Pixel Plus – Another Dorćol Tour

I need to get my camera lens repaired. Pixel Plus was recommended to me, so I’m combining it with a Dorćol tour for my friends from Switzerland. We get off at Makedonska. I need Google Maps, even though I’ve been coming here for 20 years.

After crossing the Boulevard Despota Stefana, I recognize the place. It is the square with the alternative bars: Zaokret, Foodporn, and the others. Years ago, Dragana from Still in Belgrade showed me the street art, which I now show to my friends.
We take pictures of the Anti Shop vinyl store. And talk about alternative culture. I remember thinking that Belgrade was already an alternative for me. So what was this place? An alternative to the alternative? Today, I am ashamed of that thought. By the way, I never did vinyl. I was a CD guy, if anything.

At the Piaca Skadarlia, I show them the fountain, a copy of the one they saw in Sarajevo. Then we go around the market, the Bajlonijeva Pijaca, and we walk past the gloomy German Protestant Church. I didn’t even know it existed here. The Bitef Theater Festival has just ended. At the Goethe Institute, they said that it had come under pressure. The “thumbscrews” were being tightened. We laughed at the expression.

We arrive at Pixel Plus, and I’m getting my camera ready. My wife had given it to me to take pictures of our children. Which I did with enthusiasm – in automatic mode. I’m not much of a photographer. “Izvolite,” the lady at the reception barks at me. I stammer something in Serbian. “Excuse me?” she asks. I show her the error message. Then comes a torrent of technical words. “Please, slow down”, I say. “Better in English?” the woman groans. Lens, motor, aperture. I don’t understand much in English either. 10,000 dinars. I understand that. And two to three days.

Back to a street food stand. Šiš čevapi and pljescavica, sesame cheese, and white cabbage. The white smoke from the barbecue hangs over the intersection. We return to the fountain and follow Cara Dušana.

We come across new shops with modern designs. Domaccini sells local jam, syrup, and ayvar in a romantic, ethnic style. Next door is the donut shop, Babe’n Love. Pink heart, English pun: Donut miss this taste. Next to it is Srbijanka Dorćol. Ethnic patterns here, too. Serbian chocolate and Serbian wine. I don’t know much about it. The saleswoman explains. She has a friend of a friend who lives in Lausanne. He was here with colleagues. Nice people, bought a lot. But it’s expensive in Lausanne. They speak French. Here, prices are rising, says the saleswoman. Wages aren’t. She has to pay the bills. She pays 20 percent tax. How much is it in Switzerland? I don’t know.

We continue to Kneginje Ljubice, A picturesque street. It’s beautiful here, my friends say. There are no flags. Rain starts to fall, forcing us into the #milkbar. Cool design. My phone, with its purple case, blends in with the placemat. I wonder if I only like it here because it looks like Cirih.

Later, we walk up past the house on the corner, in which there was something with a—. What was her name? I need ChatGPT to read the Cyrillic board. It’s Julka. By now, it may have become clear to my friends: I’m not much of a tour guide. But that can’t bring be down. I’m on another stroll through my Belgrade. And I want to love the city.

We return via Simina. On the way to the Skadarlija bus stop, we pass Skadarlija. Below is the restaurant Dva Jelena, where we ate the night before our wedding. I have that photo: My parents in the pouring rain, running down the cobblestones, under the umbrella, but still wet. For the first time, so far from home. In a foreign city, in the country of their daughter-in-law, to which they had travelled on a twenty-hour train ride. The farmers from Freiburg, lined up by my wife’s parents, holding their umbrellas, laughing at the camera.

PS: Three days later, I picked up the camera at Pixel Plus. When I enter, the woman at the reception desk glares at me. We’ve met before. We’re friends now.