19-VIII-2012.

On 17th we mostly buzzed around town. Bought some stuff in a sekendica (me a light blue shirt, which I'm wearing at this moment, eight years later, as I write this), ate ribs in kajmak at Rajko's, and in the evening found a crazy place called "Tramvaj". It's a reconstruction of the tram line which existed in the city until early fifties, when the tracks were dismantles and all the transportation switched to buses. Amazingly same story, in a completely different setting, as the "Who framed Roger Rabbit". The tram had to go.

On 18th we made two trips. First everyone wanted some Pirot kačkavalj cheese, and since we've never been there, we volunteered. The hostess has a house there, and her main maid was sort of low on spirits, so she was offered to spend the weekend there. We got there on time and bought about five wheels of cheese, mostly sheep-cow, some just cow. The place to buy it is the dairy high school, where kids learn to make cheese, yogurt and other dairy stuff. Then went to her house, had a coffee, drove back. Along the way, overheard some locals talking their dialect. Amazing. I can understand pretty much everything, but not at the speed of delivery. They are just too fast, use too many of their own words, and while their revised system of cases (just three or four instead of seven) is simpler, it actually takes longer and also needs some mental adjustment. I like such things and enjoy being able to understand them, but the locals are well aware that any Belgrader will mock them, so they speak it only among themselves, and quickly switch back to official speech whenever they aren't sure no outsider is listening. Too bad, that's why I got only this ten second sample.

Came back just in time to leave the car (at the b'n'b's gate, not 500m away at Kleks'), distribute the cheese and get into the van - the whole gang was going to Jović's cellar for some wine tasting. The ride is not trivial, it's almost on bulgarian border and the roads are local windy narrow paths. So it was about an hour and a half. Jović led us to a tour of his plant and the cellar (with some cognac he's making, exquisite smell, so we all ducked by the cask just to have a whiff). Then the long tasting session, which took a couple of hours. We tried all he had and haven't got drunk, amazing. We just remembered we haven't eaten anything all day, having started off in a rush in the morning, and switching trips even faster.

Just like any other winemaker, Jović was mostly selling the story, even though wines were nice. By the time I'd know enough to see through the story and know what's real and what's bullshit, I'd probably have wasted many hours, sinapses, neural cells and money, and would be that much closer to alcoholism.

At least, Škrba's wife brought some salty snacks (from home, she made them)*, so the tasting went smoother than without nothing. On the way back, everyone fell asleep... except us three. Because we ate nothing and were on the move since morning.

On 19th, the three of us and one of the oldwavers (a fellow mathematician, though a PhD and teaching at the university) went for a stroll to see Ćele kula and Niška Banja. Nothing much, just had good time.

In the evening, talked with Nina on skype.

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* though she forgot to offer them to everyone, so their friend (whose husband is a close pal of Škrba's, also present) said „here, I'm offering... when I was younger, I was asked, now I'm offering...“.

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Mentions: 14-XI-2024., Gradivoj Škrbić (Škrba), kajmak, Nevena Sredljević (Nina), sekendica, yogurt, in serbian

11-VIII-2020 - 5-VII-2026