A small city on the west coast of the once Pannonian sea. The main streets feels like a riva, i.e. a boardwalk. One side of it is on hillside, the other is where the flatlands begin and stretch all the way to Ukraine and Romania.
It's built on seven hills, mostly covered with vineyards and cris-crossed with basements. Every generation gets to dig another few meters of tunnels, add a couple of barrels and stick a few of the current coins into the brickwork on the ceiling. The wine is mostly excellent, although you can always buy bad one marked as coming from here. Local connoisseurs can not only guess the sort, year and hill where the grapes grew, but allegedly also which side of the hill it grew on.
The girls are pretty. In Joška's words, they grow tits first, then get rid of molars and grow teeth.