Belgrade

I’m just over two weeks into this trip and have spent the last few days in Belgrade, Serbia. Like Sofia, it doesn’t have that much to do. But, also like Sofia, the fun is largely dictated by the company. And this group is a fun one.

The history of Serbia is long and unhappy. They have been the victims of expanding armies dating back as far as the Romans. Subsequent centuries saw this city under attack by the Huns, the Ottomans, the Austro-Hungarians, the Germans, the Soviets, and eventually the UN. The building across the street from us shows the scars left by street fighting in World War II. Bullet holes from some automatic weapon trace a line from the siding to the window. And two blocks away we can see the result of a laser-guided munition placed squarely on the top of a goverment building.

The city itself doesn’t offer very much to tourists. There are a couple of small museums (I’ll be seeing one today) and an ancient fort in the old city center. This fort dates back two millenia and has hosted half a dozen nations’ armies. It overlooks the city and provides an excellent view of the surrounding area. From that vantage point one can see the confluence of the Sava and the Danube and the urban sprawl to the horizon. This is a poor country and the buildings reflect it. But, like all the other poor countries in Eastern Europe, backpackers have flocked here to party with the locals that can afford it.

My travelling companions are Aussies Greg and Danny, Englishman Ed, and American/Ecuadorian Hoku. We’ve had a few others join us, as it seems that all of the people in this hostel came to party. The clubs are packed and within 30 minutes of our first club we had met some local ladies that were willing to show us a good time. Of course, it was two more hours until we found out they had boyfriends. Grr….

Backpackers are funny people. Of the group I’m currently hanging with, one has got some sorty of funky, cruddy eye infection, one’s got the clap, another has an upper-respitory infection that sends him into fits of coughing, two have vomited in the last couple of days and all of us have sore feet and backs. But none of these ailments have even slowed down the midnight-to-four drinking schedule that the Serbians set.

Last night I purchased a night train ticket to Ljubljana, which, unlike Belgrade, has a happier, richer heritage that translates into pleasant strolls for an ambitious photographer. I’ve generally be resistant to taking day trips to places of only natural beauty because, hey, we have lakes in the states, too. But, I’ve spent so much time in cities that I may make an exception in Slovenia and see some of the countryside.