The City That Kept Returning

How four years of reporting across Central and Southeastern Europe led me to my next home

I stood near Republic Square in Belgrade, Serbia on a warm afternoon, thinking it would be a good time to finally breathe a sigh of relief and celebrate. I decided to make an appointment at a salon near my Airbnb to have my hair done by a stylist named Ana. I also bought a bottle of The Morava from Serbia’s The Sparkling Winery from a local shop, FinoVino.

I had received my business registration as a self-employed entrepreneur, gotten my first international mobile telephone number, opened my first international bank accounts, signed a lease, and applied for a combined residency and work permit. These details signified moving from maybe to the reality of a new life in Belgrade.

Wine and travel writing has taught me that a place rarely reveals itself immediately. A wine region becomes more intriguing by returning: another vintage, the same vineyard during a different season, another conversation with the winemaker. My attraction to this part of Europe developed that way. What began as a single media trip to Hungary in August 2022 evolved into a series of visits across multiple countries these past four years—and a love affair that now includes Croatia, Hungary, Montenegro, North Macedonia, Serbia, Slovakia, and Slovenia—none of which were familiar to me before. Wine press trips made me crave a new life.

Belgrade appeared in my writing notebooks well before it became a relocation idea. In November 2023 at Wine Vision by Open Balkan, I spent a week serving as a wine competition judge, attending the wine trade fair, and participating in immersive visits to wineries across Serbia. I tasted wines from Aleksić, Deurić, Doja, and Erdevik, just to name a few. In a crowded exhibition hall, I first met Slovenian winemaker Matjaž Lemut—an encounter that eventually became the start of a three-year journey. I returned to Belgrade again for Wine Vision by Open Balkan in 2024 and 2025. Each time, the city felt less like a visit and more like a bridge between the Adriatic and the Balkans.

By then, my map had widened. I had walked Hungary’s volcanic hills of Somló and Badacsony, followed winemakers through Slovenia’s Brda and Vipava Valley, tasted wines in North Macedonia’s Vardar Valley, and written stories from Austria, France, Istria, Montenegro, Italy’s North Adriatic, and beyond. I often traveled solo without a car—uncovering stories and making new friends one train, bus, plane, region, and vineyard at a time.

Friends and subscribers know Zagreb was my first European home. I moved there in October 2024 after a professional upheaval in California pushed me toward a life I had not planned. Croatia gave me time to become more than a visitor—to expand my regional knowledge and learn how to live solo in a major European city. However, my digital nomad temporary residence permit expires September 1, 2026. I would have to move away for six months, then reapply to return, then repeat it all again. It forced a decision.

I considered other countries, each with its own appeal and complicated route to residency. Barriers to many were the income requirements and cost of living (not doable for freelancers like me). Some residencies were too short, non-renewable, or dependent on family reunification/ancestral descent or an employer contract. Since I do not have (or want) a car, I also need access to reliable public transportation.

Serbia rose to the top. The work and residency application processes are straightforward (dare I say easy?) and financially viable for a self-employed freelancer. The city of Belgrade offers the vibrancy, friendliness, and hospitality I want, public transportation I can count on, and access to the region that has become the center of my work. I started to imagine myself living here long term.

The move began on paper. A Serbian friend/colleague connected me with his business partner, soon to be my landlord, as well as the law firm whose services I enlisted. I registered as a sole proprietor/entrepreneur in Serbia in June, gathered documents, and planned a weeklong visit in July to open the bank accounts, find the apartment, and apply for the residency/work permit.

The paperwork came to life: a Serbian phone number, bank appointments, apartment viewings, and questions about deposits, utilities, furnishings, and move-in dates. I found myself trying to figure out whether an armoire and queen bed left enough room to move around in a bedroom—an ordinary calculation that in the moment felt almost as important as choosing a city and a country.

After one of the bank appointments, I took the bus to the neighborhood of one of the apartments I had viewed to get an idea of what daily life might feel like. I shopped at the closest grocery store. I got back on the bus to return to my Airbnb and thought about it during the 30-minute ride, as this would be my regular commute to the city center. The bedroom quandary was not a deal breaker. Therefore, I said yes to this apartment the following day.

This is the truth of relocation: the major decision is followed by what feels like hundreds of minor ones. Which apartment? Which mobile phone company? How many suitcases will I need? What will I bring with me and what must I let go of? How will I travel one way from Zagreb to Belgrade?

My Zagreb lease goes through the end of August, so for now the two lives overlap. I am leaving one home filled with gratitude while growing excited for what lies ahead. It’s always better to try something new than to wonder what might have been. You could just go for it this time, which is a lot easier to do (and say).” – The Universe, tut.com

I have spent years arriving in unfamiliar places as a writer. I know how to ask questions, listen, and return until a place becomes familiar and comfortable. After almost three years and now four visits, Belgrade has enticed me to stay longer—and make it my next home.