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.