´

Adam and Larry - intro - ´Return of the blue Stingrary Guitar´

The Anoeta

So there we have it, by far the best concert experience of my life. The band that I´ve grown up with over the last twenty years doing their thing in such a magical town, I really couldn´t have dreamt of anything better. I was on such an emotional high at the close that I wasn´t able to even give myself the opportunity of sitting still for the few moments necessary to survive the 5min cab or bus ride back to our apartment approximately 5kms away, I had to run.

Thanks to Dina and Jay for putting up with my U2 insanity over the weekend, you both made the experience that much better!

******* San Sebastian set list, just for my own sake!

San Sebastian Set List

Return of the Stingray Guitar
Beautiful Day
I Will Follow
Get On Your Boots
Magnificent
Elevation
Until The End Of The World
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Spanish Eyes
Mercy ** (Brilliant song - best song of the night)
[U2 Mercy Live - Wide Awake in Europe - Brussels 21 SEP 2010]
[U2 Mercy Live - from San Sebastian - 26 SEP 2010]
In A Little While
Miss Sarajevo
City Of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight (Remix)
Sunday Bloody Sunday
MLK
Walk On


Encore
One
Where The Streets Have No Name (OH YEAH!)

[U2 Where The Streets Have No Name Live - from San Sebastian - 26 SEP 2010] 

Encore 2
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me
With Or Without You
Moment of Surrender

Belgrade (Singidunum) - Sultan's girl

Singidunum (Serbia)

05 SEP - 22 SEP

I've been finding it a little difficult to write anything about Belgrade since I've been here and it's not for the fact that I don't like the place, it's quite the opposite. However, when I walk out the front door here I don't feel the need to carry a camera with me, I don't have a card in my back pocket stating the address of the hotel where I'm staying, nor do I have a map in my hand that I'm solely dependent on. I'm not a tourist here, I'm familiar with my surroundings and I'm comfortable with the mentality of the people. Sure, it's not my home turf of Sydney but if there was any other place in the world that could instantaneously become my harbour city surrogate, well then Belgrade would be it.

View to the confluence of the Sava and Danube rivers - Belgrade - Serbia

Near Topcider park - Belgrade - Serbia

View from my 'digs' - Topcider - Belgrade - Serbia

Avalski toranj/Avala Tower - Belgrade - Serbia

View out over the Pannonian Plain from Avala Tower - Belgrade - Serbia

Whilst I like being an outsider, or rather, a foreigner here, I also like the fact that I can understand the language and 'get' the specific cultural nuances that can be regarded as being typically Serbian. A couple of examples exemplifying this come to mind, both of which occurred in the last few days.The first happened in a grocery store. My cousin and I were on the look out to acquire meat, a type used specifcally to make soup. We're standing at the counter and Big V asks whether they have any, the response from the assistant being 'I'm sorry, today we don't have any'. Not an untypical response and nothing out of the ordinary there, but the short exchange that immediately followed is what makes Serbia, well, Serbia, in my mind at least. The natural follow up question from V was to ask, 'Well, when can you expect it to come in?'.The response he received, allowing for a little essence to be lost in translation was, 'Well, if it comes it comes, and if it doesn't come then again it'll be nothing'. Big V walked away from that little encounter with a slight shrug of the shoulders and a wry grin, not a defeated look by any means but one that just screamed out 'typical, what else did I expect?'.As we walked away I was kind of laughing to myself and repeating the line, V looks at me and says 'Something like that would never happen in Australia', and you know what, he was right. Imagine if someone at Woolworths had the audacity to be so indignant to rip out a line so blase and dismissive? I know that my immediate response would have been to say either 'Mate, seriously, are you fucking with me?' or 'Are you pulling the piss?', closely followed by 'Get me your manager', if the smart alec was actually being serious. Therein however lies the difference, in Belgrade it's typical, it's endemic and reflective of a society that for many many years has had the misfortune of being mismanaged economically and politically. It's a place where the majority of its workforce are paid a pittance and struggle to obtain their basic daily needs and where 'fuck you' is common vernacular, used in conversation as comfortably as 'good morning' or 'how are you?'. From that perspective I'm not sure if a tourist in this country would 'get it' without having an insight into the general mindset of the people. The second example was just a snippet of a conversation that I overheard whilst out walking and without knowing the context of the comversation the response that I heard was something like, 'Fuck it, it's expensive but what can you do?'. Again, there we have it, that same type of resignation and acceptance that things are just the way they are and there's not much more that can be done. With that said, by no means am I judging, this country has in the last 20 years been through a civil war, endured a 70 day bombing bonanza courtesy of NATO, been on the wrong end of economic sanctions, had to deal with a warped political regime and then ecountered a sharp global economic downturn that has left its people weary and badly beaten. I guess pessimism is your most likekly form of defence and protection when your expectations are continuously undermined by factors largely out of your control. For that I count myself as being extremely fortunate to be living in a country with a stable government, economy and rule of law, where the choices and opportunities that I make are off my own bat, without them being influenced by external factors beyond my control.

'Walk this way' - Kalegmegdan Fort - Belgrade - Serbia

Kalegmegdan Fort - Belgrade - Serbia

Kalegmegdan Fort - Belgrade - Serbia

Ada Ciganlija - a river island that has been artificially turned into a peninsula - Belgrade - Serbia

Bike path on Ada - Belgrade - Serbia

cc

'Chill session' on Ada

There are times however when the inherrent pessimism gets on my nerves. Take for example the recent Davis Cup semi-final where Serbia came from 2-1 down to beat the Czech Republic 3-2 in an epic tie. Here we are on day 3 of the semi, two singles matches to go, Novak Djokovic ranked (2) in the world against Thomas Berdych ranked (7) and Janko Tipsarevic ranked (37) against Radek Stepanek ranked (36). Srbija for one are playing at home and in my eyes are a very good chance of winning both matches and progressing. My dad however has already got the final result 'sussed', he 'knows' that the Czech Republic will win and that the final result has already been set, it's yet another 'sporting conspiracy theory' that he's somehow uncovered. In his mind he believes that Djokovic will either 'succumb' to a non-existent injury and throw his match, OR, that he's been paid off to lose the match. My cousin on the other hand just does his usual thing and overtly supports whatever team is playing against Serbia. Now what 'pisses me off' about this situation is that I know both of them actually want Serbia to win but its much more common in their typical field of pessimism to accept the worst outcome in advance and not be disappointed. As for me, I'm the opposite and am more than vocal in my support, actually kind of expecting Srbija to pull our a 3-2 win. In any case, some six hours into day three and with Janko Tipsarevic two sets up and 3-0 up in the third, essentially 3 games away from getting Serbia through to their first Davis Cup final,it's only THEN that both my cousin and dad are vocal in their support. AHHH, INFURIATING! I understand their outlook and know its basis but I can't say that I like it. In my mind that sort of pessimistic behaviour is too decisive, it almost shuts out all opportunity or possibility of positive outcomes.

Team line-up's - Davis Cup semi-final Day 1 - Srbija v Czech Republic - Belgrade - Serbia

Tipsarevic v. Berdych - Davis Cup semi-final Day 1

Czech cheer squad

Novak & Big Zim eyeing me off!

The shirt says it all

Troicke v. Stepanek

Dad with his inflatable clappers

On a totally different line of thought, over time you also come to realise that nothing in Belgrade will ever finish the way it starts. The moment you hear the phrase 'no problems' within the context of work, a personal favour or even in reference to money borrowed, then immediately make alternate arrangements for whatever it is that you need to have completed. As I've now heard a few times here, 'people are people and are not robots'.Quite obviously the space between the work one does and the promises one makes is where the life of a Belgrader takes places, and fortunately or unfortantely, in a place like this,'shit happens'.However, once you obtain an understanding of how these people fundamentally operate is the point in time that you realise that as a people, the Belgradese are quite open-hearted and particularly generous, even if their goodwill can at times outstrip their actual capacity.From where I stand as an 'outsider on the inside', I still love the fact that you can always count on the people being warm and hospitable, even if their daily struggles mean that at times your plans can change rather quickly or even that once while you'll inevitably be left high and dry. In the same vein, its the life of the people here that gives them a richness in their humour that at all at once can be disarmingly honest, black and scathing. They're able to rip apart their social, economic and political issues in such a way where that you'll quite often find yourself screaming out with laughter and in the same moment catch yourself appreciating the insight that it took to pass the comment in the first place. That however is the light and shade of Belgrade. You can quite unexpectedly find warmth and humour in a place that isn't the one of brightest or most fortunate places on earth. It has the capacity to disarm you and hit you squarely between the eyes with what is has to offer in an instant, even if you think you were paying attention.

View from Avala Tower - Belgrade - Serbia

Morning view - Topcider - Belgrade - Serbia

View of the Danube from Kalagmegdan Fort - Belgrade - Serbia

Ada ciganlija - Belgrade - Serbia

Kalagmegdan Fort - Belgrade - Serbia

In the same manner, visually, it's the light and shade of Belgrade that makes it an interesting city. For some reason I have always found it difficult to take photos here, inevitably the photos end up looking like some other place or simply don't do the city justice. In that sense Belgrade feels like a place that couldn't be bothered posing for a photo shoot, it is what it is and it leaves you with a richness of experience and memories rather than a colourful portfolio. There are ofcourse some places in the city where you simply can't go wrong, specifically at one of the greatest t-junctions in Europe, the place where the Sava river meets the Danube. This city grew up around this intersection and its here that you're able to see the might of the Danube slow down to a stroll and casually pass through the town whilst giving it a long sideways glance.

I think the nicknames that the Turks gave the city just about do it justice, 'Sultan's girl' on the one hand and a 'Gate of Wars' on the other, that's Belgrade for you, the light and the shade.