Weekend in Belgrade - Saturday
Up at 9:30. Breakfast is 'omelette or continental?'I opt for the former - not bad, although the bread is pretty tasteless and the coffee looks like creosote.
10 am – Head to St. Sava's Temple, the second largest Orthodox church in the world. As is often the case with religious buildings of scale, the temple, started in 1894, is still under construction. Walking inside, we are confronted by stacks of blocks of marble and concrete and workmen scrurrying about. At least the outside of the church is finished and a very impressive sight it is too. The purity of the white marble and symmetry of the domes casting their spell in the sunlight.
Walking back towards our hotel, we pass a couple of bomb-damaged buildings on Kneza Milosa, a rare reminder of the Nato attack of 1999. In fact, almost all the Belgraders we met were friendly and helpful and we never encountered any animosity about our country's role in the bombing campaign. I couldn't imagine many Britons would have been so friendly towards vistors from Germany in 1951; many of my compatriots can barely contain their animosity in 2005.
After lunch outside the Hotel Moskva, a 1920s landmark where the cheese sandwich we ordered came with ham (if you are a vegetarian, Belgrade can be tricky), Jon, Stephen and I walk down to the banks of the Sava to find out about boat trips.
Finding the tourist office is difficult enough since it is the size of a small potting shed. The woman manning the information booth is helpful though and she is the first person we encounter who speaks good English. Unfortunately, there is only one boat offering river tours, the Beograd, and it leaves from the quayside in front of the Hotel Jugoslavija in Novi Beograd, at least 45 minutes' walk away.
A long walk in the sweltering heat is punctuated by a couple of drink breaks at two of the numerous floating bars on the 'New' side of the river. More of these later.
When we reach the Hotel Jugoslavija it strongly reminds me of the Bulgarian resort of Golden Sands, where I spent a childhood holiday in 1977. The combination of the concrete, the broken lettering on the roof, the look of the sports facilities and the heat combining to trigger some long forgotten landscape of the mind's eye.
Boarding the river boat, we are almost shocked to encounter other tourists, having barely seen any up till now. The tour, which encompasses a circuit of the Big War Island in the Danube, then heads up the Sava, passing under all five bridges that span the river in central Belgrade, is thoroughly enjoyable, even if the guide's commentary could have been more detailed.
Having disembarked, we decide to eat at one of the floating restaurants in front of the Hotel Jugoslavija (this area is known as Zemun). Our choice is the Club Mag, which specializes in fish dishes. My soup a la Triestina and smoked trout are both excellent and the service is the best we have come across yet.
As well as restuarants, the riverbank here also houses a plethora of bars and clubs. Of the former, Caffe Monza has a nice vibe, plush seats (doesn't everywhere in Belgrade?) and a nice line in gin and tonics, all at reasonable prices. It is also about three times the size of any floating bar I have seen in western Europe, more a house on water than a boat with music and liquor licenses. But Caffe Monza too seems small next to Belgrade's most popular nightspot, Blaywatch (yes, that really is its name). The laser show and the sizeable swimming pool in the middle of the dancefloor let you know that this is somewhere happening. Unfortunately, it is also somewhere that requires a reservation to get into. This applies to (comparatively) rich, hip westerners too, as we discover to our cost. In fact, such is the popularity of this whole area with fashionable, young Belgraders, that if you don't ring ahead you're unlikely to get into any of the clubs - other options include Amsterdam and Acapulco. 'Your name's not down, you're not coming in' indeed. At least the bouncers are polite about telling you to get lost, or as polite as bouncers can be.
One dangerous taxi ride back into town later, we search for a club called 'Plastic' that is listed as being located close to our hotel. It is closed. Time for bed.
10 am – Head to St. Sava's Temple, the second largest Orthodox church in the world. As is often the case with religious buildings of scale, the temple, started in 1894, is still under construction. Walking inside, we are confronted by stacks of blocks of marble and concrete and workmen scrurrying about. At least the outside of the church is finished and a very impressive sight it is too. The purity of the white marble and symmetry of the domes casting their spell in the sunlight.
Walking back towards our hotel, we pass a couple of bomb-damaged buildings on Kneza Milosa, a rare reminder of the Nato attack of 1999. In fact, almost all the Belgraders we met were friendly and helpful and we never encountered any animosity about our country's role in the bombing campaign. I couldn't imagine many Britons would have been so friendly towards vistors from Germany in 1951; many of my compatriots can barely contain their animosity in 2005.
After lunch outside the Hotel Moskva, a 1920s landmark where the cheese sandwich we ordered came with ham (if you are a vegetarian, Belgrade can be tricky), Jon, Stephen and I walk down to the banks of the Sava to find out about boat trips.
Finding the tourist office is difficult enough since it is the size of a small potting shed. The woman manning the information booth is helpful though and she is the first person we encounter who speaks good English. Unfortunately, there is only one boat offering river tours, the Beograd, and it leaves from the quayside in front of the Hotel Jugoslavija in Novi Beograd, at least 45 minutes' walk away.
A long walk in the sweltering heat is punctuated by a couple of drink breaks at two of the numerous floating bars on the 'New' side of the river. More of these later.
When we reach the Hotel Jugoslavija it strongly reminds me of the Bulgarian resort of Golden Sands, where I spent a childhood holiday in 1977. The combination of the concrete, the broken lettering on the roof, the look of the sports facilities and the heat combining to trigger some long forgotten landscape of the mind's eye.
Boarding the river boat, we are almost shocked to encounter other tourists, having barely seen any up till now. The tour, which encompasses a circuit of the Big War Island in the Danube, then heads up the Sava, passing under all five bridges that span the river in central Belgrade, is thoroughly enjoyable, even if the guide's commentary could have been more detailed.
Having disembarked, we decide to eat at one of the floating restaurants in front of the Hotel Jugoslavija (this area is known as Zemun). Our choice is the Club Mag, which specializes in fish dishes. My soup a la Triestina and smoked trout are both excellent and the service is the best we have come across yet.
As well as restuarants, the riverbank here also houses a plethora of bars and clubs. Of the former, Caffe Monza has a nice vibe, plush seats (doesn't everywhere in Belgrade?) and a nice line in gin and tonics, all at reasonable prices. It is also about three times the size of any floating bar I have seen in western Europe, more a house on water than a boat with music and liquor licenses. But Caffe Monza too seems small next to Belgrade's most popular nightspot, Blaywatch (yes, that really is its name). The laser show and the sizeable swimming pool in the middle of the dancefloor let you know that this is somewhere happening. Unfortunately, it is also somewhere that requires a reservation to get into. This applies to (comparatively) rich, hip westerners too, as we discover to our cost. In fact, such is the popularity of this whole area with fashionable, young Belgraders, that if you don't ring ahead you're unlikely to get into any of the clubs - other options include Amsterdam and Acapulco. 'Your name's not down, you're not coming in' indeed. At least the bouncers are polite about telling you to get lost, or as polite as bouncers can be.
One dangerous taxi ride back into town later, we search for a club called 'Plastic' that is listed as being located close to our hotel. It is closed. Time for bed.
Labels: On the road
posted by Justin Toland at 11:12 pm
1 Comments:
One surprising aspect of our trip I forgot to mention was the street signage. I had expected everything written in Serbian to be in the Cyrillic alphabet. In fact, most adverts, notices, etc. used Roman lettering. One notable exception was street names: these are all in Cyrillic script, making navigation rather tricky when all the torist maps give the Roman names!
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