24/10/2026
First time in the Balkans? A little advice: if someone offers you rakija, don’t ask what it is. Ask what you need to survive. 😂
Headache? Rakija.
Stomach ache? Rakija.
Cold? Rakija.
Flu? Rakija.
Bad breakup? Rakija.
Existential crisis? Rakija.
Mercury in retrograde? Two rakijas and call your aunt.
Here, rakija isn’t a drink. It’s a multifunctional medical device that happens to come in a tiny glass.
Grandpa has a shot with his morning coffee and says it’s good for circulation. Grandma uses it to disinfect a wound, then gives you a shot to disinfect the wound from the inside. The neighbour rubs it on his knees, drinks it for his blood pressure, and offers you some because you look pale.
And if you’re a foreigner experiencing rakija for the first time? Oh, honey.
You take one sip and immediately understand why people use it to clean windows, disinfect surgical instruments and remove paint from furniture.
Congratulations. You’ve had your first sip of Balkan rocket fuel. 🚀
But the real danger isn’t the first glass.
In the Balkans, “a little one” is not a measurement. It’s a threat.
Then comes the homemade rakija. This is when you need to start praying.
Nobody knows the alcohol percentage. Nobody has ever measured it. The man who made it says, “It’s good,” and that’s the entire quality-control process.
It could be 40%. It could be 70%. It could be classified as an industrial solvent in three European countries.
The Balkan healthcare system has three stages:
Rakija.
More rakija.
If you’re still alive tomorrow, see a doctor.