Back in Croatia I was reunited with Louise and it only seemed right to have a 'big night out'. We headed to the main strip and found a bar to sample the local Rakia before looking for a nightclub. I find it quite funny when people in other countries make a large distinction between club and nightclub - the former often being used to refer to adult entertainment.

I was denied entry by the bouncer as he didn't approve of my shorts - I had only sewed them up a few times. A swift wardrobe change into my only pair of trousers and Louise's insistence of a quick swig of Rakia, and we were back out ready to show the Croats some moves.

Nightclubs in the Balkans have a few differences to what I am used to. In Croatia everyone gets glammed up - suits, cocktail dresses and shiny shiny shoes; I guarantee I was the only one in hiking boots. The smoking laws are lax compared with western Europe and people chain-smoke in the venues, so when you're underground in the basement sections of an abandoned hospital in Belgrade things tend to get a little foggy. It was exactly how I had imagined them.

Unsurprisingly not a lot happened the next morning.