The Phoenix City | Belgrade Travel Guide

When you're sitting on your bed chatting with your German bunkmate turned best friend you met less than 24 hours before, popping blisters on the bottom of your worn feet with a pocket knife, with greasy hair and no bra on smelling like an Athenian sewer; that moment is when you really start to evaluate your life choices.

Pulling into Belgrade at around 9 am, I had spent almost 12 hours in a sleeper cabin aboard an ancient worn-out train. Looking outside I was aware that we had made it to Eastern Europe - the scene flying past the train was like nothing I'd ever seen, but we were travelling too quickly for my weary head to register precisely what I was seeing. 

The day before I didn't know Rhona and I had been in a different country. A few days before that I was still in New Zealand. I had never travelled alone. I had never even been to this continent - I'd only seen photos and heard stories. I had been dreaming of travelling across Europe since I was young. Now I was there. I was on my way. It was surreal, not only the fact that I had finally made it but also that I had come this far. I was alive and completely free. I think by then I knew I'd made the right decision. I was a born backpacker - the happiest I had ever been.

The train pulled into the station, and we stepped drowsy into the morning sunshine. It was quiet walking through the streets; Rhona stared down at the directions on her phone, navigating the winding roads to our hostel with me in tow. Occasionally I would stop and look around.

Dude... We're in Serbia...

Rhona just laughed.

Eventually, we reached Hostel Bongo - a small and tidy hostel with brightly coloured decor and the loveliest staff I have ever met (to this day). We checked in and wandered around before I noticed a tanned boy in the corner about the same age as us - I recognised the accent immediately, as well as that Kiwi male bravado I knew so well. 

You're from New Zealand

That’s how I met Morgan, but I called him Johnsonville after the suburb where he grew up - I would only find out his real name a few days later. I became Newtown, named after my last fixed address before I left New Zealand. According to Morgan, it wasn't even part of Wellington. When he told me he was from Johnsonville I snorted.

I would soon find out that Kiwis were everywhere, in every hostel and every pub across Europe. On public transport, in public bathrooms and flocking together in every Amsterdam coffee shop - but I didn't know that just yet.

A day later on a free walking tour, in the late afternoon sunshine, our tour guide would describe Belgrade as a phoenix city. It is true that you could only describe the city and her people as resilient. In total, Belgrade has been destroyed and rebuilt 44 times, which is more than any other European city. Less than thirty years ago, the country was in the midst of a bloody civil war - a conflict our tour guide remembered despite being not much older than us. Buildings still stand downtown bombed out and crumbling; a testament and a reminder of a long and violent history.

Whatever state Serbia was in at the end of the 20th century, Belgrade has certainly been reborn again - just as our guide described. In the two days I explored the city, a mad German at my side always laughing and map in hand, I fell madly in love with Belgrade and all her quirks. 

Belgrade is a contrasting cluster of classic Slavic architecture and bright-coloured design reminiscent of something almost Art Deco. There are also flowers everywhere. They hang from lampposts, for sale on street corners and growing from the window planter boxes attached to concrete apartment buildings, the scents of which drift down onto the street below, intermingling with check tobacco smoke and the chattering of locals. 

After two days I was ready to rent an apartment and live as an artist bohemian for a summer - I could see myself listening to jazz music in my underwear in a small apartment with bare concrete walls, smoking and drinking rakija on my porch that would overlook the city.

Towards the end of our walking tour, we reached the Belgrade Fortress. Back in the day, the Romans built the fortress from white stone. So when the Slavs came along and saw a beautiful city in a strategic location, they booted the previous occupants out and renamed their prize Belgrade - meaning white city. Since then Belgrade has had various owners. What's significant about the fortress is not only the fact she still stands but that you can still see every layer, every wall built since people first settled in the area thousands of years ago. The innermost wall is white and was built by the Romans. The next was built by the Slavs, and beyond that another exterior wall sits - this time red, and built by the Ottomans. Every wall, every stone, a different piece of history; a different culture.

The fortress also sits within a park that rests inside her walls. We walked through in the late afternoon, gazing at the families playing in the afternoon sun; the weathered faces of elderly couples smiling at each other and throwing bread for the birds.

In the midst of this park stands a monumental statue, aptly named Victor by the locals. Victor was moved to his present spot after a particularly prudish and vocal business owner complained about his nakedness - apparently, his position in the centre of town was not appropriate. Now Victor stands within the Belgrade Fortress, facing outwards overlooking the Danube so nobody else has to gaze upon his manhood. To the locals, he is a symbol of peace. At long last.

A Quick Guide to Belgrade

Where to stay in Belgrade

I stayed at Hostel Bongo. This place comes highly recommended by not only myself but also my dormmates. It's tidy, right in the centre of town and the staff are lovely. 10/10 recommend.

What to do in Belgrade

If you’re interested in the history of the city, don’t miss a Free Walking Tour. It leaves from Republic Square and will give you all the information you need to know about Belgrade's complex and fascinating history. Ask your hostel!

What to try in Belgrade

When visiting Belgrade, or anywhere in Serbia for that matter, make sure you try Rakija. It’s a traditional Serbian brandy made from fruit. Although it's illegal to brew your own liquor, most families have their own recipe and it's a generally tolerated practice. There are lots of different flavours, and the locals have even created their own Rakija glass to prevent spillage when you're five drinks in. Just be wary as it packs a punch - you've been warned.