Near my accommodation, I was really struck by some graffiti. Both by what it showed and where it was placed.

You've probably heard of Ratko Mladić? He's serving a life sentence in The Hague for the genocide of Bosnians, and some Serbs consider him a national hero. It's him looking through binoculars toward the Bosnian side. And from what I could tell, he's clearly visible from the other bank.

On the Serbian-Bosnian border in the inconspicuous town of Mali Zvornik, at the behest of Yugoslav King Alexander I Karageorgevich, they built not just a bunker in the early 1930s, but an entire underground city called "Stone Girl". There's even a church inside. In 1934, after the ruler was assassinated in Marseille, the project was frozen, but in those 3 years of construction they managed to accomplish quite a lot, and the results were already operational.

They built on a grand scale. It was designed to accommodate up to five thousand people: 20+ kilometers of tunnels, nearly a hundred different rooms. Right now only a small part is open to visitors, but they say they're planning to expand access.

As is typical for such facilities, all work was conducted in complete secrecy. Only five people had access to the full blueprints. Prisoners were brought in for the physical labor (just like when building Tito's bunker). The documents remain classified to this day, and the true purpose of the shelter is unknown to the public.

At the beginning of World War II, the last king of Yugoslavia slept here the night before fleeing Serbia, and a week later the final session of the Yugoslav royal government was held here. After the war, Stone Girl was forgotten. Local residents hauled away pretty much everything they could carry: from electrical wiring to the impossibly heavy decorative royal fountain (believed to have been gilded).

Only recently have authorities started restoring the site and attracting tourists. There's plenty of work to be done—we were the only visitors.

PS. If you ever decide to go, the Google Maps marker is wrong. The entrance is here.

I've been wanting to explore Belgrade's underground tunnels since last year. Finally made it happen.

Right beneath the city center, different structures appeared at different times: a Roman well, a gunpowder magazine, and a military bunker.

The so-called Roman well isn't actually Roman or a well. The Austrians dug it about 300 years ago, but it turned out there was no water. They initially wanted to connect it to the Danube, but ended up just filling it with water instead. Since then, the well has accumulated plenty of legends. There are rumors they even threw prisoners down there. But there are confirmed cases too: in 1954, one local guy actually threw his wife down there.

The gunpowder magazine was turned into a lapidarium—basically an exhibition of stone tombstones. Back in the early 2000s, they'd hold various rock concerts here. The acoustics are fantastic. Plus you've got this whole vibe with the tombstones, and apparently visitors would leave beer cans on them. It was basically perfect. But one evening a column collapsed in the hall, and they haven't held any events there since. Though there's still a similar venue operating in Novi Sad if you're interested.

Serbia never stops amazing me with its natural diversity. The southern part of the country is more mountainous. A national park with the rather unassuming name "Stara Planina" has been sitting in my bookmarks for ages. Finally made it here (:

Turns out the rest of the world calls these mountains the Balkans. And that's actually where the peninsula got its name from. According to one theory, the Bulgarians started using this name about 1500 years ago, borrowing the word "balkan" from the Turks. It literally means "mountain."

What looks like a river in the photos and videos is actually a lake. I didn't believe it either, even when I saw it myself. I only managed to convince myself by looking at a map.

Along the way, I stopped by Nishava Gorge. A railway line runs through the mountains there (and it's still operational!). And part of the hiking route (an officially marked trail with all the proper signs) goes right along it. Including through a pretty long tunnel. Not entirely sure how you're supposed to deal with trains passing through.

Next time you're drawing a border between countries along a river, make sure the riverbed isn't planning to shift. The Serbs and Croats didn't take this advice, and they're still arguing about who owns what land.

The roots of the problem go back to the 19th century. They recorded the current border in the land registry back then. And the Croats consider it the only correct one. The Serbs, on the other hand, say the border was drawn along the Danube at the time. So let's count it that way now too. But over 200 years, the riverbed has shifted noticeably, and Serbia now has 140 square kilometers more land.

In 2000, the countries created a special commission to settle the dispute. Over 10 years, it met all of 2 (two!) times and came to the conclusion that yes, they do have different understandings of the border. I'm not going to complain anymore about how long it takes to renew my residence permit.

In 2002, there was even a shooting incident when the mayor of the Croatian city of Vukovar and a group of activists decided to visit their lands by simply rowing a boat across the river. But the Serbian police detained everyone and then let them go.

And on a couple of islands between the countries, they even set up unrecognized micro-states — Liberland and Verdis. But it doesn't seem like you can just visit them. Plus, nobody actually lives there.

I've been wanting to get to the Uvac River meanders for a whole year, but it just never worked out. Finally, I'm here.

You can drive to the viewpoint with the best views, but that's boring. So we decided to kayak instead. Just 8 kilometers on the water, a short climb, and stunning scenery.

The plan was solid, but there was a misunderstanding with the guys renting us kayaks: they initially said it was just 2 hours of paddling and then walking back. But it turned out they meant something completely different—we had to kayak back to the starting point too (because it's 35 kilometers on foot). Nobody was mentally prepared for another 8 km on the water, but we all made it.

Looking back, they communicated with me by email in English through a translator. But in person, we could only speak Serbian. And man, do they love taking photos with the Serbian flag—you can't stop them (:

The views are absolutely mesmerizing. On the way back, we got caught in some light rain, but the river water was noticeably warmer than the rain, so it was actually nice. Everything turned out great. Highly recommend!

Honestly, Serbia is probably the last place you'd expect to hear the call to prayer echoing through the streets and see women in headscarves everywhere.

But Novi Pazar shatters all those stereotypes. Most of the residents here are Bosnian Muslims. I mean, I saw fewer women wearing headscarves in Beirut than I do here.

And Ramadan? It's impossible to miss. At sunset, a loud cannon blast announces to everyone that it's time to break the fast for the day.

By that point, restaurants are packed with people ready to eat. For a restaurant, serving food to a completely full dining room all at once is quite the challenge. So they get creative with set menus—each customer picks a combo they like. Otherwise, there's no way to keep up. I even saw some places that shifted their schedule to evenings: they operate from 3 PM to 2 AM.

When I was heading up the stairs to my Airbnb, I noticed something interesting—there were shoes sitting right on the landings outside people's doors. And when my host showed me the apartment, he took off his shoes before crossing the threshold. I was curious, so I peeked into a couple of the neighboring entrances. Same thing there too!

Not everyone can travel freely and effortlessly. For some, religion literally gets in the way.

A colleague visited us for a few days who eats exclusively kosher food. That would be fine, but there isn't a single kosher restaurant in Belgrade. This happens pretty often in cities with small Jewish communities.

One of the largest Hasidic movements figured things out and started opening Chabad houses in different countries starting in the early 1970s. Today there are roughly 17,000 of them worldwide by some estimates. They welcome not just members of their own movement, but basically any Jews and interested people.

Often it's just a rabbi's house from the local community, with a prayer room for religious celebrations and other events. They also prepare kosher food for visitors and anyone who wants it there. Not for free, of course.

I don't know how it works in other places, but in Belgrade you can't just show up from the street for dinner. You have to book in advance. We went there to eat — it felt like stepping into a parallel universe. But the food was pretty good, really tasty.

I went to see Serbia's eternal derby: Partizan vs. Red Star. It's quite a spectacle. I hope I managed to capture at least some of the atmosphere in the video.

It's not that they play good football here, but the fan sections are absolutely fired up!

Sometimes literally. The number of flares in the stadium is mind-blowing. Technically you're not allowed to bring them in—security checks everyone at the entrance, though not too thoroughly, and people sneak them in anyway. At times it felt like I was at a fireworks show rather than a match.

The local fans never stop singing or chanting something. The chants are often pretty offensive toward the opposing side. Though they didn't forget about the country's president either.

Each ticket is assigned a specific seat, but in reality no one follows these formalities. Everyone just shows up and stands in the first free spot they find. And they stand the whole match. You'd think they could skip bringing seats altogether.

Especially since a lot of seats got smashed up and sent toward the police on the field. Burning flares sometimes ended up there too. But thankfully no one got hurt and it felt safe.

It seems like every Serb is at least 50% made up of Plazma cookies, and they eat them in pretty much any confusing situation. They're literally everywhere here.

This story started back in the 1960s in Italy, where they were making (and still are) the original — Plasmon. Then Heinz bought the manufacturer and immediately laid off a bunch of employees. One of the people who lost his job was Petar Tutovac. He went back to Yugoslavia and, with government support, started a confectionery factory. No point in letting all that experience go to waste, right?

It turned out the Italian recipe was too expensive to produce, so they swapped out a ton of ingredients for cheaper alternatives and named the product Plazma (so nobody would catch on). But the Yugoslavs loved the result so much that generations have been happily buying it ever since.

Pretty soon the Italians got wind of it, and the lawsuits started. It all ended with a ban on exporting Plasma from the country. But then in the 90s, they figured out that if you export it under a different name, the ban doesn't apply. So that's exactly what they did. Look for Lane in your stores.

Or just come visit the Balkans — we've got cookies here :)

In the city, people honestly burn oak wood near temples toward evening. If someone didn't manage to stock up on badnjak during the day, they can grab some right there on the spot.

In villages, though, people usually burn logs right at home. They stick one end into the fire and gradually push it deeper into the stove as the wood burns down.

This ritual kind of symbolizes saying goodbye to the old year.