Travelogue 9: Serbia and Montenegro

Spending a month in Belgrade, exploring some of the cities and towns in Serbia, and making a brief visit to Montenegro was a pleasant surprise. For context, I spent a few weeks in Bosnia before arriving in Serbia, which gave me a useful point of comparison. My knowledge and understanding of the Balkans grew considerably during the couple of months I spent in the region, both through visiting these countries and through everything I read and the opinions I gathered from local people. It is an extraordinarily beautiful and interesting part of Europe, and a surprisingly little-known one.

First impressions

My first impression on arriving at the airport was good. It seemed like a medium-sized, functional airport. The immigration officer was surprised when I said we would be staying in the country for a month, and also seemed a little surprised by our Mexican passports. I suppose not many tourists come from Mexico. In fact, my impression was that most visitors came from within the Balkans, with a few English speakers here and there and very few Spanish speakers.

There are a couple of good transport options from the airport to the city centre. Bus 72, which is free, was the one we took. There is also a paid service called A1 that uses vans rather than buses. Everything is well organised: the bus stops have screens showing which buses are on their way and how long they will take to arrive. Public transport in Belgrade is free, apart from a handful of special services such as A1. For the most part, you can board almost any bus or tram without paying, and the system works quite well.

It was immediately apparent that Belgrade was a much larger, more developed and more cosmopolitan city than Sarajevo, where we had come from. It is still small compared with the megacities I am used to—its metropolitan area has a population of about 1.7 million—but it does feel like a city, because there are cities that feel more like towns.

Our flat was conveniently located in Stari Grad, the city’s historic district, very close to the National Assembly of Serbia on Terazije. The pedestrianised Kneza Mihaila, the city’s main tourist area, began only two blocks away. The flat was on the fourth floor, with an incredible view of Belgrade Waterfront and other parts of the city.

As soon as we arrived, we went to a supermarket to buy a few things and were relieved to discover one nearby with a wide range of products. Whenever you arrive somewhere new, you have to begin discovering which brands you prefer and even what certain things are called. It is partly a challenge and partly a game.

The language

The challenge in Serbia is that its main alphabet is Cyrillic, although Latin is also used. Some things, such as street signs, appear in both alphabets, while others, including certain products and restaurant menus, are written only in Cyrillic. I tried to learn the alphabet with an online tool I found, but I am still a long way from understanding it well. I can recognise only a few letters and, from context, work out what a word says. The language is Serbian, a variety of Serbo-Croatian—also known internationally as Bosnian-Croatian-Montenegrin-Serbian, or BCMS. Essentially, the same language is spoken throughout the countries of the former Yugoslavia, with regional variations, rather like the Spanish spoken in different countries. It is a Slavic language within the Indo-European family, so a few words resemble those in other languages I know, but in general it is quite different.

Many people speak English—the vast majority of those with whom I interacted. Their levels varied, but in general they spoke it well. A few people I met did not, but we could understand each other through gestures, doing that nonsensical thing where each person speaks in their own language even though the only thing either of us understands is the gestures. I suppose gesturing in silence feels too awkward.

The people

Overall, I found Serbs friendlier than Bosnians. I do not know why, but I had imagined it would be the other way round. People are generally cordial and sometimes take the time to help or explain things. Whether you are asking about a product in a pharmacy, trying to find out where to catch a bus, or simply ordering in a restaurant, they are kind and try to help. They are less brusque and cold than the Bosnians. Naturally, it is impossible to judge the people of two countries after spending only a few weeks in each, but that was my impression.

Serbia is a very homogeneous country. The vast majority of its people are ethnic Serbs—South Slavs and Orthodox Christians—unlike Bosnia, whose society is highly diverse, with substantial representation from different ethnic groups. This homogeneity is visible not only in ethnic or racial terms, but also in how people dress and groom themselves. It is curious, because their styles are very clearly defined.

Almost all the men wear their hair very short or nearly shaved, surely as a response to baldness, which I have noticed is very common among them. Their clothes are practically a uniform: a printed T-shirt, close-fitting shorts—usually denim—and trainers. Women vary their outfits a little more and tend to be more dressed up. They are often tall and voluptuous, with very long hair. They seem to put a great deal of effort into their appearance: make-up, clothes, shoes, accessories. Whatever the reason for going outside, they appear to want to look their best.

The city

I like Belgrade. It is not an especially pretty city, yet it feels interesting: an unconventional kind of beauty, let us say. I spent most of my time in four areas: Stari Grad, Palilula, Vračar and Belgrade Waterfront, which feels like an entirely different city and which I will discuss later. Belgrade has a sense of decay very similar to Mexico City’s, which made it feel somewhat familiar. Its architecture is a chaotic mixture of Neoclassical and Art Nouveau buildings, Brutalism, old Ottoman structures and even Neo-Byzantine architecture. This disorder reflects the different periods the country has lived through.

It feels like a capital. After all, it is Serbia’s capital and was also the capital of Yugoslavia. It has something of a cosmopolitan air: you see people from various countries, international concerts and shows, as well as products, brands and chains from abroad. There are several parks and the confluence of the Sava and Danube rivers, which provide pleasant public spaces. It is a moderately leafy city with a number of green areas.

In terms of development and lifestyle, I think it could be compared with certain Latin American cities, where beauty and interest coexist with disorder and chaos. Yet Belgrade is not excessively chaotic; on the whole, there is a sense of order and cleanliness.

The building containing our flat was a good reflection of the city’s general state of faded grandeur. It was the kind of building that would give an American a heart attack: beautiful but old, incredibly dark inside, with floors that had not seen a broom in a couple of years and one of those tiny lifts that feels as though it might fall at any moment. It housed flats, offices, a hostel and even an escape room. The flat itself, however, was very good. I would not have exchanged it: the location was excellent, as was the view, and the landlord was very friendly too.

Politics

I could not help taking an interest in politics. From the moment I arrived, I noticed many signs, posters and even pieces of graffiti bearing the emblem Србија Побебуле (Srbija Pobebule), which could be translated roughly as “Serbia prevails” or “Victorious Serbia”. I asked people in Belgrade about it and gradually pieced together an explanation from their comments, which I will try to summarise. Once again, all of this comes from what different people told me. It may not be entirely accurate and some of it may be subjective opinion, but their account closely resembles the way populist and corrupt governments tend to operate, so I suspect there is a great deal of truth in it.

Apparently, the political party or group currently in power emerged from the same organisation to which Slobodan Milošević belonged—yes, the former president of Serbia and Yugoslavia who inflamed the region with nationalist rhetoric, was the main instigator of the Yugoslav wars of the 1990s, and was arrested on charges of war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide. This group is said to be extremely corrupt and, as people put it, a dictatorship disguised as a democracy. One event in particular ignited public outrage: the collapse of a canopy at Novi Sad railway station, in Serbia’s second-largest city. The government had renovated the station in 2022, yet only two years later the canopy collapsed, killing 16 people, including a six-year-old child. This sparked massive anti-corruption protests in cities and towns across the country during 2024 and 2025. Students led those demonstrations, and their slogan meant something like “Students prevail” or “Victorious students”. The government then appropriated the phrase, altered it and turned it into a propaganda emblem. It is commonly displayed alongside elements of the presidential flag.

The government has adopted the same populist strategies with which we are very familiar in Mexico. It organises large rallies in support of the government, bussing in poor people in exchange for a cash payment and a sandwich. They march with emblems and placards supplied by the government itself and turn the day in the city into a kind of drunken street fair. Nobody had to tell me this; I saw it myself. Once the march ends, people scatter through the streets, many of them intoxicated, most carrying packs of water or sandwiches they managed to take, along with the Serbian flags and emblems they were given.

Another issue has caused considerable controversy among the public: the construction of Belgrade Waterfront. This massive property development on the bank of the Sava began in 2014, with an investment of approximately three billion euros financed by a business group from Abu Dhabi. Everyone I met told me that the project’s sole purpose was to serve as a money-laundering scheme for the group in power. I have no evidence of this; it is simply what I was told. The project has also faced constant public opposition because it was carried out without complying with certain land-use laws and regulations, involved illegal demolitions and led to workers’ deaths. The government declared it a “project of national importance”, allowing it to bypass every kind of regulation, transparency and accountability—does that sound like what has been happening in Mexico for the past eight years? There are also plans to expand the project to twice its original size, with additional investment that could exceed 12 billion euros.

Belgrade Waterfront is essentially a luxury development, with an enormous shopping centre full of premium brands, a large tower with a hotel, and numerous luxury apartment buildings where homes can cost up to three million euros. Most people dislike it. They consider it visually and conceptually disconnected from the rest of the city, believe it does nothing for the population at large, and see it as a way of destroying, appropriating and gentrifying part of Belgrade.

I visited the shopping centre several times and ate there; in fact, the Waterfront is where I normally went running in the mornings. My view as an outside observer is that the development appears to signal the city’s potential for economic growth and could attract a significant market of both Serbian and international residents looking to relocate. It is not ugly; everything looks new and well maintained. I definitely agree that it does not fit cohesively with the rest of Belgrade. It is like an alternative miniature city, completely detached from the architecture and general atmosphere of the wider city. The only consolation I can offer is that, despite all the bad aspects, at least something tangible is being built. The sadder situation is the one we currently face in Mexico, where corruption leaves absolutely nothing behind and the money simply seems to disappear.

A few trips within the country

Novi Sad, Petrovaradin and Sremski Karlovci

We decided to visit Novi Sad, a city on the bank of the Danube and the second largest in the country. Since its railway station was still undergoing repairs after the 2024 incident I described earlier, we had to arrive at Petrovaradin station, in a town on the opposite bank of the Danube. For some reason, Google Maps has no public-transport information for this region, so we proceeded “in God’s hands”, as people would say in Mexico.

On arriving at Petrovaradin station, we decided to follow most of the other passengers, assuming they would take some kind of transport to Novi Sad. Our intuition was right: a few minutes later a bus arrived and everybody boarded, so we did too. We saw nobody pay and therefore did not pay either, assuming public transport there was also free, as it is in Belgrade. About 20 minutes later, we were in Novi Sad’s historic district, Trg Slobode. There we saw the beautiful Name of Mary Church, with its Hungarian Gothic Revival architecture. Beyond that, however, there is honestly not much to see or do. We walked through the streets of the historic district, ate Ćevapčići, and decided to return to Petrovaradin to visit the fortress there, a medieval stronghold that is the area’s main attraction.

The difficulty when Google provides no public-transport information is that you have to resort to old-fashioned methods, such as asking people. Fortunately, a very kind person drew a map for me on a napkin, explaining how to reach a bus stop from which we could get to the fortress. We walked a few blocks, found the stop and crossed our fingers. After several minutes, the bus we were waiting for arrived. This time I did see people paying, though not everybody, so I asked whether it went where we needed to go and bought two tickets. I suppose the first bus we took from the railway station also had a fare, but perhaps some people—students, teachers, residents, who knows—are entitled to travel free. We reached the fortress and it took us about 20 minutes to see everything there was to see. We still had time to spare, so we decided to visit a nearby town called Sremski Karlovci, known for its wine production. We had discovered that the same bus that brought us near the fortress could take us there, so we boarded it. When I got on, I asked whether it went to the town and paid the fare. As we reached its outskirts and the bus stopped on the main road, we prepared to get off, but the driver told me to wait because there was another stop closer to the centre. When we finally arrived, he told me that this was the right place and made sure to explain where I could catch the bus back. This is what I meant when I said that people in Serbia are friendly and try to help. And speaking of that, as we were walking, a shop assistant who was leaning against the wall beside his shop entrance heard us speaking Spanish and greeted us. He seemed delighted to have a chance to use his Spanish, which he spoke well. We chatted with him for a few minutes. He asked where we were from, what it was like to live in Mexico City and things of that sort. I imagine he rarely has the opportunity to practise his Spanish.

In truth, Sremski Karlovci is too small to merit a visit unless you specifically intend to tour a winery or vineyard. There is almost nothing to see or do. The town is rather pretty, but not enough to justify a trip there for its own sake.

We managed to take a bus back to the railway station and catch a train to Belgrade without any trouble. In general, the places we visited are not especially interesting; I would not recommend them to someone with only a few days in Serbia. I enjoyed them and had plenty of time, but they are not worthwhile when time is limited.

Subotica and Palić

Subotica has, without question, one of the prettiest historic districts I have ever seen. This visit is definitely worthwhile. Its Hungarian Art Nouveau architecture is impressive. The city lies in northern Serbia, very close to the Hungarian border, which explains the architectural influence. It is a small but beautiful town, with many restaurants offering pleasant terraces and courtyards, whether for a good meal or for spending the afternoon over a beer or a glass of wine.

Subotica immediately feels more tourist-oriented. Its historic district is the important thing to see. Despite officially being a city, it feels more like a small town with a relaxed pace. If you have time, simply wandering its streets is attraction enough to justify the visit.

Curiously, Google Maps did provide public-transport information here, which made it easier for us to visit Palić, a nearby town with a very large park and a lake. The park and lake are pretty, and there are a couple of restaurants, but I would not recommend the trip: there is not much to see or do. If I repeated the visit, I would spend the rest of the afternoon in Subotica instead.

Getting back to the railway station was easy and uneventful. On the train, a Colombian man and a Russian woman sat opposite us and struck up a little conversation along the way. Hearing Spanish compels many people to start talking; it is simply uncommon in this part of the world.

A trip abroad: Montenegro

To leave with memories of at least one more Balkan country, we took the opportunity to spend a few days in Montenegro, specifically in Kotor.

As with any place, there are positive and negative aspects. For me, the positive far outweighed the negative, but I will mention both, beginning with the positive.

Kotor, Perast and Tivat

Kotor is a town of around 13,000 inhabitants and one of the most beautiful and interesting places I have visited. To begin with, there is its location: the town lies at the head of a ria, essentially a river valley flooded by the sea—in this case, the Adriatic. To form a clearer mental picture, imagine sailing on the Adriatic and seeing an inlet between the mountains, rather like the mouth of a great river. You follow this “river” as it winds among towering mountains and opens into what appears to be a large lagoon. That lagoon is the Bay of Kotor, with settlements lining its shore. If you travel all the way to the far end, the last settlement, lying directly at the foot of a mountain, is Kotor. The result is a natural landscape of crystal-clear seawater that looks like a lake surrounded by great mountains.

Kotor has the sea on one side and a huge mountain on the other. In fact, part of the town climbs the mountainside, so some homes can be reached only by stairs. That was the case with the room we rented: we had to navigate an intricate network of alleys, stairways and terraces to reach it. There was no address as such that we could enter into Google Maps; our hosts had to send us instructions with photographs showing where to enter the town, which street to follow, where to turn, and so on. The room, incidentally, had a magnificent view of the small marina and the bay thanks to its elevated position.

I mentioned that the instructions told us where to enter because Kotor is a medieval walled town with three gates: the South Gate—ours—the Sea Gate and the North Gate. To complete the picture of this magical place, imagine walls surrounding not only the flat part of the town, but climbing the mountain as well. It is a medieval stone city with Romanesque architecture—it was founded by the Romans—alongside Byzantine and Venetian architecture, since Kotor formed part of the Republic of Venice for almost 400 years. It even has a Venetian name: Cattaro. Only about 1,360 people live within the walled city.

Today, Kotor is a tourist paradise, and I mean that positively. It is perfectly equipped to receive visitors without being as saturated as other destinations. Restaurants, cafés and shops abound. Besides simply wandering the beautiful medieval alleys, there are many activities: you can walk the entire circuit of walls, visit the fortress on the mountain, and explore historic buildings and churches. Outside the walled city, there is an area with a small beach where you can hire sun loungers and eat or drink beside the sea; another area in the mountains has a cable car that takes you to a viewpoint. My favourite activity of all was the boat tours around the bay, either simply cruising through it or taking you to other towns. We visited a tiny village called Perast and saw the islands just offshore. The speedboat ride alone was worth it.

On our final day, we decided to spend a few hours in Tivat while waiting for our flight, since the airport is in that nearby city, also on the Kotor ria but in a different bay. In truth, there is nothing in Tivat. The only place to pass some time is its marina, called Porto Montenegro, a recent development. The idea was to transform the entire marina area into a luxury complex with shops, restaurants, residential buildings and hotels. They did make it very attractive, and it certainly conveys a sense of luxury, but the contrast is bizarre: it sits beside a small town—about 15,000 people in the entire urban area—that is completely unrelated to it and has such a low level of development.

Lack of development

That brings me to some of Montenegro’s negative aspects, based on the part I visited. Other regions may be very different, but I can speak only about what I saw. The low level of development visible in the country is extraordinary. The airport is by far the smallest I have ever seen; you could honestly mistake it for an airfield used by skydiving planes. Its tiny size and the possible congestion of flights mean that departures are constantly delayed. Yet nobody announces the delays or provides any information. At most, the screens say “Delayed”, with no estimated time or anything else. The airport lacks adequate air conditioning, shops, food choices and basic cleanliness, and it does not have enough seats. Its only lounge—hidden behind a door bearing a sheet of printer paper taped up with the words “Business Lounge”—is a small, modestly furnished room holding about 20 people, with a single member of staff. Each person is entitled to one hot drink and one cold drink. At least it has air conditioning. This little VIP room was paradise compared with the terminal. I do not care if my view of the airport sounds pompous or snobbish; I simply cannot understand how such basic infrastructure can be so neglected and poorly equipped. I have visited airports in very small cities, but never one in this condition.

Transport is another problem: there is no public transport from the airport to Kotor or Tivat, and of course there is no Uber. You are at the mercy of airport taxi drivers, who are exploitative everywhere. Fortunately, I managed to arrange a private transfer to collect us, but only because our accommodation offered it; services of this kind are not easy to find. The driver who collected us and took us to Kotor was very excited that we were Mexican. He proudly told us that they have a state school called Meksička—Mexico—because of the ties that once existed between Mexico and Yugoslavia. I replied that Mexico City has a statue of Josip Broz Tito. But he also told us that Montenegro has very little infrastructure and very little economic development.

I used the same private service to arrange transport from Kotor to Tivat for that last day while we waited for our flight. When the time came to leave, we saw that the airport was only a half-hour walk away and decided to walk so that we could see more of the area. Halfway there, however, the path turned into a road without a pavement, making the journey rather difficult.

Air Montenegro, the airline we used, struck us as particularly bad. I would recommend choosing another airline, such as EasyJet or Air Serbia.

But as I said at the beginning, despite the bad aspects, I would recommend visiting Kotor one hundred per cent. It is simply incredible.

Conclusions

Serbia is a beautiful country, with friendly people, a fascinating history, a troubled recent past and a complicated present. Any Mexican could feel at home here—especially anyone from Mexico City, walking through a slightly run-down Belgrade full of personality. It is, mind you, much safer and less chaotic than Mexico City. Overall, I leave the Balkans with a very positive impression. I hope to visit more countries in the region in the future.