Serbia: a land of beauty with a beastly past

He’s a deadpan bloke, is our friendly local park ranger.

When, for example, I ask the age of the Lada in which we are bouncing up a cliffside on the banks of the Danube in eastern Serbia, the smell of petrol seeping out of every crack in the bodywork, he says “two.”

Then, as we plunge deeper into the undergrowth, and I ask about the types of wildlife which inhabit this beautiful, hidden landscape, he shrugs and mutters: “Wolves, bears. I’m not scared.”

Like I say, deadpan.

The reason we are careering along a gravel track, miles from civilisation in thick forest, is to take in one of the most breathtaking natural landscapes in Europe.

The Danube scythes a chasm between Serbia and Romania, creating a perfectly formed natural border between the two yawning, stretching, recently awoken east European giants. It’s called Iron Gates Gorge, it’s second only to the Grand Canyon in the list of the world’s deepest limestone canyons, and it is magnificent.

We have spent the day following the curve of the Danube to burrow ever deeper into the Gorge’s national park, stopping at momentous historical - and pre-historical - sites along the way.

The route has taken us past Lepenski Vir, one of Europe’s most important early settlements, dating from around 7000 BC, and one of dozens of important sites sprinkled along the eastern bank of Europe’s longest river.

There’s strong Roman influences in the area, the emperor Trajan having come from Serbia, and brought much Roman money back to the region.

Archaeologists buzz excitedly around the UNESCO heritage site at Felix Romuliana, and many of the most important artefacts from a site which still has many experts scratching their chins about its meaning remain on show in the sun-kissed nearby town of Pozarevac.

With much to see across the Serbian countryside, it’s important to get an early start and take in plenty during the morning - you might not manage much in an afternoon.

It’s not a problem of the heat - although temperatures comfortably clear 30 degrees throughout the summer - so much as the groaning belt buckle you find yourself loosening after what is euphemistically described as a ‘light lunch’ on the average menu.

Day after day I find myself sinking like a stone after devouring the plates of food piled high before me.

At one point I tuck into a plate of stinging nettle fritters, which combine well with the region’s own brand of salty, firm sheep’s cheese. The nettles lose their sting after being cut, so despite early misgivings I don’t spend the afternoon chewing dock leaves, and actually rather enjoy the experience.

Such is the immodesty of the local portion size, as we approach Pozarevac I find myself fighting the urge to doze off the latest lunchtime snack, taken at a vineyard in the rural village of Rajac, where locals sell the fruit of their labours pressed from grapes grown in the valley below.

The food throughout east Serbia is plentiful and hearty, but more importantly it’s all served against a stunning backdrop of the east Serbian countryside.

Of course, should you wish to stay in the country, there are plenty of places to rest your head, none of which will break the bank.

Hillside cabins overlooking the gorge offer rooms for around £20, an absolute bargain.

More traditionally luxurious is the Crystal Hotel in which we stay when visiting the capital Belgrade, which remains a fascinating city.

Celebrated for centuries as a militarily important point, changing hands between the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires, like Serbian food it blends the cultures of the eastern and western world.

The recent history of the capital is a mixed one, and scars of shelling by the UN in the 1990s are still evident.

No more than a few hundreds yards from the American embassy, noticeable for its slick modern sheen, lies the ruined remains of buildings devastated by NATO bombs, left untended thanks to land disputes.

Shops and boulevards provide a focal point of modern city life in Belgrade, but glance above ground level and the close-packed tenements hint at lingering poverty in the battered capital.

Among the more beautiful buildings, which evokes images of the Balkans during the 19th century, is the central train station.

Gold in colour, with steam and heat rising from behind its distinctive facade, it’s a handsome welcome to one of the more famous stopping points on the Orient Express.

By night, the city is transformed. A new generation of Serbians take control of their nation’s capital and pour into the streets and onto the river’s floating nightspots to party the night away.

Memories of Serbia’s troubled past are still relatively fresh in the memory, but the country is now reinventing itself. It’s a work in progress, but it has been for 10,000 years.

Nonetheless, you might want to get in there quick - before the crowds arrive.