A Belgrade Happy Meal

Just outside my window, a man was running after my train. He'd missed it because it left early. His face hadn’t yet caught up with reality. His face showed the annoyance of having to wait for the next train, it didn’t show the slightly terrifying thought of having to wait overnight, in a city he'd expected to leave, for the next Belgrade to Budapest train. I know what this man thought because 14 hours earlier I watched a train leave without me. Perhaps with his 10 hours he had the education I had.

After I was stranded, I holed up in Belgrade’s Kalemegdan park, which holds the city’s fortress. Where Celts, Romans, Byzantines, Slavs, and Turks, have conquered and been conquered (often to be repeated), I watched modern Belgraders kick up clay dust and play tennis with similar gusto to past armies. A lean, dark-haired business student, Marc, told me that Belgrade’s fortress has an upper town (with tennis and basketball courts), lower town and the park. Like a mini Central Park, Kalemegdan has many sides, from the mathematically laid out, colourful formal gardens to the well worn edges which, across tramlines, become city again.

After ridicule for missing my train, Marc and his friends promise to teach me about Belgrade’s culture over lunch. In case I miss the next train and have to live here for the rest of my life, they say. And in the familiar plastic and paper environment of a McDonald’s, over a familiar meal they really did help me understand Belgrade’s culture.

Our meal didn’t start at the counter but next door with a man selling various bits of food, drink and, oddly, pharmaceuticals. Eventually I’m toasting to a ‘Beograd Happy Meal!’ as little mini-bar size bottles and soft drink cups scuff each other. The Belgrade Happy Meal that sits in front of me includes much of a regular Happy Meal - cheeseburger, fries, McNuggets, Sundae, and even a toy which Marc insists on. The Belgrader bit comes from the extras - cajna sausage, Milka chocolate, pickled cucumbers, a mini-bottles of Jack Daniels Whiskey and a few of Gorki List - a traditional Serbian drink which I, as a guest, am given sole rights over.

While eating the most unusual - but best - Happy Meal ever my teachers taught me through actions more than words. The informality of the meal, the lackadaisical attitude of the staff to contraband and views of my hosts helped me understand Belgrade’s culture. Much like any big city it does what it wants, when it wants to. Accept this and you’ll get by.