Belgrade

July 1, 2009

I arrived in Belgrade at 6 a.m. on Monday. This was the first thing that I saw:

Destruction from 1999 Bombing campaign

I had never really planned on coming to Belgrade. But after bouncing around the Balkans for the past two weeks, after hearing tales of war, nationalism, and oppression on the part of the Serbs, my curiosity was invoked. As was my desire for the other side of the story.

So I took a two-day detour into the capital of the former Yugoslavia. And, well, I’m glad that I did. It was definitely not the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited (any urban environment would have a tough time topping Kotor). It was not the most interesting place I’ve ever visited – although the dogged determination to preserve 1999′s destruction and the desperate clinging to the past in the Museum of Yugoslav History (where I learned the interesting historical interpretation of Serbia gaining independence from Montenegro) did spark a long chain of thought.

But the Balkan narrative in my mind was lacking one important voice, and that was not just the voice of the Serb politicians. It was also the voice of Marija, a friend of Alonit, who took me out for coffee, showed me the cool and quaint cobblestoned corners of the city, and shared with me the joy and pleasure that can be a summer evening in that city.

I think, at the end of the day, Belgrade is a lot like Moscow. It feels big and fast, and a lot of it is concrete. Because I don’t know this city, I am more likely to be suspicious of it than to be open to it. But if I were to spend a significant amount of time there, I’d probably come to love it, and hate it, the same way I do my Russki home.