Everyone’s always been a bit suspicious of my obsession with gay clubs. I’m not talking about gay and lesbian clubs, I mean clubs for gay men. They don’t seem to understand the inherent charm of a place where no one in the place will even turn to look at you, much less check you out. Knowing this gives you endless freedom to act, well, like an absolute moron, which makes for an infinitely more beautiful night than a visit to a standard Belgrade meat market like Club BlayWatch by Hotel Yugoslavia.
Francuska Sobarica is not a gay club, but the ladies and gentlemen frequenting the place are so incredibly out of it, that there’s basically the same effect of a gay club.
“Whatever do you mean, Vanja?”, you may be asking yourself. So, as we say in journalism – show, don’t tell, so I’ll let facts do the talking.
The last time I visited the Sobarica, approximately 45 per cent of the population was over 45, according to an infallible head count I did. On the other hand, a completely infantile 17-year-old, wearing his grandma’s track sweater and work-out shoes from the early ’80s and white sunglasses, was doing something, which to me looked like an aerobic workout, in the middle of the crowd. A group of trashed metal-heads in the back of the dance floor were swaying and screaming. A group of five hipsters, wearing shawls, tight pants, infallibly perfect shoes were standing in another corner.
It was in this unimaginable mix of people that one realizes that they can do no wrong. The people I was with and I decided, since there was absolutely no prospect of meeting a sane human being that night, to act like the biggest morons there, and therefore had a good night.
The Sobarica is a bit difficult to get to if you don’t know how to get there to begin with. It’s on Francuska street in the centre of town. There are no signs outside of what looks like an abandoned residential building. Once you walk through the door, and go through the courtyard of the building, you find yourself in the basement club.
The club is nothing special as far as the decor goes, and looks like any average club anywhere in the world. In addition, it’s fairly small.
It’s my recommendation that you completely avoid the place on the weekends and go there on Tuesdays, when the music is not the standard techno from the late ’90s, but rather a mix of indie and ’80s pop.
However strange it seems for me to say this, I do recommend the place, though I may be a bit biased. Why? Well, I was never a very nostalgic person, but, recently, I’ve been looking for a place that reminds me of those run-down, back alley places in somewhat dangerous parts of town you go to in America because, well, you’re that kid. The Sobarica reminds of these places, and has, over time, become close to my heart.