Who wants to marry a Jagodinci? Winning hearts (and 3,000 Euros) in Serbia
My kuma brought about 10 weeks’ worth of gossip magazines, so I could catch up on all the “important” news back home. America has a serious addition to reality shows/contests about dating. It all started with “Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?” and moved on to “Temptation Island,” “The Bachelor,” and my favorite, “Flavor of Love.” But little did my kuma know that Serbia has its own dating contest, right in the southeast municipality of Jagodina.
According to a Tanjug article that muz forwarded (and I can’t find online), Mayor of Jagodina Dragan Markovic “Palma” is recruiting 600 local women over 38 years old to go to an unnamed seaside resort to mingle with some of Jagodina’s 700 bachelors until September. If a couple with one partner over 38 years old gets married, they will receive 3,000 Euros.
Mayor Palma is noted for his efforts to increase the local birth rate. According to the article, this is “part of [his] action of fighting the white plague carried out by Jagodina.” I have no idea what the white plague is, but it doesn’t sound very good.
I don’t know much about Jagodina except that their flag is pretty adorable,
and that the name stems from the word strawberry. (It seems I can’t escape strawberries these days.) So if you’re over 38, Serbian, and looking for that special someone (or just a beach vacation), take a trip to Jagodina. And bring a camera: Hello! Serbia needs new material too…
Church on Sunday: The Heartbeat of Sveti Naum, Macedonia
image source: viedosonar.com
If Family Feud featured a “Most important Macedonians” category (and I’m SURE they would), Sveti Naum would be in the top 6 answers. He and his contemporary, the better-known Saint Klementi, founded the country’s first important literary school and translated Greek Orthodox texts into the slavic language. Sveti Naum may not be as famous as Macedonian Michael Stoyanov (oldest brother on TV’s Blossom) but he’s pretty close.
remember him?
In 900, Sveti Naum built a monastery overlooking Lake Ohrid and the impossibly clear River Drin. The monastery became known as a treatment center for the mentally ill and a peaceful place for pilgrimages. It’s still quite peaceful, but now the monastic rooms for rent have turned into an upscale hotel, the river features waterside cafes, and peacocks roam the grounds. We were there to see a bit of history-and let’s face, it, peacocks. They’re pretty cool, for birds. Macedonians seem to think so too since they’re on the 10-denar note.
We wanted to see the real thing, so we made the pleasant 40 minute drive from the town of Ohrid. Sveti Naum can also be reached by boat, which might be more picturesque. When we parked by the car entrance, we met a dubious “parking attendant” and walked through a gauntlet of souvenir kiosks before reaching the outer grounds of the monastery. It was a disconcerting welcome to an ancient place of worship. Yet the sight of Sveti Naum makes it all worth it.
The main church is quite small. Additional chambers were added over centuries, making it feel like a tiny labyrinth. The abbot was concluding a service when I arrived. I didn’t know if I could walk in or not, so I stood by the entrance to peer at his white and gold robes, listen to his chanting, and inhale the incense fumes drifting out of the church.
Image source here
Taking photos is forbidden. I was alone in the church for a short period of time but decided it was better to simply enjoy the experience than to furtively snap pictures. (Maybe I’m getting soft.) The faded, dark frescoes have a spiritual quality that would have been hard to capture anyway. Many of the saints depicted were now blind, as their eyes were scratched out by the faithful who believed that the plaster could be used in potions to improve eyesight.
Sveti Naum is buried here, and his remains are in an antechamber filled with icons. It’s said that if you press your ear to his coffin, you can hear the muffled sounds of his still-thumping heart. The only sound I could hear was the odd mewing of peacocks outside; but I didn’t have to hear a thing to know that Sveti Naum was the heartbeat of Macedonia.
Survey says, it’s a Macedonian experience I’m glad we didn’t miss.
Housewifery during Serbian History: Mladic Arrested
Image source: Reuters
I avoid political discussions on this blog, but it feels ridiculous to ignore the biggest (non-sports) news story to come out of Serbia in a long time. If you have shunned all media before reading my blog, a hearty thanks and a thump on the head for not hearing that Ratko Mladic, Europe’s most-wanted suspected war criminal, was apprehended yesterday in a town outside of Belgrade. If you don’t know his accused crimes, click here.
I won’t try to improve on the numerous reports of the situation. Rather, I’ll let you know what I heard and felt. I was surprised, like everyone else I suppose, by reports that Mladic had been arrested. My first thought was that I’d have to stop joking that my “work plan” this year was to find Mladic and collect the 10 million euro, $5 million dollar reward for his capture. Speaking of which, I wonder who gets the big prize, and if that person would rather remain in silence than risk the wrath of Mladic supporters. But I digress…
Image source: wn.article.com
I knew that after Milosevic was arrested, there were protests in the streets and Americans were encouraged to stay
home. (The Milosevic arrest occurred close to a U.S.-imposed deadline to detain Milosevic or face economic hardship.) The Mladic arrest was under different circumstances, but there were calls for a protest in Trg Republike, not far from our home. We didn’t think that anything bad would happen, but protests can escalate quickly. I usually buy meat for dinner in the early evening hours, but I decided not to take any chances and stay at home. We ordered Chinese food, but it was terrible. At least I had some strawberries left…
I did go out earlier in the afternoon, and life seemed pretty normal on the streets. No one was honking (more than usual), shouting, or waving flags, though police presence had noticeably increased. I saw military forces by government buildings and along the main downtown street, Kneza Milosa. Yet this was not completely unusual; other government protests and major soccer games incur a similar increase in police presence.
We spent most of our evening online or watching the news. The CNN international reports were disappointing, to say the least. BBC was not much better; they certainly chose a bad time to leave the region. Al Jazeera is setting up here, but I don’t have that channel if there is one. So we watched the local news, trying to decipher as much as we could.
The protest in Trg Republike looked modest. Reports showed several dozen men glaring into the cameras. There was some shouting and chanting in the background, but the police force was large and seemed to have things under control. It didn’t seem menacing, but perhaps that’s because we were watching it from the comfort of our living room. Here’s BIRN TV-You Tube video of last night’s protests. According to Belgrade Insight, the chant is encouraging the current President to kill himself and save Serbia.
Larger protests in Novi Sad were suppressed as well. Surprisingly, I haven’t heard about any protests in southern Serbia, an area considered to be more nationalistic than Belgrade or Vojvodina. I’m sure there will be a few outbursts and a LOT more political graffiti to come out of this, but it seems that the worst reaction to the arrest (which wasn’t so bad) is over. So not to worry, RHOB friends and family, we feel very safe here and things are under control.
If you’re interested in an English timeline of events and reactions after the arrest, I suggest checking out the Belgrade Insight blog.
Traces of Tito on the 25th of May
Today’s earlier post was a fun placeholder since I couldn’t access the baton photos I took in December. Moving on…
I couldn’t let the 25th of May go by without letting readers know its importance in Belgrade/Yugoslav history. For many years, it was celebrated as Tito’s birthday and International Youth Day. His actual birthday was May 7th, but his official birth certificate stated the 25th. And you thought Obama was the only national leader with birth certificate issues…*
May 25th became a national holiday in Yugoslavia during Tito’s tenure. Every year, a unique birthday baton was created for a relay race. The relay usually started in Tito’s home town of Kumrovec, Croatia, and ended in Belgrade’s stadium, where the baton was received by the man himself.
The race continued for eight years after Tito’s death in 1980. Though there was only one “official” baton each year, organizations made special ones that are featured in the aptly titled 25 of May Museum. A small fraction of them cover a wall and fill several display cases.
If you think this is ancient history, um, how old are you that 1988 qualifies as ancient history? Last May 25th, over fifteen thousand people came to Tito’s grave to reflect on the man’s legacy. Last week, a memorial relay began in Umag, Croatia, with the goal of ending in Belgrade. I don’t think they made a baton, but I’m hoping they’ll leave the lead relay car, “a 30-year-old Mercedes decorated with pictures of Tito.”
Image source: Balkaninsight.com
Tito remains a controversial figure more than thirty years after his death and 119 years after his birth. I imagine he-and his birthday-will continue to be remembered for several decades to come.
According to Wikipedia (consider the source), he celebrated his birthday on May 25 because he survived a Nazi attack on his life that day in 1944; the Nazis had documents that listed Tito’s birthday as May 25th, the same day of the attempted attack.
Back in my day…
You know those cranky old people who insist that fruit was much better back in their day, before it was flown halfway around the world/sprayed with pesticides/grown from bio-engineered seeds? No? Well, now you do.
Belgrade is fully in strawberry season, and it’s amazing. Seriously. Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten one in 9 months, but these are some of the best strawberries I’ve tasted in a long time. The 1990s sanctions created a lot of strife here, but an odd silver lining is that most farmers couldn’t use pesticides or engineered seeds. The result is strawberries that taste as good as they look.
Anyway, I bought a ton of the fruit to make a strawberry tart, but then I wound up eating most of them. Besides, the recipe called for cornstarch and I have no idea how to get that here. And it’s healthier to eat strawberries whole, right? All this is to say that when my kuma comes tomorrow (YAY!), there will be no strawberry pie upon her arrival. And probably no strawberries left, either. Sorry.
Lessons Learned in The Terror House of Budapest
I travel to remind myself that I don’t know much about the world. Usually, this reminder consists of pleasant discoveries in new places. In Budapest, it was a sober lesson, courtesy of the Terror House.
The Terror House is a museum dedicated to the victims of the Arrow Cross (Hungarian Fascist movement) and AVH (Soviet-supported secret police) regimes between 1944-1956. The museum is located on Andrássy út, a famous tree-lined street that is recognized as a World Heritage Site. The location is no accident: the museum building was the former headquarters of the Nazi and AVH secret police.
While the AVH may be well-known for annihilating the Jewish community, no one was immune to interrogation, detention, or execution for being an enemy of the state. Many of these activities took place in the building’s basement, a chamber of horrors that features photographs of the people who were held there. The aboveground floors contain powerful exhibits on the 1956 Revolution, the role of churches during this period, and labor camps. Powerful video testimonials (with English subtitles) offer glimpses of life during and after this period.
Faces of victims line the outer walls of the building
The words “Arrow Cross” echoed in my head, as a half-forgotten answer on a midterm exam. It was only as we ascended the floors of this museum that I realized how much I didn’t know about this period in Hungarian history. The museum presented information in a way that was more eye-opening than macabre. The exhibits were a beautiful, eerie reminder that what happened once, and then again, should never be repeated. Traveling and living in former Hapsburg territories made me think of Hungarians as more conqueror than victim. How wrong I was.
Soviet army tank and images of victims
I know this seems like a downer of a post, but it’s not meant to be. The museum was amazing, and anyone traveling through Budapest should see it for the gorgeous architecture, important history, and the reminder that there is so much more to learn about the world.
The surreal suburbia of Belgrade
I hesitated to post this photo because I feared that it would spread misconceptions about Belgrade being a backward city. But then I thought, it’s a goat herder…on a major road leading toward Zemun…this is nuts!
Within 15 minutes of taking this photo, we were in the heart of Zemun. I’ve come across goat herders in the southern plains of Serbia, but never so close to Belgrade.
This is one of the things that makes life so interesting here. Within five(ish) square miles of my home, Amy Winehouse will perform in a fortress and international ballet stars dance at the National Theater. Sunday morning, as Australian club kids were emerging from secret, smoke-filled techno parties, this guy was taking his goats on a sunrise stroll. All in Belgrade. Only in Belgrade.
It’s not exactly life in New York City, some might say. To which I would respond, exactly.
Church on Sunday: Sveti Jovan, Macedonia
Ohrid supposedly has 365 churches-yep, one for every day of the the year-so it was hard to select a mere few for CoS posts. I thought about covering an obscure church, just to be different, but since Macedonia is relatively undiscovered I thought I’d pick a showstopper: the church of Sveti Jovan (St. John the Theologian) in Kaneo, Macedonia.
Sveti Johan sits on a cliff overlooking Lake Ohrid. The architecture looks unique due to the architect’s Armenian and Byzantine influences. The church is estimated to be well over 500 years old, and in that time, has probably been photographed a million times. I took this photo, but a google search for Sveti Jovan will yield hundreds of similar images. Most of the images are only of the exterior, because taking photos inside is strictly forbidden.
The church is tiny. No more than 20 (small) people could comfortably fit inside. Upon paying a nominal entrance fee the attendant gave us two candles and, with a wave of his hand, ushered us inside. We stepped out of the bright sunshine, inhaled the scent of beeswax, and craned our necks to spot the numerous 13th century frescoes.
Images from http://www.ohrid.org.mk
The frescos are heavily damaged, but you can still trace the outlines and colors. The sheer size and number of frescoes in the small space made me feel as if I was standing in a tiny, seaside jewel box. St. Jovan may not be as grand or historically important as other Ohrid churches, but it’s certainly worth a peep-and a picture.
Playlist Petak (Friday): Balkan Brass
Image source: http://www.guca.rs
Regular readers know that I’m a fan of the classic Balkan tune Đurđevdan (and the accompanying dancing/glass throwing that goes along with it). I’m also a fan of Balkan brass, also called trubači. Its unique staccato brass beat is heard at festivals, weddings, and occasionally in the streets. Serbian friends will roll their eyes and say, “ugh, it’s so LOUD,” but then they’re the first people dancing when the roving band comes by. Even if you don’t like the music, you have to dance to it, because (1) it’s infectious and (2) you can’t talk over the noise, so you might as well have a good time.
Americans might want to get ready for these Balkan brass beats. According to the Guardian, “gypsy music” has been gaining international recognition over the past 10 years. They note that the sound originates from Turkish military bands but has morphed over the centuries to become the aggressively celebratory music it is today. 
Muz and I will be celebrating the unique Balkan sound at the Guca trumpet festival this July. It’s a wreck of a music festival, from what we’ve heard: brass bands playing from 10am to 6am, drinking and dancing in the streets, and people driven wild by the music (and copious amounts of beer). We’ve been warned that it’s crazy, that our clothes will get ruined, and that we’ll be deaf afterwards. When we wondered out loud if we should skip it, everyone said, “Oh no, you must go. Once.”
It’s hard to pick one brass song to highlight, but I ultimately had to choose this one because of the beat and the name: Kalishnikov, by Goran Bregovic. The complicated trumpet tune has so many short notes, it sounds like a machine gun firing. I used to play the trumpet, and this tune is hard, y’all. I can’t endorse the red and blue dancers, but you can’t deny the beat.
Readers, what brass tunes get YOU ready for the weekend?
Thailand on the Sava
One of our guests asked me if I had run out of things to discover in Belgrade. The answer is a resounding no. Belgrade is big enough that there are always new restaurants to try, a different museum exhibit to check out, or a unique cultural event. And though I’ve spent a lot of time exploring the city, I often find myself in a new area saying, “I had no idea this was here.” A perfect example is this spot along the bike path to Ada that my friend named “little Thailand.”
This area is close the highway and near an industrial site, but you’d never know it. It’s quiet and serene, and the little houses fit perfectly in the surroundings. I’ve heard that some people have weekend fishing cottages (lucky them!) but this strikes me as a permanent residence.
It may look like Thailand, but unfortunately there was no Thai food in sight. We cycled on to Ada and decided to embrace the Thai philosophy of sanuk (enjoying life) the Belgrade way: cold drinks in the sunshine.
Serbian Stonehenge and Belgrade’s Beach at Ada Cingalija
Last week, I finally made it to Ada Ciganlija. There’s a lot to say about this island/recreational center, but I thought I’d start with one of the first sights visitors see: Serbian Stonehenge.
I’ve poked around the internet trying to find out more about this sculpture, but I only found other people calling it Serbian Stonehenge. According to some, it is not a replication of Stonehenge but a modern concrete sculpture that looks…awfully familiar. Whatever the history, it’s a (kind of) unique welcome to the island.
Don’t let the concrete sculpture fool you into thinking Ada isn’t green. The island has wooded bike paths, a river “beach,” tennis courts, soccer fields, a golf course and more. Though it’s a recreational paradise, you don’t have to be active to love Ada. The beach is lined with cafes and restaurants for people seeking more sedentary pursuits. I’ve got to credit the Beogradjani: they don’t let a good people-watching or drinking opportunity pass them by. Last week may have been my first time to Ada, but it certainly won’t be the last.
On the far side of the Sava, overlooking some cafes
An open letter to the urban planners of Ohrid, Macedonia
Dear Ohrid urban planners,
Lake Ohrid, as I wrote earlier, was a lovely surprise. You helped retain the charm of the Old City with (I presume) regulations on the type of buildings that can be built along the cliffs surrounding the lake. You kept the cobblestone streets as a testament to history, and a challenge to stilettos. You approved a delightful wooded path between St. Klementi and St. John. There was a photo opportunity at every turn.
Because I enjoyed it so, it is with a heavy heart that I recall our first morning in Ohrid, when we decided to enjoy an espresso by the port. We sat at a cafe and noticed the completely incongruous jumbo television parked at the end of the pedestrian avenue. The soundless commercials distracted us from the view of the lake and passerby, but we decided to ignore it.
And then the sound turned on at 10am. Loud commercials for BMWs and Tikves wine overwhelmed the sound of children’s laughter. Heavy bass pumped out of the speakers as we were given an unsolicited weather report. We drank our coffee quickly and left as soon as we could.
Urban planners, Ohrid is known for its history and natural beauty. Why slap a huge TV right in the middle of it? I expect this at a New Jersey strip mall, not at a prehistoric lake. The mere three commercials being played on an endless loop make me think that this venture is not even profitable. It’s certainly not helping nearby cafe owners. They are probably putting a hex on you for driving out the morning business and forcing them to hear about Skopso beer a thousand times a day. Please, for the sake of visitors, peaceful views, and sane cafe workers, get rid of this awful sight and sound. I’m sure we can sell it to an American city for the jumbo TV’s intended purpose: proposing marriage in a tacky and tragic manner.
XO,
RHOB
Bitola, Macedonia: The City of Consuls and Cafes
Bitola’s East-West fusion makes it an emblematic Balkan city. It was a roundabout (read: out of the way) stop on our drive back to Serbia, but well worth the trip.
A little history lesson helps make sense of Bitola’s diverse buildings, food and people. The city was a military, political and trading center in the 1300s, and possibly before. When it fell under the Ottoman Empire in 1382, trade significantly expanded and the city became an islamic religious center and important administrative outpost. During this time, the city expanded to have approximately 70 mosques, 900 shops, and 12 consulates-gaining the nickname, “the City of Consuls.”
After the Balkan Wars, Bitola would have been a probable choice for Macedonia’s capital, but its proximity to Greece (15km) made it vulnerable to siege. (And as many readers know, you wouldn’t want to sit Greece and Macedonia together at a UN dinner party.) Skopje became the capital, and Bitola began a slow decline in political importance. Despite the shift in fortunes, eleven consuls still exist in Bitola today.
We drove to Bitola through green mountains and valleys, passing horse-drawn carriages on the highway.
Upon arriving in the town, we parked on a dusty side street and received second glances at our Belgrade license plates. We picked our way through an unpaved road. It seemed that not much had changed in Bitola’s last hundred years.
Then we reached the main square.
Suddenly, we were surrounded by lush green grass, crayola-colored buildings, and techno music pumping from a hundred cafes. Minarets peeped over baroque rooftops and between office buildings. Bitola’s centuries of history were crammed together in a half-mile radius. The 900 stores during the Ottoman Empire have been replaced by an almost equal number of coffee shops, all of them full.
We joined the throngs of people in their Sunday best and did as the Bitolans do. We strolled up and down the street-not to show off our finery, but to find an empty seat for lunch.
We had intentions of seeing mosques, churches and other sights in Bitola, but we failed to realize that Sunday lunch in Bitola is an all-day affair. Even though we were at a humble cevap* place, the waiter presumed we wanted to chat for an hour before our meals appeared. We nursed our drinks, watched the same people pass by again and again, and listened to the good-natured arguing at the table next door. We may have missed seeing some of the guidebook attractions, but we definitely saw life in Bitola.
*RHOB tip: when you see lots of mosques, get cevap. Halal cevap (or just pork-free cevap) is delicious.
(Kinda) Church on Sunday/Nice Day for a White Wedding
Belgrade’s City Hall isn’t a church, but it seemed like one this morning when over 100 couples were joined together in Belgrade’s “Dream Wedding,” an annual event that takes place in front of City Hall.
Information on the event in English is limited, but it appears that this event started in 1999 during NATO air raids. The weddings are performed for free. Serbian and non-Serbian couples are welcome to get hitched in front of friends, family, and hundreds of strangers. Like me.
The first couple in the wedding procession was quite a sight; a handsome military officer and a bride with one of the longest trains I’d ever seen. I suppose her “something blue” were the jeans worn by her ten attendants.
I don’t know about this year, but former Dream Wedding couples received free dresses, hotel rooms, and gifts. Judging from the number of expectant brides, I’d guess that the city still offers free strollers to couples/soon-to-be parents. But the real prize, I presume, is celebrating a happy relationship in such a fun and unusual way. People waved and shouted to the couples, a gypsy band joined the walk to the hall, and ballerinas dressed as peacocks performed. City Hall may not be a holy place, but this morning, it was my kind of church.
The Lovely Surprise of Lake Ohrid
“It is also a fact that not one in a million Englishman has been to Ohrid.” Rebecca West, Black Lamb and Grey Falcon.
Dame West penned those words in the 1930s, but they don’t seem so far off today. Ohrid is the pride of Macedonia, a country I’m ashamed to admit I couldn’t have pointed to on a blank map before our move to Serbia. American travel to the Balkans seems to be largely limited to Croatia, and most Macedonian tourism appears to be from neighboring countries. After the tenth Serbian told us to see Lake Ohrid, we decided to follow their advice. We’re glad we did: Macedonia (not just the lake) is an underrated Balkan gem. We were only in Macedonia for three days, but it’s easy to imagine spending a week or more exploring this American-overlooked country.
Since we didn’t have a lot of time to explore Macedonia, we drove past the capital city of Skopje and went straight to Ohrid. Yet when we reached Ohrid, we were wary. It hardly seemed like the quiet, peaceful place we had heard about. The dusty outskirts of the old town were crowded and bustling with aggressive apartment brokers and fruit vendors. We drove through the graffiti-covered stone gate of the old town and wondered if the city had changed, or if people’s memories had been enhanced with the passage of time.
Fortunately, we were wrong.
The old town of Ohrid features cobblestone streets, stone houses, and white buildings with red-pitched roofs. The atmosphere is relaxed and the people are friendly. There are several pedestrian zones by the lakefront with cafes, shops and roasted chickpea kiosks. We were there in the off-season (which I’d highly recommend) and had the morning streets practically to ourselves.
But the highlight of Ohrid is its incredibly gorgeous lake.
Lake Ohrid is ringed by mountains in Macedonia and Albania. The lake is wide, deep-one of Europe’s deepest-and surprisingly clear. Churches and monasteries dot the shoreline. If you’re a history or geology buff, it gets even better. It’s a tectonic lake (millions of years old), and hosts numerous endemic species, including the famed Ohrid trout. Unfortunately, the trout has been severely overfished in recent years, and restaurants should not serve it. Other types of trout are widely available and delicious.
The lake doesn’t just provide food. It’s also the source of famed “Macedonian pearls” made from the plasica fish. It’s a surprising source for such pretty jewelry.
Fancy fish jewelry comes at a price, though. Even the fake Macedonian pearls sold on the street were about 30 Euros. I liked the idea of having such a unique souvenir, but not when it was three times cost of a pizza dinner for two at Leonardo’s. I’d rather be worn out from several trips than wearing proof of one. Macedonia is not very expensive, but stretching our denars allowed us to see (and share) more of this lovely country. More to come on Macedonia…
Macedonia tells it like it is
I saw this pack of cigarettes on our recent trip to Macedonia, and couldn’t resist taking a photo:
The cyrillic roughly says, “smoking may kill you.” If this isn’t enough to deter customers, there’s a photo of cancerous lungs on the back.
I’m not sure that this has caused anyone to stop smoking, but it’s probably caused people to stop eating. Yikes.
These aren’t unique to Macedonia. I saw a similar pack in Hungary, and I imagine it’s somewhat common through Europe. However, it never fails to startle me. There’s a lot more to Macedonia than packs of cigarettes, though. I’ll write more about our trip there tomorrow.
“Prohibition has made nothing but trouble.”
So said Al Capone, whose story and likeness grace a wall in Stari Grad. Of course, prohibition made nothing but money for Al Capone. His suggling, bootleg liquor and prostitution rings made an estimated $62 million by 1929. That kind of money buys a lot of hats.
Today, Belgrade is facing its own version of prohibition. Belgraded.com notes that local government will ban the sale of alcohol from 10pm to 6am. Restaurants, cafes and clubs are exempted.
Ok, so it’s not exactly prohibition. But it does seem excessive. People here (and not just young ‘uns) routinely start their evenings at 9 or 10pm. Why preclude people from buying alcohol then? Of course, restaurants and cafes will still be able to serve alcohol-at a 50% markup. But if you want to pick up some alcohol before that slava you’re going to…good luck.
Many people think that this law will kickstart a black market for late-night liquor, and I agree. Capone said, “I am like any other man. All I do is supply a demand.” Belgrade already has an infrastructure for illegal DVDs, cigarettes, and who knows what else. I’m sure some enterprising people will be happy to expand to Jelen and Ballentines. Though really, what is UP with the love for Ballentines here?
Perhaps Belgrade’s “enterprising class” will be deterred by strict enforcement. (hmmm.) Or maybe they’ll realize that crime doesn’t always pay. The people who died in the St. Valentine’s Day massacre, said to be the work of Mr. Capone, were lured by the idea of buying cheap bootleg liquor. Al Capone was eventually jailed for tax evasion, and his complications from syphilis (NOT the way to go, folks) became so bad that he was released from jail and died in his Palm Beach mansion.
So maybe bootlegging won’t pay. But someone will try to find out.
Novi Sad: new now, but with an old-world feel
My posts about Vojvodina wouldn’t be complete without mentioning Novi Sad. Novi Sad is Serbia’s second largest city and the capital of Vojvodina. Though the city has an urban feel, there’s a slower pace and speech there that made this Belgrade lady feel at ease. In fact, the Serbian spoken in Vojvodina is considered to be quite clear, and several language schools have sprung up there as a result.
“Novi Sad” historically meant young vineyard. It literally translates to “new now,” but the city has been populated since the Stone Age. A fortress was built there during the 4th century (B.C.) by the Celts and improved upon by various conquerors of the region. During Hapsburg rule in the late 1600s, the Serbian Orthodox population was forcibly moved out of the fortress to the other side of the Danube. Novi Sad now encompasses both areas, and the fortress is a popular tourist destination and site of the EXIT festival.
The fortress also features “the drunk clock tower,” whose hour and time hands are reversed to make ships see the time more easily. But I’ll bet more than a few drunken sailors thought they were way off schedule.
The pedestrian area is the jewel of Novi Sad. Hapsburg architecture flanks at least three main pedestrian avenues, several orthodox churches, and a beautiful Catholic church (shown at upper left.) It’s an unusual sight in the middle of this mostly Orthodox town. I was told that the Catholic church was originally on the outskirts of town, but the avenues expanded to include this area.
The prominent Catholic church is unusual but not surprising. Vojvodina is known for its history of ethnic and religious diversity. In addition to the Catholic church, there’s an historic Jewish synagogue just off the pedestrian area.
Walking through picturesque streets lined with shops and bakeries, it’s hard to believe the the city has suffered so much damage in its past. It was bombed by Austria, Hungary, Germany and the Allies in WWII, and in 1999 by NATO forces. Though most buildings in the area aren’t over 150 years old, the town has a timeless essence that makes Novi Sad feel like a Veliki Grad (old city).
Very Superstitious/Writing on the Wall…
There’s a Serbian superstition that if you put your purse on the floor, money will fall out. Serbians will laugh at this saying, but they’ll never-and I mean never-put their own purse on the floor. I became a convert quickly, because why would I want to put my purse on a dirty floor? Cultural awareness justifying my germaphobia? Sign me up!
Most people will reserve a chair to hold purses and coats, and restaurants are happy to oblige. One restaurant deserves special acknowledgement for this. At dinner with friends at Lorenzo i Kakalamba, a waiter noted my purse was on my lap and brought over a special “purse stool.”
Kudos to Lorenzo i Kakalamba for their excellent and oh-so-Serbian customer service. (My sarma was tasty too.) Now I’m off to decide where to spend the money I didn’t lose…
Church on Sunday: Cathedral of Saint Nicholas, Sremski Karlovci
I’m continuing my Vojvodina trend with the lovely Church of St. Nicholas (Crkva Sveti Nikola) in Sremski Karlovci, a few kilometers away from Novi Sad. It’s a small town, but what it lacks in size it makes up for in history.
The town boasts of holding the first international treaty at a round table. (“At a round table” is quite a modifier, but think of how common that is today.) The treaty determined how Serbia would be handled, i.e., carved up, by the Ottoman and Hapsburg Empires in 1699. Sremski Karlovci and many other areas of northern Serbia became part of the Hapsburg Empire.
In 1712, Sremski Karlovci became the seat (patriarchate) for Orthodox Serbs in the Hapsburg Empire. Around this time, thousands of Serbians under Ottoman Rule emigrated to this area, now known as Vojvodina. The result was a powerful Serbian and Orthodox religious center. The oldest Serbian seminary was established there in 1794, and the Cathedral of Saint Nicholas was completed in 1762.
The amazing iconostasis (below, left) was painted in 1780 by two famous Serbian painters, Teodor Kracun and Jakov Orfelin. The paintings were the most impressive I’ve seen in an Orthodox church to date.
After we toured the church, we walked to the archives building next door. It’s a pretty building with a courtyard in the rear and a slightly hidden museum off to one side. The museum houses religious artifacts from orthodox churches. (If you were walking by this building, you’d have no idea what was inside. It’s basically screaming to be featured in a Serbian version of National Treasure.) Even if you have no interest in religious history or art, you can’t argue that it takes serious skill to make some of the objects we saw.
After seeing the church, we visited the local school (Serbia’s oldest/second oldest if you’re from Kragujevac) and walked around Sremski Karlovci’s quaint streets. Before we left, we threw coins in the main square fountain, making wishes for a return during sunny weather. Since it was only about an hours’ drive from Belgrade, I’m pretty confident my wish will come true.
Srecan Đurđevdan!
The man. The myth. The slava.
American readers, my keyboard did not find a life of its own. It’s Serbian for happy St. George’s Day, one of the many slavas, or feasts, that celebrate a patron saint. Each family has at least one patron saint. On that saint’s day, families cook for hours-and for up to a hundred people. Eating, singing and dancing ensues…followed by more eating, singing and dancing.
There are many slava days, but Đurđevdan is unique for two reasons: one, it merged with a pagan holiday celebrating spring. Two, it’s celebrated by diverse groups of Serbian Orthodox, Gorani (a Muslim-Slavic group in southern Kosovo), Montenegrin Orthodox, and Roma. It’s traditional to roast a lamb and listen to music–brass music, specifically. There’s one particular song I expect to hear several times today. It’s named, appropriately, Đurđevdan. Here’s a rock-tempo version by the Amadeus band. I love the dramatic eeeevooo zore
But my favorite version is the remix by DJ Dacko:
There are quite a few Đurđevdan remixes on You Tube, but muz grew bored after listening to the eighth version of the song. Readers, are there any versions of Đurđevdan that you recommend?
Happy St. George’s Day and happy spring!
Salaši: the Cure for the Urban Serb
When we told a friend that we were exploring Vojvodina (Northern Serbia) with my šurnjaja zaova, she asked us if we were taking her to a salaš. “A what?” we asked. I wasn’t sure if it was a park, restaurant, or dance club. As it turns out, a salaš is a bit of all three.
A salaš is a working farm that provides lodging, activities, and giant portions of home-cooked Serbian specialties. Some salaši even offer live music at night. They are unique to Vojvodina, but the emphasis on food can be appreciated by all Serbians. Most salaši are named with a number that I think is the registration number of the salaš; let’s hope I have Vojvodina readers who can weigh in on this. Based on recommendations, we decided to try Salaš 137, a few miles outside of Novi Sad.
The grounds feature horseback riding, a children’s playground, and sheep and chicken pastures. We nixed the horseback riding but stayed for a few hours to smell country air, eat great food, and bask in the satiated happiness of everyone around us. It was a true Serbian experience, but American visitors have nothing to fear: there are English menus available, and waiters responded to our bad Serbian with English when things got too confusing.
mmm.....delicious, fluffy dinner
Once again, Serbian guidebooks get an F for not mentioning this wonderful respite from city life in Belgrade or Novi Sad. I love living in the heart of Belgrade, but our salaš visit reminded me that Serbia’s rural areas are great tourist destinations, too.
Sittin’ on the Dock of the Danube in Zemun
We were fortunate to have good weather when my šurnjaja zaova
(sister in law) was in town, so we took her to Zemun. Zemun is technically within Belgrade’s city limits, but its history and location across the Danube has a very different feel than downtown Belgrade.
That’s because the municipality of Zemun spent much of its history as under Austrian-Hungarian rule rather than Ottoman rule. From 1717-1918, Zemun was an important border city, and, if this article is correct, a point for smugglers, spies and rebels passing into Belgrade. The city regained a nefarious reputation in the 1990s, when the Zemun clan of the Serbian mafia rose to power. But not to worry, tourists and RHOB family: the city is a safe and popular destination for foreigners, Beogradjani, and Zemunci alike.
Zemun is also distinctive for its diverse population. By the mid-1700s, Zemun had become a melting pot of religion and ethnicity, and many Germans settled into the area. Here’s a postcard of Zemun that calls Trg Magistarski “Haupt Platz.”
Image source: http://zemun.deviantart.com/
And here’s a more recent photo:
Image source: http://e-zemun.rs
Zemun shared municipal services with Belgrade in the 1930s, but it appears to have been officially incoporated into the White City after WWII. Fortunately, Zemun’s riverside walk, 1700s buildings, and slower pace of life were left relatively untouched.
Only in Zemun. Beogradjani would have driven right over this anchor.
There have been a few new additions, though. I’m pretty sure this isn’t historic graffiti, and the barges ferrying Mercedes along the river look pretty new. There is a lot to see in the heart of Zemun, but we decided to simply take in the sights from a riverside restaurant, sitting on the dock of the Danube, wasting time…
Bad boy of Belgrade, breakin’ the (leash) law
Don’t let this sweet face fool you: Miloš is a rebel. Apparently, he has -we have-been breaking Belgrade’s leash laws. I had no idea. Many owners walk their dogs without leashes, and we often go to a park where dogs run free.
While some people claim that Belgrade has had a leash law for years, the dog park rumor mill says that a new law (as of May 1st) forbids dogs to be off-leash in public areas. Only time will tell if this law is practiced or enforced. Based on the number of unleashed dogs I’ve seen, we have a better chance of bars going smoke-free than seeing dogs on leashes in parks.
If the law is enforced, at least there’s one option for dog owners: Belgrade just opened a new dog park on K. Aleksandar by Tašmajdan Park.
I’m not sure if this is the first dog park in Belgrade, but it’s the first I’ve seen. Belgrade trams will now allow dogs less than 10 kilos to ride in a travel bag, so maybe I’ll take Miloš over to check it out. I may still bring him to our outlaw park, though. He needs a little street cred to play with the big dogs.
Real Housewife of Belgrade 
