We had no prior plans for today, so enjoyed a long lie in and savoured the coolness of the air con. But once up and washed, we agreed upon a walk to the main shopping street in search of brunch.
We returned to Boutique, as we knew the food would be nice despite the tourist mark up. I rather bizarrely complemented a fresh and light mozzarella and tomato dish with a hot and creamy Mocha; perhaps the heat was now seriously getting to me. I enjoyed the contrasted items nonetheless. While utilising the free WiFi, John located a nearby historical landmark to go and visit.
We paid and ducked down a side road from the bustle of the main street. We began a slow decline westward that soon became steeper on its way to the river side. This part of town must have been part of the historic district that grew up outside the walls of the Kalemegdan. Not only was the architecture reflective of that, with its opulence and hint of grandeur, but the roads became more narrow hinting at the old ‘mahala’ spacing of the former Ottoman town it once was. Set back from the street was the former Residence of Princess Ljubica. Built in the tumultuous period when Serbia became a principality, with the Ottoman Empire ceding control, this building resembled Ottoman architecture, but also had neo-Byzantine features, such as the towers or chimneys projecting out of its roof. The white wash walls and terracotta roof made it stand out from the neighbouring buildings especially in its current recessed state, with the sparse front gardens allowing you to absorb the entire building.
We then wondered the shaded side streets on our way to the Federal Parliament building. These political centres always end up as places of familiar retreat for me. Being the political and administrative centre of a country, their embodiment in architecture and location within the city, more often than not act as a draw and loci from which to explore other parts of the city. As we emerged from Makedonska, walking along Decanska and through the narrow buildings that act like city gates, the plaza area opened up before us. To our right was a long, reflective pool with spouting water features. A group of young teenagers were mischievously playing about, though no doubt to cool off than cause trouble.
The Parliament building seemed quiet, as it has done when I’ve visited before. But it also felt accessible with its lack of barriers and guards encircling it. Opposite was the Presidential Offices with a maintained garden bursting with colour, which we meandered around for a while. Intrigued, as we always are, to visit a national parliament building, we crossed over to circumnavigate it to see if there was a more ‘public’ looking entrance. As we went around the back there was a basement part to the building, not so apparent from the front, which was shaded by trees and nearby looming buildings. We couldn’t locate an entrance, and we weren’t keen to investigate, partly because there didn’t seem to be one single guard post to approach to ask and I didn’t want to be surprised lest we be accused of trespass. So instead, we went to admire the adjacent Post Office building again. I am always impressed by its brutal and imposing façade.
We then decided to venture into a part of town not explored up to now, and aimed for the Temple of St Sava, via Slavija Square. This route took us through an area with a familiar name, ‘London’, after a hotel dedicated to the UK capital many years ago. The road we walked along was one of the main boulevards that joined together at Slavija Square. It was a long and hot walk down, and it was bustling with shoppers and people going about their business. There was a myriad of buildings to observe and provoke thoughts on their history, particularly the ones that had inscriptions above their doorways or atop their fronts from their original construction, mainly from the turn of the century over 100 years ago.
Although anticipating a hive of activity at Slavija Square, we actually stumbled upon a vast construction site. Despite being one of the many popularised centre points of the city, we decided to pass through and escape to the last segment of road that led to the cathedral. I think I had tired John out with such a long walk, and the heat was continuing to beat down on us. I noticed a bar that had a parklet in the street, so we stopped for a couple of beers to refresh and recharge.
These went to my head a bit, so we left and visited the grounds of the cathedral briefly before my interest wore off, due mainly to the effort to get there. We were getting hungry now too, so were on the lookout for food as we meandered through a parallel return street that was lined with more villa style buildings, many of them being embassies. As we turned off this quiet street, and right on to a main thoroughfare, we noticed a fully sized takeaway shop of our favourite ‘hole in the wall’ pizza place, Bucko. A pizza each was ordered, again via a variety of short English words and pointing - more for our benefit than the server - and we plonked ourselves on two high chairs outside.
Nearby was the Tasmajdan Park, a sizeable green space deeper in the city, where we could take a break from the sun and casually stroll. Here, there was a more calming hum of traffic, and people were dotted about either under the shade of a tree, or on one of the benches lining the various pathways. We seemed to be perched atop of the city, when all of a sudden we were peering down into a stadium some 40 feet below us on the north side of the park. Keeping to this side, we turned right, away from a domineering church, and down some stairs.
It was here that we saw, looming defiantly, the shell of the bombed-out TV station. This ghost of the 1999 NATO bombing campaign was one of the few reminders in the city of that period. As we walked down the steps from the park to the rear of the building, I noticed a marble memorial. This marked the date of the bombing, likely listing the names of those killed too. We walked down and around the building and saw the TV station logo on top of the still functioning building. I also noted the street name looked somewhat familiar, Aberdareva, and pondered if there was a connection to the town in south Wales. We continued on back to the apartment.
During the day, two of the guys we met the previous year contacted John and said they were in town and suggested we meet up. After we got changed, we ventured over to the same area where we hired the bikes from. Here, in very hipster fashion, was a dilapidated warehouse that had been sparsely decked out inside, with an adjacent outdoor yard with benches and lit up bushes in place of a view of the river. Quirky lampshades hung from above and added to the illicit atmosphere of a bar wanting to be hidden. When we found our guys, one of them explained that this is a cultural centre with a bar, and that they host a variety of groups and events, including weekly drag shows following a showing of Ru Paul’s Drag Race. We had a good catch up with them, with the beers flowing almost at pace with the change in topics of discussion - whether it be Serbian politics or holidays.
However, we noted that we hadn’t eaten since the pizza, and beer wasn’t a good replacement. It had been over three hours, and one of the pair said their goodbyes, leaving the three of us to a Norwegian couple who somehow joined our group 30 minutes previously. I wasn’t particularly entertained by the new joiners, so we also made our excuses to depart and made the 40-minute walk back to the apartment.
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