Surrounded by family, assorted royalty, and a mere 900 of his closest friends, Alexander Karadjordjevic got everything he wanted for his 60th birthday. Almost everything.

Over the course of three days’ festivities that included fireworks, traditional dance performances, and a visit to his ancestors’ tombs, it became clear that what the birthday boy really wants is to be a king. He’d like to trade in his hereditary title – His Royal Highness Crown Prince Alexander II of Serbia and Montenegro – for a weightier one and become the constitutional monarch of Serbia and Montenegro, or whatever the country is called next.

Not that he’s being pushy about it: Born in London; educated in England, Scotland, and America, and having spent many years working in the insurance industry in Chicago and Virginia, the crown prince is far too well-mannered for that. Unlike the deposed Greek king, Constantine, who for many years refused to choose a last name, which would have allowed him a passport to enter the country as a private citizen, Crown Prince Alexander has been visiting Serbia, Kosovo, Bosnia, and Montenegro since 1991, back when they were countries that were just breaking off from Yugoslavia.

Several months after the fall of the Milosevic government in October 2000, the crown prince brought his family – second wife Katherine and teenage sons Peter, Philip, and Alexander – to live in the former royal compound on a hill on the outskirts of Belgrade. They settled in, paid for renovations and a security team, and started his-and-hers foundations to improve life in their unwieldy-named country. (His foundation concentrates on building democracy and fostering economic development; hers focuses on humanitarian aid and handicrafts.)

The government doesn’t bother the royal family, and it certainly doesn’t bother the government. At a brunch during the birthday weekend, the minister of finance and development gave a speech thanking the crown prince for his efforts on behalf of “your people.” And representatives of all major political parties attended the gala dinner/concert/fireworks display the night previous.

If you look at the family’s official Web site, royalfamily.org, however, you don’t have to read between the lines to see that the crown prince aspires toward more than just a pleasant co-existence with the government; he yearns for engagement. His biography on the Web site describes the family’s first visit in 1991 as a time “when they were enthusiastically received by hundreds of thousands of people who see the crown prince as the embodiment of all that is best for Serbia’s democracy.” The Frequently Asked Questions section states “HRH Crown Prince Alexander II does not use at this time officially the title of King, but this has absolutely no bearing on his status and rights.”

At brunch on Sunday, his wife, Crown Princess Katherine, a Greek businesswoman he met when both were divorcees living in Virginia, thanked guests for coming, tearfully explaining that their presence put “the stamp of approval on this man who has done so much for this country that we love. He is above politics, above religion; he believes in unity. “The image of Alexander as a unifier took on more resonance the next day, when, during a visit to the royal mausoleum at Oplenac, the crown prince stood over his grandfather’s grave and explained that Alexander I gave the combined kingdoms of the Serbs, Croats, and Slovenians the name Yugoslavia, or “Southern Slavs,” in 1929; it was “not Tito who came up with the name, as some people think,” he said.

Unification is important in this nation of contrasts. Belgrade has five McDonalds, but the restaurants on the road to Oplenac hang lambskins off of their doors to ensure passers-by that they’ll be served lamb, not goat. Serbia and Montenegro still functions under a communist constitution. There are plans to rework it in the not-too-distant future. Among the proposals for its revision is a constitutional monarchy along the Spanish model, in which the Crown Prince Alexander would replace the president as the ceremonial leader of the country – with the political power staying in the hands of the prime minister and parliament.

Between champagne brunches at the palace and dinners with folk dancing at old Belgradian restaurants, the main aims of the weekend became clear. One was to promote tourism to Serbia and investment in the country by showing wealthy guests a good time Serb-style. The other was to prove to the people of Serbia, who feel isolated after years of sanctions following the Kosovo debacle and depressed by a poor economy and their slim chances of joining the European Union, that the crown prince has influential friends around the world. If he were to sit on a resurrected Serbian throne, ordinary Serbs eager for change might infer, he could give Serbia a membership in the private club of the world’s elites. They would have a shot at becoming respected world citizens again.

Artifacts of a less unstable Serbia scar the royal compound. On Sunday, several hundred brunch guests ate off of assorted palace place settings, and mine, Rosenthal china with navy and gold trim, was printed with the date: November 29, 1943, the first, short-lived communist uprising in the country, a date dear to Tito’s heart. The crown prince was recycling china that the dictator had commissioned either when he called the White Palace home for several months after gaining power or in the ensuing four decades when he entertained there, having moved out after accusations that a communist leader who lives in a palace is indulging in either hypocrisy or irony.

During a tour of the palace, an adviser to the king explained that Tito loved “all the king’s things,” including the Veroneses, Poussins, and Brueghels on display. But only three portraits of the royal family survived the communist era, along with a receipt from some painters who had been given the rest so that they could scrape them down and reuse the canvases to depict more ideologically correct images. At this point, the adviser looked at a middle-aged woman who turned out to be a descendant of the French royal family and said, “You understand, Princess. It’s like that painting at Versailles made out of the powdered hearts of your ancestors.”

Other mementoes of the communist era include the red stars that replaced the royal insignia in the wall mosaics and the grave of Tito’s mistress, Davorjanka Paunovic, near the White Palace. Perhaps the most graphic reminder of the nation’s volatile history is that the gigantic icon of Christ the Pantokrater painted in the royal chapel’s highest dome. Just after World War II, a communist partisan with good aim and a bad temper put a bullet through the center of Jesus’s forehead.

By making a new life in the country without first securing the throne, the crown prince seems committed to helping usher in a new era for his homeland. He’s pleased to have gotten this far. His father, King Paul, fled Serbia after the Nazi invasion in 1941, and four years later, Alexander was born in a suite in Claridges Hotel in London. Winston Churchill had the suite declared a part of Yugoslavia for the occasion. In his speech at the gala birthday dinner, the crown prince described the long journey from Claridges. “I was declared an enemy of the state at the age of 2,” he explained. “So it’s very moving to be here in my homeland, with my people, celebrating my 60th birthday, an age when a man knows himself and the world, but still has time left to work and accomplish things.”

It’s a bold hope to regain a throne, and the crown prince was grateful for the support of his guests, especially the royal ones, “my cousins, the King and Queen of Sweden,” who got a special shout-out at the brunch. Constantine, the deposed King of Greece who was best man at the crown prince’s second wedding, didn’t show, nor did Alexander’s godmother Queen Elizabeth, nor did any members of the Spanish royal family. Whether they were simply busy being royal or didn’t want to be seen supporting the crown prince’s endeavors is anyone’s guess. At a concert in the National Theater, a speaker reminded him that “ten years ago, on your 50th birthday, you told your godmother, Queen Elizabeth of England, that for your 60th birthday, all you wanted was to celebrate in your homeland with your people.” The dream came true, but the speech left the audience wondering about the absence of the fairy godmother.

The guests the crown prince did host were already a handful: At the 900-person gala dinner at the palace on the night before the crown prince’s actual birthday (July 17), government officials and minor royals mixed with Serbian Orthodox priests, Muslim imams in full mufti, Africans in robes and headwraps, and Americans in Ann Taylor cocktail dresses. Each time he spoke, the crown prince began by saying, “Your highnesses, your imperial highnesses, your most serene highnesses, your graces, fathers, imams, effendis, my lords, ladies, and gentleman.” While he was to the hotel suite born, it’s still a lot of work to remember who to bow to and how to address them.

The next morning, at services in the royal chapel, an older man had to be led out by a German doctor. Later, the doctor explained that the infirm man was “the Duke of Braganza, pretender to the Portugese throne; he felt faint because of the heat and incense.” I suspect it might have been the pressure of years of pretending that got to him.

Crown Prince Alexander has led a unique life, returning to live in a homeland which he did not lay eyes on until his mid-40s, a country that has changed names and governments almost as frequently as some monarchies host changing of the guards. If he gets a throne for his 70th birthday, minor monarchs everywhere will start wishing on their birthday candles.

But as he shook guests’ hands after the last official activity of his birthday weekend – a visit to his family graves – the crown prince seemed to be like any successful businessman on his 60th birthday, surrounded by his blended family, some old friends, and many important business associates. Proud of what he has accomplished so far, and hopeful for the future. But wishing that life held just a little bit more.