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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