Tuesday, Oct 20
After a final breakfast, we enjoyed a relaxed morning until checking out at noon. By 12:30 PM, we caught a Bolt ride straight to Belgrade Nikola Tesla Airport.
Our tickets indicated a drop-off at Terminal B, but once inside, we hit our first hurdle: the Air Serbia check-in counters were nowhere to be found. Luckily, we spotted a couple of female medical employees who kindly checked the flight boards and redirected us to Terminal A, where we were finally able to check in with ease.
Security brought its own set of surprises, reminding us that every airport plays by different rules. Just when we thought we had the system figured out, we realized laptops stayed inside our bags, but certain shoes had to come off.
The real test of patience, however, was passport control, which moved at a painfully slow crawl. As the clock ticked down, a panicked young girl asked if she could skip ahead of us, explaining that her flight was boarding in a mere ten minutes. We gladly let her through, but the border official agonizingly took a full ten minutes just to process her paperwork. It was a stressful, edge-of-your-seat moment, and we truly felt for her as she raced against the clock.
Just when we thought the airport surprises were behind us, we headed toward Gate 5 as indicated on our boarding passes, only to look up and see the departure board had completely changed. We were redirected all the way to Gate 25. Instead of walking down a standard jetway, we were loaded onto an apron bus and driven right out onto the tarmac toward a teeny tiny propeller plane—one of Air Serbia's regional ATR 72 turboprops.
Our bus had to wait as some VIP, in a limousine had to board first.
Boarding a smaller aircraft like this came with a unique twist: because these propeller planes board from the rear, the last rows are treated as priority seating. Our seats were up in Row 4, meaning we were the very last to exit the plane upon landing.
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Stepping off the plane, we immediately hit another massive bottleneck at immigration. The passport control line was moving at such a painfully slow crawl that my phone started buzzing with messages from our airport transfer driver, who was wondering where we were.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally cleared the border, grabbed our bags, and met our driver.
The stressful transit dissolved the moment we pulled up to our hotel. Located perfectly in the absolute heart of town, we stepped out of the car and into our new destination, ready to leave the airport chaos behind and start exploring.
The moment we checked in, the helpful hotel clerk welcomed us warmly and immediately gave us our first local tip, pointing us toward Skadarlija Street, the city's historic bohemian quarter.
But first, we dropped our bags and checked out our room, which turned out to be an absolute comfort.
The travel day completely melted away the moment we saw the plush robes, the heated towel rack, and the beautifully warm heated floors.
After a quick refresh, we were eager to follow the clerk's advice. We bundled up and headed out into the crisp, dark evening.
We hate arriving in the evening and finding our way in the dark.
Republic Square (Trg republike) is the undeniable, beating heart of central Belgrade. Positioned at the crossroads of major pedestrian corridors like the historic Knez Mihailova street, it serves as the city's ultimate social landmark and primary public gathering space.
The square is bordered by critical cultural institutions, most notably the National Museum of Serbia and the National Theatre.
While foreigners look for "the monument," locals universally use the phrase "kod konja" (literally, "at the horse") as their default shorthand meeting location. If a local tells you to "meet me at the horse," this statue is exactly where you are headed.
By the time we hit the cobblestones, we were absolutely starving, so we decided to skip the research and settled for the very first restaurant we found, Šešir moj, a popular traditional Serbian restaurant (kafana) located in the bohemian quarter of Skadarlija.
While the food promised to be comforting, we immediately ran into a massive culture shock. Coming from Canada, where smoking has been banned indoors for decades, we were completely blindsided to find that smoking is fully permitted inside restaurants and on outdoor patios across Serbia.
Sitting down to eat surrounded by clouds of cigarette smoke was a jarring reminder of just how far from home we had traveled, transforming our first dinner into a true lesson in local Balkan lifestyle.
Since the restaurant was completely empty, we decided to take our chances and eat inside to escape the smell and smoke.
John opted for a classic plate of grilled ćevapi, while I ordered the smoked pork loin—which, to our surprise, tasted exactly like a thick, savory cut of ham. Both of our hearty dishes came served with a generous side of raw onions and perfectly roasted potatoes.
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They were waiting for a large group who began gathering as we left..
From there we simply headed back to the hotel, ready to put our feet up. Our hotel.
