Studying abroad is wonderful for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, it doesn’t involve much studying. I’ve spent the past four months in Paris eating, drinking and raging my way through Europe, using books mostly as coasters for my cocktails. I don’t really know what a library looks like anymore, but I’ve become the master of spotting a wine shop from miles away. My winey sense is tingling. Secondly, Europeans have never heard of a drinking age and most of them have thus been bevRAGing since the womb. To top it all off, Europe is tiny in comparison to the good ol’ U. S. of A. and you can basically go on a bar crawl across the entire continent. As much as I love the Big Red, nothing compares to this experience and I’ve been making sure to use it to its full potential. Thus far, I have unleashed the Losh in five different countries, and accordingly I’ve been inspired by each to create some wild European concoctions. You cool Cornell cats may have your Keystone, but I have a passport and a bartending license. Hop on Black Out Airlines, Flight 151 and buckle your seatbelts. We may experience some turbulence …
France — Bottles To The Face
1 bottle of wine
A rage-ready disposition
So our first stop is France — land of baguettes, babes and binge drinking. I can’t even describe what a great feeling it is to walk into a Parisian supermarket, pay 1€ for an entire bottle of wine, go sit on the riverbank and then chug with your friends like there’s no tomorrow. You don’t even have to sketchily brown bag your bottles, and no one will assume that you’re homeless if you’re inebriated by noon. Could life get any better? The wine in France is as great as one would expect, and thus I recommend you do the best you can within the Ithaca city limits. Buy a bottle of wine. If you’re feeling extra classy, go with a box of Franzia. Lounge on the grass with some good company. Pound it. ZUT ALORS!.
Prague — Prairie Fires
Round trip ticket to Prague: 80€. Taxi from airport: 20€. Cover to get into the world’s most ridiculous clubs: 20€. An unforgettable weekend of raging with a few best friends: Priceless. Prague is unlike any other city I’ve ever visited. During the day, the local sights are beautiful and full of history, but they don’t even hint at the wilderness that lies beneath. The Czech people may have suffered under communism, but let me tell you, they are making up for lost time. Drink of the weekend — Prairie Fires. Tequila + Tabasco Sauce = a kick in the mouth that’ll grease up your hips and loosen up your inhibitions. Hit the clubs. Pour tequila into shot glasses. Add four to five drops of Tabasco sauce. In communist Prague, drink owns you. Drink credits to Lauryn Torch.
Belgium — The Gaarden of Hoes
A rack of Hoegaarden
For whatever reason, I decided that it would be a great idea to spend one of my recent weekends in Brussels, Belgium. Had I not been accompanied by a motley crew of Cornell ragemasters, I’m not sure I would have survived such a bland land. Thankfully, that was not the case. Overall, Brussels is fairly miserable but it does have one redeeming quality — copious amounts of cheap, delicious beer. Prior to my Belgian travels, I had never laid my lips on the glorious brew known as Hoegaarden. A gorgeous white beer with hints of citrus, Hoegaarden is so delicious that I would even allow myself to be molested by an aging and lonely Belgian actress in order to get one … Oh, wait … that happened. Go to Wegman’s Beers of the World Aisle. Grab some Hoegaarden. Check out. Pop tops in the parking lot.
Serbia — Grandma’s Moonshine
An awesome grandmother who makes her own brandy
For those of you who are uninformed, yours truly can trace his heritage back to Serbia. Surprisingly located between Italy and Greece, and not in northern Asia (I am not Siberian), Serbia is where I learned to rage, and I learned from the best teacher out there — my grandmother. Badass for a multitude of reasons, Baba Joka doesn’t mess around, especially when it comes to partying. Rather than buying drinks and mixers, she whips up a batch herself when it’s time to get down. A few lucky Cornellians have tasted my grandma’s quince brandy and lovingly refer to it as “that moonshine that almost killed me.” Good time guaranteed. Just ask Grace Epstein. Procure an awesome Serbian grandmother. Have her whip up some homemade brandy. Drink it. DisSerbia.
Dear passengers of Flight 151. Thank you for flying with Black Out Airlines. Please be careful when planing as the contents of your stomach may have shifted during landing. Have a safe and pleasant tomorrow, and we do hope that you fly with us again soon. RLD
Original Author: Milos Balac