Five of the world's best clubs
21.07.2023 - 08:49
/ roughguides.com
Tired of your local nightclub? Bored of trekking to the same venue every Saturday night? Then try one of these awesome experiences from Make The Most Of Your Time On Earth , as witnessed by Rough Guides writers all over the world.
Belgrade has every right to proclaim itself the good-time capital of Eastern Europe. As good a place as any to start is Strahinjića bana, known as “Silicone Valley” thanks to the number of surgically enhanced women who parade up and down here. You can get the evening going with a glass of hoppy Nikšićko beer or a shot of Šlivjovica (a ferocious plum brandy) in one of the many über-hip bars packed cheek-by-jowl along this fantastically lively street. From here it’s time to hit Andergraund, a venerable techno joint located in the vast catacombs beneath the Kalemegdan citadel.
To experience a different side to Belgrade’s nightlife, head down to the banks of the Danube and Sava rivers which are lined with a multitude of river rafts (splavovi), housing restaurants, bars and discos. These places can get seriously boisterous, but are popular with devotees of Serbia’s infamous turbo-folk music, a brilliantly kitsch hybrid of traditional folk and electronic pop. If this type of music presses your buttons – and it is worth experiencing at least once – you can also check out one of the city’s several folkotekes, discos specializing in turbo-folk.
Andergraund is at Pariski 1a (daily 10am–4am). Strahinjiča bana, Obiličev venac and Njegoševa ulica offer the greatest concentration of bars and cafés.
© Mettus/Shutterstock
Hemmed in between Romania and Ukraine, tiny Moldova has not gained a great reputation as an oasis of hedonism over the years. And arriving in temperatures of -20°C in Chisinau, the capital city of this landlocked nation, it appeared from the miles of unspeakably bleak Soviet-era tenement buildings, driving snow and belching car exhausts, that the closest I was going to get to excess was necking a glass or two of vodka from under my hotel bed sheets.
This fear was only confirmed when my cab driver told me that the best place in town on a Monday was the Military Pub. The first inkling that my night in the “Pub” was going to be an interesting one was the huge Soviet-era army tank slap-bang in the middle of the dancefloor. A giant portrait of Lenin hung above the DJ-booth tank. Sandbags were lying everywhere. The atmosphere was raucous but friendly – and there wasn’t an army uniform in sight.
Every few minutes, a huge bell hanging above the bar would be rung vigorously by one of the grinning staff, the signal for an urgently frugging dancer to be dragged off the floor and plonked on top of the bar where he or she would be forced to down a dark green-coloured shot of a local