Serbia was a place I didn’t like.
A country that can still say “but we are the real victims” despite the ethnic cleansing in Bosnia and the systematic oppression of the Albanian population in Kosovo - it almost feels absurd.

While traveling, I’ve lost count of how many times I thought, “I just want this to be over so I can go back to my Istanbul.” Maybe this feeling comes from both my dislike of the atmosphere and the mental exhaustion that comes with traveling, seeing, and constantly processing new places.

I visited the capital Belgrade and Novi Sad. After a while, I couldn’t really tell them apart - orderly, yet soulless. Everywhere, there was a single dominant narrative. Because Istanbul is my internal standard, these cities felt extremely superficial to me. Getting married at 20 is very common; people mostly live in a study, marry, find a job mindset. There is little to no culture of self-discovery or individuality. The average salary is around €600–800; poverty is invisible but oppressive. Most young people live in a constant “getting by” mode, often staying with their families.

When I arrived at the hostel, an elderly man opened the door and asked where I was from - then asked which country was written in my passport. I was genuinely shocked. Especially among the older generation, people seem very accustomed to reducing others to rigid categories. I experienced racism, and despite having a multicultural background, I felt almost guilty simply because I come from Turkey.

People are generally tall; the young men are handsome. People are distant but helpful. Public transportation in Belgrade was free - which genuinely surprised me. I visited the largest Orthodox cathedral in the Balkans. I was so exhausted by the single narrative that on my last evening, just to add some color to the trip, I ate Sri Lankan food - hahaha.