I don’t have a drop of Serbian blood in me but, oh boy, do I love this country.
I’ll prefix this post by letting you in on a little secret, my fiancé is half Serbian, and that half is fire and brimstone. It’s what gives her such a wholesome passion for life that I can’t imagine living without. So how could we not start our three-month trip in the beating heart of the Balkans? It was always going to be Serbia.
Somewhere along the line, before our trip, she connected with both branches of her Serbian family over Facebook, one in Belgrade, and the second, (overwhelmingly large) family in Niš. It was done. We arranged our flights to go through Dubai and onto Belgrade direct. The date was set.
When we told people about our first destination we received a fair amount of strange head nods and a few off-beat comments like, “Well, that’s an interesting choice…are you going to Croatia?” Or, “Oh wow, why Serbia? Isn’t it dangerous?” We found that, if you say you’re traveling to Serbia, a litany of misconceptions are often, and unfairly thrown up. I was guilty of going into our first trip with my western goggles squarely fastened, and at the beginning at least, I did far more talking than I did listening. For anyone not living in the “west”, it must sound very strange, but in many respects, we’re conditioned to think of places in a predetermined manner depending on the political situation when the reality on the ground can be very different.
There is a sense of freedom in Serbia which might not be obvious from a distance. Serbs are pious and sticklers for tradition, but they live life-like nowhere I have seen. Hard times (and there have been many) are defiantly met with a rousing toast of živeli! (cheers!) Or dispelled with a hearty chorus of folk music that every single Serb (literally!) knows verbatim, no matter how obscure the song might be. There’s a profound understanding of their history through song and its power cannot be understated, especially when examining the strong bond between their countrymen. I sensed a thick unity, which in many ways reminds me of the renowned Russian stubbornness. A siege mentality exists, going back long before the brutal Ottoman occupation. It has kept the people strong and alert without sacrificing their hearty acceptance and warmth of outsiders.
Serbia, as a country has it all. Mountains, plains, springs, rivers, lakes, forests, festivals, vibrant cities, and ancient ruins. UNESCO world heritage sites dot the countryside and Serbia is the birthplace of historical giants such as the Roman Emperor Constantine, and the brilliant, Nikola Tesla. It is not just a beautiful country. They have fresh clean water (on tap) and some of the best organic produce anywhere in Europe. Their watermelons and tomatoes are outrageously delicious and I wager you won’t find a better meat grill anywhere in the world.
Serbs love to look good, really good. They love gigantic meat platters, thrilling company, and serious laughter. Now, I want to make this very clear, Serbs are funnier than most humans, it is a proven fact (muscle memory of my belly laughter). I found Serbian humour to be almost indistinguishable from the dry Aussie larrikin, and there are two jokers in particular who I believe to be the funniest two men on this planet. Above all, Serbs seek out a good time, no matter if it’s blisteringly hot or in the dark hours of winter. Serbia is special, and I think they know it. They sit back smugly as if to say Europe doesn’t know what it is missing and we like it that way. Serbia likes to buck the trend. This is a place where Putin is a rock star, a shot of rakija cures all sickness, and a gust of wind traveling from one side of a moving car to the other is said to kill. (Oh, and never ever say you don’t like Novak Djokovic)
Our trip to Serbia affected us in a profound way. I returned home with brothers and sisters, lifetime friends that I would drop everything to see again. We were shown how to drink, how to eat, how to party, and importantly how to live. I will never lose my affection for Serbia, or its people, which is why we return every two-years.
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