If you want the two phrases that carry everything else, they're these: Kakvo je vrijeme? — "what's the weather like?" — and pada kiša, "it's raining." Ask the first, understand the second, and you can hold a weather chat anywhere from Podgorica to Novi Sad. Everything below is just filling in the nouns.
Published 3 May 2026
My grandmother could talk about the bura — our cold, mean north wind off the mountains — for a full twenty minutes. Weather isn't small talk on the Montenegrin coast; it's practically a sport. So this is the vocabulary I'd hand a beginner first, because you'll use it the day you land, not in some distant B2 future.
I'll give the Montenegrin (ijekavian) spelling first, then the Serbian (ekavian) where it differs. Both are understood everywhere — nobody will blink either way.
| Montenegrin / Serbian | English |
|---|---|
| vrijeme / vreme | weather (also: time) |
| sunce · sunčano | sun · sunny |
| oblak · oblačno | cloud · cloudy |
| kiša | rain |
| snijeg / sneg | snow |
| vjetar / vetar | wind |
| magla · maglovito | fog · foggy |
| toplo · vruće | warm · hot |
| hladno · ladno | cold (the second is the lazy spoken one) |
| oluja · grmljavina | storm · thunder |
English says "it's raining," as if rain were an event happening to us. Serbian and Montenegrin are more literal about it — the rain simply falls. The verb is pada ("it falls"), and it pairs with the weather noun:
Pada kiša. — It's raining. (lit. "rain falls")
Pada snijeg. — It's snowing.
Pada grad. — It's hailing. (careful — grad also means "city")
Learn pada as one little building block and three kinds of weather come for free. For sun and wind you don't even need a verb — you just say the sky is something: Sunčano je ("it's sunny"), Vjetrovito je ("it's windy"), Hladno je ("it's cold"). That little je ("is") does all the lifting, and the weather word sits in its neuter form.
Two questions cover most conversations:
And the honest answer you'll hear all summer in Podgorica, which regularly cooks past 35°C: Vruće je! — "It's hot!" Often with a hand fanning the face and a long, suffering uh.
Here's a bit of local colour a phrasebook won't give you. On the Adriatic, two winds matter enough to have proper names. The bura is the cold, dry, sudden one that tears down off the mountains — it can shut the Kotor–Herceg Novi road. The jugo is the warm, damp southern wind that rolls the sea and, everyone swears, foul moods along with it. Drop either word in conversation and a local's eyebrows will go up — good up.
Is it vreme or vrijeme? Same word, two spellings — Serbian uses vreme, Montenegrin vrijeme. Both mean weather (and time).
Do I really say "rain falls"? Yes — pada kiša is the normal, everyday way to say "it's raining." It's not poetic, it's just how it works.
What's the fastest useful sentence? Kakvo je vrijeme danas? — "What's the weather like today?" Pair it with danas ("today") from your days and dates vocabulary and you've got a real opener.
Weather is the perfect first "real chat" because it's low stakes and endlessly repeatable — you can practise it every single morning. Stack it on top of your days, months and dates, and if a Montenegro trip is on the horizon, the travel language tips pair with it nicely.
The bit that sticks isn't the word list — it's saying pada kiša out loud until it stops feeling backwards. That's what Gora is built for: real sentences, the "why" the moment the grammar bends, and a fox who's happy to complain about the bura with you until it's second nature.