Belgrade

The National Museum in Belgrade felt like an obvious starting point to my time in the Balkans. Inside you will mostly find the sort of art that doesn’t preoccupy the National or the Guggenheim. But at its centre you get your money’s worth. 10/10 communist aesthetic. Bold political characters and an excessively large roped off area. Beauty and restriction. From a distance, I was pleased, the trip was starting exactly as I hoped it would. When I visited Croatia in 2014, I was naive to the complexity of the region and its history. I was there for the pub crawls and left with only regret. Belgrade was different. I went to museums and listened to history podcasts.

War looms large in Belgrade and no more so than at the Military Museum in Belgrade Fortress. In and amongst the heavy weaponry were calm green spaces that I used to reflect on conflict. Most European capitals now are adorned with Ukrainian flags. Not Belgrade. Some choice graffiti helps you to understand that the picture of anti-Russian sentiment is not completely clear. When I went to collect my bag from the luggage storage room I’d used, I noticed a large duffle sat alone. “3 months” said the owner nonchalantly. That was how long it had been since he last saw the Russian who had placed the bag there, before leaving the city. I departed, reflecting on whether I was missing the chance to finally star in my own Le Carré novel.

It was the buildings for me. That’s what I really liked about Belgrade. The savoury ice cream that came sat atop a pork and onion patty came a solid second (you roll the dice when you try to eat local). Everywhere I walked, the architecture charted the course of the history the city has endured. Not all of the buildings complimented each other, but that’s probably right. It’s not all been plain sailing.

Stefan Nemanja was the Grand Prince of the Serbian Grand Principality from 1166 to 1196 and this is a monument to him. It stands tall outside what I believe was once the main train station in Belgrade. Such was the majesty and beauty of the building, I felt I had to try and look inside. The only open door took me into a room that had regrettably been converted into a toilet, for those that prefer to defecate on the floor. The combination of the intense summer heat, and the sheer scale of the enterprise, choked me to the point of lightheadedness. Luckily the blindness was only temporary.