A Love Letter to Balkan Capitals

Dear Zagreb,

After weeks of small, bitter coffees, I fully embraced your cafe culture. Black coffee, flat whites, iced coffees that were actually iced coffee and not cold coffee with ice cream inside….

After weeks of paltry breakfasts, I tucked in to your huge egg dishes, with layers of ingredients covered in dripping yolks and paired with—yes—delicious coffee drinks.

You were nestled in a U of beautiful parks and appreciated by residents (and visitors) who took full advantage of your grassy lawns and ample sunshine. Blankets held families and lovers and friends in the shadows of Austro-Hungarian buildings, and a sidewalk cafe was never too far away.

Dear Sarajevo,

It was July in Europe, but you felt like a perfect late September evening.

I heard your calls to prayer through our apartment window. The melodic chant echoed in my mind as churches and synagogues passed by the bus window.

I learned you are called “the Jerusalem of Europe” and this charmed me endlessly.

Biting sugar cubes reminded me of pilfering the sweet treats from mom’s baking pantry as a child. The taste of thick Bosnian coffee filling my mouth afterward brought me right back to the present.

Dear Belgrade,

You had a plant problem. A major plant problem. And I was here for it. Greenery on the steps, greenery dangling above my head. Greenery in crates and artfully twisted through wall hangings. Trees hugging my table at an indoor cafe and pots lining the narrow staircase to our 7th-floor apartment. Plants, plants everywhere.

Your Bohemian quarter made me want to write again.

From funky to minimalist to covered in cowhide, the interiors of your bars and cafes stopped me in my tracks multiple times on every block. I only wish I had time to drink in all of you.

The sun setting over the river, where empty barge clubs waiting for revelers faced off against the proud, ornate spires of your Orthodox churches, was the perfect sunset to our Balkan adventures.