Welcome to crazytown!

So my train arrived in Belgrade around midnight. I did the smart thing and took a taxi to my hostel...
...at least it had seemed smart...

I'm not sure if the cab driver wanted to give me a personalized tour of all of Belgrade or if he was completely lost. In speaking to me he kept switching between French, English and Serbian (as if I were some strange mutant tourist whose nationality changed every ten seconds!). He kept pointing at buildings that were probably significant, somehow...and murmuring my name appreciatively.

It was a looooong twenty minutes or so before we finally arrived at the address that the hostel website had said was only 500 metres from the train station (which turned out to be not quite true, anyway).

I wasn't sure my troubles were over once me and my besotted taxi driver said goodbye. There was no sign on the building and the place seemed deserted...

...but a friendly Dutch girl answered the door and welcomed me in. She also showed me where everything was and pointed me to my room; then told me she was actually a guest herself.

I was a little confused until she "introduced" the owner, an older man with a thick black beard who was bobbing to himself at the room's long table. He smiled fuzzily at me and waved. Then took another big swig of whatever he was drinking. And licked his chops and grinned. And took another drink. Etc.

The Dutch girl, her also-Dutch friend, a very laid-back French dude and I then proceeded to try to have a regular, normal conversation. Where are you from, where have you travelled, what do you do (what are we doing here??) -- punctuated with "Belgrade - very good!" or "Paris - very good!" from our friend the owner.

Actually mostly we raised eyebrows at each other and chortled at him, a tad uneasily.

Not the end of the night's adventures!

The plan was for Slobodan to pick me up outside my hostel and we'd go out for  some (nice, calm, non-alcoholic) beverages.

The problem with the plan was that my hostel was not where he thought it would be (as he went to the actual hostel near the train station). We called each other and decided on a new meeting point. At least, that's what we were working towards when my phone died. Out of minutes! With no possibility of getting more until the morning! And I was halfway to the station, or at least, what looked like the station...

At this moment, somewhere on the streets of Belgrade, it was quite tempting to completely freak out!

Which I almost did. Until I saw a group of normal-looking people walking my way...with cell phones. One of them was not freaked out enough by my near-freaked-out-ed-ness to allow me to use her phone to call the only person I knew in Serbia. She also helpfully explained to him where I was (which was, surprisingly, not actually near the station)!

Needless to say, I was very relieved when he finally picked me up! He was probably a little puzzled by my fervent "I am so glad to see you!" 

I thought I could finally start enjoying the evening...

...which I did, except for the small incident of a rather loud party in the restaurant/bar, the cops showing up, and the cops forcibly removing the bartender from the premises. By stuffing him into a police car.

Whether or not it was "all pretty normal", as Slobodan and his friends claimed, I was glad to go to bed that night.