Serbia, North Macedonia | the border and the ball
Through the haze of cigarette smoke and sport nostalgia: Serbia’s soul on display
I arrived in Belgrade feeling tired. Physically tired. Not drained from the history-dense visit to Sarajevo, but rather questioning my decision to take the night bus.
Taking the night bus (or train) is a budget travel hack I’ve been avoiding. Yes, you can skip on a hostel stay, and save some money. No, you won’t sleep well (or at all), and your next day will not be very pleasant.
But a budget backpacking trip is not for real if you don’t do it at least once.
So, feeling a bit upset that my unlimited train pass didn’t quite work in Bosnia and Herzegovina (it is included but the rail network is not connected to other countries), I thought this was my chance to do it.
On my last day in Sarajevo, I made sure I’d spend all the convertible marks I still had in my wallet. Then I headed to the bus station, where I hoped to be able to use my credit card for the bus ticket.
I left early, as I didn’t know if they would cut off ticket sales at a given time but, upon arriving, I found out they would only start selling the tickets one hour before the departure time.
I waited, waited, and waited. They took no credit cards, but they luckily accepted euros. Alright, now I just have to wait for the bus.
A Border-Crossing Saga
Upon due time, the bus was there and I boarded it. “Great”, I thought. “Now I can nap until Belgrade”.
Now, I knew from the start this wouldn’t be a smooth night of sleep all the way to the Serbian capital. After all, we’d cross borders and go through passport control.
What I did not expect, however, is that the bus would stop every 20–30 minutes for the first 2 hours for passenger pick up and drop off.
Once we left the Sarajevo metropolitan area (if that’s even a thing), I figured “ok, now I get to sleep until they have to check passports”.
I was wrong again. We stopped just 30 minutes outside of the border. The driver got up and yelled something in some language (I don’t dare to specify: was it Bosniak? Serbian? Croat? Probably Serbian?).
Either way, I was confused. Not only I was waking up around 1:30 am in a random Bosnian gas station, the driver was also yelling something. I saw everyone getting off, and I just assumed it was the border. I gathered my passport, got off… and there was a line to the toilet.
Great, I just woke up for nothing. Went back to the bus, slept a little more, and then we stopped again some 30 minutes later.
Ok, now we were at the border. You have to do the drill. Went there and showed my passport. The Bosnian agent stamped it, and I was good to go.
We all boarded the bus again, drove a good 100 meters, and stopped at the Serbian side of the border. This time, instead of getting off, we just handed our passports and ID cards to the bus driver. He got off, showed them to the Serbian agent, and returned a good 10 minutes later with the pile he had collected.
Then he started doing this sort of roll call, shouting names I couldn’t understand. Eventually, I was the only one left (I guess he saved the best for last?).
He approached me and, without opening the passport, just said with a heavy Slav (again, will not specify) accent: “Portugal?”.
I nodded.
Hopefully, I would sleep until reaching Belgrade at our estimated time of 4:30 am. Once more, I was wrong. Another stop in a random gas station.
A Rough Arrival
After another not-so-sound nap, we eventually got there. I left the bus station towards my next hostel, hoping for an early check-in.
I buzzed the door and nobody showed up. I kept waiting, buzzing, waiting, buzzing, until a good 15 minutes later this guy showed up, a bit mad at me. “We only open at 9 am, please come back then”.
Not the warmest of greetings.
I squatted at a bakery nearby, treating myself to a much-needed cup of coffee and warm pastries, and writing last week’s post to this humble Substack.
Eventually, I managed to drop my bags off and check in my dorm, but this whole process had totally drained me. Time to shower and rest. I laid down around 3 pm, expecting to sleep a couple of hours, and woke up at 9 pm, feeling rested and ready for New Year’s Eve!
If you’re reading this and you are not from Brazil, it is not uncommon to go until 6 or 7 am in a NYE party! So best practice is to take a good nap after lunch so that you’re not sleepy by 1 am.
This was Friday, so I went out in Belgrade.
The capital of Serbia is well known for its nightlife. A cheap destination (truly cheap, not like fake-cheap Hungary), Belgrade is lively, with many bohemian streets, for the most varied tastes. From the techno and house clubs to the pop music parties—you have it all.
Fancy a drink? You can grab beers at a pub or go to a fancy cocktail bar. Just want to relax and have dinner? Yes, you can do that, or you can also go to one of those restaurants with live traditional music.
A Basketball Pilgrimage
But I didn’t go to Belgrade to party. I was there on a mission.
On a basketball mission.
I’m a huge basketball fan. I had played it my whole life, and it is what motivated me to go to the US in the first place.
Nowadays, sadly, I don’t watch basketball too closely. The NBA has way too many games and European basketball is usually live in the middle of the afternoon for me.
But basketball had always been in my life. So omnipresent that I don’t know what my first basketball memory is. I grew up with my dad taking me to watch his pickup games on Saturdays. I’ve seen a picture of me at age 2 or 3 by the basketball court.
I wish I could say I remember the first time I picked up a basketball, but I don’t. I was just always around it. At first, I didn’t care too much about it as I, just like any other Brazilian kid, wanted to be a soccer player.
But I was taller than most in my grade, so eventually I decided to give it a shot at this basketball thing.
I signed up for basketball lessons when I was 8. By 10, I had made it to the U-12 team at Botafogo. As time went on, I started to focus more and more on basketball. I dropped off from judo, swimming, soccer, and tennis so that I could focus more on it.
If I were to summarize my teenage years in one word: basketball.
Serbia: The Mecca of Hoops?
I spent countless hours in gyms (and outdoor courts too). I traveled within the state and outside of the state. By the time I was 16, I wanted more. I wanted to see how far I could go.
What was the ceiling for me? Rio de Janeiro basketball? College basketball? If so, what division? Professional ball? NBA?
So I decided to try my luck in Florida, where I’d finish high school and practice as much as possible.
Before leaving, I felt anxious about my game. “What if I was too behind?”
So my dad talked to one of his basketball friends, and he agreed to coach me on the side in the months leading up to my departure.
To my surprise, one day, after practice, he told me “I know you’re going to the US and part of the goal is to improve your English and all. But, if you want to improve your game the most, you should be going to Serbia, not the US”.
I looked at him, a bit puzzled.
“Yes, they are the most talented. The Americans are the most athletic and they are a powerhouse, but the Serbians are the most skilled, they play the game the proper way, and they always operate as a unit”.
Yugoslavia’s Legacy and Serbia’s Passion
Of course, I wouldn’t change my plans there to move by myself to Serbia at age 16, but this got me thinking.
Today, this sounds perhaps obvious. Serbia almost defeated the US in the Olympics in 2024, and they got the silver medal in Rio in 2016. Nikola Jokic, their main player, is a 3-time MVP.
This discussion, nonetheless, is far from new.
It just became mainstream recently, but Serbia (and Yugoslavia, for that matter) has always been at the top of the game. In 2002, Yugoslavs (which at the time was already only Serbia plus Montenegro) “shocked” the world by winning the FIBA World Championships in Indianapolis, their second title in a row.
Led by Dejan Bodiroga and Peja Stojakovic, the “Slavs of the South” dominated world basketball in the late 90s and early 2000s. Stojakovic went on to play in the NBA, perhaps paving the way for the many other compatriots who followed suit.
Bodiroga, on the other hand, never played in the NBA, despite being drafted late in the 2nd round of 1995 by the Sacramento Kings. Instead, he had a stellar career in Europe, where he collected many titles and inspired a Serbian rock’n’roll song: “Seks, droga i Bodiroga”.
In addition, before their two World Cup titles in the late 90s and early 2000s, Yugoslavia also claimed another 3 World Championship titles. If this sounds absurd, imagine if Luka Doncic and Nikola Jokic played alongside each other in the Olympics and FIBA tournaments.
Serbia is, undoubtedly, one of the major basketball forces. But this is not new. Before the break up in the 90s, Yugoslavia won 3 titles. The last one was in 1990, led by the “Once Brothers” Drazen Petrovic (Croat) and Vlad Divac (Serb).
Quick plug: Once Brothers is an ESPN documentary telling the story of the two teammates and how they drifted apart once the Yugoslav Wars started. It is a mix of basketball, personal drama, history, and politics—worth watching.
Live in Belgrade: A Semifinal to Remember
All that to say: Serbians take basketball seriously. As someone who, for a very long time, lived and breathed basketball I just couldn’t pass on the opportunity to watch a local basketball game.
And not just any game. I was able to catch a game from the ABA semifinals.
For context, ABA is the “Adriatic Basketball Association”, which is all the teams from the former Yugoslavia. Plus a team from Dubai, a recent addition. Go figure.
Belgrade has two very famous teams: Partizan and Red Star. Both of them were in this final round, and I happened to be there for the Partizan vs Dubai game. It was truly unique and remarkable to see this match. Not just because of the great level of playing, but also because the fans are impressive.
They don’t stop singing one single minute, they never sit down, and they are always locked in the game. Unlike certain arenas in the world where it is mostly for entertainment and you, at times, forget the two teams battling each other.
You may think: “Oh, but when soccer teams in Brazil have a basketball team, the fans act the same way”.
Well, yes and no.
Yes, they are crazy and they sing a lot.
But no. They have no clue of what’s going on and mostly don’t understand the rules. They just follow their team idiotically.
In Serbia, they know when to protest a travel or a flagrant foul, for example.
Conflicting signs of Belgrade
I enjoyed my time in Serbia, despite its contradictions. It is one of the places I’ve seen the most smokers by far. To this day, you can smoke inside many places. I grew up in Brazil during a time when many laws were being passed restricting smoking.
I have select memories of going to restaurants with my parents and the waiters asking: “Smoking or non-smoking?”. Luckily, it was always non-smoking for me, so I never really frequented those places stinking with tobacco scent.
Sometime in my childhood, smoking areas were banned altogether. Smokers complained, but now… it is a discussion behind us and you just don’t see many people smoking cigarettes in the streets, let alone indoors.
At the same time, the basketball court in front of my hostel was always full of people, of all ages and all times, playing their national sport. Aside from that, I went to a calisthenics park a couple of times, which was also always full, despite the odd hours I went there.
A Glimpse of North Macedonia
Oh, I was also in North Macedonia. Skopje, the capital, might be a funny way of saying “Skip It”—quirky, somewhat pretty, many statues, but uneventful.
I went to a nearby canyon that was beautiful with a nice-ish hike, but I wouldn’t move mountains to add it to your itinerary next time you’re in Europe.
Upcoming Itinerary
📍June 1–4 — Athens, GR
📍June 5–7 — Bodrum, TR
💬 Basketball fan or not, curious about what you make of Serbia’s love for the game. Ever felt this connected to a sport while traveling? Let me know in the comments!
Bio
Hi, I’m Guido, a Brazilian traveler who spent 13 years in the US before life nudged me toward a long-awaited dream: a year of exploring the world. I started this page to share my journey with family and friends, but if you’ve found your way here, I’m grateful you came along!
Onde Brothers é incrível, vale muito a pena! E a música do Bodiroga eu não conhecia, até que é legal!
Sou testemunha desta sua paixão pelo basquete. ⛹️♂️ Adorei o texto!