The Three Black Catz; The Black Hole; The Hotel California -- whatever you want to call this place that I have called home in Belgrade since the Sunday before last, one thing is clear: These people are my family now.

All the characters are there: Dad (Mladen, the owner); my sisters (Carmel and Nadine, a Kiwi and Aussie, respectively); my Japanese brother (Gritsko, which is Genna's Serbian name); the crazy neighbor from next door (Joe, the seven-footer); the uncle (Zivko, who was visiting last week); the hot babysitter (Dragana, who has worked here longer than any other employee); there's even a grandfather character (Mladen's dad came and visited for a few days, and got my help in teaching him how to set up a blog of his own).


We eat as a family; we drink as a family; we go out as a family. We are a family.


And when someone in the family tries to escape from The Black Hole, we all laugh. "Right," someone invariably says. "You'll be back another night."

And almost every time, they're right.


But even though all good things must come to an end ...


... blood is thicker than water.