Peace Corps in Macedonia: Belgrade, Serbia

Looking back on my time in Serbia, I think I had spoken more Macedonian than English during the entirety of my stay. Even though there are plenty of people in Belgrade who speak English, it was nice to be in a country where I can speak another language and understand/ be understood. Speaking Macedonian and receiving a response in Serbian was also good practice in seeing how intelligible the two languages were. Additionally, Serbians seemed much more at ease speaking in their own language, probably since there are not too many English-speakers who visit the country.

However, every time I spoke with people in Macedonian, they seemed to treat me as if they looked down on me. It was as if I were a bumpkin coming from the Balkan version of the Ozarks. The way they would respond to my Macedonian was similar to the way some people from Skopje look down on Macedonians from other bigger towns in Macedonia, or the way some people from bigger towns look down upon villagers. When I was speaking to a Serbian at my hostel, he told me “living in Serbia is pretty tough, but living in Macedonia is even worse”. But I did not mind the way the addressed me, as long as they did not look at me with contempt.

Weeks before starting my trip, once my itinerary was arranged, I started to worry about how Serbians would treat me when visiting their city. I feared that most Serbians would treat me with contempt once they discovered that I am American. Another PCV friend who visited Novi Sad last year told me that he had a candid conversation with Serbians about the conflict in the 1990s, and the memories of bombings were fresh in the minds of old and young alike. They told him that they would remember going to school and then returning straight home after in order to avoid the danger. Many people had family or friends who were killed in the bombings. And even though NATO delivered the attacks on Serbia, many Serbians see them as American-led.

Walking around Serbia, one can still see partially destroyed buildings that had not been renovated or torn down after being bombed. It is obviously a conscious effort of the Serbian people to leave these scars to remember the pain they went through from the war, along with the repercussions they still endure. After living in Macedonia, I have come to empathize with Serbians. Since Serbian culture permeates in Macedonian (through TV shows, songs, and through much of the language), it is difficult not to be influenced by the soft power of Serbia on Macedonia. Not only was I somewhat fearful for my safety when walking around Serbia, but I was also ashamed of the destruction we inflicted on Serbia during the war. But I only had to recall the other bloody side of the conflict, such as what had occurred at Srebrenica and the similar genocide that was taking place against the Albanians to remember that war can never be justified, but it can have its reasons.

Arriving at the train station in Belgrade, I soon discovered that I had no Serbian Dinars, and so I had to find an ATM in order to arrive at my hostel by taxi or bus. I circled the surrounding blocks near the train station, but I could not find an ATM anywhere! Before arriving in Belgrade, I Google-mapped a potential walking route to the hostel, so I decided to attempt it on foot. I started to cross the Danube with my heavy bags in the scorching, humid temperature, and my appearance quickly began to devolve, making me look like a haggard, hippy backpacker. After walking 40 minutes through the park, I arrived at my hostel, which was right on the river.

After checking in, I discovered that I was again one of two people in the hostel, and so I decided to take the night easy and find a place to eat nearby. I changed out of my jeans, which were damp with sweat, and borrowed a bike from the hostel to dine in Zemun. Zemun is a charming part of Belgrade that seems to be a popular place for both locals and tourists. It was a small fishing village before it was incorporated into Belgrade. On my way to Zemun, which was a long bike ride away, I discovered that the small hole in the crotch of my pants had expanded into a gaping chasm. Embarrassed but still hungry, I found a small kafana near a craft beer store. I surveyed the tables to sit somewhere that allowed me to see the place, but that put me in a position so that other guests could not stare at my crotch. After biting into kebabs and pickled cabbage, but sipping on Slivovitz, I felt like I was bridging the gap of the end of my vacation and my return back to the Balkans.

Returning to the hostel, I changed into some shorts and enjoyed some beers on the outside patio. One of the workers at the hostel (he was renovating the rooms in their second building next door) told me that his father was Macedonian, and he visited relatives in Rapotovo, a village near Prilep, just this past January. He did not speak English, so he, the others working at the hostel, and I spoke in a mixture of Serbian and Macedonian.

On Thursday, I enjoyed a beautiful run along the river before preparing myself for a tour of the city center. I borrowed the bike again and made my way to the main square for the free tour. However, it took me forever to find the square, and I was not sure if the tour started at 10.30 or 11, so I gave up. Instead, I biked all the way to Tito’s grave and memorial. This was located way out of the city in what looked like a rich suburb. Although the museum was closed, they were showing a movie in the theater of Tito’s travels and diplomacy before his demise.

It’s safe to say that everybody loves Tito. For the longest time I have been trying to find a historical book or documentary on Tito, but it seems impossible. I think I mentioned this in a previous post, but many scholars and ordinary people attribute Tito’s charisma and ethnic makeup to keeping Yugoslavia together for so many years. Tito was half Croat, half Slovene, and Yugoslavia’s non-alignment movement (where Yugoslavia sided neither with the USA and the West nor with the Soviets) allowed it to be courted by many countries, enjoy open trade relations with many, and its citizens had one of the most powerful passports in the world. If Yugoslavia were a country now, it is estimated that it would contain 22.3 million people, equal to the population of Taiwan or Australia.

Even today, many people still wish Yugoslavia existed. The older generation remembers a time of full employment and easier living. Of course, part of the reason why Yugoslavia had thrived in the 1970s was that Yugoslavia accrued a massive amount of debt borrowing from the West. This debt would eventually attribute to Yugoslavia’s breakup, especially since political power was more concentrated in Serbia, while Croatia and Slovenia were more advanced economically. Still, all of the countries are at a disadvantage because working with a massive country of 22 million people is easier than working with smaller, often landlocked countries. It seems that only by joining the EU will the former Yugoslav states regain access to free markets similar to their time in Yugoslavia.

If I served in Peace Corps Yugoslavia, instead of Peace Corps Macedonia, I would definitely be more ecstatic. The volunteers in such a country would learn so many more languages, experience much more diversity, and would be able to travel to such a vast amount of sites without ever leaving the country. Of course, that assumes that Yugoslavia would have developmental needs that qualified it for Peace Corps.

Overall, Yugoslavia may never have been sustainable, since it stipulated that each republic in the federation sacrifice their nationality for the greater nation. Once Tito died, it became evident that national identity, stifled for so long, was more important that Yugoslav unity. Unfortunately, most of Yugoslavia dissolved through conflict (Macedonia and Montenegro are exceptions, of course). But preserving its existence would not be justified if it entailed suppressing and denying the rights of its various ethnicities. Instead, it is the idea of Yugoslavia that I wish could still exist. The idea that many nationalities can move around their country, speak and understand each other despite different languages or dialects, share similar traditions albeit altered due to a history of different religions (Orthodox and Catholic Christianity, Islam) would be a utopia of peace across different groups of people. To stitch the divide that has since been torn, one can only look to the EU. Personally, visiting Tito’s grave was not only a visit to the memory of a titan who seemed to hold a group of nationalities together. It was also homage to the idea that coexistence among different ethnicities, religions, and languages can be possible, and should be sought.

My hostel on the Danube

Arriving at Tito's Grave and the Museum

Bombed out buildings near the center

Main Square

After buying a whole bunch of memorabilia at the museum’s gift shop, I returned on bike to the city center, past the bombed out buildings near the highway, and walked around the city park near the old fort. Unfortunately, like most Macedonian cities, Belgrade was so spread out that it was almost impossible to see all of the different sites without using a bike or a bus. Like Macedonia, buses in Belgrade were marked with numbers and names that had no significance to tourists, and there were no signs indicating the routes of the buses, so I was lucky that I had a bike to use from the hostel. I briefly returned to the hostel, freshened up, and returned to the center for one last pub crawl during my trip.

The group at this pub crawl was HUGE, which surprised me since Belgrade is not a major tourist destination, and since my hostel was empty. However, after some time mingling with the group, it became obvious that many of the participants were residents of Belgrade. I was lucky to meet with four other foreigners who were also traveling on a whim. At one of the bars, we decided to share our most outlandish drunk stories. One of the guests shared how he had visited a bar in Bolivia that was famous as a cocaine bar, and how the place was raided during his visit. At the end of the night, I succeeded in finding the right bus home and made it safely to my hostel. The return to Skopje was arduous, as the bus from Belgrade stopped about 20 times along the way. Despite all of these stops, Niš Express never once stopped for more than 5 minutes, which prevented anyone on the bus from taking a bathroom break. Thus, I spent 9 hours on a bus without using the toilet and with only candy and water as sustenance.

It was nice to finally visit another former Yugoslav country. Although Serbia was very similar to Macedonia in many ways, it definitely had a more Yugoslav feel and faces issues different than Macedonia. For example, their hatred towards Albanians are more extreme, and their conflict with Kosovo has left them more resentful toward Albanians and the rest of Europe. However, I didn’t lose hope in Serbia’s future with the rest of Europe, or with healing its wounds over the Albanian issue. So many Serbians were participating in the pub crawl because they were hosting some Turkish guests who were enjoying their last night of an exchange in Serbia. After centuries of Turkish rule, these Serbians have already forgotten about subjugation under the Ottoman rule, and they welcomed their Turkish guests openly. It may take some time, but possibly one day in the future Serbs may also welcome Albanian guests from Albania or Kosovo just as warmly.