Anlan in Serbia Archives - Benjamin A. Gilman International Scholarship

There and Back Again: Magija Beograda

July 31, 2015

It’s summer in Belgrade, and this is a very good thing.

I’ve always felt summer improves everything: moods, physiques, food. But perhaps a place has never been improved by sunshine and rising temperatures more than my beloved Belgrade. And trust me, I liked it well enough before—even in the deep doldrums of dreary February when I first arrived.

It’s in the winter you can really digest the landscape; it’s a hodgepodge of eras and architectures. For some reason I really took a liking to the newer, Communist style side of the city across the river from the old city center called Novi Beograd (New Belgrade).

MARCH – Fog and slumbering tree limbs overlooking the Danube and Sava rivers converge at Kalemegdan fortress.

It’s not that I’m yugo-nostalgic, but it could be my natural predilection for utilitarian type organization and predictable gridded street systems (no winding European-style streets here, although yes those are charming). Maybe my attraction to such (what some would say) characterless blocks of apartment buildings and monuments is perverse. Either way I’m quite attached to my tastes, thank you.

Then again, wherever you are in the world, everything looks a little more Communist in the winter. The season slows our pace for an interim, things look a little lifeless….but sometimes it’s still beautiful.

MARCH – Hints of green at Kalemegdan fortress—Belgrade’s city origin that sits at an important convergence of the Danube and Sava rivers.

About the only thing the cold didn’t stop in Belgrade was the lovers (who insisted on walking about or sitting in frigid parks and the old city fortress despite the plummeting temperature) and the nightlife. And the pijacas (open air markets). Serbians have to love, they have to party, and they have to eat.

But it’s in the summer (and spring) when the kids come out to play in the parks, when the rose bushes bloom and the windowsills are full of flowers, when the moms and dads and grandmas and grandpas tootle around hand in hand, when the river splavs (floating clubs and cafes) open for business and shake the river banks all night with the DJ’s beat.

MAY – Dawn over Belgrade and the Sava river from the Novi Beograd side (Usce).

Everything just has a little bit more character in Belgrade; This is the place they call magija (magic)….magija beograda. I would attribute the magic to the river, which both divides and unites the city and its people.

It’s funny…this is my second time back in Belgrade, and I miss home much more this time, despite the magic. But this trip was a little more independent, a little more potent. I happened to pass through the city over the 20th anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide (some contest the use of the “G-word”, especially in Serbia. Is it genocide or just a grave crime?).

But Srebrenica is beside the point. What I mean to illustrate is how I so often find myself in such precarious situations as a guest in this region. I’m an American after all, a Westerner; my affiliations of nationality prove to be controversial one way or another wherever I go. And as I analyze and contemplate my daily experiences, like in those surrounding the days around this particular anniversary, it’s hard not to quantify everything based on what I know from back home and exclude the viewpoints right here around me.

JUNE: Charming red roofs in Zemun from Gardos tower—once the Austro-Hungarian outpost that eyes Belgrade proper from the other side of the river.

Can it be helped? I remember what a colleague from the Balkanist spoke about once, she called it “helicoptering in.” You know, going some place and pointing out all the problems and issues, drumming up attention, etc. Especially in my chosen study program and possible career, journalism, I often think about it.

It’s one of the easiest tourist traps of all, I think, to be tempted to go around in an egocentric manner; a culture war. But I was never inclined to be just a tourist. So what am I doing here anyway; why did I come in the first place? It’s food for thought, I suppose.

And it’s so nice out I think I’ll take a break from all of this thinking and just go enjoy the sweet Balkan sun for a bit.

Summer has never looked better.

“You need to understand that everything in Serbia revolves around food.”

June 28, 2015

“You need to understand that everything in Serbia revolves around food,” my host-mother told me as I accepted a third helping—sans protest—of her delicious Sarma (mince-meat wrapped and cooked in cabbage leaves). “It doesn’t matter what is happening, food is always in the center!”

My three months in the Balkans have adequately communicated that whatever the occasion is, it absolutely relies on the presence of food and drink. For the Balkans in general, food is the conversation and substance of life.*

One of my favorites, šopska salata, is made with chopped tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and crumbled or grated cheese.

NEVER SAY NO
Serbian cooks spare no oil, sugar, butter or any other traditionally “fattening” but flavor-intensifying measures when preparing their daily goods. In fact, a typical response to any complaining about gaining weight while in Serbia would probably be met with the common phrase “poprevila si se” which literally translates to “you fixed yourself”—as in gaining weight is always an improvement to one’s profile.

It is also customary that, especially as a guest, your host will continue filling your plate despite even the most adamant of protest. While you are expected to admit defeat (because you literally won’t be able to eat any more)—i.e. “ne mogu” (I can’t)— it is downright rude and devastating to your hosts to refuse. Just. Keep. Eating.

Serbia has so much to offer in terms of food that I didn’t miss much from home. A friend and I did manage to develop a craving for marshmallows, however, which was satisfied with Rolling Barrel Pub’s unique topla čokolada (hot chocolate) – one of the few places where marshmallows can be found. Photo by Emilija Lafond.

DAY IN THE LIFE
Serbians generally begin their day later than the average American or western European, so breakfast is a light affair: coffee, perhaps a pastry from the local pekara (bakery), etc.

But, Serbs do not generally grab their coffee to go. Like the rest of Europe, cafes dominate the social space in the Balkans (village or city, it doesn’t matter), and sitting down for a cup and conversation are both a leisurely and necessary experience. Cafes—which do not include Starbucks—tend to fill up in the afternoon and evening when families, friends, couples, etc. gather for conversations that can last upwards of two hours.

After their morning and coffee rituals, Serbians eat “lunch” which is usually served in the late afternoon or early evening. This is the main meal of the day and can be a sumptuous affair involving a variety of traditional dishes. A host might offer you supa (soup) first, then salad and a main dish. And at my host family’s, we always like to have “something sweet” after.

Some also eat dinner later, some not. But because of the nightlife scene that is virtually always active (all night, all year), you can eat any time. Open late food stands or pizzerias feed you at night, and bakeries open early in the morning. Belgrade is always awake and never hungry.

Various varieties of burek are served with yogurt in Pristina, Kosovo.

THE STAPLES
If you’re a proper Serb, you probably have these things on hand:

#1 – Hleb (bread)
This is bought fresh every day from the local pekara – another centerpiece of Serbian food culture – and it is served with basically everything. At meal times, the bread goes to the side of the plate on the table, never on your plate.

#2 – Rakija
This often homemade brandy-type alcohol is Serbia’s national drink. It is usually made out of fruits (plum is most common, opt for cherry if you want something sweeter) although I’ve heard honey makes an exceptional version. Rakija is also the main ingredient in a variety of Serbian home remedies.

#3 – Kafa (coffee)
Turska Kafa (Turkish coffee) is called different ways depending on where you are. Serbian/Bosnian or domaci (domestic) are all versions, but it is always made the same way—boiled in water over the stove top, grounds sit at the bottom and must not be drank in any circumstance—and always delivers the same strong flavor.

#4 – Kajmak
The closest I can get to describing Kajmak is a cross between butter and cheese (it’s actually boiled dairy cream). And it’s delightful. Eat with pljeskavica, čevapi, on bread, anything!

#5 – Ajvar
And speaking of spreads, ajvar—a red pepper relish, sometimes with eggplant or garlic—is also absolutely delicious. It packs a multi-layered flavor punch great on sandwiches, on crackers, etc.

#6 – Jogurt (yoghurt)
Jogurt in Serbia is produced slightly thinner…drinkable basically. It is commonly served to balance heavy dishes and strong flavors.

#7 – Plazma
Serbia is crazy about these cookies, which come with or without chocolate, in a variety of shapes and other flavors, etc. You can also get crumbled plazma which is often sprinkled on palačinke (Serbian crepes).

#8 – Eurocrem
Like Nutella (but possibly even more popular here), Eurocrem is the universal go-to sweet spread for palačinke, hleb, etc. Half of the tub is dark chocolate, the other white chocolate.

RECOMMENDED EXPERIENCES
There are many good reasons to visit the Balkans, including for the food! Here are some of my recommended culinary experiences:

Friends and pljeskavica after visiting our favorite food stand in Belgrade.

Out and about in Belgrade, Serbia:

1. Begin your morning with a burek and jogurt at a local pekara (bakery). Burek is filo-dough pasty filled with meat and/or cheese, and it’s to die for.

2. Visit the local pijaca (market) for fresh and delicious fruits, vegetables and a variety of other goods—you’ll never have sweeter jagode (strawberries) or prettier cveče (flowers). Serbia’s agricultural industry is unsubsidized and many pharmaceuticals are banned so market wares are essentially organic.

3. Serbian food stands are incredible. Here you can get pljeskavica, a mince-meat burger in pita bread. Add some onions, tomatoes, kajmak and whatever else captures your fancy.

4. After a long day, particularly after seeing the local nightlife, savor the favorite crepe-style pancake palačinke—sweet or savory. I recommend Nutella or Eurocrem with bananas or strawberries.

Topla čokalada (hot chocolate), warm wine and palačinke on top of a ski hill in Kapaonik, Serbia.

In beautiful Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina:

1. Go to the Turkish Old Town and sit down for some Turska Kafa* or Čaj (tea). This is usually served with ratluk* (Turkish delight). I recommend having dessert along with the drinks. Baklava (filo-dough pastry layered with honey or sugar syrup and walnuts or almonds) is a necessary choice, but Tufahija (baked apple with cinnamon and walnuts) is also excellent.

2. Even Serbians rave that Sarajevo has the best Ćevapčići (mince-meat sausages). These are usually served with kajmak and pita bread.

Turska čaj and baklava in Sarajevo, BiH. Photo by Emilija Lafond.

While visiting baba (grandma) in small-town Smederevo, Serbia:

1. Serbians are natural hosts, and you’ll often be welcomed to their home with a spoonful of slatko, a thin fruit preserve. The flavor is delightful but extremely sweet, so you will also be given a glass of water to help balance the potency.

2. And if you’re lucky, maybe your host—particularly if she is your baba—will send home a jug of zova with you. Zova is a sweet syrup made by boiling elderberry flowers; the syrup is mixed with water to make juice and is my favorite Serbian drink! And apparently it is also quite healthy, or at least that’s what babas here are always telling you about everything they make…

All images by author unless otherwise noted.

*I live in Serbia, so unless otherwise noted I will use the Serbian variant of names, recipes, and etc. However, to attempt to explain an incredibly complex history of factors that breach into all realms of identity in far too few sentences—food included—suffice it to say that Serbian/Bosnian/Croatian languages were Serbo-Croat until the breakup of Yugoslavia in the 1990s and that there are several variations in vocabulary and grammar (i.e. dialects) that currently exist (particularly regarding food which is indicative of these very consciously created cultural and political distinctions but which alone would require their very own blog post…or book actually).

“We have scars”: Remembering and moving on in post-War Belgrade

June 15, 2015

Author’s note: I am a journalism student, so I wrote this in partial fulfillment of an assignment for my study abroad program on April 23rd, the anniversary of a bombing that killed 16. The NATO bombings are a sensitive topic in Serbia, but as an American I didn’t hear about them until I met some Serbian students in college. It was really revealing to speak with the people in this article, and challenging to reconcile my own “outsider'” perceptions to the tension between everything around me-physically and ideologically! But that’s what study abroad is all about, isn’t it?

BELGRADE – It is very quiet in this part of Tašmajdan Park, a stark contrast to what would have been a deafening sound 16 years ago when the building across the parking lot — Belgrade’s RTS (Radio Television Serbia) — was hit with a NATO missile, killing 16. But now the building stands half-obliterated, silent and exposed. Such a poignant reminder that, even when tucked behind St. Mark’s Church on one of Belgrade’s busiest boulevards, is still a raw and emotional sight.

On April 23, 1999, six hours before the strike, journalist Sanja Radan, who worked for RTS at the time, left work to stay in her friend’s home, concerned her apartment was too close to potential bombing targets in the city center. “Suddenly my friend and I heard specific sound of projectile flying over the building,” said Radan.

“The first pictures of that ruined building of RTS were played on city television Studio B…Pictures of people stuck in the rubble, without arms and legs, wounded and killed,” she said. “I started screaming, it was my first reaction that was stronger than me.”

The RTS building in Belgrade, Serbia, burns after it was hit with a NATO missile on April 23, 1999, killing 16 inside. Photo via SerbiaSos.

The bombing was part of the NATO mission to force withdrawal of Serbian forces from Kosovo, it’s southern autonomous province at the time. During the split of Yugoslavia in the early 1990s, ethnic Albanian Kosovars began pushing for independence from Serbia. NATO, who intervened to end human rights violations against the Kosovars and later supported the Kosovo declaration of independence in 2008, justified bombing RTS due to its role as the Milosevic (Serbian president) administration’s main propaganda arm.

Unlike previous targets, the RTS was not completely evacuated before the strike. Some, like journalist Tamara Skrozzo, believe that the government used the 16 deaths—all technicians, not journalists—for their own purposes: “There is a theory that those people were put there as targets; that the government was informed but refused to evacuate in order to use the victims for their propaganda…I believe it 99.9 percent,” she said.

Others maintain that NATO should never have bombed a civilian building. Even Skrozzo, who was a young “opposition” journalist for an independent anti-Milosevic radio station in 1999, agrees.

“Those people who were killed weren’t the editors or journalists supporting Milosevic, but technicians who just wanted to feed their families and live their ‘ordinary’ lives,” she said. “Being angry [about it] doesn’t describe the feeling.”

While RTS manager Dragan Milanovic was sentenced in 2002 to ten years in Serbian prison for failing to protect his employees—the only conviction in relation to the bombing so far, Serbian, NATO or otherwise—many questions remain unanswered.

But no answers, no reason and no blame will bring the 16 employees that perished in RTS’ rubble back to their families. These are the sixteen families that erected a small monument in this sleepy corner of Tašmajdan. An upright stone sits opposite the bombed remains of RTS heralding “Zašto?” —which means “why?”—in Serbian Cyrillic to passersby.

It seems that all of Serbia, like Radan, identifies with these families’ pain. “I can’t sleep at night like so many Serbian people…[The families] are still asking themselves “why” just like me,” she said.

Flowers for the bombing’s 16 victims are laid in front of a monument the 16 mourning families erected in Tasmajdan Park. The current RTS building can be seen in the background. Photo via B92.

“It’s really a tragedy, but you know in wars and situations like that, it happens. Always innocent people,” said 21 year old student Nevena Nikolić. Only six years old during the campaign, Nikolić’s three year old friend was killed in her home by wayward shrapnel from a different hit in Belgrade.

Between them—Radan, Skrozzo, and Nikolić—none denies the questions and pain still present in Serbian society. Some remains, like half-destroyed buildings, serve as everyday reminders. Nikolić said, “We have these scars, like destroyed buildings and such. But you know it’s more than 15 years from that moment…Now you just live with it.”

“[The buildings] are a small punch in the chest whenever I go by them, a reminder that is neither constructive, nor painful—just emotional,” said Skrozzo. “However, I wouldn’t change those remains, wouldn’t reconstruct the buildings, just like I wouldn’t change my memories of the bombing. Those were very hard times…but also times of getting to know yourself, rearranging your priorities and times of growing up.”

Serbia-Kosovo relations and sport: opening the global playing field

May 30, 2015

April 6th was International Day of Sport for Peace and Development. For that reason, I’ve included selections from a recent focus story I wrote for my study abroad program on the role sport is playing in Serbia-Kosovo relations, independence, state building, and etc.

BELGRADE – “We want to compete, and we will win,” said Nemanja Andjelkovic, a 32 year-old native of Smederevo, Serbia. But despite his passionate conviction, even Anjelkovic knows that sports in his homeland are not just about winning.

For this loyal Crvena Zvezda fan and others like him across the Balkans, sports define national identity and culture, even breaching into the political realm. Particularly between Serbia and Kosovo, the Yugoslav-era autonomous province that Serbia still legally recognizes as its own, political issues like independence and sport go hand-in-hand.

Although relations have progressed since the signing of the Brussels Agreement in 2013, political relations between Serbia and Kosovo remain icy. Recent events outside of the political realm, however, seem to be building up to an impending standoff.

A year ago on March 5th, Kosovo played in its first FIFA-sanctioned friendly opposite Haiti. Then, in early December, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) voted—after five years of deliberation—to ratify Kosovo’s membership, as did the International Basketball Association (FIBA) on March 16th.

“Since wars and politics have played main roles on the social scene in the past several decades, [sport] has been one of the few means through which common people could send their message to the world,” said Anjelkovic. Kosovo has taken especial notice of this mutually supporting role of sport, politics and identity.

According to sports and national identity Ph-D candidate Dario Brentin, originally from Croatia, “There is no social field free of ideology and ideological struggles and hence sport and politics always mix. Sport is…particularly important in terms of symbolic politics.”

Serbian sports journalist Ivan Loncarevic agrees. “Sports and politics, especially in this part of the world, are always in the mix,” he said. “Politicians are using sport to emphasize differences, political mostly.”

Others, like the celebrated Serbian NBA star and head of Serbian National Olympic Committee Vlade Divac, advocate that sports and politics should be approached separately. In an interview with Reuters, he said, “I had a similar situation when we [Yugoslavia] were banned from competing in 1992 Olympics, so I insist that we look at this issue with sporting eyes and let the politicians do their job.”

But are the two—sport and politics—already intertwined in this case?

“Although Mr. Divac is a basketball legend, he does not represent the majority’s way of thinking in Serbia,” said Andjelkovic. “Sporting eyes cannot be opened while the real ones are closed.”

Ultimately, Loncarevic suggested collaboration. “The first thing needed is willingness to start from the beginning, as equal partners, neighbors, he said, “But that first step is sometimes ignored.”

Beograđani: The Real MVP

May 12, 2015

Beograd is my first real city. I grew up on a farm in rural Nebraska and later moved to a seeming metropolis of 150 people, so living among 2 million (but probably more like 3, unofficially) is quite the change. But I found that taking it all in stride has—rather unexpectedly—made the difference an easy adjustment.

I made a short list of “downsides” to city life in Belgrade, but when revising my post I thought they were too forced. There are no downsides, honestly, or at least none that are worth mentioning. I have decided that the upsides of this city—and the source of its charm—are a result of the unique blend of civilizational differences and geographical positioning as is expressed through the people, the city’s real MVP (to borrow the meme-making colloquial sensation from Kevin Durant’s emotional nod to his supportive mother in an NBA MVP acceptance speech):

Belgrade inhabitants (literally translated to “beograđani” in Serbian) are a beautiful mix of ethnicities, opinions, persuasions, and etc. They walk everywhere, they are incredibly hospitable, they eat well and they party hard, they love fast and with abandon (but then also get heartbroken and sing about it in kafana, they are loud and opinionated and will tell you off when you’re out of line (intentional or not), but then they are also extremely polite.

And, perhaps because a truly overwhelming tourist force has not yet overtaken the city completely, beograđani are—at least in my experience—very cordial to foreigners. Our presence gives them a chance to practice their English, of which nearly everyone is at least learning or can speak a little. But the absolute best thing is to learn several words and phrases in Serbian so you can see a local’s face light up when you speak (or indicate you are interested in learning) in their own tongue.

I love my commutes because this is where you see them: briefcase in hand on the way to work in the morning, little ones with their mama, a baba (grandma) feeding pigeons in the park and the dede (grandpas) playing chess and sitting on benches discussing the weather, or the young and fashionable lovers walking arm in arm on their way to watch the sunset at Kalemegdan (historic fort and original Belgrade).

Beograđani gather at their city’s first inhabited spot, a fort named Kalemegdan, at the convergence of the Danube and Sava rivers. Image by author.

My idealistic view of beograđani was born out of the reason I came here in the first place. Serbia, due to the fascinating geographic and historical roles of the Balkan peninsula, is basically in the middle of this colossal exchange of civilizational values that has been ripping our world apart for the greater part of the last millennium. As an American, I vastly misunderstood the role and significance of the Balkans, one that Vjekoslav Perica emphasized in “Balkan Idols” was incredibly multifaceted:

the land over which Rome and Byzantium and later Ottoman Turkey and Habsburg Austria “challenged each other and vied for souls and loyalties of the local peoples”;
Where the notorious “Eastern Question” originated;
Where “the first large heresy within the Communist block was born”;
where “the first large-scale post-Cold War conflict took place”;

There are things about Belgrade, about Serbia, and about the Balkans in general that are mystifying and inspirational, but there are also things that are not beautiful, aesthetically, ideologically, and otherwise. Some pasts are very hard to confront, and to deny so would be truly out of sync of the region’s character. Indeed, the history here is fluid and alive; it is still being articulated in some instances (World War II, for example) because of the very nature in which it developed in the region.

Members of the Serbian military participate in a ceremony celebrating Dan državnosti (Statehood day) held each February 15th. The holiday is celebrated in remembrance of the beginning of the Serbian revolution that resulted in formal Ottoman recognition of Serbian statehood in 1817 (de jure in 1830).

Even through an exorbitant amount of unpleasantries, they have endured and even succeeded in preserving (in good humor, no less) the resilient approach to life that is characteristically their own. I love the title of Slavonia Drakulic’s book, How We Survived Communism & Even Laughed because that’s what this is, through communism or otherwise. And that’s why I think they’re the real MVP. Here’s to you and a fantastic rest of the semester, Beograd: thank you for the beautiful welcome.

Application for GILMAN and GILMAN-MCCAIN ends in {day} Days : {hour} Hours : {min} Min: {sec} Sec

Application for GILMAN and GILMAN-MCCAIN ends in {day} Days : {hour} Hours : {min} Min: {sec} Sec

Footer