RITAM SRBIJE / RHYTHM OF SERBIA
WELCOME TO SMEDEREVO Autumn sonata on the confluence of the Jezava
and the Danube
Visiting Smederevo in October means sitting on the ramparts of the fortress, ordering a glass of local wine and watching the Danube flow quietly towards the Black Sea T he arrival of October brings something deeply cine- matic to Smederevo. Following September’s culmi- nation of the traditional Smederevo Autumn Festi- val, when the city rumbles with trumpeters, tourists and grape pickers, October ushers in the serenity that best suits this city. The air carries the scents of the river and cold stone, while the morning mist rolling off the Danube erases the boundaries between the industrial present and the medieval past. A fortress that refused to fall Every story about Smederevo inevitably starts with Smedere- vo Fortress. But forget for a moment the dry historical data and simply stand in front of its walls on an early autumn morning. This isn’t only Europe’s largest lowland fortress, it represents a monu- ment to a brilliant, albeit desperate, geopolitical manoeuvre. When Despot Đurađ Branković started its construction in 1428, Serbia found itself pressed between two superpowers: the Ottoman Em- pire and Hungary. His decision to build a monumental fortifica- tion in the shape of an irregular triangle on the confluence of the Jezava and the Danube was an engineering masterclass. And its construction was completed incredibly quickly. And here we come to the city’s most famous anecdote, the one about Cursed Irene. She is remembered by history as Irine Kantak- ouzene, a Byzantine noblewoman and the despot’s wife, but she was demonised by Serbian folklore. Legend has it that she made the peo- ple endure brutal forced labour, built towers using eggs instead of mortar and tortured the poor purely out of spite. From today’s more objective perspective, Irene was the victim of a classic xenophobic narrative: a foreigner at court, an intelligent and strict manager of the era’s biggest construction project in the Balkans, the people di- rected their anger towards her because of the high taxes that were needed to defend the despotate. To walk through her town today, while fallen leaves rustle underfoot in the ‘Little Town’ citadel, is to pay tribute to one of Serbian history’s most misunderstood women.
From Byzantine palaces to Serbian provincial towns
If the fortress represents the epic face of Smederevo, the city’s heart is the warm, intimate, everyday life that was best understood by playwright and satirist Branislav Nušić. Though he was born in Belgrade, Nušić spent his childhood in Smederevo. Sitting today in one of the central square’s taverns, taking in the view of the magnificent Church of St. George, it is easy to imagine the young Alkibijad Nuša absorb- ing the characters, plots and comic situations that he would later transform into his ingenious works about provincial Serbian towns. Smederevo has preserved that charm. And in October the pedestrian zone around King Peter I Street is bathed in that specific golden autumn light. People here don’t down coffee on the go – here drinking coffee is a ritu- al, and conversation is an institution. Golden Hill and the ruler’s escape from reality To understand the hedonism of Smederevo, you have to climb Plavinac. This hill above the city hides the vineyards that produce the famous Smederevka grape – an indigenous variety that produces the kind of fresh white wine that’s per- fect for October evenings. This hill is also home to Villa Zlatni Breg (Golden Hill), or the Obrenović Summerhouse. King Mi- lan and Queen Natalie Obrenović were able to flee Belgrade’s political turmoil (and their own turbulent marriage) by com- ing here. Conceived as a more modest summer residence, the villa was later remodelled, though its essence remained the same. It provides perhaps the most beautiful view of the Dan- ube anywhere along its in its entire course through Serbia. The villa is today occasionally open for pre-arranged visits, but even a walk in the surrounding area – through the vine- yards where the grapes are just becoming wine – provides a feeling of aristocratic serenity.
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