To Serbia, With Love

In Serbia I frequently hear people say they would never live anywhere but here, "This is my home," they say.

I envy them their certainty. Yet I can't fathom feeling connected in such a way, and now that noontimes look like dusk and after a year of wide-eyed awe, it might be time to go.

In the mountains grandmother's keep their homes with broom strokes, gathering dust and leaves and dirt and swishing it all back outside in easy agile moves, movements of a lifetime. A young boy, brought up in the big city, he visits his grandmother in the mountains. He remembers she always only wore black clothes and once or twice a year she washed her ankle-length silvery-white hair. He remembers watching her on the stoop of her kitchen back door, and wielding a horse whip. Slashing the length of leather round and round gathering momentum and at the last minute the last inch of the whip caught the neck of a chicken, coiling quick as a python and decapitating the unlucky bird. Dinner.

A year ago I came to Serbia and felt something of a link. Never before have I felt as if I belonged anywhere because I haven't, I'm a mutt, a wanderer. I'm only half Serbian and only half crazy. I put down no roots because there's no soil beneath my feet, only air. Drifts upon which to float my magic carpet and carry on with my adventures.

July 2014 I came to Serbia to attend a party. And I'm still here. Now, nearing the dawn of my departure I'm hosting my own party and everyone is invited.

If you are in Belgrade please join me at SKC on December 10th at 6pm to celebrate the publication of my book. Our Crown Prince, amongst others, will say a few words.

And then I'll be on my way, thank you Serbia for an amazing year.