Noćni Život pt. 2

Okay, I have been putting off writing this post for a bit now for a few reasons... Mostly, we have just been going at a pretty quick pace these past few days (and I can definitely say that my organism is no longer capable of doing what I could do even a few years ago). Also, our camera has been traveling around between our friends whilst we hang, and (how shall I put this?) some of them hold the view that photographic quantity is more desirable than quality... Which means that I have literally hundreds of snaps to sort through in order to string together a post. Anywho, enough of the bitching, no more preamble or geography lessons: Let's go out, in true Srpska fora!

 Rakija is the national drink in Serbia, and every country in this region has its own variant. The term, rakija, is really a broad name for any kind of brandy-like alcohol made from a variety of different fruits. It can range from minimally alcoholic and sweet, like juice, to industrial strength paint thinner. This photo was taken at Rakija Bar, whose owners have tasked themselves with the mission of promoting a taste and passion for fine rakija. Each serving comes specially paired with little hor d'oeuvres to accentuate the flavor. Here we have dunjavača, made from a quince, and višnjavača, made from Serbian sour cherries.

Aaaaaand after a few sips of the finest rakija available in Belgrade, one of course needs a hearty gyro to soak up what the hor d'oeuvres could not dream of accomplishing! Natalija was more than a little surprised that I managed to make short work of this whole situation.  

 Sometimes, a good night out involves young ones, but only at Pivnica Tošin Bunar, aka Džakarta. And of course, once you bring the little guys, you have to entertain them, which is why you see Natalija forming her hands into a makeshift koš, or basket for mali Vuk to shoot his tiny paper basketball through. (House made wine encourages ingenuity, even in child rearing!) Disclaimer: Vuk's parents, Mirko and Iva, actually didn't drink that night, they just came out to sit with us while we did.

 If one wants something a little more on the going out side of going out, then one should go to Red Bar. It is located in Skadarlija,  which is the legendary bohemian quarter of Belgrade. It is always full of Beograđani and stranci (of which I am one). It is like a very cosmopolitan pub. It helps that the waiters there are friends of our friends!

 Our pet, Mirko, such a good boy!

 Vlada, who used to work at Red Bar, and who still can get us service there faster than probably anybody else in all of Serbia.

 Once the night is no longer young, you have to start considering your options for the not insubstantial trip back to Surčin. There are taxis, which are expensive; regular buses, which stop running far too early for us; and the Night Bus! The night bus leaves later and costs a little extra, but we found that buying a coffee for the very outgoing ticket taker and her driver colleague take care of that pesky detail!

Sometimes going out can be a family affair, like when Natalija, Vesna, Lela, Danny, Roby, and I all go sit in Skadarlija to hear music. 

Then again, sometimes going out can mean staying in... Like last Saturday when we introduced Beer Pong to Serbia! They were skeptical that it would be fun when I was setting up and explaining the rules...

...But they were quickly won over! Nataša and Branko were the perfect candidates for the first round. And the perfect hosts for our Saturday Game Day.

 Nata had great form and was the MVP of the day.

 Soon, more guests arrived, and a whole new adventure in day drinking began. The day slowly progressed from Beer Pong to regular Ping Pong...

 ... and then to SkipBo!

This doesn't fit my narration at all, I just like this picture!

 Once again, even the little guys got in on some of the action, though they still have some work to do on their backhands.


Finally, you have one of the Mothers of all Going Out in Serbia: EXIT Festival!

 We only went for Sunday night's festivities, but the festival ran from Thursday to Sunday in Novi Sad, which is about an hour and a half up the highway. Nata and Roby were excited...

 ...While David, having been to his share of festivals, was prepared!

One interesting thing amongst many at EXIT are the pay cards. Way back when the festival first got going, you could only buy goods inside the grounds with "tokens," which you exchange for real currency at the gate. This concept, most likely spawned out of some Utopian ideal, has slowly evolved into a sophisticated way of keeping scammers from taking advantage of clueless foreigners holding handfuls of bills and not understanding that their large denominations mean very little.

 The crew walking to go see Nick Cave.

 Finally, going out means going home... or at least wandering around Novi Sad with a "beer to go" at three in the morning, hopelessly lost en route to the train station, and asking directions from equally inebriated and confused locals in vain. Needless to say, we made it to that train station, and they even let us on a train back to Belgrade! Hooray!