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At Idiot Bar by the Botanic Garden

Halleluja, jag är frisk igen! (‘Halleluja, I am well again!’) sang the Swedish singer-songwriter Cornelis Vreeswijk once. (If you think that is an odd Swedish name, it is; Cornelis was Dutch but became a renewer of the Swedish song craft.) This title comes to mind every time I lay off the burden of a bad cold or a lumbago. It’s ok to be in Serbia in the spring feeling sick, but it sure is great being here healthy and strong! And that is how I finally feel after a lazy weekend.

Friday was sunny and lovely, and I had two great meetings. Then I decided to let Saturday be my resting day. A thunderstorm drew in over Belgrade, and the rain soaked the streets. It was nice sitting on the balcony and just watch the powers of nature rage across the urban landscape, and finally see how the rays of the sun broke through and painted the facades of the worn down Tito-era houses with a golden hue.

Today I constructed a standing desk from a tall table and some other stuff. After a while, I felt the need to have some people around me so I decided to go to some place with wifi and work. Eventually, I ended up at a place which bears a name which has attracted me since I first stumbled upon it in a Belgrade Guide: Idiot Bar.

Du kan kalla mig för idiot.
Det har jag ingenting emot.
Jag är en idot.

You can call me an idiot.
It doesn’t bother me.
I am an idot.

(Bob Hund: Mer än så kan ingen bli)

I sat there browsing through the pages of a manuscript which has turned its back at me for a long time. But now it seemed ready to start a negotiation regarding its finalization.

Yes, for a moment, it even smiled at me.

A birch grove outside Hala Pionir—like a Sweden in miniature.

A birch grove outside Hala Pionir—like a Sweden in miniature.