Belgrade: Big Cities not Quite Clicking

I woke up in Belgrade with a sense of loneliness today. I’m an introvert, so I like and need my solo time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy interactions with people when I’m in the mood. Maybe it was the missed chance of a late-night walk through Belgrade with the cute guy from yesterday’s airport bus ride—or maybe just exhaustion from being on the move. I just wasn’t feeling it today.

I ate an overpriced breakfast downstairs, mostly just to say I’d eaten, then napped the morning away. I tried catching up on blogs or Instagram posts, but the mojo wasn’t there. Sleep seemed useful, but also elusive—coming in broken chunks, interrupted by distressing mini-dreams centred around loss.

Checkout time came, and I left my luggage with reception. I discussed airport options by bus with the receptionist. Given the nearby road closures, all the bus routes were diverting—making it more hassle than it was worth. We agreed that a taxi would be easiest. It didn’t take much convincing, and he booked one for later that afternoon. Now I just had to fill the next 3.5 hours.

With no pins on my Belgrade map, I followed last night’s receptionist’s advice and walked down the main pedestrian street, beyond which was a park, the rivers, and a castle. Along the street, the architecture is a mix of mass-produced postwar Soviet-style buildings and some older, more striking ones that I associate with Russia—despite never having been.

The Hotel Moskva is a striking example of that older style of architecture I’ve only really seen in Soviet spy movies. I found myself wondering what deals and missions may have unfolded within those walls. I assume there’s some truth to that kind of history, but honestly, I have no idea. I came to Serbia far less prepared than usual. Unlike other cities where I’ve read or researched in advance, I feel like I’m wandering blind through Belgrade. I’m looking at buildings, observing life, but not really understanding how the city became what it is today.

The main pedestrian street feels like a copy-paste of so many others around the world—Zara, H&M, designer brands, McDonald’s, and then a few local stores sprinkled between the bars and restaurants full of diners. It doesn’t feel unique. I could be anywhere. Without a sense of purpose, I feel like I’m walking just to walk—not really seeing anything that makes Belgrade *Belgrade*, because I don’t even know what I’m meant to be looking for.

I often feel this way in big cities—like the identity that once gave them character has been smoothed over. That’s why I’ve started favouring smaller places. Sure, there are still global influences, but smaller towns and cities usually hold onto something that makes them feel distinct. Plus, they're easier to navigate. Everything’s closer. Walkable.

Leaving the pedestrian street behind, I enter a park that borders the river. I’d been told there was a castle in the park and that it was free, so I headed in that general direction. After weaving through the souvenir stalls at the entrance, the fortress walls appeared.

Built at the confluence of the Danube and Sava Rivers, the fortress walls surround the complex with a deep dry moat. I follow the river along until I find an open gate—right at the spot where I assume they would have monitored river traffic back when it was built. Standing tall on a column is a copper statue of a man—unflattering in the manhood department, but with a surprisingly peachy bum. His name is Pobednik (The Victor), a symbol of Belgrade that commemorates Serbia’s victories in the Balkan Wars and World War I.

Since the castle is free, there isn’t much guidance on where to go or what there is to see—just a few signs here and there. It mostly feels like a park that just happens to have fortress walls and the occasional tower or building inside. In what I assume is the centre is a military museum—not really my thing. Still, I enjoy watching a few guys posing with the missiles and tanks in the forecourt between two inner walls. A kind of convergence of old and new warfare. I take a quick photo too—it seems to be the thing to do.

Through another inner wall—or maybe I’ve looped back to the outer one again—I come across a dinosaur world. Odd, but okay. I wasn’t expecting to see dinosaurs today. I don’t pay for entry since I can see enough through the fence, and I think it’s mostly for kids anyway. Just beyond that final wall, there’s a children’s playground and some pickleball courts filling in the moat area on this side.

It was a nice walk, but I just wasn’t feeling it. That kind of aimless exploring where you hope to stumble on something interesting, but nothing quite lands. I decide it’s time for lunch—maybe food will help lift my energy and give me a chance to look for something that might spark my interest for the rest of the afternoon. Lunch is average: a beef tortilla wrap with some chips. But I use the time to find a museum and a gallery to fill in the hours.Читать далее