Uros Casti

There is no free WIFI in Serbia! I bark at our techno-addict, who whipped out his phone searching for available networks before we were even able to get our luggage. We’ve just landed in Belgrade after a very long miserable day of travel. The silver lining for at least some of us was the USB ports on the intercontinental flight to Turkey that allowed us to top off our mobile devices before we dived in the shuko 220V limited Internet access zone.

But what good is a fully charged phone if you can’t connect to the wireless?

I could visualize three weeks of pure torture as our wired family suffers not only through the language barrier and the cultural shock but also through going-cold-turkey-on-Internet withdrawal.

We arrived at my parents’ miniature one bedroom condo, overwhelming the space with our extra-large bags and quadrupling the number of residents per square meter.

Here we go, I think, I hope we survive this..., but my dismal train of thoughts is suddenly interrupted by joyful screams coming from the bedroom.

I’m in, I’m in!!

 

In what?!!!

I am in. I am connected!! I am connected to the wireless!

That’s impossible! My parents don’t have internet.

Well, somebody here does – and now I am connected. See?

I peer into his phone screen, and sure enough, he is right.

How’s this possible?

Well, there is an unsecured network, he points to his settings. See - the name is UROS CASTI.