Skipping on Over to Serbia

Yesterday I get a text from my site mate David asking me if would be at all interested in going to a club in Serbia that night. Of course I accepted, tore apart my apartment looking for my passport, and threw a few euros into my wallet.


The border patrol obviously take their jobs very seriously.




Two places at once. Check.


Upon arrival to the club we were destined for we are befriended by the English speaking bartender who is going to move to Chicago next month. He kept David and I full of free shots of...the Serbian version of moonshine. They were trying to out do Romanian hospitality.

Absinthe. The real deal.



This morning I got to explain to the 10 year old girl I tutor why I needed her to stop speaking so loudly and that Domnisoara (Miss) Alizabet needed to go back to bed as soon as possible. Her solution was to drink a glass of wine. I know you're so proud of me mom.

Today's PSA: Serbian moonshine is stronger than Romanian moonshine.