A man walks through Belgrade in a straight line. And I don’t mean it metaphorically – he literally moves forward without stopping. No fence, no building is an obstacle for him. As if he was the one with the city.

That’s a movie I’ve seen at the Museum of Contemporary Art. I walked the streets of Belgrade too, but I didn’t choose the shortest path. Actually, it’s quite the opposite – I got lost in the narrow alleys between the apartment blocks, inspected the corners and peeked into the yards. I allowed myself to wander, and most importantly – I allowed myself to feel. Now I’m taking you on this journey with me. Spoiler alert: no shortcuts today.

Before my journey, I had one opinion in my mind – the one I read on some internet forum – that Belgrade used to be a capital of Balkans, but now it looks just like any other European city. Wrong. Somehow it manages to look like both of these things at the same time, depending on which turn you’ll take.

That brings me to what really drew me to Belgrade: my fascination with brutalist architecture. It started here, in the Balkans, but I think the roots lay somewhere deeper, in Poland 20 years ago, which I remember from my childhood. To be fair, I’m not sure if I actually remember the grey blocks, or I’m romanticizing the memories my family shared with me, making them my own. Whichever one it is, this was the reason that lured me into the not-so-touristic parts of the city.

What caught my attention first were the metal, simple constructions serving the purpose of playgrounds’ equipment, the only colourful element surrounded by grey walls. I remember playing on them before they got replaced with more complex plastic ones, which – in my opinion – leave less space for imagination. In Poland, it happened several years ago, here they’re still in use in every housing estate I encountered, filling me with nostalgia.

Surprisingly, visiting some of the places I had on my brutalist architecture to-do list made me feel much more than just curiosity or a vague connection to the past. When I look at beautifully decorated buildings, it makes me go oh, that’s pretty, obviously. But looking at brutalist ones creates this unsettling feeling, like watching a car crash you can’t look away from.

The journey started off softly, with the building called Toblerone Tower. This stop was light-hearted – just a fun fact in the form of a weirdly shaped building. With triangles sticking out of a cuboid, it resembled a famous chocolate. However, for the second spot, I chose one of the most iconic places in Belgrade, Genex Tower. One half of it is still operating, one is abandoned; both were looking down on me, starting to make me feel intimidated. I saw a group of tourists or architecture enthusiasts entering the inhabited part of the building, probably to go up the tower. Just the thought of being trapped in the elevator or on top of this construction filled me with anxiety, so I didn’t sneak after them. Instead, I took a bus through half of the city, and arrived in front of the seemingly average three blocks of flats organized in a circle – Eastern City Gate. I’ve never been scared of a building before, but these… these did something to me. Looking up at the twenty-eight floors of gloomy panels – that felt more like a hundred – I couldn’t shake off the anxiety.

Exploring these parts of the city made me feel like an intruder. Uncertain if I should be there, the bum bag and backpack gave me away painfully easily… well, looking confused at the bus stops probably did too. It made me realize that going into the role of a tourist doing touristy things in touristy places feels safe and comes naturally, so coming back to the city center was accompanied by a kind of relief.

Not to sound like Belgrade gave me just anxiety, I have to mention the feeling of freedom characteristic of travelling alone that I found here once again. It fills up your heart, but doesn’t make it heavier – actually, it’s quite the opposite. This was my second solo trip, but the excitement was just like the first time. Maybe it’s breaking out of the routine and streets you know like your own house that makes you feel like you’re using your free will the right way.

Somehow, travelling is looking for small pieces of yourself in places you’ve never been to. I don’t think you can feel fully at home on a four-day trip, but you can definitely find spots, things and people that will bring you surprisingly familiar comfort. My love for Asian culture led my steps through the streets of Belgrade to a small place with Chinese food, which made me feel more welcomed than I’d have ever expected. It was like a long, warm hug, especially after the evening when being alone started to feel a little bit lonely.

I’d describe Belgrade as a city of contrasts. The mix of modern, glass skyscrapers and old grey buildings from huge panels creates a weird kind of dissonance. The clash is fascinating to observe… I’d say, Hunger-Games-kind-of fascinating. It gives off kind of dystopian vibes, but it hasn’t stopped to amaze me. I came to Belgrade with a mess in my heart, and I think the city resonated with my emotions very well.

When the bus on my way home broke down in a random field, I wasn’t stressed out. I appreciated how pretty the view with the sunset was… and in that moment I knew – I had grown into the Balkans since my first solo trip six months ago.

Anna Wojdziak