Week 6

Dancers at the 2012 Belgrade Folk Festival 

As my time in Belgrade draws closer and closer to an end, I am happily seeing my days fill up with more and more activities (and unfortunately less time for photos). While the first two-three weeks were spent wondering the city solo, I have now been catapulted into life inside the large ex-pat community. When I first got here, someone told me that all you have to do is meet one person, and from then on the number of acquaintances and experiences grows exponentially. I was not sure what this meant when I first heard it, but now, as I split my time between friends at the German and US embassies, I have witnessed first-hand the wisdom of those words. 

Belgrade Streets and Sava River

Meeting new people opens up a whole world not accessible to a sole tracker. Just this Thursday, I was introduced to a wonderful bar/restaurant, hidden behind a beautiful yellow house in a garden covered with overhanging greenery and flowers. Saturday, I joined the other Americans for a party at one of the bars on Ada Ciganlija, Belgrade's man-made lake. With bars and small clubs covering the southern shore of the lake, you get lost in the cover bands belting out everything from Michael Jackson (with a Serbian style of course) to Carly Rae Jepsen to Serbian hits from the 80s. 

City Streets

While I would have found these great places on my own, I am sure I would have shied away from going into the BIGZ building solo. BIGZ is a huge warehouse style building, originally erected in the late 1930s and largely abandoned in the 1990s. Now it is a haven for young artists, designers, and musicians. Imagine a mostly dark building, no lights from any of the factory-style windows, some guards drinking rakija in the front, large dimly lit hallways covered in graffiti, metal music coming from indistinct rooms. Friday, along with a friend, I found myself climbing the seven flights and trying not to remember just about every horror movie I have seen. Finally, we found our way to the top, to a jazz bar with an incredible view of the Sava River and New Belgrade. This, I would not have ventured to by myself, but now I must go back. Something about the entire horrific vibe draws me in. 

Magnificent 7 Movie Screening

The more time you spend with other people, the more you also cherish the time by yourself. Monday night I ventured out solo to a movie screening of the Magnificent 7 @ Belef Festival, situated between the tight walls of the Kalemegdan Fortress. The movie I saw was "The Furious Force of Rhymes" about hip-hop as protest music in France, Germany, Palestine, and West Africa. Primarily in French and German with Serbian subtitles, I am proud to say that I understood a lot. Now, I am desperately hoping that the film becomes available on Netflix where I can watch with English subtitles. I strongly recommend that everyone interested in music watches this; it is what hop-hop was in the US in the 90s when lyrics were about social issues. 



Walking home from the movie, I stumbled upon this little gem, occurring just on the other side of the Kalemegdan wall. 

Dancers at the 2012 Belgrade Folk Festival 

I missed where the first performers are from, but I am almost certain that the second two groups are from Turkey (although since my Serbian is not the best, I could be wrong). 

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Week 4 & Week 5

Danube River from Zemun River Bank Promenade 

It has been unbelievable hot here. Temperatures are hitting 100 F, which might not seem like that extraordinary to some of you but a lack of AC wherever I go is something I am not used to. Makes me realize that America's obsession with air-conditioning is incredible. I remember the days of sitting at my job in the middle of summer, complaining how cold I was and needing a sweater. Not here! Here it is hot inside, and the AC at work has been broken for a week. A week! Even when the AC is on, most places (screw that, every place) keeps it at a much higher level than what we are all used to. Again, makes me realize how spoiled I have become. 

Zemun River Bank Promenade

On the hottest day ever, I decided to venture to Zemun – a neighborhood/separate city of Belgrade (depending if you are a Zemun resident or not). While walking through Stari Grad to get to the bust to take me to my destination, I felt like I was being crushed by the oppressive hot air mass. Immediately, there was a feeling of delusion – am I about to pass out, or is the air just really thick and hot? Questioning my decision to go anywhere, I had to constantly remind myself that I did not have AC in my apartment and sitting in a hot room would not be better.

View of Zemun from Zemun Tower with Belgrade in background

The reason for Zemun’s uniqueness lies in its history. Up until WWII, Zemun was a separate town across the Sava River from Belgrade. Sometime in the 1700s (I think), it was conquered by the Austrian Empire, which contributes to its unique architecture, quite different from the main city of Belgrade. Only after WWII, when Belgrade began to spread beyond its borders, was Zemun incorporated into the rest of the city. Although, most Zemun residents still refuse to acknowledge that they are Belgradians.

Kula Sibinjanin Janka Tower (Zemun Tower)

In Zemun, however, the hot, oppressive air mass vanished as I was greeted by the smells and sounds of the river walk. Lined with trees and cute restaurants, the river walk proved a haven from the stuffiness of Stari Grad. While I still took it slow, moving from one shady spot to another, the day proved to be beautiful – composed of moving from café to restaurant to view points.

Tašci for Lunch at Kafe Galerija

Climbing to the famous Zemun tower, which like all major sights in Belgrade has not been open to the public due to renovation for years, I had to walk up a cobble stone street. Although I have never been to quaint European villages or towns, this reminded me of something I would see in a Dutch village. You could even hear the water rushing through the sewer system below your feet.

Hariseva Chapel

I also managed to find a cherry tree while walking down a cute little stairway from Zemun Tower. I know the tree was private, but I couldn’t help myself and stole some cherries, while nervously checking my surroundings for angry owners and dogs.

Staircase from Zemun Tower

I enjoyed the relative quietness and relative coolness of Zemun so much, that I decided to go back the following weekend to visit their beach. Awesome time spent! This statement might sound sarcastic to some, especially in reading the next few lines, but I assure you I meant it. Everything you expect from a Soviet beach you get. Men in tight speedos, naked children, skinny model looking girls, corn-on-the-cob, beer, old ladies with flatulence problems... Despite the last, I plan on going back. Anything to beat this heat and escape the AC-less apartment. 

Lido Beach at Great War Island on Danube River

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My Dying Mother

Exciting news! 

Although it may not be news to all, I had my first article titled "My Dying Mother: Russia's Depopulation Crisis" was published in Political Reflection Magazine (June, July, August 2012) issue. The article is also posted on Cesran International website.

Here is a little preview: 

Our dear Mother Russia is sick and dying. Power remains as centralized as ever, and the public is still unable to rely on this centrality for security and health benefits.  The inability of the Russian government to address the issues surrounding the health of its country has resulted in an unprecedented health crisis never seen before in a literate, urbanized society during peacetime.

To read the rest, click here. 

Image from Radio Free Europe Liberty

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Week 3

St. Mark's Church and Tasmajdan Park

I don't know how this happened, but even in Belgrade I am finding myself lacking time. I have a million deadlines for work and internship applications; my current internship requires a research paper, whose deadline is dangerously looming; a sudden surge of additional internship work from a surprisingly large number of people; an ebook I am desperately trying to finish before it disappears from my nook; and of course all of the events that I now find myself not being able to go to in the city. What the hell? I thought this was summer, but why does it feel so much like the rest of the year?

Playing in a fountain at Tasmajdan park

On my third weekend in Belgrade, I MANAGED (exaggeration) to find the time for a day trip to Gradac Gorge -- about a 2 hour car ride from Belgrade. So glad I found time to go. But before we get to the trip, let me take a moment to talk about my experience taking Belgrade's public transportation.

Graffiti on Njegoseva Street 

To get to the trip's pick-up spot by the Belgrade Fair Bus Station, I took a bus (my first time in Belgrade). It was pretty uneventful, except for the fact that I did not pay because I did not know how (despite having a bus pass with money on it), and I did not see anyone else paying either. Essentially, you get on the bus via any of the three doors available to you (front, middle, and end). Apparently there is a machine that you swipe your card through, but since it was crowded as hell, I didn’t see it, didn’t do it, and never saw anyone else using it.

St. Sava Church

The fun part came when I was waiting for the van to Gradac Gorge to pick me up at the Belgrade Fair Bus Station. This is a bus station that serves a large number of city busses, Serbian intercity busses, as well as busses to other European countries. Essentially, it’s chaotic. Now picture this: people are casually standing around, spread across a wide parking lot, waiting for their bus to come. When the bus comes, there is a mad rush to get in through all doors. Notice that I didn’t say “when the bus stops at the station,” because this doesn’t happen. It’s more like the bus slows down and opens its doors as it continues to move down the road.

Inside St. Sava

And, and, and, since there is a large number of busses utilizing this station, there is often several busses arriving at the stop at once. When this happens, the place gets even more frantic. Because a bus that arrived last, slows down at the end of the station, and people begin to frantically rush to the end of the station. But! As soon as the bus at the beginning of the station departs, all of the busses behind it begin moving forward. Now all the people rushing to the end of the station, have to run along the moving bus and try to get in as it moves up the line. Strangely this whole scenario reminded me of 1980s Russia. Quite homey. Needless to say, I was amused the entire time I waited for the ride.

Gradac River

But now, for the Gradac Gorge. As soon as our group was dropped off at the top of a mountain, you could smell the change in air. It was fresh! When was the last time you smelled fresh air? It has a certain smell to it that us city folk tend to forgot (or never know). Rather refreshing, I should say. After what seemed like an almost vertical hike down a mountain (more like a hill, since it only took 15-20 minutes), we came upon the pristine Celije Monastery for nuns. MESSAGE (screamed in the voice of Damon Waynes from "Don't Be A Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood" -- yep, that was just referenced): The monastery “holds the bones of the numerous anonymous people found in the monastery grounds by nuns when they single-handedly rebuilt the monastery after WWII.” Because the monastery was completely destroyed in WWII and subsequently rebuilt, the structures are rather new. But tucked away between two old mountains among a forest, it offers a striking sight.

Celije Monastery

Until lunch, we hiked along the Gradac River to the river’s source. Along the way, we saw several groups of people camping right along the river, washing their clothes, building fires, letting their donkeys loose (not a joke and meant literally)... We also saw several simple wooden cottages which people use for their summer homes. One was right on top of a mountain and offered stunning views of the surrounding landscape.

House on a mountain at Gradac Gorge

The river’s source was not what I pictured. I imagined it to be a tiny stream from a rock. Instead, it was a gush of water pouring out of the bottom of the mountain. It was incredible. Have you ever drank water from a river’s source? It is the most refreshing and delicious tasting water I have ever had in my life. Take that Fiji!

Source of Gradac River

After seeing “the source”, we stopped for lunch at a shack that cooked food for hikers. Before I get into the food, let me just mentioned that they had an outhouse here with a hole in the floor. Now please venture to guess what the shape of the hole was. Circle? Square? Diamond? No, no, no, these shapes are for novices. We had a triangle. The most unconventional hole to use at an outhouse. I will leave the rest to imagination. 

Cooking lunch

And to wipe that nightmare from memory, let’s talk about the most delicious fish soup and grilled fish I have ever, EVER, had in my life. Not a big fan of fish soup or whole fish, but this was beyond belief. The fish come from the river, naturally, and were literally caught that morning. The fish soup was spicy, full of tomatoes and veggies, and absolute goodness. The grilled fish tasted nothing like the soup, but like grilled heaven accompanied by a cool salad of potatoes and sweet onions. This was literally the best food I had my entire time in Serbia, and I am still salivating every time I think about it.

Fish Soup

Lunch, strangely called California Trout

The rest of the trip was a bit more strenuous, as we spent it crossing the river over and over again. A river that is not one to meander slowly along its course, but choose instead to rush past us as we precariously walked through it. Oh, also, apparently, women’s feet get cold faster than men’s. At least that’s what our guide told me when he was trying to convince me to take a pair of neoprene socks. When I asked if this was a proven fact for all women in the world or just those in the Balkans, a fellow British hiker laughed and said, “Welcome to Serbia.” I didn’t take the socks, and I didn’t regret it. Although the river was pretty cold.

Gradac River

Hiking the river we had lots of chances to stop and eat numerous berries and fruits, including mulberries, wild strawberries, and wild plums (yep, wild plums!). At one point, me and another member of the group took the deeper way through the river just so we can gorge on the sweet, juicy berries. Regardless, everyone made it through safely and no one fell in. Oh, and at the end, there was a cave, which apparently has never been completely explored.  

Final stop

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Week 2

Fountain on Nikole Pašića Square with a view of the Serbian National Assembly

By my second week in Belgrade, I began to note the vast differences in socialization rituals between Serbia and the United States. I also began to realize that my expectations for how I was going to live and what I was going to do were radically different. I don’t know why I had these grand images of life in a country I’ve never been to, or even heard much details about (besides the political and historical of course), or knew anyone who lived there or even been there. But I did. And just like my experience (and the required adjustment) with food, I was not expecting the initial sense of alienation.

Kneza Mihaila Street

Here is what I pictured: I would come to Belgrade and start my internship, and meet new people who I would immediately go out with. The girl I am renting the apartment from knew several people at the organization I was going to work at, and told me that the Belgrade Centre for Security Policy employed young, energetic, bright people. I thought this was awesome, and it added to my illusion of Belgradian life (or my Belgradian life). I pictured lots of happy hours after work, times spend laughing at each others’ jokes in cafes, outings to parks on the weekends, free concerts together at night, etc. etc. etc.

St. Petka Church at Belgrade Fortress

Here is what really happened: I went to work. Everyone IS young, energetic, bright, and amazing. BUT, while we have a great time 9-5, everyone has a life and goes home after work. It also doesn’t help that most live outside of Stari Grad and have a long commute. There is no happy hour culture, it just doesn’t exist. And while there are plenty of groups walking around the city, attending cafes, and having an amazing time, the problem is that it’s groups. This is further exacerbated by the lack of what we think of as “bars”. Most places are cafes, and you don’t really mingle with new people in cafes. Everyone is at a table and enjoying themselves with the group they came there with. Except me, I was the loner at a table quietly shoving meat in my face (the meat that I only ate on the weekends.) 

Belgrade's famous graffiti with Cathedral Church of St. Michael the Archangel in the background

It was hard after work the first 2-3 weeks. My first two weekends I spent talking to waiters (and by talking I mean “Can I please have….?” But in Serbian of course). I had a wonderful time walking about the city and seeing sites, but when it came to eating at restaurants or relaxing at cafes I was on my own. It took a bit to get used to. In the beginning, I found myself looking for cafes or restaurants that were less crowded, so it wouldn’t look as awkward to be the only one eating alone. Often, after wondering around looking for a place that wasn’t too crowded, I would get frustrated (oh those crowds, how can you not be mindful of a lonely girl who just wants to eat?), and just settle for getting something quick and eating it at home (like a tub of ice-cream and crying. Just kidding. No, seriously, that was a joke.)

Ice-cream is literally on every corner and costs less than $1

But again, as time went on I adjusted (and by adjusted I mean stopped caring). I am never going to see these people anyway, right? As the days passed, I began to get outside my comfort zone signing up for group trips and activities just to meet people. And I did. Plenty of people. The amount of ex-pats living in Belgrade is incredible, and they are all in the same boat (or were in the same boat) as me.

The past Saturday, I joined the Belgrade Foreign Visitors Club for an all-day hike to Gradac Gorge. It was some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen in my life. We found the source of the river and drank from it. Ate wild berries and plums from trees, and drank local rakija. (I will have a post for this later. It is just too beautiful to lump all together.)

Lunch at ? (literally the name of the restaurant)

I realized that if I immediately found friends in the city or hung out with people from work, I am not sure if I would have went on this hike, or felt the need to reach out to new groups of people. I might have stayed in my comfort zone and remained reliant on just my immediate surroundings. Now I found a circle of acquaintances which just keeps expanding, but I also learned to appreciate those times alone when you can just sit by yourself in a café and read that book you’ve been meaning to finish.

Cathedral Church of St. Michael the Archangel 

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Week 1

Belgrade Fortress

During my first week in Belgrade it became very clear that we, in America, are very spoiled!  Now, I am sure that those of you who spent their summers in Haiti or Sudan or Kazakhstan are much more in tune with this “realization” than I have become. But this is my experience, and it primarily revolves around food. If anyone is interested in writing about their experience, please let me know. I will be more than happy to post.

To make this post more visually interesting, I mixed in random photos from my first weekend exploring the city.

View towards Novi Beograd, Zemun, and the Statue of Victory

My second day in Belgrade, I realized I could not live off of gyros sold in a small shop by my apartment and went to the nearest supermarket (shown to me by the owner of the apartment I am renting). I don’t know why, but before I came to Belgrade I had grandiose dreams of experimenting with different recipes, becoming a  star chef, and generally continuing to cook the way I do at home in Brooklyn. Although, I did know that I would have to limit myself to stove-top cooked recipes, since all I have is a hot-plate. But hey, there is nothing wrong with a good grilled chicken breast, some ground beef, or pan-fried salmon. If they are mixed together it’s even better (just kidding).

Under a tree. They are there every time I walk by.

I don’t know why this thought did not cross my mind earlier, but I never thought that grocery stores in other countries would have a limited selection of food. (Oh wait, I know why! I live in America, where grocery stores are their own oases of off-season items and gluttony.) I was shell-shocked. I didn’t know what to get or even what to look for in this tiny, cramped, and semi-dark space. I did not recognize anything. I didn’t even know what to start looking for.

Belgrade Fortress

And I was completely freaked out by the meat selection. Besides the small selection of deli-cut salami and sausages/hot-dogs, there were a few packages of unidentified meat. To this day, I don’t know what it is. (Truthfully, I stopped trying to figure it out.) The meat was dark, it had bones, and there was blood and tendons.  Essentially, it looked like it should. But, in America, where everything is presented to us in bright florescent lights, packaged in air-sealed containers, and fully-cleaned, all we have to do is throw it on the grill, in the stove, or on the pan.

Belgrade Fortress

I am spoiled by this, and I am afraid two months will not change it. Don’t get it wrong. I am not scared of touching meat. I pride myself of knowing my way around a chicken breast, or getting my hands into a bowl of ground meat to mix the ingredients for meatballs or hamburger. But this is different. And I realize that it is because I am spoiled. So instead of sucking it up and getting my hands into the bones and tendons of a juicy, fresh chicken, I have resigned myself to being a vegetarian at home and eating meat in restaurants. In fact, below is a traditional dish, ćevapi, from a café I ventured into.

Ćevapi, traditional food of Serbia. Someone said it tastes like hamburgers, but they were British. 

What do they know?

After the first trip to the grocery store, I came home with a package of pasta, eggs, bread, tomatoes, cucumbers, and apples. Looking over my days “catch” I couldn’t help but think “What the hell am I going to do with this?” I settled for eating another gyro that night.

Ružica Church (Rose church) in the Belgrade Fortress

Over the last two weeks, it definitely got much better. I found a fresh market, where I buy plenty of in-season vegetables and make stir-frys, which I rotate eating with potatoes, pasta, or beans. I found that the selection of dairy products is incredible, and the abundance of bakeries keeps me stocked with fresh baked bread. I learned that most people get their meat at butcher shops, although since my fridge is tiny, I won’t be venturing into those. I also found out that huge, “American-style” super-markets exist outside of Stari Grad, but require a car to get to. Two weeks into my trip, I have settled into the routine and have become comfortable in my surroundings. But, I sure do look forward to that nice, thick juicy steak when I get back home.

Pobednik (Statue of Victory) commemorates Serbian victory over Ottoman Empire and Austria-Hungry 

Oh, in case you were wondering about the photos. These are from my first Saturday and Sunday exploring the city. They are of Kalemegdan, the Belgrade Fortress, and the views from these ancient structures, which are right in the middle of the city! While America has spoiled me in terms of food, I am afraid Belgrade will spoil me with its beautiful views. Not sure if the NYC skyline will cut it anymore. 

Portraits of Rome Exibit under Belgrade Fortress

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The Journey Begins...

 

While I have been in Belgrade for almost two weeks now, for the first time I fell like I finally have a grip on the whirlwind that brought me to this beautiful city. So let me start this blog from where it all began...on the plane. 

Flying across the Atlantic, I got the chance to see one of the most beautiful sunsets. A great distraction from my otherwise consistent train of thought: "what the hell are you doing?" Of course, I knew I was going to Serbia to intern at the Belgrade Center for Security Policy for two months. Of course, I understood that this was a great opportunity to travel the world, meet new people, experience new things, improve my resume, make myself more marketable to the international affairs organizations and institutions I would be applying to in 1 year. BUT..."what the hell was I doing?" 

I have an elementary knowledge of Serbian--achieved after 1 year of study. And I know absolutely no one that lives here. I had an iffy idea how to get to the apartment I rented from the airport, and how to get to my internship the next day. So I guess that was a start. Trying to prevent a major panic attack 1000s of miles above land, I concentrated on the lovely dinner courtesy of Delta. For those who can't identify the meat, it is chicken (or attempted to be chicken).

 

One thing I have to say, Delta sure kept us fed. As soon as the plane took off, we received snacks. As I started dozing off (around 9pm), we were served dinner. And right before we landed in Amsterdam (around 1am US time, but 7am local) we were given breakfast. None stop gluttony. 


Amsterdam was lush, green, and foggy...

 

I love that we were able to catch a glimpse of the North Sea as we were approaching the airport. The photo below makes me think the world is flat after all, and if you go too far you will fall off. Amsterdam is at the end of the world.

    

Interesting tidbit about the Amsterdam airport, at least for all the flights I saw going to the Western Balkans (me, me, that's me!). You have to go through a second round of security right at the gate. And at first I thought it was going to be just a show, but no! It's just like the initial security checkpoint to get into the airports. There is a metal detector, you have to remove shoes and belts, take out laptops, dispose of drinks (which were bought at the airport), and let a big Slavic woman pat you down. Although it was in such a small space that while she was patting down the least suspect of characters (ie. little old grandmas), other people just kept walking by despite setting off the metal detectors. Oh, but its the old folks you have to worry about.  

Anyway, on the two hour flight (I repeat 2 hour flight), we also got fed! Take that cross-country flights across America who handout peanut bags. Granted it was sandwiches, and by sandwiches I mean two slices of Wonder bread, with one slice of cheese, one slice of deli cut, and there might have been a tomato. But, take that American airlines! 


Flying into Belgrade Airport was gorgeous. Lush fields, clearly plowed, and full of... perhaps wheat? (I don't claim to be an agriculturalist.) Sunny skies, quaint little villages, Mediterranean rooftops.

 

 

That last picture is not Belgrade by the way. The city is just a tiny bit bigger. 


And, since I am writing this blog, you have by now figured out that I made it safely to my new apartment. Found my internship the next day. Registered with the police. Bought a cell phone. Found food. And managed to more or less survive. So I leave you until next time with this... 

   

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