Belgrade's central pedestrian street, Knez Milhailova, was buzzing with after-work shoppers as we scouted the adjacent side streets in search of beer and dinner. The city, situated at the confluence of the Danube and Sava rivers, has history stretching back millennia but a decidedly modern feel today. Architecturally, its mishmash of styles reflects various conquests in history, from the Turks to the Austro-Hungarians. But housed in the ground floors of the grand old buildings lining Knez Milhailova are the ubiquitous Prada, Starbucks and Zara.
At a characterful little bar down a side street, decorated with antique furniture, old pictures and 1950s wireless radios, we enjoyed a pint of Serbia's Jelen pilsner before being driven out by thick cigarette smoke (smoking is as popular as breathing in eastern Europe). We headed to the curiously-named '?' restaurant for dinner - housed in an 18th century tavern, all crooked floor boards and wooden stools. It would feel like the tourist trap it probably is if it weren't for the staff: a family who treated us like regulars, stopping past our table to crack a joke and top up our glasses. We filled up on burek, a filo-pastry pie filled with white cheese; followed by Serbia's specialty - a huge plate of char-grilled meat.
Belgrade is a great place after dark, as we found out after dinner when the city's bars really came alive, but it's hard to fill a day there. Even after spending the morning at the hotel catching up on email, once we had ticked off the citadel and grabbed lunch at a bakery in the picturesque cobbled Skadarska lane, Lonely Planet failed to come up with any further suggestions that grabbed our attention. So we filled a couple of hours in the shops until we deemed it a respectable hour to go to a bar and fortify ourselves for the upcoming overnight train ride to Sofia.
At a characterful little bar down a side street, decorated with antique furniture, old pictures and 1950s wireless radios, we enjoyed a pint of Serbia's Jelen pilsner before being driven out by thick cigarette smoke (smoking is as popular as breathing in eastern Europe). We headed to the curiously-named '?' restaurant for dinner - housed in an 18th century tavern, all crooked floor boards and wooden stools. It would feel like the tourist trap it probably is if it weren't for the staff: a family who treated us like regulars, stopping past our table to crack a joke and top up our glasses. We filled up on burek, a filo-pastry pie filled with white cheese; followed by Serbia's specialty - a huge plate of char-grilled meat.
Belgrade is a great place after dark, as we found out after dinner when the city's bars really came alive, but it's hard to fill a day there. Even after spending the morning at the hotel catching up on email, once we had ticked off the citadel and grabbed lunch at a bakery in the picturesque cobbled Skadarska lane, Lonely Planet failed to come up with any further suggestions that grabbed our attention. So we filled a couple of hours in the shops until we deemed it a respectable hour to go to a bar and fortify ourselves for the upcoming overnight train ride to Sofia.
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