Burek

1. A city shaped by empires, not erased by them

Serbia traces its roots to early Slavic settlements, rising under the medieval Nemanjić dynasty and briefly becoming a Balkan power in the 14th century before centuries of Ottoman rule. Belgrade sits at the center of this story. One of Europe’s oldest continuously inhabited cities, it has passed between Byzantine, Hungarian, and Ottoman hands, and today feels less curated than accumulated. Its layers are visible, sometimes messy, and very much alive.

2. Kalemegdan is where Belgrade makes sense

Belgrade Fortress, or Kalemegdan, crowns the confluence of the Danube and Sava and forms the historic core of the city. Built, destroyed, and rebuilt by successive empires, it reflects Belgrade’s role as a strategic crossroads rather than a ceremonial capital. While the fortress includes landmarks like the Victor Monument, Ružica Church, St. Petka’s Chapel, and the Military Museum, the real payoff is quieter. Standing by the gates, watching the rivers merge below, you feel why this spot has mattered for centuries.

3. The city’s pulse lives in its streets

Belgrade’s energy reveals itself on foot. Knez Mihailova is the main artery, lined with cafés, galleries, and shops, linking Republic Square to Kalemegdan. A few minutes away, Skadarlija shifts the tone entirely. Short, winding, and preserved as a cultural-historical area, it comes alive after dusk with musicians and packed restaurants. It feels less staged than remembered, which is part of its charm.

4. Belgrade’s Icons: Mind and Spirit

The Nikola Tesla Museum is a compact but meaningful tribute to one of Serbia’s most celebrated figures. The staff are warm and enthusiastic, and the Tesla coil demonstration, with visible electrical charges cracking through the air, is a genuine crowd-pleaser. Nearby, the lesser-visited National Museum of Serbia offers an under-the-radar but solid introduction to the country’s history and cultural arc. If Tesla speaks to Serbia’s scientific legacy, the Church of Saint Sava is about scale and symbolism. Dominating the skyline with white marble, granite, and one of the largest Orthodox domes in the world, it feels ancient in form despite being modern in construction. Inside, vast golden mosaics shimmer across the interior, creating a space that is monumental rather than ornate. Built on the site where Saint Sava’s relics were burned, the church reads as a quiet but unmistakable assertion of identity.

5. Food here is direct, comforting, and unapologetic

Serbian cuisine leans heavily on grilled meats and pies. Ćevapi are the flag bearer, even if Bosnia claims them too, and they rarely disappoint. Ajvar, made from red peppers, eggplant, and garlic, was the standout for me. Sweet, smoky, and just spicy enough, it works with almost everything. Serbian salad, a simple mix of tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and salty white cheese, shows up everywhere and does exactly what it needs to do. Burek is a staple and Trpković Bakery lives up to its reputation with crisp, generously filled pastries, though slightly greasier than ideal. Meals are often paired with rakija, the local fruit brandy that is deceptively strong, sometimes spicy, occasionally anise-forward, and very much not meant to be rushed. Desserts are less emphasized, but the famous Moscow Cake at Hotel Moskva is spoken of with reverence. Visually stunning, though for me, overly sweet and flatter in flavor than expected.

1. Montenegro, like many of its neighbors, has a shared heritage that stretches back to the Illyrians, Romans, Ottomans, and more recently, the Yugoslav communists. What makes it especially interesting is its modern political journey. When Yugoslavia broke up, Serbia and Montenegro remained together as a separate country. It wasn’t until 2006, after an independence referendum, that Montenegro became a fully independent nation. Today, it’s known less for its politics and more for its stunning Adriatic coastline and scenic seaside towns like Budva, Herceg Novi, Sveti Stefan, Tivat, and Ulcinj.

2. Kotor, one of the jewels of the coast, is best known for its incredibly well-preserved medieval old town. The original fortifications date back to the Illyrian period and were later rebuilt by Emperor Justinian I in the 6th century. But it was the Venetians who shaped most of what you see today. Entering through the imposing Sea Gate, or Gurdic Gate, feels like stepping into another time. Inside, the Cathedral of Saint Tryphon and the old clock tower are standout landmarks. Kotor gets packed when cruise ships dock, but if you’re lucky enough to visit on a quieter day, the atmosphere is magical — cobbled streets, fortress walls, and a surprising number of cats. In fact, cats are a symbol of the city. You’ll find cat-themed shops, a cat museum, and even a square unofficially known as Cats’ Square.

3. One of the best things to do in Kotor is hike the fortress walls, often referred to as the Ladder of Kotor. The views over the Bay of Kotor are absolutely worth the climb. I took the easier trail that starts from the old town, and it took about two hours round-trip. There’s also a steeper, more rugged version — the traditional “ladder” — that takes a bit longer. At the top are the ruins of the Castle of San Giovanni, offering panoramic views that make the climb feel more than worth it.

4. Not far from Kotor is the small village of Perast, a peaceful spot with a laid-back vibe. What makes it special are the islets just off its coast, especially Our Lady of the Rocks — the only man-made island in the Adriatic. Legend has it that two Venetian sailors saw an image of the Virgin Mary on a rock, and the island was gradually built around that spot. A short boat ride from Perast gets you there. There’s not much on the island besides a small church and museum, but the joy is really in the journey gliding across the still waters of the bay, surrounded by mountains.

5. As for the food, I didn’t find anything particularly unique or standout compared to its Balkan neighbors. There were plenty of bakeries selling burek, but most lacked the finesse and flavor I’d found in Bosnia. One exception was a meal at Bastion, a well-regarded seafood spot in Kotor. I had the freshest, most delicate seabass there, simply prepared with barely a touch of salt, letting the fish speak for itself.