So I know I said I would update this a week ago. I lied, sorry. Not that sorry though because I don’t think anyone noticed or cared. Anyway, the rest of my day in Belgrade: The abandoned factory, although creepy-looking on the outside, on the inside contained cute little clothing boutiques, practice space/small concert venues for local bands, and at the top a café with a view of the entire city. It’s not the kids of building that could exist in Western Europe (with the possible exception of Berlin). 
 

Stefan got me back to where I needed to pick up the bus back to the airport. I would still be wandering around Belgrade right now if I had tried to navigate the city by myself. Most of the streets, if labeled at all, are labeled in Cyrillic, rendering the English map I picked up at the airport next to useless. Before saying goodbye, Stefan told me there was no point in buying a ticket for the bus ride because in the unlikely event of a control I would just say I was foreign and confused (not untrue). There was no control, but a group of little girls did get on the bus to sing and then ask for money. Unlike in Paris where people who ask strangers for money on public transportation are lucky to get one centime, I think literally every person on the bus (besides me, which I kind of regret) gave these girls (paper!) money.

Back at the airport, my search for postcards was unfruitful. Whoever said that Belgrade was not a tourist city was not kidding. While poking around the duty free shop it began to hit me how tired I was. On the two hour flight back to Vienna I slept so soundly that I really felt like the flight lasted a minute at most. But I had one more night at the airport in front of me. And the cold that I had almost entirely recovered from was back in full-swing. The only positive part about that night was that I learned that McDonalds has really good iced chai lattes, and they’ll even make them with soy milk.

At four o’clock on Saturday morning, check-in for my flight to Munich (über Düsseldorf) opened. I don’t know if it was because I looked like I was dying or maybe it was because I was polite and spoke German (unlike the other American girl in line in front of me who threw a hissy fit because she had to pay extra for her overweight suitcase), the lady at the counter hooked me up with an entire row to myself on both flights. After an excruciating (only because I was so tired and sick) S-Bahn/bus ride back to Putzbrunn, I collapsed on my air mattress and slept for an entire day and then an entire night. And that is just the latest ordeal that I had to go through to live in Germany. I hope Deutschland appreciates it.          

It still feels weird to be twenty three and it still feels a little weird that it’s 2012. My concentration hasn’t gotten any better with age. Right now I’m just staring out the window at the snow and hoping that spring comes early this year because I am sooooo sick of my feet and ears and the tip of my nose freezing no matter what I do or wear. Anyway, the fun part of winter (the part where people give me presents) is already over. Spring coming early is more likely to happen than me going back in time and continually reliving the three lazy weeks I spent in Paris, although that would also be nice.
  

My last day there Ader took the day off from work and we went gallivanting around ridiculously priced stores but only bought 5€ worth of really fancy really yummy caramels. Then he helped me pack and we went to the Gare de l’Est together and--this is a major advantage of train travel over flying—we made faces at each other through the window until the train pulled away, and then we talked on the phone until we went to sleep. I had a row to myself so I slept, not very soundly, until we got to Munich at seven the next morning. I caffeinated up and went to class.

Then last Thursday night I flew to Vienna and spent the night in the airport which is, by the way, the second coldest airport I’ve ever been in. Friday morning I flew to Belgrade as the sun was coming up. At customs, mercifully, the only question was “Have you ever been to Serbia before?” I was afraid it would appear suspicious or at least bizarre that I was coming to a country that virtually no tourists visit, where I knew no one, for only ten hours, but I guess not.

My bus ride into the city only cost, in Euros, 1.40. Sure, it was on an old school bus donated from somewhere in Western Europe, but still a bargain compared to the 11€ it costs to get to the Munich airport. I still had some time before I was supposed to meet Stefan, a law student from Belgrade whom I had contacted on couch surfing to show me around, so I got a coffee for 80¢ and tried to stay awake and not be bothered by the smoking which is, apparently, allowed everywhere.

We met in the main square under the statue of Prince Mihailo. There were various new reports being filmed while I was waiting. I tried to stay out of the shots, but I may have been on Serbian news that night. Stefan and I took another bus that went past all the foreign embassies and some buildings that were bombed in the 90s and haven’t been reconstructed since. We got out in front of what I thought was an abandoned factory and went inside. Okay, that seems like a suspenseful enough place to stop. I have laundry to fold. More tomorrow.