No Vax Djokovic
Belgrade. Over one-and-a-half million people call this sprawling, baroque-brutalist metropolis home which comfortably makes it the largest city in the Western Balkans and one of the largest in South-eastern Europe. While not atop many holiday destination lists, it has gradually nurtured a vibrant and increasingly alternative subculture that has attracted a great number of youths who have turned to its two great rivers, the Danube and Sava, to build their night club barges and coffee shop cruisers. It is now one of the prime stag destinations for those who think that Budapest, Prague, or Kraków is too mainstream for them, otherwise referred to as knobs. Belgrade still flies under the radar, and we were extremely curious to puncture its waxy seal and dip our rods in.
We began our tour in Republic Square, the centre and beating heart of the capital, which also comprises a number of Belgrade’s most recognizable public buildings including the National Museum, National Theatre, and the statue of Prince Mihailo, a former ruler of Serbia. This grand memorial is the oldest in the country and protected as an ‘Immovable Object of Culture and Great Importance’, apparently, although they’ve failed to protect it from a large number of pigeons taking up residence on his outstretched arm and that fecally besmirch his lower torso every minute or so. A collective inhalation ensued upon spotting the Russian Federation’s famous flag proudly fluttering above the entrance to the National Museum, although a swift internet search informed us that the tricolour in question was, in fact, upside down and so it was clearly, completely unrelated.
The central thoroughfare, known locally as Knez Mihailova, connects Republic Square to Belgrade Fortress by way of a wide pedestrianised boulevard lined with many modern eateries, chain clothing brands, and Irish bars. While in theory, the latter of these would offer Lowri and me a great deal of joy, solace, and gratification, the fact that smoking indoors is still allowed, and quite frankly promoted, in many Balkan countries made our stay inside a short and stifled one; being unable to watch Chelsea capitulate again for the thickness of the smog was highly unpalatable indeed. And so, we continued our afternoon stroll towards the aforementioned attraction: the fortress.
Built initially by the Scordisci tribe in 279 BC, Belgrade Fortress has been extended, added, broadened, and expanded countless times through the ages while its present layout is most greatly attributed to Byzantine emperor Justinian I. What the great leader wouldn’t have known at the time is that his construction would still be standing many, many centuries later and also that a Bob Marley tribute act would one day perform what can only be described as a vigorous performance from inside the gatehouse, just between the portcullises. What the great leader did know, however, is that you get a quite sensational view over the surrounding landscape from its mighty walls, particularly of the striking confluence of the Sava and Danube far below.
Following a thoroughly peaceful weekend in the capital, we were feeling rested and fully prepared for our teaching week ahead. That was until my laptop charger dramatically exploded. Not a biggie when at home and ordering one from Amazon for the next day is an option. More of a biggie when on the move in the Western Balkans and not finding a replacement would result in our premature return due to my lack of ability to teach. Off I went in search of, firstly, someone who could repair it which, unsurprisingly, yielded extremely poor results. The first specialist I turned to was dead. Even worse was being informed of this fact by his mother when standing outside their apartment block. While the second expert articulated that it was simply impossible to fix. After visiting a plethora of computer stores scattered all over the city in order to buy a compatible replacement, none could be found. It was at my last stop, down a Gotham City-like alleyway that led to a minute antiquated internet café-cum-workshop, where a dishevelled character sourced a second-hand charger from the bottom of a pile of second-hand chargers which, miraculously, brought my somnolent laptop to life. Sheer relief ensued.
Exploring all corners of a sodden Belgrade by foot and by bus at night was an experience I won’t want to replicate anytime soon. Unfortunately, our experience of Serbia as a whole is inexorably linked to the weather, which was bloody awful throughout. Don’t be misled by the odd inch of blue sky in my snaps, our visit was drearier than an alcohol-free wake at Bleak House. Much of this was not Serbia’s fault, however, and I know many folks who rave about their trips there during the sweltering summertime. I would caution against expecting Eden in December, though. To increase our spirits, we were now heading to a nation known for its fun, peace, and endless sunshine: Bosnia.
J
