3-17, 18: Whose Blood is This?

My first impressions of a Serbian concert proceed as such:

• The mosh-pit is hardcore. There's a sizable amount of somebody's blood on the back of my undershirt. I hope they don't want it back...
• The coat-check crowd is much more hardcore.
• The crowd sure as hell has the energy. We crowd-surfed three people during one two-and-a-half minute song, and oh my god, the pit.
• Serb? Bosniak? Croat? Who gives a shit, we're all screaming the words to Star of the County Down at the top of our lungs and swaying together like a drunken whale!

And plenty more responses, but you know what? Words just aren't doing the trick. It's hard to describe a perfect night. Just give 'em a listen:

Today, incidentally, was one mad rush to Bosnia. Amidst Nenad telling me not to go for a run in a minefield and Nikica telling me to marry for passports and bilingual children, of particular interest was my discovery that "on a horse" is a way to say that you're doing very well/got it made, e.g. "Hey, Miroslav, I just won the lottery, I'm on a horse right now!"

Pictured: The greatest thing to hit Serbia since Djoković.

And here I thought he was American.

Srpski reć dnenvi: Hey, sometimes I don't learn a word. Such is life. Although I guess we can count biti, "to be", but that almost feels like a cheat from Russian. Of course if you're depending on my daily Serbian word, chances are you've got bigger problems, and so I urge you to either settle up your gambling debts by sign language, contact the A-Team (if you can find them), or make tracks for the nearest U.S. embassy.

Sorry for the shortness, but I'm going to Bosnia on the morrow, and I'll be damned if I get an hour and a half of sleep this time around. Sleep tight, folks.