Here I am. In the heart of the Serbian psychotropolis. The backyard rakija distillery. The well from which the holy waters flood the Earth, soak our skin, give us life and warmth. The very source

You’ve come to Serbia at just the right time. Slava season is beginning. Brace yourself. If I took a sip of rakija for every time I’ve had that statement uttered to me, I’d be a

As soon as I introduce myself, I can see the gears behind their eyes spinning, grinding, overheating and jamming to a halt. Perplexed they stare. And like clockwork, that question tumbles from their mouth. Why