ABOUT US

I went to see Ivana. She runs a small hotel — three floors, a terrace, grapes, and a deep denial of technology.
“I do have Wi-Fi,” she said gladly, pointing at a lonely router in the storage room.
The router was old, warm, and sad, like a security guard without a booth.
“See? It’s blinking. That means it’s working.”
Yes, it’s blinking.
Sometimes it even thinks.
What “proper Wi-Fi” looks like in the owner’s mind

A hotel owner believes that:

• if it works at the reception — then Wi-Fi exists
• if the administrator is on TikTok — then it’s good enough
• if one guest said “OK” — the rest are just picky

The owner is a person of faith.
The guest is a person of speed.
They need:

• videos that don’t have time to think
• calls that don’t stutter
• movies that don’t turn into slide shows
• a boss who never finds out the internet is “a little stormy”

Wi-Fi in a hotel is not about “convenience”. It’s about *choice*!

Today, a tourist chooses a hotel based on three things:

1. Price
2. The view from the window
3. “Proper internet”

The sea may be beautiful, no argument there.
But work comes through Zoom.
Series come through Netflix.
And even Love comes through WhatsApp.
And when the Wi-Fi is weak, the guest is not enjoying the sunset. They are silently hating you… and leaving a dreadful review.
What “proper Wi-Fi” really means

Proper Wi-Fi means:

• the signal is in the room, not in a “prayer spot” by the door
• it works on the balcony, in bed, and even in the shower (just in case)
• one guest cannot “eat up” the entire internet with three tabs
• the fridge and the server are no longer in a spiritual relationship

This is not one router “for the whole world”.
It’s a system.

With access points.
With proper coverage.
With smart load balancing.

The most interesting part

When I installed a proper network for Ivana, she got scared:
“What if it becomes too fast?”
A week later, she called me:
“Listen… guests don’t even ask for the password anymore. They just smile.”
That’s the main sign of good Wi-Fi:
When *people stop talking about it*.

What’s so bad about “weak Wi-Fi”, besides nerves

• bad reviews
• fewer bookings
• fewer returning guests
• more questions at the reception
• and one eternal nomad in the hallway searching for “two bars”

Conclusion

Proper Wi-Fi in a hotel is like hot water:
when it’s there — nobody notices it.
When it’s not — there is drama across three floors and one TripAdvisor page.
I installed access points for Ivana — with logic and with style.

Now she still has:

• the same sea
• the same sun
• and finally — *human-level internet*

And the strange man with a laptop and hope has disappeared from the hallway.

I went to see Miloš. A perfectly smart man, sitting under an olive tree, philosophizing about electricity. He said:

“I don’t need many sockets. I’m spiritually rich.”

 immediately knew — this was going to be fun.

In Miloš’s house there was exactly one socket. Plugged into it were: the refrigerator, the Wi-Fi router, a phone charger, his wife’s phone charger, the neighbor’s phone charger, a lamp, a fan, a heater, and — judging by the feeling — probably the Soyuz spacecraft as well.

“It works,” he said proudly.

Yes, it works… until the neighbor turns on the kettle and the whole of Luštica starts blinking like a disco from the 90s.

In Montenegro, the power grid is like the sea: calm today, full of character tomorrow. Sometimes it gives you voltage. Sometimes it gives you a philosophical look and nothing at all. That’s why sockets here are not a luxury. They’re a matter of survival and good mood.

The illusion of “Two is enough”

A normal person plans like this:

•  one for the refrigerator
• one for everything else “in turns”

A week later, the following appear:

• a coffee machine
• a toaster
• a multicooker
• a blender
• a robot vacuum
• a drone charger
• a festive light string “just in case”

And now our normal person is living an extremely abnormal life with a power strip, an extension cord, another extension cord, and pure faith in a better future.

The electrician’s reality

I told him:

“Miloš, the kitchen should have at least 6 outlets.”
“Why?”
“Because life is technology.”

In the living room — another 4–6 (TV, router, lamps, chargers, sudden desires).
In the bedroom — two on each side, because love loves symmetry, and chargers love stability.
In the bathroom — one, with a cover and respect for moisture.
On the terrace — one, because wine without music isn’t really Montenegro anymore.

Miloš looked at the calculations.
He looked at the sea.
He looked at the power strip.
And he said:
“Fine. But make it beautiful.”
So how many, in the end?

A normal person in Montenegro needs:

•  25–35 outlets for an average apartment
• 40–60 if they love comfort, guests, and technology
• 20 if they are a Buddhist monk willing to charge everything at Starbucks

The important thing is not to chase numbers, but to place outlets where they are actually needed, not where the extension cord of destiny can reach.

Conclusion
In Montenegro there is sun, sea, tranquility… and an eternal lack of sockets.
So if it feels like you’ve installed too many — add two more.
They’re not extra. They’re an investment in peace of mind.

I installed 38 for Miloš.
He said he felt rich.
I said, “You just stopped running around.”