I sit here, watching my corner of Belgrade from my window, and try to recapitulate my time in Serbia so far. It’s amazing how quickly time passes.

On thing I realise is that I feel perfectly at ease in this big, foreign city. What a contrast to the nervousness I felt before I went here! I had the notion that it should be like in Ukraine and Russia where you feel that you have to be alert all the time as there are plenty of people with nothing more to to than stare at you (and my belongings, I suppose).

But yesterday, when I walked home from KC Grad on Braće Krsmanović, I observed this feeling of safety in myself; I was relaxed as if I was walking home in my hometown. Serbians seems to be busy people with a lot of other things in mind than to make a foreigner feel uneasy. On the streets where I have walked at night, there is a certain pace among the pedestrian on the sidewalks – men and women alike. Or to put it differently: purpose seems to be the motor, and not impulse.

This Sunday, N. was my company during a long walk in Novi Beograd and Zemun.

”Nice sixties architecture!” said I, when I saw Palata Srbija.
”Terrible!” said N.
Still we had a great time together. Here in Serbia, you see my Swedish friends, it’s ok to disagree and still be friends. Actually, here people become curious and engaged—not embarrassed and confused—when they have different opinions.

We walked on, saw the peculiar ghost ships on the bank of Danube, the summer fresh greenery and the strolling families while talking about all things Serbian. Our turning point was the Gardoš Tower on the top of a hill in Zemun.

The Serbian speciality of the day was a Balkan crêpe – a palačinka from Palacinkarnica Pinokio. Another demonstration of Serbia as the number one streetfood country in Europe.

Very rough and very ad lib.

1.

A man walks with a slim, light brown dog in a leash along Bulevar despota Stefana. When he crosses Vojvode Dobrnjca he notes that he no longer has only one, but two dogs. This one is sturdy and dark brown, but it seems friendly enough so he moves on. After passing Palmoticeva he has three dogs, and after Džordža Vašingtona four – one white and one black. When he reaches the National Theatre he has a whole pack of eager, barking dogs. One by one, the dogs break free from their leashes and start running across the Republic Square, over the ridge, down the bloodsoaked slopes of Belgrade where the houses evaporate and turn into morning mist over fields of flowers growing from the decaying warriors in the soil: Serbs, Illyrians, Romans, Turks, Greeks, Hungarians, Germans, Huns, Goths, Bulgarians, Celts. And the dogs keep running over the brinks of the Danube, the plains of Vojvodina and the hills of Šumadija.

2.

A man drives his Yugo from Zastava up Takovska. It is eight o’clock in the evening but he seems to be all alone. This puzzles him so he steps out of the car. The street is more than thirty meters wide, but the vegetation from the Botanic Garden is creeping at his feet like a green froth. As his unexpected solitude makes him more bewildered than anxious, he steps into car and drives on. Soon enough, he notices that the houses are stepping out into the street without looking, and as the TV building suddenly falls infront of his vehicle he takes a sharp left turn into a street which he doesn’t know and which wasn’t there before. He stops to read the road signs. They say ”A sad princess who spent much time travelling” and ”A weary partisan who loved hearing the cowbells from the valley”. He drives on, goes down ”The duke that hesitated and regretted” and tries to find his way out this maze by following ”A man of many virtues who wrote many stories”. Finally, his Yugo comes to a stop as the front is squashed between two houses who stretch out their balconys to hug. The street signs in the corner says ”A man who lit his pipe and tried to make sense out of it all” and ”A woman who hid among her books”.

3.

A woman walks down Kneza Mihaila and the heels of her shoes are slowly growing higher and higher. When she crosses over to reach Vase Čarapića she overlooks the heads of her countrymen and the roofs of the cars, feeling free and agitated as she walks on. Higher, and higher she goes, and soon she can take whole blocks in one stride. When she reaches The National Assembly, she is already far out into space and all she sees where the bottom of her soles are is a pale blue dot and she has a strange sensation of euphoria that says ”nothing really matters” mixed with a deep sadness that whispers ”there must be a way” and a single tear falls from her cheek into the void of space.