Serbia surprised me deeply. There is something intense about its people, the way they talk about their country and the strength they convey. I felt honesty, depth and a kind of dignity that stays with you. Serbs are very proud to be Serbs.

Walking through Belgrade felt like stepping into two different times at once. The touristic areas were full of cafés, street art, music and a vibrant everyday life. But just a few steps away, I saw buildings damaged by bombs, still standing, open like scars. It was the first time I had ever seen something like that, and it moved me deeply. In many countries everything gets rebuilt after a war, but here they chose to leave some structures exactly as they are —as a living reminder of what they endured and overcame. They are wounds that speak, proof of a strength they refuse to hide.

Only then did I understand why the contrast felt so powerful. Serbia has gone through centuries of invasions, struggles and conflicts that shaped its identity. From old empires fighting for these lands to the wars of the twentieth century and more recent bombings, this country has had to rise again and again. You don’t need dates or names to feel it; being here is enough to understand that their history is heavy, but their spirit stands firm.

And among those old scars and new buildings, the people felt incredible to me. Strong, kind, grounded and warm. They talk about their home with pride, but with a smile that makes you feel welcome instantly. Their energy, their sincerity, those simple gestures —all of it stays with you.

Serbia taught me that not everything broken needs repair. Sometimes leaving the scars visible is the bravest way to remember who we are and everything we’ve survived. And that kind of strength… stays inside you.