Day 12, 2.26.2009 After arriving in Belgrade, we found our hostel and got a good (and very cheap) meal at a bakery down the street. I got a mozzarella and tomato sendvič (sendvich). Walking around the city, you immediately notice that many portions of the sidewalk are roped-off. A tourist guide explained that many of Belgrade’s old buildings are in horrible shape and are crumbling. Bits of the buildings will randomly fall off and can kill people if they happen to be in the wrong place. I also took note of the public parking system. Cars park on the sidewalk, which is problematic because one car then clogs up the high volume of foot traffic. Alternatively, people park in the road and then leave their emergency flashers on until they return from their shopping. By the Republika Trg (a crowded shopping/meeting up place), there is a wide street devoted to parking, but people just end up parking each other in. I saw someone standing by their car honking trying to get the attention of whoever had parked them in…I don’t know what the plan was though, because he was parked in by at least a dozen more cars.
The main pedestrian shopping area, called Kinez Mikaelov, contains scores of name brand stores such as Nike, Aldo, etc., as well as nice cafes. This part of the city stands in stark contrast to other more rundown areas of the city. It is also weird to see these emblems of capitalism (Nike, Lacoste) housed in the old communist downtown. Popcorn vendors were everywhere. At the far end of the pedestrian zone is the old fortress, with a collection of WWII artillery and tanks from the various participating countries. Inside the fortress is a nice park and a nice view across the river to New Belgrade.
We got lunch at a restaurant called “?”, a traditional Serbian tavern that has been in operation since the 1800s. We ordered beer, bread and beef goulash. Other choices included calf’s head in tripe and “glands”. We enjoyed a leisurely meal there. The people at the table behind us were speaking in Spanish about the presence of the mafia in Belgrade (something we had already heard about). As we got up to leave a man at the table asked where we were from and what we were doing in Belgrade. The diners turned out to be Spaniards working for the Spanish government and living in Belgrade doing cultural work (not exactly sure what). They told us that they thought we were Spanish (because of the way we looked…not the first time that trip people thought I was either Spanish or South American). We went to the other room to get Turkish coffee and play chess. After starting our game, we were told that chess playing was not allowed (a continuation of the ban on card games?).
Back at the hostel we chatted with Boris, a 19 year old bar tender from Montenegro (which he still considered Serbia, by the way). He was doing a similar trip through the Balkans. As we were playing cards, two plain clothes police men came into the hostel and requested our passports and asked when we had arrived in Belgrade. They kept reassuring us that we had nothing to worry about and that we were “free citizens of your own country”. Apparently the hostel had not been keeping accurate records of guests. The police looked through the hostel’s records for close to an hour. Finally we asked for our passports back and went out to do some night photography and get dinner. We got dinner at Buckos, a little pizza restaurant with an ordering window in the wall. We had seen people lining up to get pizza there earlier in the day and figured it must be good. We ordered a whole pizza and two Russian salads. The girl taking our order looked confused but complied. We did not receive any salad, but didn’t bother to complain. When we finally opened the box, we saw that two of the pieces had been smothered in Russian dressing…their idea of a salad I guess. We had not been eating many greens lately, but this Serbian innovation was nonetheless quite tasty. We ate at the base of a huge statue in Republika Trg. After I sat down, Andrew informed me that I had sat down in a huge pile of spit. Looking around this was one of the filthiest locations I have ever seen and not fit for a picnic. The square, however, is the main meeting point for people of all ages in the city.
We got back to the common room to play some more cards and drink our bottle of 2 dollar Shlivovits, which packed a punch. Around midnight we headed out to a club called Tramvaj. The sign, however, does not say the name of the club, but rather “donuts extra”. Inside the doorway is a storage room for coats and a sign reading “wordrobe unnecessary”, although they required you to remove your coat and pay for the use of the “wordrobe”. The band was a quartet in their 40s and played a mix of American rock songs and Serbian rock. My favorite was the heavily accented rendition of CCR’s “Proud Mary” which the singer sang as “proud marysss keep on rolling…”. There was also a funny old guy dancing around (Peter, don’t get angry at me for making fun of old people in clubs). We headed back home around 3am.
Day 12, 2.26.2009 After arriving in Belgrade, we found our hostel and got a good (and very cheap) meal at a bakery down the street. I got a mozzarella and tomato sendvič (sendvich). Walking around the city, you immediately notice that many portions of the sidewalk are roped-off. A tourist guide explained that many of Belgrade’s old buildings are in horrible shape and are crumbling. Bits of the buildings will randomly fall off and can kill people if they happen to be in the wrong place. I also took note of the public parking system. Cars park on the sidewalk, which is problematic because one car then clogs up the high volume of foot traffic. Alternatively, people park in the road and then leave their emergency flashers on until they return from their shopping. By the Republika Trg (a crowded shopping/meeting up place), there is a wide street devoted to parking, but people just end up parking each other in. I saw someone standing by their car honking trying to get the attention of whoever had parked them in…I don’t know what the plan was though, because he was parked in by at least a dozen more cars.
The main pedestrian shopping area, called Kinez Mikaelov, contains scores of name brand stores such as Nike, Aldo, etc., as well as nice cafes. This part of the city stands in stark contrast to other more rundown areas of the city. It is also weird to see these emblems of capitalism (Nike, Lacoste) housed in the old communist downtown. Popcorn vendors were everywhere. At the far end of the pedestrian zone is the old fortress, with a collection of WWII artillery and tanks from the various participating countries. Inside the fortress is a nice park and a nice view across the river to New Belgrade.
We got lunch at a restaurant called “?”, a traditional Serbian tavern that has been in operation since the 1800s. We ordered beer, bread and beef goulash. Other choices included calf’s head in tripe and “glands”. We enjoyed a leisurely meal there. The people at the table behind us were speaking in Spanish about the presence of the mafia in Belgrade (something we had already heard about). As we got up to leave a man at the table asked where we were from and what we were doing in Belgrade. The diners turned out to be Spaniards working for the Spanish government and living in Belgrade doing cultural work (not exactly sure what). They told us that they thought we were Spanish (because of the way we looked…not the first time that trip people thought I was either Spanish or South American). We went to the other room to get Turkish coffee and play chess. After starting our game, we were told that chess playing was not allowed (a continuation of the ban on card games?).
Back at the hostel we chatted with Boris, a 19 year old bar tender from Montenegro (which he still considered Serbia, by the way). He was doing a similar trip through the Balkans. As we were playing cards, two plain clothes police men came into the hostel and requested our passports and asked when we had arrived in Belgrade. They kept reassuring us that we had nothing to worry about and that we were “free citizens of your own country”. Apparently the hostel had not been keeping accurate records of guests. The police looked through the hostel’s records for close to an hour. Finally we asked for our passports back and went out to do some night photography and get dinner. We got dinner at Buckos, a little pizza restaurant with an ordering window in the wall. We had seen people lining up to get pizza there earlier in the day and figured it must be good. We ordered a whole pizza and two Russian salads. The girl taking our order looked confused but complied. We did not receive any salad, but didn’t bother to complain. When we finally opened the box, we saw that two of the pieces had been smothered in Russian dressing…their idea of a salad I guess. We had not been eating many greens lately, but this Serbian innovation was nonetheless quite tasty. We ate at the base of a huge statue in Republika Trg. After I sat down, Andrew informed me that I had sat down in a huge pile of spit. Looking around this was one of the filthiest locations I have ever seen and not fit for a picnic. The square, however, is the main meeting point for people of all ages in the city.
We got back to the common room to play some more cards and drink our bottle of 2 dollar Shlivovits, which packed a punch. Around midnight we headed out to a club called Tramvaj. The sign, however, does not say the name of the club, but rather “donuts extra”. Inside the doorway is a storage room for coats and a sign reading “wordrobe unnecessary”, although they required you to remove your coat and pay for the use of the “wordrobe”. The band was a quartet in their 40s and played a mix of American rock songs and Serbian rock. My favorite was the heavily accented rendition of CCR’s “Proud Mary” which the singer sang as “proud marysss keep on rolling…”. There was also a funny old guy dancing around (Peter, don’t get angry at me for making fun of old people in clubs). We headed back home around 3am.
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