RITAM GRADA / RHYTHM OF THE CITY
WHY WE LOVE LATE AUTUMN Belgrade carries the scent of roasted chestnuts November always arrives in the Serbian capital in silence — with wisps of mist over the rivers, the clinking of cups and the first sip of warmth that brings colour to grey days
flames, while the hot rakia has charac- ter, and both beverages are perfect for warming the body. Their hot taste always prompts conversations about everything that’s still to come: winter, the holiday season, travels, people who are missed... And when the tummy rumbles, Novem- ber also knows how to offer comfort on a plate. The offer includes freshly baked bread, chestnut puree and pies that crack- le under golden crust. You can still find pumpkins, quinces and walnuts on the markets, and those aromas transform Belgrade into a house with a thousand windows — everywhere warm, every- where familiar. In Zemun, where the wind blowing off the Danube carries everything that crosses its path, November has its own rhythm: riverside strolls, lights reflect- ed in the water, conversations that last longer than usual. In the Vračar neigh- bourhood, under leafless treetops, peo- ple continue to sit outside, under blan- kets, their hands clasped around coffee cups as they listen to the sounds of old jazz on vinyl. Belgrade is neither toned down nor qui- et in November — it’s merely warm- er and softer as it prepares for the com- ing winter. Its rituals are just the simple habits of its people: a cup of coffee, a sip of wine, a view from the window. And it is precisely in this simplicity that its inexplicable charm lies – because, even when the skies are grey, Belgrade has a specific warmth that can’t be found anywhere else...
T he summer verve has dissi- pated and there’s no more rushing on the streets; the pace of the city slows, be- coming softer and tamer, as if calling on us to take a break. Small ritu- als smoulder on every corner, rituals that are simple and familiar, but nonetheless precious: coffee, tea, wine – providing a breath of warmth that causes glass to fog up and heats the fingers. On Knez Mihailova Street, the aroma of freshly roasted coffee and roasted chest- nuts spreads between strolling tourists and passers-by trying to flee the biting wind. On the street itself, under small tin roofs, chestnuts roast and crack in front of your eyes, in small black pans, with the smoke mixing with smells from the street. The paper bag they are served in is warm to the touch, while the taste is as sweet as a childhood memory. It makes no difference whether you visit a tavern, a bistro or a modern café, because the cof- fee that’s served on Belgrade’s main pe- destrian street always has a special taste – the taste of the city: bustling and viva-
cious. If you head down to Dorćol, the scent of cinnamon and cloves will reveal the first offers of mulled wine. Belgrad- ers sip it slowly, with laughter and sto- ries, conveying a warmth that connects strangers sitting at the same table. Tea is yet another story — quieter, sooth- ing, often consumed in the hidden court- yards of neighbourhoods like Zvezdara, enjoying views over the rooftops and the shade of trees that still cling to the last of their leaves. Tea has its own ceremony in such parts of the city: green with ginger for those rushing through the day, black with lemon for the nostalgic tea-drinker, herbal for those who believe in balance. Sipped slowly with a book, a chat or in se- rene silence. When darkness descends, the Belgrade of November changes its rhythm —the aroma of coffee gives way to the scents of hot rakia and mulled wine. At the Bel- grade seaside of Ada, along the banks of the Sava and in Cetinjska Street, the steam that rises from cooking pots car- ries the scents of cloves, honey and baked apples. The mulled wine is the colour of
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