Nothing describes Belgrade like the three words "Belgrade is Belgrade" that we utter at the airport after coming home from abroad. Belgrade abounds in love, warmth and wonderment; we feel safe here and we're happy to live in this city. If we haven't made much of our lives, it is enough to say that we have managed to live in such a fine place as Belgrade - the unfulfilled dream of many provincials. Belgrade does not like having its picture taken. It hates to pose. It will not keep still. It does not do well in photographs - it always looks like some place else.......
....There are few things in Belgrade that I have not seen elsewhere. Perhaps only three: its rivers, its sky and its people. Of these three ancient elements the unique spirit of Belgrade is born.
Clouds scud across the sky where the Sava gives itself to the Danube, combining mists with eastern and western winds - that dramatic Belgrade sky that resembles a huge celestial battleground. The spiritual state of its inhabitants is portrayed in this sky at any moment of the day.
People who grew up on a stone hill beneath such an exciting panorama cannot be but broad of gesture, stormy of temperament and of changing mood. These people, who stay in their city despite everything, even as history destroys and crumbles it, covering the land with layers of leaves and remnants of previous settlements and past civilizations, such people are capable of building their city anew, in a relaxed and unpretentious way; they are capable of building a city of human proportions. It is as comfortable as a friendly pub; the town does not put fear in the hearts of visitors with its enormity, but binds its visitors forever with a hundred invisible threads.......
...The spirit of Belgrade lies concealed in the unique chaos of its fruit and vegetable markets, and, above all, in the supple walk of Belgrade women. Watching these women on the city streets is like seeing a fantastic modern ballet with no other sound than striking heels! Pale city girls who grow up suddenly, accustomed to city life and the yearning looks of passers-by; independent, cynical, audacious and polite at the same time, with the innate elegance of millionaires behind cunningly concealed poverty - it is upon them that newcomers feast their eyes until they disappear from sight, as if upon some secret signal, leaving the streets inconsolably barren and bare.
The spirit of Belgrade gives birth to daring vertical lines, out of which spring new city quarters and old quarters fall into ruin; it bridges rivers and clears away the rusted tangle of railway lines overgrown with grass to secure a better view of the rivers and the sky. It toys with architecture and the laws of town planning.
This city will never attract the inquisitive collector of beauty, but it will do something completely different: it will arouse an almost physical pain of longing in those who have spent any time on its streets, even a few days, just as a photograph of a long lost love can inflict mortal pain.
The plan of its streets becomes something akin to a topographical map of our hearts. This city of ours will bewitch us with its charm, but it will never reveal the secret of that strange love, a love that is beyond comprehension. We shall remain its willing prisoners forever, having chosen Belgrade for this one life from among the innumerable magnificent cities of the world.
Momo Kapor
from the book "A Guide to the Serbian Mentality"
