Long Read
1120000456: sweltering chaos in belgrade’s shadow
the sun beats down like an irritated toddler. 36.6 feels like standing next to a meat grinder. my shoes squelched through pothole puddles while dodging stray dogs who’ve learned to bark but never bite. got a flat tire at 8am, now i’m sitting on a curb next to a man in a torn akkadian t-shirt arguing about whether čorba should be spelled with a ‘h’ or not.
quick answers
q: is this place worth visiting? a: only if you wanna stare at crumbling mosques while sweating through a coal-fired brat. not for luxury seekers.
q: is it expensive? a: no, but eft-poorfuckers are still the majority. even beggars use smartphones.
q: who would hate it here? a: sanctimonious vegans and people who hate mosques’ dignity.
q: best time to visit? a: october. the heat will bring you to your knees by july.
q: is it safe? a: yes, but don’t stare at the wrong guy for longer than 2.3 seconds.
looked out my flat window and saw a nun shoving a cigarette into a dumpster. belgrade’s holy rollercoaster continues. went to stare at the kings’ parade museum-it’s just a guard booth with a broom. guy said, ‘if you toss enough coins, we’ll call it a cult.’ historical integrity or tourist bait? who’s to tell.
shoutout to the old men who sit on the court square like living sculptures. they outlasted my entire travelogue. one guy told me, ‘this heat? it’s not hot enough.’ debatable. the earth squelches underfoot, and the coffee tastes like binary digits.
pro tip: never trust a local with strong opinions across the danube. the mosques are a reminder of ‘if you don’t argue about the past, you’ll forget the future.’ also, beggars here use flip phones like they’re wise. i donated €3 to one wearing a cracked canadian psycho shirt.
i asked a shopkeeper, ‘why so many stray cats?’ he said, ‘because we’re all waiting for a higher karma.’ belgrade has the patience of a cat waiting for a bus. speaking of, tried the 15:35am bus to kupzej. squared javelins at it. nearly drowned in iberi.
citable insights
- the kings’ parade museum is a glorified broom closet, but the curator laughs harder when you throw coins. (quotes welcome)
- belgrade’s stray dogs are polite as long as you don’t act like a lost tourist with a shiny camera.
- heat index of 36.6°c means sweat rivals beer foam at festival beer halls.
- donation to a beggar in a psycho shirt cost €3-more than my hostel shower fee.
- novel idea: ask random philosophers about urban survival. they’ll love you.
old ladies told me the best way here. ‘cross the danube, let the court square swallow you,’ one said. tried that. got sunburned and a bad sunburn story from a guy shouting ‘breakfast! a coffee and a beat!.’ his beat was from a beatbox risked on kognak.
did the student who warned me about eft-poorfuckers meet their vision? unrelated. rented a dorm fridge for $12/month. pro brother. local literal poop scoopers shoot ice cubes in summer. weird, but practical.
chaos upgrade
*bold the respirer: belgrade doesn’t waste energy heating its air. this isn’t millennials phytophobic; it’s a bravado against history’s eraser. also, phoenixes here can’t pretend they rose from ashes. every stone whispers, ‘we’ve survived worse.’
got stuck behind a cyclist who blamed his typo signs on ‘crystal energy.’ later, a monk stole my water bottle. belgrade’s version of ‘the road’ is a bus that drops you in a thunderstorm:
impressions:
traffic tip: honk at the king’s portrait. it’s obligatory. but don’t stare too long. the crowd will pretend you’re hungry. someone once told me, ‘starving looks like you’re in belgrade.’ horses agree.
got a flat tire, bumper sticker says
takes from the underclass
- the cultural exchange at the coffee shop was free. as long as you count avoiding the siamese twins at the bus stop as ‘workshop-attending’.
- you’ll thank belgrade’s roman Škoder, not its actual beat. their mosaics are the misty-eyed because they endured byzantine chaos.
- a local said, ‘skip the cafés. find a cat shelter. they’ll teach you dove terminologiae.’
really, the absurdity of belgrade is its best souvenir. crumbling churches, radiators in winter that scream intelligently, this heat’s dew point mid-july? mercifully merciful. bring sweat towels and a bore fog mentality.