Heady Brews

I was asked a couple of weeks back, "If you were a drink, what kind would you be?" If I was a drink, I would be a mix of blended frozen peaches, Croatian red wine, and virgin's tears.


While in Croatia, I drank the wine; it's their thing, and it really is rude to refuse. I came into my hosts town the first night and we were sitting on the stoop watching people go past. He offered me a glass of wine and, reluctant but not wanting to offend my host, I accepted. I must have drank about a sixth of the glass, maybe 25mLs when it started to affect me. Apparently, this is common; Croatian wine is unusually strong and native Hrvatskans take great pride in the local wines. My host had seen many people pass through, and the only ones that could keep up with his wine intake were the Irish.

He was getting hungry so we went to get him a pizza and as soon as I stood up, I was nearly knocked off my feet. Somehow we made it to a hotel where he ordered himself a pizza and a big jug of woda gazowana, which he made fun of me for saying. My host lived an interesting life as far as monetary systems go. Almost all of the interactions we had where money would usually have been exchanged were handled through an invisible tab that he explained to me as, "I help him, and he is my friend. Later, he sees that I need help, and he helps me. We are friends." I thought this was wonderful; I've had success with this in the states as far as becoming everyone's friend, but I have seen little coming back my way. That's ok. I like having friends. In any case, I was apparently gesturing wildly and exhuberently explaining the details of my research while he sat there and ate his pizza. I passed out that night after drinking about 6 liters of water and slept for 11 hours. When I woke up, my host told me that I had been stretched out on the floor like Superman and that it was the funniest reaction anyone has had to the heady fruit of the Croatian vine in his entire life.

I had a lot of misgivings about alcohol this summer, as I don't drink in the states on the principle that I want to have control over my body, but, as I mentioned before, there is a serious rudeness factor that one incurrs simply by refusing an offered alcoholic beverage. And I feel that, because I was young, it was even more expected of me. I refused drinks as much as I could, but there were times when I knew that in order to save myself from cultural suicide, I needed to imbibe. And this process brought me closer to understanding just what the phrase "drinking culture" means and how the stigma that has become associated with alcohol in America is relatively nonexistant in the span of my travels. It is simply what people do as habit, but it is nothing like saying habit in the context of an American. In a social drinking situation, it seems like we tend to rely on the drink as the stress reliever, while the social interactions can be demanding and dramatic. In Croatia, Poland, and especially Scotland, the drink provides background while the social interaction is the prime reason for gathering. Where a Scotsman would say that a football match is a chance to get together with friends and get pissed, an American would say that a football game is an excuse to get wasted with friends. Drink becomes the main focus of the event; people tend to take what and how much they drink more seriously.

And I recognize that my perspective here is that of a college student, and to be honest, I can't imagine that it is very representative of American drinkers as a whole. All I will say is that, where I was comfortable having a beer with my cousins in Scotland, it just feels strange to me when I hear stories from friends about parties they have been to. The first thing they will tell me is how wasted they were, as if there was something they had to prove. Eastern Europeans do drink a lot, don't get me wrong, but there is never anything to prove. It's just something they do.

If you were wondering, the peaches would be something light and delicious, the Croatian wine would be something profoundly affecting, and the virgin tears would be, I don't know, eccentric?Satchel next time. Get stoked.