Wednesday, May 20, 2026
Route: Belgrade / Zemun, Serbia → Croatia → Ljubljana, Slovenia

On paper, this was about a five-hour drive from Belgrade to Ljubljana.

Paper is adorable.

Paper does not know about border crossings, truck lines, ice cream detours, or the emotional weight of ordering pineapple pizza in a part of Europe that may not fully support that lifestyle.

Zemun and Its Alleys

Before leaving Serbia, we stopped in Zemun, the old riverside district of Belgrade on the Danube. Zemun feels different from central Belgrade — more village-like, more Austro-Hungarian, with narrow streets climbing toward Gardoš Tower and views over the river. It has that borderland feeling of a place shaped by empires facing each other across water.

We wandered up through little alleys and streets until we reached the area below Gardoš Tower, also known as the Millennium Tower. From the outside, it looked interesting, though a little rough and almost burnt out in places. You can go up it, but we decided not to.

Sometimes travel wisdom is knowing when not to climb another tower.

Or maybe we were just tired.

Either way, we got mildly lost in the charming streets, which is one of the better forms of being lost.

The Magic Ice Cream Tip

Then fate intervened.

We overheard two women talking. One was from Belgrade and was telling her friend about a great ice cream place.

Daniel and I stopped mentally, if not physically.

Ice cream had become a serious theme of the trip. Churches, castles, canyons, fortresses, borders — all important. But if a local mentions excellent ice cream within earshot, responsible travelers listen.

I asked her, “Are you an ice cream tour guide?”

She laughed and said yes.

Perfect.

She recommended Zlatni Majstor, which we interpreted as “magic ice cream,” because at that point we were emotionally prepared to believe in dessert-based miracles.

We wove through streets until we found it. It was a small shop, but the flavors were anything but ordinary. They had raspberry, pistachio cream, marzipan, poppy seed, cheese, and even ajvar.

Ajvar is a Balkan roasted red pepper spread.

As ice cream, it raises questions.

Daniel began sampling.

And sampling.

And sampling.

“I’m researching,” he said.

“You have conducted a full scientific study,” I replied.

The raspberry was intense and real, like someone had compressed a berry patch into a scoop. The pistachio cream was Daniel’s favorite.

“It tastes so much like pistachio,” he said. “It’s insane.”

This was a strong review from a man already several samples deep.

In the end, Daniel got four scoops. This was not dessert. This was commitment.

A Border Strategy at Serbia-Croatia

Then we started the long drive toward Slovenia. The plan was simple: Serbia to Croatia, through Croatia toward Zagreb, then onward to Ljubljana.

The Serbia-Croatia border had other ideas.

Before we even reached the crossing, the truck lineup stretched for kilometers, two lanes wide in places. When we reached the car lanes, there were only a few open and hundreds of vehicles waiting.

Daniel looked ahead.

“This could take a while.”

“I’ll scout it out,” I said.

This sounds official, but really it meant I got out and walked several hundred meters toward the border like a man trying to understand the battlefield before committing his troops.

I noticed a third lane that was not fully being used yet. When I returned, we made our move, carefully slipping into that lane before everyone else realized it was useful.

“Border strategy,” I said.

“Border cheating?” Daniel asked.

“Efficiency.”

It probably saved us half an hour, though the whole crossing still took around an hour and 45 minutes. They were checking everyone carefully, and there was nothing fast about it.

Once in Croatia, the drive became easier. Freeway carried us past Zagreb and into Slovenia. We reached Ljubljana just after 9 p.m., right around the time our accommodation at Art House was closing. Thankfully, someone was still there. After a long drive and a border delay, not being able to check in would have tested my spiritual development.

Pineapple Diplomacy in Ljubljana

We dropped our things and searched for dinner because most places were closed. We found Pizzeria Arcada about three kilometers away and made it before they shut down.

The pizza was delicious.

I requested pineapple.

This is controversial in many places. Some people believe pineapple on pizza is wrong. I believe that after driving through Serbia, Croatia, and Slovenia in one day, a man should be allowed tropical fruit on bread if his heart requires it.

They did it for me.

International relations survived.

So ended the day: Zemun alleys, a local ice cream tip, Daniel’s pistachio devotion, a Serbian-Croatian border crossing that felt like a small military campaign, arrival in Ljubljana after 9 p.m., and pineapple pizza diplomacy.

A five-hour drive in theory.

A full chapter in reality.