The city of Belgrade is far from handsome and neat. The city is full of scars and wounds. Loving it is a matter of choice, writes Predrag Dragosavac in this essay about Belgrade, once the capital of a country known as Yugoslavia.
Like many other people in Belgrade, my friend Pedja, a tourist agent who founded a nice and useful site about the city, fights against everyday frustrations with cynicism. Belgrade is not an easy place. Still, it is a real city, a really big city, the only such a city — real and big — in the space previously known as Yugoslavia.
My dwelling place in the last several years has been Stockholm. Those are very different realities. But, all in all, when compared with Belgrade, Stockholm is calmer, cleaner, better organized; the air is better, traffic and transportation go smoother, the living standard is significantly higher…. Still, when it comes to socializing, going out or taking it easy, Belgrade is more thrilling.
There I grew up and spent most of my life, there my parents and most of my friends live, there are people on the street who recognize me and I recognize and meet someone all the time…. Belgrade is far from handsome and neat. Le Corbusier supposedly said that Belgrade is the ugliest city in the most beautiful spot. Loving it is a matter of choice. I do love it, despite everything. In the same time, I have a huge problem with it.
What was that? Or maybe I was just pissing against the wind, refusing to acknowledge something obvious. Whatever way, sobering did shock me. Just a decade, decade and a half later , most of that scene vanished.
