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I woke up on the date of my flight with a friggin' scratchy throat. Hoping it was nothing I gathered my shit and headed off to the airport with my brother but slowly it got worse. At the airport and on the flight I felt myself getting hotter and my throat getting scratchier. From what I remember of the flight on British Airways it was great. Screens in the back of the chairs with all the movies, games and T.V. shows anyone would need but I kept slipping in and out of consciousness only waking to force feed myself a little something. When I got to London I changed a $20.00 bill and got 9 pounds back. What? To delirious to figure out that phukked up conversion rate I needed to find some sorta drug store with medication, strong enough to either kill me or take the edge off. And since I had 6 hours to kill before my flight to Belgrade the shit better be industrial strength. I did however find some Serbs chilling in a quite corner of the airport so feeling safe I took a load off. Sprawled out on the floor I woke up like some one tasered me to a female English accent over a loud speaker saying "People boarding the Jat flight to Belgrade head over to Gate C20...yes you, get your stupid ass over to the gate before you miss your phukkin flight." I grabbed my backpack with my laptop, passport, HD cam-corder, Canon Rebel EOS and all my money, luckily it was all still there considering I was out for almost 5 hours and staggered to gate. I reached the gate to find all my Serbian friends waiting and the boarding ladies saying we gotta wait another hour. Basically on the second flight I fell asleep when the plane took off and woke up when the plane landed. Back in Belgrade I met up with Goga and her brother burning like a hot plate and still falling in and out of a coma. We took a taxi to Ljubin and Jagoda's place where I had tea, honey, a few shots of rakija and went straight to bed with a rakija soaked hand towel around my neck...talk about being a bad guest. IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE? I woke up the same way I was waking up from my periodic coma spells with the added bonus of not being able to swallow my own saliva without intense pain. More tea, honey and rakiija then Ljubin took us driving around Batajnica to find a walk in clinic. The sights and sounds reminded me of what I think makes Belgrade beautiful. It's the simplicity. It's something that's not found on the outside, it's something that is found at the core in the soul of the people. People work hard, People are willing to give a helping hand. It's a part of who they are, it's a part of their history. Through history it appears like they always get the short end of the stick but none the less they are proud. Plus cigarettes are cheap, beer an wine (pivo and vino) is cheap, food is good quality and cheap and the women are some of the most beautiful I've seen. What else do you need to be happy? 3 walk in clinics later we found one in the next town called Zenum, Dom zdravlja Zemun. I was pleasantly surprised by the cute blonde doctor sitting at her desk. Instinctively, like any other guy the sick helpless child came out. Sighing and muttering answers to her question though i think she found it cute when I tried to speak in Serbian i probably sound like a child anyways. I found it cute when she asked me to hold the cuff for the blood pressure machine. My arm being too big kept the velcro pulling apart but my pressure was cool. She told me I had strep throat and gave me anti-biotic's and fever meds. I thanked her and left but before leaving Dom zdravlja Zemun I needed to make sure my friend Ljubin wasn't sick...you know in case he too needed to see the doctor. Maybe he has Strep Throat too? He laughed and no that's not a nurse it's a patient? THE HOUSE THAT LJUBIN BUILT. On the way back we stopped by the house Ljubin was building for himself and Yagoda...sweet buy some land, build a house. ...No rest for the wicked we got on one of the typical never empty bus and headed for the train station and get to Zagreb. Two days there then a long ass bus ride to Rome. From the dogs who roam the streets, to the gypsies and everyday people who keep the city alive I feel the general mentality is: this is us, if you don't like it too bad. We will not change for anyone. Take it or leave it I respect that.
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