First Glimpse of Belgrade

The first landmark that greeted us when we arrived in Belgrade was the imposing Church of St. Sava. This grand structure sits on the Vracar Plateau and is dedicated to St. Sava, the founder of the Serbian Orthodox Church and an important figure in medieval Serbia. In fact, the church is said to be built upon the grounds where St. Sava was buried.

Serbia is a predominantly Orthodox country, and Serbians are known to be religious. Seeing the iconic domes of their churches in every village that we passed, including tiny ones built for a short prayer stop for passersby, is a testament to this.

Our Tour Director, who is a Serbian, reiterated that the distinct ethnic groups in the former Yugoslav republic also follow distinct religions – Serbs are predominantly Orthodox Christians, Croats are predominantly Catholic, and Bosniaks are predominantly Muslims.

The construction of the St. Sava Church sparked a debate in interwar Yugoslavia in 1932, when the architects were chosen after two unsuccessful competitions from 1926-1927. The disagreements revolved around the size, design, and symbolic national function of the church, as it was intended to be the centre of Orthodoxy in then-Yugoslavia.

In the end, the final design departed from the competition guidelines and was built to replicate the dimensions and architecture of the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. He reminded us that prior to being the museum that it is today, the Hagia Sophia was originally an Orthodox church that was turned into a mosque by the Ottomans.

We could only admire its exterior – its large central dome supported on four pendentives and buttressed on each side by a lower semi-dome over an apse, the grandiose bell tower, and the gold-plated crosses on its green domes – since we did not get the chance to see its interior. Too bad, because this is supposed to be the largest Orthodox place of worship in the entire Balkan peninsula and one of the largest in the world.

Next, we drove around this huge roundabout. Our Tour Director said that it was the latest tourist attraction in Belgrade (two years old at the time of my visit). The roundabout is called Slavija, one of the busiest intersections in the city and one of the most challenging roads, even for the most experienced local drivers.

In 2017, Belgrade authorities erected a state-of-the-art water fountain spanning 32 metres in diameter and boasting of 350 water jets. And the best thing about this is – it’s a “music and light” fountain, akin to the dancing fountains of Las Vegas! They even had heating installed so that it could continue to function in the winter. Apparently, it costed the city a whopping 1.8 million euros and is dubbed as the largest musical fountain in all of southeast Europe. Too bad, it was in the middle of the day. We did not have the privilege of seeing the colourful sprays of water as they move to the rhythm of the music.

Our humorous Tour Director, being a Serbian himself, couldn’t help but share the sentiments of some of his countrymen. He said that this was a grandiose tourist attraction alright, but it’s also a big joke, in his humble opinion. First, he said we are not missing anything by not seeing the “music and light” show because it is like some cheap spectacle featuring a crashed UFO sending SOS signals to aliens in outer space. On some nights, when it is playing modern music, it looks like the backdrop of the drunken version of a EuroVision rave party. Second, who, in his right mind will install a show like this in the middle of the most dangerous roundabout in the city? Without the fountain, it is already the site of many traffic accidents and driver confrontations. And they wanted to add children and tourists in the mix? What were they thinking? Third and most important of all, why was it so easy for the city to splurge on a laughable tourist attraction like this when citizens wait for months to get money for their medical expenses or their children’s education?

To make things light, he said it could have its uses. It could be Serbia’s most formidable entry to next year’s EuroVision competition. Just add a singing magician and maybe they’d bring home the top prize this time. Or it could be a useful stop for irate bus drivers and passengers, and instead of arguing, they could just cool off and freshen-up, since most city buses are not air conditioned anyway. Or it could be the answer to the rising temperatures in the summer brought upon by climate change. The water sprays will improve the city’s air quality. One of my tour mates joked that if anyone comes in late the following morning and we collect enough “tardiness fee,” we should “make a paRRRteee” here, instead of on the bus.

As we approached the city centre, I started to notice the two sides of Belgrade, and maybe even of Serbia as a whole. It is both old and new, pretty and gritty, scarred but healed.

In the residential areas where we skirted for a bit as our bus driver looked for a suitable place to drop us off, I saw abandoned buildings and dilapidated houses with bullet holes. I was reminded that only a couple of decades ago, this was a war zone.

If you know its history, you will realize that it had always been a hotspot for conflict since the beginning of its settlement, mainly because of its strategic location – at the confluence of the Sava and the Danube Rivers, practically the intersection of Western and Oriental Europe. It was attacked by Attila the Hun, conquered by the Ottomans, and was in the middle of the tug-of-war between the Ottoman and the Austro-Hungarian Empires.

Belgrade was the capital of the former Yugoslavia, from its inception as a kingdom until the Socialist era after the Second World War. And it was the “last man standing” after the bloodbath of the Yugoslav Wars. For several years, Serbia was ostracized by the international community. At the same time, they struggled under the repression of Slobodan Milosevic’s regime until his downfall.

Our Tour Director echoed my sentiments when he announced that the present city of Belgrade has indeed two sides – New Belgrade and Old Belgrade. New Belgrade was constructed during the Socialist era, which is pretty evident by the plain architecture and the grid blocks of the neighbourhood that still retains its Soviet feel.

Old Belgrade, on the other hand, has more of an Old Town feel. In the olden days, it used to be called Zemun and considered a separate city. While Belgrade proper was under Ottoman rule that time, Zemun was an Austro-Hungarian outpost. Now, it is officially part of the amalgamated city of Belgrade, making the current one seem like one city with a split personality. Compared to other European cities, one may not consider Belgrade as “beautiful” per se, but in my opinion, it is a wounded city that is slowly getting back to its feet.

Politics and war seem to be a touchy subject for our Tour Director, as with most nationalistic Serbians. I could tell from the way he described his city, his country, and his people, that he has an interesting personal story to tell. But since this was technically our first day of tour with him, I had guessed that his story would gradually unfold as we took our journey around the Balkans. For now, the first order upon our arrival was lunch. He told us that he was taking us to a nice restaurant that served the best traditional Serbian fare in the city.