Belgrade is a city of contrasts. So much history flows through the streets and buildings, and the stamp of years of communist rule remains (ugly, unkempt grey constructions), but the energy of the people walking freely through the streets with enthusiasm is infectious. The day was grey, with the threat of rain, and later in the day several hours of intense rain, and the buildings were grey, but the cafes and the restaurants and the stores were full of colour.
We all slept poorly and woke up tired (the beds were far too hard at in our hotel), and started the day late, after using the lobby to make phone calls and catch up on our lives at home. I am impressed with the availability of wifi here; generally every coffee shop and restaurant had wifi available, often without a password necessary, so one can be connected all day, which is as it should be. Our room, unfortunately, must be too far to connect easily.
We were staying directly in the centre of the old city, Stari Grad. Our first destination was Terazjie Square, where my father lived during his time in Belgrade. He was uncertain of the exact address. We had passed by the Hotel Moskva last night, but today we walked up and down the street again, imagining that it looked much different when my father was here, with streetcars, mostly baroque and art nouveau buildings, but perhaps just as many people on the streets. My father took streetcars to get to his university classes and the university cafeteria.
We then found our way to Republic Square with the National Museum covered by scaffolding and under construction and not available for viewing for who knows how long, and the National Theatre, which was closed for the season, and not to open until October 1. A grand statue of Mihailo Obrenovic, hailed as the liberator of the Serbs from the Turks, lords over the square, but there are so many unattractive buildings competing for attention, I had to start just focussing on one thing at a time, trying not to be too distracted. We headed to Students' Square, which was originally a Turkish graveyard. My father had attended the University of Belgrade Faculty of Law, in 1941, and we thought that perhaps he had taken classes in a light coloured Gothic/Roman/Renaissance style building with red ornamentation. Over the years, the university has spread out over the city with different faculties in different locations. This building housed the Rector's and administrative offices and the department of philosophy. We were told that the Faculty of Law was in another building on Alexander Street, and no one could tell us if the Faculty of Law had originally been in this building. We decided to visit the Faculty of Law and find out more. Later, when we asked our father, he was quite sure he had taken classes at the new Faculty of Law building.
But first, we visited the mausoleum of Sheik Mustapha nearby, one of the rare residua of Turkish rule. It once stood in the courtyard of a dervish monastery that has disappeared. There is apparently a mosque nearby, but we did not see it, as we were ready for breakfast, and Tara had found an interesting 'concept' restaurant (selling clothes, shoes, books, knick knacks, much like Urban Outfitters, but more upscale) called 'The Supermarket'. Breakfast was healthy, with smoothies and muesli and yoghurt and passable coffee.
The Ethnographic Museum caught our eye, and we spent an hour or so admiring the costumes of the different ethnic groups who had lived in Yugoslavia. The museum was erected before Yugoslavia broke up, so all parts of the country were represented. It was remarkable how much of an influence the Turks had, exemplified by the materials and styles and the use of kilim items of clothing. We did not find Donauswabian attire, but we did find a typical Vojvodina house, that reminded me of the homes in Brestowac.
Kalemegdan Fortress and Park were nearby. My father had recommended that we visit this massive complex on the hill looking over the confluence of the Sava and Danube rivers and further across the plains in all directions. The view to the rivers and 'New Belgrade' is spectacular. The park is massive, covering a total of 30 hectares. The Celts built here, and later the Romans, Serbian despots in medieval times, the Turks and the Hapsburgs. The fortress is remarkably well preserved, with gates after gates, walls all around, churches (the orthodox Rose Church of Our Lady has three chandeliers made of swords, bullets and other military objects), chapels, a military museum, a zoo, art galleries, monuments, trees, fountains and more museums. 'Kale' means 'field' in Turkish and megdan means 'battle', but the Turks also called the site 'Fitchir-bayir' which means 'hill for meditating'. I imagine my father would come here to sit and read the paper, or a book and look out in all directions.
We scrambled around the fortress and park looking for specific gates, statues and monuments. Above the Sava River looking out toward 'New Belgrade' stands the 'Messenger of Victory' high above on a column. Apparently, he was supposed to be erected in the city centre as a celebration of Serbian victory, but people were uncomfortable with the statue's full frontal nudity, and so he looks away from the fortress in all his splendour. I learned that the French were instrumental in aiding the Serbians establish their country after the First World War, having held all the Serbian debt at the time, and therefore there is a 'Monument of Gratitude to France' in another part of the park. Many more busts and statues are dotted between the massive trees all over the park, including one of the three surviving Turkish religious monuments, a tomb of 'Damad-Ali Pasa', and entertained us during our walk.
Serbian food is simple, ingredients are fresh and basic, and flavours are subtle. Tara struggles, because she does not eat meat, but we managed to order roasted peppers, salad, grilled vegetables and stuffed cabbage, so a meal of sorts came together in a restaurant immediately next to the park.
Our next destination was the Faculty of Law, a twenty minute hike away, passing grand neoclassical, baroque, art nouveau, but mostly grey and hideous buildings. The parliament building had huge statues of men in awkward positions with horses. We were delighted to pass many green leafy parks as well, a relief from the grey sky and the grey buildings. The building we were looking for looked more recent than 1941, but it was in fact built from 1937 to 1941, and was to open in April 1941, but by then the war was happening and it was occupied by German troops. We were able to learn about the history of the building, which was well documented in a small museum in the basement. We had asked the security guards whether they knew if the building had been used for the law faculty in 1941, and encountered a young man, who led us to the museum and tried to answer our questions in his halting English. His professor apparently knew of a book about the building, and we met with him briefly and he promised to mail the book to me after I gave him my address. Significant was that he had studied at the Sorbonne and spoke excellent French and English. He had to go to a meeting, but insisted we go to his office to talk to a woman named Milka, who was meeting with him about a book she was writing. The young man joined us, as did another student. We were hoping to speak with the professor, Branko Rakic, who was a law professor but was teaching a course on European Integration, but he did not return to his office in the two hour discussion we had with the young Serbians. The fellow was 25, in his third year of law school, and had many more years of school and apprenticeship and exams to finally become a lawyer. Milka was an author, and was educated in physical education, theatre, and technical product management and was a professor in three universities and had two books written and translated into English and Italian. She was from Novi Sad originally and planned to travel there tomorrow to go to the EXIT festival, and offered to get us tickets. We never did get the name of the second woman who chain smoked in a corner.
Milka gave us some tips about traveling to Novi Sad, but her English was limited and mostly she asked the young man to translate for her. She promised to send us copies of her books, one of which or three of which were about women Olympic athletes. More interesting was the discussion with the young man, who did not give us his email and gave his name once, and unfortunately it did not register with me. Very gradually, as we asked questions about being Serbian and living in Belgrade, and also about thoughts about joining the EU, our young man became more and more animated. He told us that the population was divided, with 50 % wanting to join the EU and 50 % not wanting to. He described the origins of the 1999 war. According to him, when Tito was in power, the Croats, Bosnians and Serbs all lived peacefully together. He felt they were all the same people, all Slavs, and therefore had everything in common with the Russians. When Tito was in power, the country received help financially and otherwise from both the Russians and the West, both trying to exert influence. With the death of Tito and later, the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Russian hegemony, the West stopped investing in Yugoslavia, and the country's economy deteriorated. The young man felt that poverty and loss led to enhanced differences between the Catholic Croats, the Muslim Bosnians and the Orthodox Serbs, who began fighting amongst each other. The young man felt that the Catholics had converted Serbs, and the Orthodox Church had told the converted Serbs that they could no longer be Serbs, so they became Croats. When the Turks converted the Serbs to Islam, the Orthodox Church once again said they could no longer be Serb, so the Muslims became Bosnians. The Croats and Bosnians were all Serbs, who were all Slovenes, or Slavs, as were Poles and Russians and Rumanians, and Bulgarians etc. The young man felt that the war was essentially created by the West, which aimed to 'colonize' the broken up parts of Yugoslavia, and eliminate the influence of the Russians.
We listened politely, and when we returned to the hotel watched a film by a young Serb Canadian, who presented a very similar story, blaming the west for essentially creating conditions that ultimately made war inevitable. This was an entirely different perspective for me, and perhaps reflects the views of many Serbians. I imagine that this is what this young man has been brought up to believe, and there are parts of his story that ring true. We believe our stories, we are our stories, this man was fervent about his beliefs.
Tara, who perhaps was not as informed about the wars between the Bosnians, Croats and Serbs, was most disturbed about the young man's statement about his aspirations; he wanted to finish his law degree, become a lawyer, find a wife who will stand by him and support him, and certainly not someone who would work and be as independent as we three women were. He was surprised our husbands allowed us to travel without them. The two Serbian women, on the other hand seemed delighted with our independence and appeared to aspire to a more self determined life than the wishes of the young man.
It was a very interesting encounter, and merited much further discussion as we tried different Serbian desserts at a very old patisserie down the road from the law school. Zito is a wheat concoction with nuts and raisins and is served with a pile of whipped cream. We also tried a fried dough like pastry soaked in sugary syrup and a wonderful nut crescent cookie. That was our dinner, which gave us enough energy to run through the pouring rain to our hotel room to watch the film the young man recommended, which was so contrary to anything I had ever heard in the past about the war, and thus will have to read and research much more. Most significant about the young man's story was his feeling that the Serbs had been unfairly demonized, that they did not deserve the reputation they have earned.
We all slept poorly and woke up tired (the beds were far too hard at in our hotel), and started the day late, after using the lobby to make phone calls and catch up on our lives at home. I am impressed with the availability of wifi here; generally every coffee shop and restaurant had wifi available, often without a password necessary, so one can be connected all day, which is as it should be. Our room, unfortunately, must be too far to connect easily.
We were staying directly in the centre of the old city, Stari Grad. Our first destination was Terazjie Square, where my father lived during his time in Belgrade. He was uncertain of the exact address. We had passed by the Hotel Moskva last night, but today we walked up and down the street again, imagining that it looked much different when my father was here, with streetcars, mostly baroque and art nouveau buildings, but perhaps just as many people on the streets. My father took streetcars to get to his university classes and the university cafeteria.
We then found our way to Republic Square with the National Museum covered by scaffolding and under construction and not available for viewing for who knows how long, and the National Theatre, which was closed for the season, and not to open until October 1. A grand statue of Mihailo Obrenovic, hailed as the liberator of the Serbs from the Turks, lords over the square, but there are so many unattractive buildings competing for attention, I had to start just focussing on one thing at a time, trying not to be too distracted. We headed to Students' Square, which was originally a Turkish graveyard. My father had attended the University of Belgrade Faculty of Law, in 1941, and we thought that perhaps he had taken classes in a light coloured Gothic/Roman/Renaissance style building with red ornamentation. Over the years, the university has spread out over the city with different faculties in different locations. This building housed the Rector's and administrative offices and the department of philosophy. We were told that the Faculty of Law was in another building on Alexander Street, and no one could tell us if the Faculty of Law had originally been in this building. We decided to visit the Faculty of Law and find out more. Later, when we asked our father, he was quite sure he had taken classes at the new Faculty of Law building.
But first, we visited the mausoleum of Sheik Mustapha nearby, one of the rare residua of Turkish rule. It once stood in the courtyard of a dervish monastery that has disappeared. There is apparently a mosque nearby, but we did not see it, as we were ready for breakfast, and Tara had found an interesting 'concept' restaurant (selling clothes, shoes, books, knick knacks, much like Urban Outfitters, but more upscale) called 'The Supermarket'. Breakfast was healthy, with smoothies and muesli and yoghurt and passable coffee.
The Ethnographic Museum caught our eye, and we spent an hour or so admiring the costumes of the different ethnic groups who had lived in Yugoslavia. The museum was erected before Yugoslavia broke up, so all parts of the country were represented. It was remarkable how much of an influence the Turks had, exemplified by the materials and styles and the use of kilim items of clothing. We did not find Donauswabian attire, but we did find a typical Vojvodina house, that reminded me of the homes in Brestowac.
Kalemegdan Fortress and Park were nearby. My father had recommended that we visit this massive complex on the hill looking over the confluence of the Sava and Danube rivers and further across the plains in all directions. The view to the rivers and 'New Belgrade' is spectacular. The park is massive, covering a total of 30 hectares. The Celts built here, and later the Romans, Serbian despots in medieval times, the Turks and the Hapsburgs. The fortress is remarkably well preserved, with gates after gates, walls all around, churches (the orthodox Rose Church of Our Lady has three chandeliers made of swords, bullets and other military objects), chapels, a military museum, a zoo, art galleries, monuments, trees, fountains and more museums. 'Kale' means 'field' in Turkish and megdan means 'battle', but the Turks also called the site 'Fitchir-bayir' which means 'hill for meditating'. I imagine my father would come here to sit and read the paper, or a book and look out in all directions.
We scrambled around the fortress and park looking for specific gates, statues and monuments. Above the Sava River looking out toward 'New Belgrade' stands the 'Messenger of Victory' high above on a column. Apparently, he was supposed to be erected in the city centre as a celebration of Serbian victory, but people were uncomfortable with the statue's full frontal nudity, and so he looks away from the fortress in all his splendour. I learned that the French were instrumental in aiding the Serbians establish their country after the First World War, having held all the Serbian debt at the time, and therefore there is a 'Monument of Gratitude to France' in another part of the park. Many more busts and statues are dotted between the massive trees all over the park, including one of the three surviving Turkish religious monuments, a tomb of 'Damad-Ali Pasa', and entertained us during our walk.
Serbian food is simple, ingredients are fresh and basic, and flavours are subtle. Tara struggles, because she does not eat meat, but we managed to order roasted peppers, salad, grilled vegetables and stuffed cabbage, so a meal of sorts came together in a restaurant immediately next to the park.
Our next destination was the Faculty of Law, a twenty minute hike away, passing grand neoclassical, baroque, art nouveau, but mostly grey and hideous buildings. The parliament building had huge statues of men in awkward positions with horses. We were delighted to pass many green leafy parks as well, a relief from the grey sky and the grey buildings. The building we were looking for looked more recent than 1941, but it was in fact built from 1937 to 1941, and was to open in April 1941, but by then the war was happening and it was occupied by German troops. We were able to learn about the history of the building, which was well documented in a small museum in the basement. We had asked the security guards whether they knew if the building had been used for the law faculty in 1941, and encountered a young man, who led us to the museum and tried to answer our questions in his halting English. His professor apparently knew of a book about the building, and we met with him briefly and he promised to mail the book to me after I gave him my address. Significant was that he had studied at the Sorbonne and spoke excellent French and English. He had to go to a meeting, but insisted we go to his office to talk to a woman named Milka, who was meeting with him about a book she was writing. The young man joined us, as did another student. We were hoping to speak with the professor, Branko Rakic, who was a law professor but was teaching a course on European Integration, but he did not return to his office in the two hour discussion we had with the young Serbians. The fellow was 25, in his third year of law school, and had many more years of school and apprenticeship and exams to finally become a lawyer. Milka was an author, and was educated in physical education, theatre, and technical product management and was a professor in three universities and had two books written and translated into English and Italian. She was from Novi Sad originally and planned to travel there tomorrow to go to the EXIT festival, and offered to get us tickets. We never did get the name of the second woman who chain smoked in a corner.
Milka gave us some tips about traveling to Novi Sad, but her English was limited and mostly she asked the young man to translate for her. She promised to send us copies of her books, one of which or three of which were about women Olympic athletes. More interesting was the discussion with the young man, who did not give us his email and gave his name once, and unfortunately it did not register with me. Very gradually, as we asked questions about being Serbian and living in Belgrade, and also about thoughts about joining the EU, our young man became more and more animated. He told us that the population was divided, with 50 % wanting to join the EU and 50 % not wanting to. He described the origins of the 1999 war. According to him, when Tito was in power, the Croats, Bosnians and Serbs all lived peacefully together. He felt they were all the same people, all Slavs, and therefore had everything in common with the Russians. When Tito was in power, the country received help financially and otherwise from both the Russians and the West, both trying to exert influence. With the death of Tito and later, the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Russian hegemony, the West stopped investing in Yugoslavia, and the country's economy deteriorated. The young man felt that poverty and loss led to enhanced differences between the Catholic Croats, the Muslim Bosnians and the Orthodox Serbs, who began fighting amongst each other. The young man felt that the Catholics had converted Serbs, and the Orthodox Church had told the converted Serbs that they could no longer be Serbs, so they became Croats. When the Turks converted the Serbs to Islam, the Orthodox Church once again said they could no longer be Serb, so the Muslims became Bosnians. The Croats and Bosnians were all Serbs, who were all Slovenes, or Slavs, as were Poles and Russians and Rumanians, and Bulgarians etc. The young man felt that the war was essentially created by the West, which aimed to 'colonize' the broken up parts of Yugoslavia, and eliminate the influence of the Russians.
We listened politely, and when we returned to the hotel watched a film by a young Serb Canadian, who presented a very similar story, blaming the west for essentially creating conditions that ultimately made war inevitable. This was an entirely different perspective for me, and perhaps reflects the views of many Serbians. I imagine that this is what this young man has been brought up to believe, and there are parts of his story that ring true. We believe our stories, we are our stories, this man was fervent about his beliefs.
Tara, who perhaps was not as informed about the wars between the Bosnians, Croats and Serbs, was most disturbed about the young man's statement about his aspirations; he wanted to finish his law degree, become a lawyer, find a wife who will stand by him and support him, and certainly not someone who would work and be as independent as we three women were. He was surprised our husbands allowed us to travel without them. The two Serbian women, on the other hand seemed delighted with our independence and appeared to aspire to a more self determined life than the wishes of the young man.
It was a very interesting encounter, and merited much further discussion as we tried different Serbian desserts at a very old patisserie down the road from the law school. Zito is a wheat concoction with nuts and raisins and is served with a pile of whipped cream. We also tried a fried dough like pastry soaked in sugary syrup and a wonderful nut crescent cookie. That was our dinner, which gave us enough energy to run through the pouring rain to our hotel room to watch the film the young man recommended, which was so contrary to anything I had ever heard in the past about the war, and thus will have to read and research much more. Most significant about the young man's story was his feeling that the Serbs had been unfairly demonized, that they did not deserve the reputation they have earned.
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