Oh Belgrade, what can I say about you? Our visit was far too short to really get to know you. They say first impressions last, but I'm not going to judge you on the less than friendly reception our tour group received. I am going to assume that the drunk w***ers who walked past yelling aggressively at us "f*** America, f*** England, f*** Europe" fall within the minority of w***ers that every country has. Even though it happened twice. And I'll make a concession for the fact that Australia was not included in those little rants.

But let's focus on the positives!

With just one night here we managed to cram in a reasonably comprehensive walking tour in the afternoon followed by an evening of madness. Formerly capital of Yugoslavia and currently capital of Serbia, Belgrade is quite a pretty city. A nice modern shopping street lined with lamps and flowers, grand government buildings, cool fountains and an impressive Fortress which gave a stunning sunset view over the city and the converging rivers. What I loved most about the fortress is that a park and public facilities - like a football field and basketball courts - have been integrated into the area. Kind of cool that the locals get to enjoy it rather than shutting it behind gates and charging entry, and still it is respected and well maintained.

We saw a colourful protest which is largely to do with the implementation of paid public transport, but there was also an anti NATO poster thrown in for good measure - which possibly explains the more dramatic sentiments we received earlier from the drunk w***ers.

Mark picked up his first souvenir in Belgrade, a 500,000,000,000 (that's five hundred billion Serbian Dinars) note that was actually in use during the hyper inflation of the 1990s, when currency doubled every three hours.

We had a nice dinner with a strange waiter who pretended not to know English. He preferred a Mr Bean style of mime, and delighted in trying to confuse us.

A vodka please

No.

No?

Yes ok?

So yes?

Yes.

A beer please.

None left.

No?

No. (he chuckles as he hands over a beer, and hovers a little too closely to Lauren)

We start our slightly random pub crawl with a shot of rakija and some traditional Serbian music (a double bass, accordion, guitar and drum). To tip it is traditional to stick the note in between the folds of an accordion, throw the money at a trumpet player, or stick the note to a sweating musicians forehead. All options are perfectly acceptable.

We head to another bar tucked away on the second floor of an apartment building, in a random back alley. With our group of thirty packing the place out, they're making a mint from us but I have an inkling they can't wait for us to leave. Still, it's good fun. We use textas to write on the walls (acceptable) and each other, Matt becomes a cute kitten and Dan acquires a giant penis on his face. Marc S takes a few portraits of us shaking our heads madly from side to side with a fast shutter, which results in headaches and hilarity. I'm dreading the Facebook tags.

Afterwards we undertake a giant trek over the river, where the bridges are lit up prettily and we can hear the massive bass lines drifting across from the moored boat where we will end our pub crawl with lots of drinks and dancing and good times.

Belgrade, to me you are like a strange, crazy, entertaining dream. Hope to visit you for real one day!