SERBIA: SO THAT’S WHAT IT’S LIKE!! (SAYS THE CANADIAN) - 1

And finally, a word or two about the Serbian language. I am learning it. And I make that statement confident in the fact that I will never be able to say that I have learned Serbian. It is not an easy language. How’s that for understatement? When I first met my partner and was exposed to listening to it spoken on a regular basis, I was conflicted. I knew I wanted to learn the language of my partner, if only to understand what she was saying about me to her friends while on the phone. I would hear a string of Serbian, my name, more Serbian and then laughter. But it sounded so unfamiliar to me. And when I mentioned that this is a difficult language to learn, I was assured by Serbians that it is easy, after all, it is phonetic, you simply pronounce all the letters. Right. I was suspicious. It is also lovely to watch Serbians speak to each other. As we sat in places in Serbia, I would watch them speaking with the greatest of passion, voices rising and falling and using more gestures and expressions than I thought were possible. I remember my partner, early on, telling me that this is not an exciting language to listen to, and I had to correct her. It was a spectacle to hear and see. Sitting with her family and friends I was also amazed at loud and how quickly conversations can get. I say conversations, but it seemed that most of them were talking at once. But remarkably they could listen at the same time. Yes, the Serbian love of loud noise was also confirmed after my time there. Music and singing is everywhere, not to mention dancing. I have rarely come across a people where the passion for life was so strong. Or a language so hard.

When I was amongst her family and friends, I realized my scant Serbian was not going to get me through, so I installed Google translate on my phone, which I advise all non-Serbs to do in their travels there. It really helped me say things I wanted to say, the few times I had anything to say. Very often, in a sea of conversation, I struggled to understand the gist of what was being said. When I did understand and had something to offer, I would pull out my phone and start typing, waiting for the translation I could speak. When I did a hush fell upon the room and everyone was looking at me and leaning forward, in anticipation of what the semi-mute, confused Canadian might come up with. They would strain through my accent and finally understand and were so appreciative of my attempts.

Perhaps the most stunning day of our travel was a cruise on the Danube. It was a combination bus tour as well. We drove from Belgrade to the Danube and took a 90-minute cruise, and then we came back. That is the bare-boned version, but the experience was so much more. As we took our seats on the bus my partner told me that we were in for a long bus ride, meandering southeast all the way to the Romanian border. I must admit I have claustrophobia and get a bit panicky any time I am stuck anywhere seated for too long. The idea of a long trip on a crowded bus had me initially a bit panicked. But as soon as we started going through Belgrade, I was so distracted by all the sights, I was calmed. And once in the countryside, as the hills became more rolling and the landscape more verdant, I found myself once again enraptured by Serbia.

Our first stop was Golubac fortress. Keep in mind that in Canada what is considered  an old building is usually about 100 years old. This fortress was from the 14^th century and presented itself as an almost prototype of what people imagine a medieval fortress to be. The turrets and imposing walls look down on the Danube in a menacing way if you’re thinking of a siege, in a comforting way if you are thinking of defense. We marched in as a group and were looking left and right at mini-catapults, cannon balls, paths leading to doors big and small and generally, a feeling of solidity, strength and beauty. There were straight paved paths leading to the main entrance. At one point I made the mistake of taking one step off the path and onto the grass. Immediately a fellow, whom I took to be just another tourist in our midst, suddenly pulled out a whistle and started blowing off and on and pointing at me. It seems the grass was not meant to be trod upon and I had broken a fairly major law. My partner told me to step back onto the path. It seems he was one of many government employees who keep a job that perhaps isn’t as occupying as it should be and therefore take it a bit more seriously than most would. Slightly shaken, we made our way inside listening to a lecture of introduction which clearly held the attention of everyone, except for this Canadian whose Serbian was still very stilted. I started looking around instead at the artifacts that created an even richer mood. I noticed a fur pelt, stretched out on a wooden frame. It was a bit scary, and I feared it might have been the hide of some tourist who had run afoul of the whistle blowing guard of the grass outside. After the fortress was a breathtaking ride through the Carpathian Mountain chain on the way to our lunch at Kapitan Misin Breg. The location, nestled high up in a seemingly obscure bit or forest, was actually an extensive and rustic restaurant with a grounds that we could have spent a week in. All along the paths you were staring across the Danube into Romania. I read Dracula when I was younger, and the lore of vampires is everywhere. Did you know, for example, that the word “vampire” is a Serbian one and the only word in the world from Serbian that is used by all other languages in the world? And here I was, looking across at where Dracula had been and done all manner of nasty things which has triggered nightmares and stories in people young and old for centuries. But as we ate traditional Serbian food and walked about, there was only a tremendous sense of beauty and peace. The couple who ran this place with their family were especially interesting. He used to be on the bodyguard patrol for Tito, and that’s why there is a good-sized mural of Tito on the grounds. His wife is clearly in charge of the whole business, but it is his mark that stands out. He has carved dozens of images of nature out of wood which line the paths we walked through. We left full of delicious food and wonderful feeling. As with so many places in Serbia, one is left with the feeling that you are touching history and feeling the present at the same time. There are not many times when moments become experiences, but this was one.

Reading over what I’ve written it strikes me that I am so clearly enamoured of Serbia and Serbians that it seems a bit silly. But it is not. I do love that country, it’s people and all it has to offer. But it would be crazy to try to sell it as a paradise, as there is, after all, only one paradise and not in this world, and perfection is a pursuit that never ends well. There is the story of the novice Buddhist monk who went to learn at a monastery how to be the perfect monk. The head monk admitted him and as a first task took him to the garden and told him to clean it up as best he could. He labored for two days, trimming, cutting, preening and a bunch of other garden like activities that I have no idea about. When the head monk inspected, he nodded and said, “Very nice.” He then walked to a tree and shook it violently to scatter leaves over the previously immaculate lawn. He turned to the shocked novice and said:

‘Your first lesson is to learn that there is no perfection on this earth.”

So Serbia is not perfect: magnificent, but not perfect. Let me tell you about a dark time we had, but it was a time we laughed about in part because it was not typical. We had to look for accommodation for the last two nights of our stay before we flew off to Ireland. To confess, we got some dates wrong, so it was entirely our fault. We logged on to find an Airbnb and did, just a few blocks from where we were staying in Old Belgrade. We had high hopes of continuing our stay in as wonderful place as we had for 12 days. Man, were we wrong!

Needless to say, we had been spoiled with the place we had before. And I had hopes that the new place for two nights would be comparable. I also had hopes that my hair would grow back some day and each of those hopes were equally fruitless. To begin, the elevator to the fifth floor only worked up to the fourth and then one was obliged to take the stairs. Not a terrible prospect unless you were carting four bags, two insanely heavy, which we were. Once we got to our floor the code to get in didn’t work. After several broken and confused calls to our landlady (who really was like our jailor in the end) we got in. You would think that after finally getting in we would be nothing but happy. But we were nothing but horrified. I have stayed in student dorms before, but I didn’t expect that an Airbnb would be such a creature. The whole experience of living in a tiny and ill-equipped student like dorm when you are almost 60 is a little demeaning. And it could have left a sour taste in our mouths. After all, where you stay can have a huge impact on your opinion of the country you’re visiting. But nothing, not even a place to stay that I dubbed “Shawshank Hotel” could dampen our view of Serbia.

As I look back over my first trip to Serbia, the word that stands out for me is “first”. It has never been a question of “if” I would go back, but only when. And that is not because my partner is Serbian. I place all blame for my love of Serbia on Serbia. Only Ireland has left us with the same feeling of remarkable beauty at every turn, warm people and such a sense of life meant to be enjoyed. My knowledge of history tells me that Serbians have suffered a great deal and continue to at the hands of other nations who have vilified this people. As a matter of fact, I have often noticed the similarities of the history of my people in Ireland and Serbians. Despite the plethora of difficulties thrust upon them, there is a love of life and a warmth about them both. They celebrate life with the everyday things that aren’t really everyday, but instead are core cultural practices. Food becomes a chance to not only eat well, but to sit around and socialize. Music, laughter, talking, dancing…I can’t think of Serbia without thinking of those features. But as I write these lines, I realize that this joyful attitude is because of, and not in spite of, all they have gone through, having been the butt of criticism and attack, both verbal and physical. It is a nation of resilience, pride and warmth. Serbia is a magical country whose people make you feel welcome. And it’s a good thing they do, because I will be going back again and again.