Guide to holidaying in Serbia:

People in Serbia tell you it's "underrated," which typically means they watched one TikTok and now think they're Balkan experts. In this instance, nevertheless, they might really be right. Visiting Serbia is somewhat like barging into a vibrant house party you weren't really invited to, but everyone insists you stay for supper anyway.

Clearly, Belgrade is where to begin. It is loud, lively, and a bit disorganised, in a way that makes you wonder whether anyone here ever gets any sleep. Spoiler: They don't. The nightlife in the city is fantastic, and after spending an evening on a floating club on the Danube, you can see why Serbians are so good at ignoring the hardships of life. It is difficult to be stressed at two in the morning when you are dancing beside a river and someone offers you a shot of rakija, saying it would fix everything. Though it doesn't cover everything, it covers enough.

Belgrade feels quite relaxed during the day. Locals saunter through Kalemegdan Park as though they have all day. The old citadel looks out over the city with the traditional Balkan combination of grandeur and a bit of existential terror. Stand there long enough, and you could start considering history, politics, and why pigeons always seem to know something you do not.

Then there is Novi Sad, Belgrade's more subdued, somewhat introverted cousin. It is cleaner, quieter, and has that natural charm that makes you remark, "I could totally live here," even if you have never successfully prepared beans from scratch and cannot utter a single word of Serbian. Petrovaradin Fortress is the primary draw; if you go in July during the EXIT festival, be ready for a few thousand new best friends all sharing your enthusiasm for music and questionable shoe choices.

The actual twist in the story is Serbia's rural area. One minute you are gazing at medieval monasteries that resemble those arranged by some dream movie location scout, the next you are travelling over undulating hills speckled with little towns. Studenica and Žiča are the kind of peaceful places typically saved for yoga retreats and people who say they "disconnect on weekends." You might find yourself muttering without knowing why, even if you're not particularly religious.

Serbia's cuisine warrants its own emotional monologue. Everything is fried, grilled, or strong, or perhaps all three at once. Kajmak should come with an addiction warning; ćevapi will ruin hamburgers for you forever; if someone offers you homemade rakija, never inquire about its composition. Accept your destiny.

Travelling across Serbia teaches hospitality. People welcome you in, feed you till you forget time, and send you off with a grin that makes you think they really expect you to come back. You most likely will. Serbia is the kind of place that stays with you, even after you have gone home and tried (unsuccessfully) to explain to your friends why a random fortress on a riverbank made you weirdly emotional.

It's quirky, welcoming, somewhat erratic, and well worth the trip.