DAYS 10–12. The End of the Journey Through Serbia

Day ten was supposed to be a lighter one, with an early arrival at our accommodation. But it didn’t work out that way. In the morning, we delayed our departure to spend more time enjoying the wonderful place we were staying at, with its large green grounds. Finally pulling ourselves away, we headed to Mokranjske Stene Waterfall—but there was nothing to see, as the waterfall had dried up. On the way to the second and final stop of the day, we stopped in the town of Negotin to refuel and ended up spending about two hours in a restaurant due to slow service—and because we had relaxed a bit ourselves.

Then there was a long drive along small roads to Vratna Monastery. The monastery is tiny—just two buildings and a small church. Frescoes are all over, but they are relatively recent (some are said to date back to the 19th century). The monastery has been destroyed and rebuilt many times.

It stands in what is called a “cirque,” a semicircular end of a valley. If you walk around the monastery to the right, you can hike from there to two natural stone bridges (Vratnjanske Kapije). To get there, you need to climb a fairly steep path up to the ridge and then descend, also steeply, into the Vratna Valley.

The first bridge, the Small Prerast (Mala prerast), about 30 meters high, is around one kilometer away; the second, the Big Prerast (Velika prerast), is another 200 meters further. I only made it to the first one: my companions did not join me in this venture, and I did not want to keep them waiting. The third bridge, Suva prerast, is 4.8 km in the opposite direction from the start of the descent into the valley (there is a sign).

Because of the delays, we arrived at our accommodation in Kladovo much later than planned.

Day eleven was supposed to be a day in nature—along the Danube and in the mountains above it. But we ended up seeing almost nothing of what we had planned.

For some reason, I really wanted to see the head of Decebalus, the last king of the Dacians—a tribe that lived in what is now Romania. It’s a huge sculpture, 40 by 25 meters, carved into a rock on the Romanian side of the Danube. Work on the project, by sculptor Cotarcea, lasted from 1994 to 2004.

But I couldn’t find any information about its exact location anywhere, so I set off to look for it from Kladovo upstream, toward the Iron Gates. It turned out to be downstream, before Kladovo, so we missed it.

Although I knew that the Iron Gates were no longer what they used to be before the construction of the dam, I still drove there. We looked at the dam, the bridge to Romania, and a tourist ship passing through the locks.

Then we continued along the Danube. At times it spreads out into a vast lake, and at others it narrows, forcing its way through a tight passage between cliffs, as in the gorges of Veliki and Mali Kazan.

Following the advice of a lady at the tourist information center in the town of Donji Milanovac, I have changed our route through the mountainous part of Đerdap National Park— which also includes the Danube valley— but that didn’t help much. We couldn’t find the Beli Izvorac Cave or Rajko Cave, the waterfall had dried up and wasn’t worth the hike, the Valja Prerast natural bridge was too far from one of the parking areas, and, even though we drove back and forth several times, we couldn’t locate another one, which, according to the map, should have been closer. There was no one around to ask. At least we had a nice drive through the forest.

Some compensation came in the form of Golubac Fortress, with its eight towers, а palace, staircases, and passageways, rising dramatically on the rocks by the water. Very picturesque. For a ticket three times more expensive than the regular one, you are allowed to climb steep staircases up to the upper towers rising on high cliffs—but we probably wouldn’t have done it even for a fee.

By the way, if we’re talking about tickets, this was the first and only place offering discounts for seniors. The fortress is open until 17:45, which was very convenient. After visiting the fortress, we had the most delicious meal of the entire trip, finishing it with a dessert with a very unusual name “Mother of God cake,” which turned out to be a local version of German apple strudel with vanilla cream and ice cream (here made with lightly baked puff pastry). Overnight stay in Golubac.

The twelfth and final day in Serbia was scarce in action: we had to take a bus to Kosovo at noon. Although we woke up at the crack of dawn, we took our time getting ready, as usual, and left at eight instead of the planned seven.

During the 2.5-hour drive to Belgrade, the only stop we could afford was by Srebrno Jezero, Silver Lake. It’s quite large, or rather long (actually, it is a branch, or oxbow, of the Danube), and very idyllic. And we really envied those living in cottages right on the shore: ten meters, a small staircase, and you’re in the water. Before breakfast. Before bed. Whenever you feel like it. Paradise!

There was no time left to visit Smederevo Fortress, especially since it was 10 km off our route. After seeing its photos, I stopped regretting that I missed it: it’s impressive, but after Golubac, it doesn’t quite stand out.

Before boarding the bus, we returned the car (the guys kindly agreed to come and pick it up at the bus station). We had damaged the car, but the insurance couldn’t cover the repair since we have not produced the police report which is a must in Serbia. We knew about this law, but didn’t call the police because at the moment of accident we were in the middle of nowhere. We hoped it would pass. It didn’t. We were ready to contact the police in Belgrade, but they told us to come to the police station with an official translator and the car owner. That option was out. The only thing left was to negotiate the amount to be paid, which we did successfully, reducing the initially stated 750 euros to 500. One of the company owners, Igor, a Serb, apologized endlessly for the absurd rules in Serbia. A good guy—you can safely rent a car from them.

Eventually, we boarded the bus, ready to go to Kosovo. The ticket cost 20 euros, and at the bus station they charged us an additional 300 dinars each (a little over 2 euros) for something—possibly luggage. On the way back, however, they didn’t charge anything like that.

The border crossing was quick. A couple of minutes later, there was a 15-minute stop. We went into a café combined with a small shop. Serbian dinars were still accepted there. Hopefully not only at the border, since we still needed to get rid of them. Nowadays, many travellers prefer not to deal with local currency and rely entirely on credit cards. However, in countries like Serbia you still need to carry some cash, because there will definitely be places where only cash is accepted (as happened to us). Euros are not officially accepted in Serbia, but in practice they are taken almost everywhere except gas stations and supermarkets—although calculating the exchange rate with every purchase gets tiring.

And here we were in Pristina. The taxi driver, upon learning that I was from Israel, said: “Israel no good. Many problems.” I agreed with the “many problems.” Then he added something like—not that it’s entirely “no good,” but still “many problems.” Welcome to a Muslim country. But a fairly moderate one. The apartment host, on the other hand, turned out to be a very nice and welcoming guy. We’re staying in a large modern building, in a two-bedroom apartment costing the three of us 30 euros a night. We had a very tasty and inexpensive meal in a beautiful restaurant. When we were hesitant about ordering dessert, the waiter brought it on the house. Semolina cakes with slightly tart fruit jam. They read your wishes. Tomorrow we’ll start exploring this country—a creation of the UN.

DAY 13. Kosovo. Pristina – Pejë.

In the morning, we set out to pick up the car, and that’s when I realized I had lost my national driver’s license – a must to get the car. We called a taxi—or rather, a passerby called one for us after I asked him how it’s done. At the rental office, I just handed over my international driver’s license. It worked. Later, the guy told us it was his first day on the job. Well, as they say, luck favors the bold. After parking the car in an underground garage, we began exploring the city. Construction cranes tower everywhere—there is intensive development, with modern high-rise buildings going up. Aftere walking past the unusual modernist National Library building and the unfinished and abandoned Orthodox Church of Christ the Savior next to it, we reached the small and rather unimpressive central square of Mother Teresa (who was born in Macedonia to a family of Kosovo Albanians, which is why she is honored here, even though she belonged to the “wrong” faith). From there, we continued along the pedestrian boulevard of the same name, stopping by the narrow restaurant street Qamil Hodxa for a brunch (once again tasty and inexpensive), and then visited the city’s three main mosques and the Clock Tower (Saat Kula).

Having finished our exploration of the city, we headed to Gračanica Monastery, dating back to the early 14th century and listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The Waze navigator in our car couldn’t find it until I realized the name should be entered in Albanian. The monastery is located in the town of Gračanica, inhabited by Serbs.

The interior of the Byzantine-style monastery church is completely covered with 14th-century frescoes. The best-preserved ones are in the large 16th-century narthex, typical for this region. Photography inside was not allowed, so there is only one photo taken from the entrance.

In the town of Lipljan which is close to Gračanica there is a 12th-century church with fairly well-preserved frescoes and an unusual stone iconostasis.

We then continued to the village of Gadime e Ulët to see the Marble Cave. There were no signs, so we had to rely on asking locals (the navigator couldn’t help, as I hadn’t entered its Albanian name, Shpella e Gadimës). We eventually found it by going through a narrow path near a restaurant of the same name—and only there did we finally see a sign.

The entrance fee is 2 euros. Nothing extraordinary, but the pleasant coolness (13°C), a walk along a 600-meter route among fractured and twisted rock formations, and a number of interesting stalactites make the visit worthwhile. Well, you take what the country offers. Also, for the first time im my life, I saw here a patch in a cave covered with green moss.

Our next goal was the town known as Pejë in Albanian and Peć in Serbian. Before reaching it, we were supposed to visit the Visoki Dečani Monastery, but a nasty trick the navigator played on us adding several dozen extra kilometers and the poor road conditions forced us to skip it. Tomorrow—a trip to the Rugova Canyon and a return to Pristina.

DAYS 14–15. Rugova Canyon and Conclusions

Before heading to Rugova Canyon, we visited one of the most famous Serbian monasteries—the Patriarchate of Peć (Patrikana e Pejës in Albanian and Pećka Patrijaršija in Serbian), which at different times in history served as the patriarchal—the main—monastery of the Serbian Orthodox Church. The monastery consists of four churches, three of which form a single complex. The oldest and main one, the Church of the Holy Apostles, was built in the first half of the 13th century and painted by around 1250. The other two, the churches of St. Demetrius and the Holy Virgin Hodegetria, date from the early 14th century. The exterior of the churches delighted us with its bright colors and decorative patterns—something we hadn’t come across on this trip yet. There was no one inside the churches, and I took plenty of photos (I don’t think this was not allowed anyway). In the middle of the courtyard stand the ruins of a palace. In 1776, the Patriarchate of Peć was abolished and replaced by several metropolitan sees. The monastery is protected by UNESCO.

After the monastery, we headed deeper into Rugova Canyon (Rugovska klisura in Serbian and Gryka e Rugovës in Albanian). The canyon is 25 km long and ranges from 650 to 1000 meters in depth. Its western end stretches into Montenegro, into the main massif of the Prokletije Mountains, of which it is a part. The Peja Bistrica River flows along the canyon floor.

The most dramatic cliffs are at the beginning of the canyon; further on, it looks like a typical narrow mountain valley like dozens we had already seen in Serbia. We drove almost to the very end of the canyon, to the last Kosovo settlement—the village of Bogë, a small ski resort filled with rental cottages.

We then set out in search of the high-altitude Kućiško Lake (Kućiško Jezero in Serbian, Liqeni or Lićenat in Albanian). After finally figuring out how to get there (the navigator once again failed us), we realized that the hike to the lake would take longer than expected and involved a steep climb. As the day was coming to an end, our enthusiasm faded, so we abandoned the idea. Instead, we had lunch at the Te Liqeni hotel high in the mountains. The views were spectacular, the food much less so.

We decided to compensate ourselves with coffee and dessert at the five-star resort “Grand Hotel Belushi” on the opposite side of the canyon, high in the mountains. The views there were excellent, the tiramisu was great—but the coffee was disappointing, as is often the case in such places.

This was the 14th monastery in our itinerary. Quite a lot, of course, may be too much, but what can you do if your are the “everything in the guidebook should be seen” type…

In general, though, coffee in Kosovo is excellent—including the one I had at the bus station before departure, for just one euro and twenty cents.

Overall, Rugova Canyon that claims to compete with Europe’s great canyons—the Tara River Canyon in Montenegro, Vikos Gorge in Greece, and the Verdon Gorge in France—can match them only in depth. (As for Vikos, I didn’t have the chance to hike it properly—I only had time to go down, look around, and immediately climb back up.)

To be fair, though, Rugova Canyon offers plenty: caves, waterfalls, viewpoints, and several via ferrata routes of varying difficulty. Of course, all of this requires more than just one day. We limited ourselves to a 650-meter zipline ride, which cost 12 euros per person.

After the Grand Hotel, we tried to make it to Visoki Dečani Monastery, also a UNESCO site, which we had missed the day before, knowing that monasteries in this region are usually open until 7 p.m. We made it before seven, but it turned out that the monastery is located at the premises of a military base and therefore closes at 17:30. So the photos are only from the outside and from a distance.

As I write these lines, our bus—having left Pristina with a 10-minute delay—crosses the border. We are back to Serbia.

It should be mentioned, albeit somewhat belatedly, that the currency used in Kosovo is the euro, while in Serbian enclaves Serbian dinars are also accepted. The Albanian currency—the lek—is also in circulation.

It remains to share some general impressions. As for Serbia, I had a feeling that time there seems to have stood still. Severe corruption, everything feels frozen and not moving forward; the small towns we visited for overnight stays were, at best, unremarkable. There are also some unusual rules: parking can only be paid via SMS from a Serbian SIM card; insurance covers car damage only if you have an official police report. Another characteristic detail is that ALL hotels (at least those we stayed at) require cash payment—something rarely seen elsewhere nowadays—and do not require a credit card at the time of booking. Accommodation is inexpensive, as is food. Fuel, on the other hand, is relatively expensive. Taxi drivers tend to overcharge, although we did meet some decent ones. That said, the country is beautiful, the people are friendly, and we have not seen pro-Palestinian demonstrations (instead, you could see slogans like “Kosovo is Serbia” and “Montenegro is Serbia”). In the town of Sremski Karlovci, I saw a copy of “Mein Kampf” at a street stall—but that seems to be a trend these days. Overall, I see no reason not to include Serbia in a travel plans list. The heat in September was unexpected, but I had booked accommodations with air conditioning, and the nights were cool. We were lucky with the weather—almost no rain. And yes, the beer is quite good. The wine seems decent too (my experience is limited, but positive).

Now about Kosovo. To be honest, I went there mainly for the sake of completeness—it was the last European country I hadn’t been to. I wouldn’t travel there fot its own sake, but since it was next to Serbia, it made sense. The country felt much more dynamic than Serbia; in Pristina, there is a lot of modern construction (though the country areas, at least those we passed, look like one continuous industrial zone). Despite the country being predominantly Muslim, no Palestinian flags were to be seen like in Novi Pazar in Serbia. The few people who asked where I was from reacted normally, and a guard at Gračanica Monastery, after checking my passport, even said “Shalom”. Well, except for that taxi driver who said “no good”—but even he felt the need to clarify that he just meant that there are “many problems.” And indeed, his country also has many problems: it is recognized by only small part of the international community, and during our stay, the Serbian minority in this country of about one and a half million people created a political crisis by blocking the appointment of a deputy speaker of parliament, who by constitution must be a Serb, thereby preventing the formation of a new parliament. In short, problems typical of artificially created multiethnic or multireligious states (see Lebanon).

Both in Kosovo and Albania you can still feel a bit of what is called “יומי תום” in Hebrew — “a time of innocence,” meaning a time of simple, trusting relations.

Two days and a bit, of course, is far too little to really get to know a country. In Serbia, we also didn’t manage to visit a couple of towns (Čačak, Sremska Mitrovica) that are supposedly worth seeing. So I’ll wrap things up here. Time to head to the airport.

To avoid being overcharged by taxi drivers (my companions, who decided to go shopping instead of waiting at the bus station, were practically “robbed” by one), we took bus No. 600 (the stop is on the main street about 150 meters from the bus station; the ride takes about 15 minutes). The fare is supposed to be 150 dinars, but no one pays, and the driver doesn’t insist. The reason is that public transport in Serbia is free—except for this airport bus—but people tend to ignore this exception. You can check other stops for bus No. 600 in the Moovit app. The full route takes 37 minutes.

You can also get to the airport from the city center by the A1 minibus starting from Trg Slavija and running from 7:20 to 20:00 every 25 minutes, with a travel time of about 30 minutes.