Death, Taxes and Rusmir

Posted on March 21, 2014

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There are certain things in life that are a one hundred percent guarantee. We will all die someday. The sun rises, and the sun sets. Someone will score a hundred at an Adelaide test match. Rusmir will provide excellent food. This final point was confirmed once more today.

The walk out to Zemun is a pretty one, all be it one that is freakin’ long. You never really remember just how long it is until you are absolutely exhausted by the time you reach Ušče park, home of Pivoblivion. This is fine, except the park represents maybe one third of the journey. The whole thing takes about an hour, which isn’t so bad, but it feels like a heck of a lot more. That’s just how strong the lure of this excellent sausage is. The walk is a struggle and your shins begin to throb, but it is all for the most wonderful pork cause. Pork cause is also the best thing I’ve ever said.

I get down on life on the odd occasion. Even on the walk, many thoughts of pointlessness entered my tiny brain. Andrew wrote a song with a hook lyric of ‘oh for this to be over’, and it is a sentiment I can most definitely identify with. As the proverb goes, life is hard but mercifully short. The flipside of this is that I can walk along the riverside for an hour, making my way slowly but surely to a little restaurant hidden away in the corner of a car park in a little municipality in a foreign capital city and be greeted with a smile, a handshake and a hug. Sometimes this vagabond lifestyle is worth it.

Nenad was king today, and what a champion he is. As anyone who has been to Rusmir knows, when in Rusmir you order sausage, and sausage was ordered. God damn is it good. Rusmir is the Fubar of the restaurant world, the Camden chicken of restaurants. You spend a lot of time away from it, thinking about it now and then and questioning whether it really is as good as you remember. You enter, you sit, you order and you start to get a little nervous. Am I overstating it? Is there any way it could really be as good as I remember. The food arrives, you clasp your cutlery, slice off a bit and take a bite.

It is every bit as good as you remember. If not better.

Rusmir is genuinely special. Most backpackers will speak of the virtues of homely restaurants, intimate atmospheres and food with a soul. Rusmir has all of this in spades, even if I don’t believe in the existence of souls. It really is the restaurant of a backpackers dream. I’m by no means a foodie, having existed on ham sandwiches for the majority of my life, but Rusmir is really something that excites me. It helps that the food is excellent, but this little room defines comfort to me. It’ll never change. 

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