Serbian words that do not translate
A dhow, a kottu roshi, a khachapuri — words a dictionary can only give as a description in brackets, because the thing is not part of everyday life here. All such Serbian words are collected here: 41 words with an explanation of what it is and what it is for.
Words and what stands behind them
A spread of roasted, peeled red peppers, sometimes with eggplant, slow-cooked in a wood-fired pot. Made in autumn to last the winter and jarred in bulk — a family event that eats a whole weekend.
Christmas Eve, January 6: an oak branch, the badnjak, is brought into the house and burned, and the floor is strewn with straw. The meal is fasting food, and the first visitor in the morning — the polozajnik — brings luck for the whole year.
A bakery, often round the clock, where one grabs burek, bread and flaky pastry on the run. After midnight the kafana crowd drifts here. Cities hold more bakeries than coffee shops, and they work when everything else is shut.
The capital at the confluence of the Sava and the Danube; the name means "white city". Destroyed and rebuilt dozens of times — by the count of its sieges one of the most fought-over cities in Europe. The Kalemegdan fortress stands where it all began.
A pie of stretched dough wound into a spiral and baked on a tray, with meat inside. Sold by weight in pieces, eaten with drinking yogurt from a bottle. In Serbia the word covers the cheese kind too; in Bosnia only the meat one.
Small skinless meat sausages grilled on a grate and served in a flat bread with chopped onion and kajmak. Counted in pieces — five or ten — and eaten with the hands, standing or at the table.
A small pot-bellied flask with a narrow neck in which rakija is served — about a hundred grams. It is poured from into small glasses, not drunk from directly. The shape is made to warm in one palm.
Cracklings rendered from pork fat at the winter slaughter: crisp outside, soft inside. Eaten with bread and onion alongside rakija. Made only in winter, when the pig is slaughtered — part of the ritual of the svinokolj.
One of the two equal alphabets of Serbian: documents and street signs use it, while the internet and advertising lean Latin. A reader moves between the two without thinking and switches by context.
May 6, St George's day — the start of the shepherd's year and one of the most common slavas. People wash in dew, weave wreaths and roast a lamb. The famous song of the same name is known far beyond Serbia.
Painting on wet plaster, absorbed into the wall and therefore lasting for centuries. In the thirteenth-century Serbian monasteries the faces are painted with a softness unusual for the time — and by it the school is recognized.
A pie of crumpled sheets of thin dough with cheese, eggs and kajmak, soaked and baked. The sheets are not laid flat but crumpled — which makes the pie flaky and airy.
A one-string bowed instrument with a skin-covered body and a head carved as a goat or an eagle. To its drone the singer chants epic verse — tens of thousands of lines from memory. On the UNESCO list.
A place for eating, drinking, live music and hours of sitting. Neither a restaurant nor a bar: people come to a kafana to talk, and the food and the orchestra are the accompaniment. Music requests are paid for separately.
A coffeehouse where people sit over one cup for two hours and nobody hurries them. Tables move out onto the sidewalk at the first chance. Meetings are appointed here instead of an office — always "for a coffee".
Layers skimmed off boiled milk, salted and set layer upon layer in a dish. Young kajmak is soft and creamy, aged is sharp and grainy. Spread on bread or dropped onto hot meat.
A chain dance: dancers hold hands or belts and move side-step in a circle. The lead dancer sets the figures and the rest repeat. Danced at weddings and festivals; anyone may join the chain. On the UNESCO list.
A godfather or wedding witness — and through that, a relative for life, for the whole family and its descendants. Kumstvo is inherited: the father's kum stays kum to the son. Offending a kum is considered worse than offending a brother.
A covered green market where people go every morning for vegetables, white cheese and kajmak. The vendors are regulars with their own stalls, and prices are not posted: there is little haggling, and none with a loyal customer.
A medieval monastery with frescoes — the country's main artistic heritage. Studenica, Sopocani and Mileseva date to the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; several are on the UNESCO list. Many are active and take guests overnight.
The second city of the country, on the Danube, with the Petrovaradin fortress on a cliff above the river and a clock tower whose hands are swapped — so the time could be read from the water.
Heeless leather shoes with a curled-up toe, woven from straps. Part of the folk costume and the shoes of the kolo dancers. The toe was curled so it would not catch the ground while plowing.
A big flat patty of mixed minced meat, slapped flat between the palms and grilled. Served in flat bread with onion, ajvar and kajmak. Stuffed with cheese it is punjena — "the stuffed one".
A bread or bake of cornmeal with cheese and butter, baked in a pan and cut in squares. Once the food of the poor, now served with the main course and kajmak. Deliberately on the plain side.
A pork ham, salted and air-dried in the wind. The Dalmatian kind dries in the bura, the dry north wind, and it is the wind that gives the taste. Cut thin, served with cheese and olives.
Fruit brandy from a home still: plum, quince, pear or grape. Poured for the guest at once, before the food, into a small round-bellied glass. The home-made kind outranks any shop bottle, and every household is sure its own is best.
A soft wool cap with a top shaped like an overturned boat — hence the name, from shajka, a river vessel. An army headgear once, it became the emblem of rural Serbia.
Minced meat with rice rolled in fermented cabbage leaves and stewed with smoked meats for hours. A winter and festive dish; it is considered better on the second day. The summer version uses grape leaves.
Cabbage fermented whole in a barrel with salt and water, not shredded. Leaves are peeled off one by one for sarma, the rest is eaten as a salad. The barrel winters in the cellar.
A slow urban song of love and longing that came out of the Bosnian towns. Sevdah — the heavy, sweet melancholy it exists to sing about — came from Arabic through Turkish. Sung in kafanas, often well past midnight.
The feast day of a family's patron saint, inherited from father to son and celebrated by the whole household. The main day of the year, bigger than a birthday. Guests are not invited — those who know, come. On the UNESCO heritage list.
A round ritual bread with a stamped seal pressed in with a wooden stamp before baking. At the slava it is broken in two, turned crosswise in the hands and kissed — by the head of the household together with the priest or the eldest guest.
Plum rakija — the most Serbian of them all: the plum is the national tree, and for years Serbia led the world in harvesting it. Oak-aged, it is called prepecenica and is noticeably stronger.
A soft round flatbread with nothing inside, slit into a pocket to hold the ćevapi. Baked on the hearth floor of the oven and hollow in the middle. The word is Turkish; the bread is shared across the Balkans.
The river along which half the country stands and into which the Sava flows below Belgrade. From the Kalemegdan fortress the confluence is visible from the cliff — the place people go to watch the sunset.
A brass band of trumpets and a drum, playing at weddings and festivals right in the crowd, cheek by jowl with the dancers. The festival at Gucha draws dozens of such bands and hundreds of thousands of listeners.
Coffee boiled in a small pot — the dzezva — and served with the grounds in the cup, usually with Turkish delight and a glass of water. The default way to drink coffee at home and when visiting. Declining an offered cup reads as wanting to leave.
The rule of Serbian orthography introduced by Vuk Karadzic in the nineteenth century: one letter, one sound — write it as you say it. This is why Serbian has almost no spelling rules and no dictionaries of exceptions.
The slava of a whole village: a procession around the fields with the priest, a service at the "vowed" tree or cross, and a common table outdoors. An old custom for the protection of the harvest, with households taking turns to host.
All the winter stores at once: ajvar, fermented cabbage, pickles, compotes, jams. Made in September and October by the whole extended family, and how much of it there is decides the winter table in earnest. Asking "jesi spremio zimnicu?" is an ordinary autumn question.
Boiled wheat rubbed with sugar, walnuts and vanilla, served in a bowl with a spoon. It stands at the slava and at memorial meals; everyone takes a spoonful in memory of the departed. The word shares its root with zivot, "life".
Why such words are in the course
These are a language's ID marks: they cannot be translated because the thing they name is not part of everyday life here, and they are exactly what you hear on day one. There are few of them on purpose — 41 words out of 4047 words in the course. A course where every seventh word is a local curiosity would teach local studies, not a language.
Every word here has its own page, with pronunciation, a look at the spelling and an example of use.
Frequently asked
Why can't these words simply be translated?
A translation assumes the thing exists here too and is just called differently. Not in this case: “a dhoni is a boat” is true and useless — there are many kinds of boat, and a dhoni is known by its tall curved prow and by being the only way between the islands. An explanation answers the question about the thing, not the word.
Do you have to learn them?
Not before everything else. But you will meet them early: local food is offered on the first day, and a festival is named without explanation. Knowing what stands behind a word is more useful than being able to translate it.