Podgorica

Even May is not what it used to be. And the last one was gray and rainy.

And who knows what kind of summer awaits us? I believe, like last year: long, sultry and sticky.

One thing is certain: we will be suffocated by cars. It seems to me that there is no Baranin without one or two vehicles. When the motorized tourists join us, it will be crowded.

* * *

One Saturday in May, I brought my vehicle to a "big service" in Golubovce and got three hours of "airflow". Some friendly guys took me to the roundabout towards Cetinje and Nikšić, from where I started on foot towards my eternal Podgorica landmark, the Clock Tower. I took a breather and was ready to walk the length and breadth of Podgorica. I love those situations in which, to be honest, I rarely find myself: not knowing where I'm going or what I'm going to do with myself; that I don't know anyone around me or me; that no one expects anything from me, nor do I expect anything from myself. Actually, I'm expected to just waste my time somewhere. Great feeling.

From the Clock Tower, I headed towards the "Crna Gora" hotel, or as it is now called, and Slobode Street. On the way, I met bent, middle-aged women from Podgorica, with bags in both hands. At home, their husbands who had married well were waiting for them. And maybe their husbands are also among those who, reclining, spill over the chairs on the terraces of cafes, look at you with a slight frown and occasionally say something to the interlocutor. When I look at them, it seems to me that there is not a man in Podgorica shorter than one meter and 90. It is a special breed of people, made of arrogance, business, and anger.

This time I didn't skip the building of the Montenegrin National Theater with the repertoire for May and a few days in June, Njegos Park and the "hanging" bridge, only then, as usual, I didn't turn right, towards the Faculty of Law. There is no longer professor of criminal substantive law Mića Perović, nor assistant on obligations Zoran Žižić, nor my friend Bać Mitrić, with whom I sometimes speak on the phone. Now there are some unknown professors and some other students.

It seemed, really, as if I didn't know where I was going, and I knew that the road would take me where many of my Podgorica roads end - to that burekdžinica across the street from the Cathedral of Christ's Resurrection.

I waited about twenty minutes for the burek to be ready, and despite the worst case scenario: the burek was too hot, I was too hungry, I listened to it on a nearby bench, all the while thinking that it's a good thing that I'm not a politician, because I wouldn't be able to create such an atmosphere for myself - someone would recognize me.

Satisfied anyway, I also started to direct disdainful glances at passers-by, similar to those glances from this morning, from the cafe. I guess it goes with satiety.

From St. Peter's Square Cetinje I easily made my way to the Matica Srpska bookstore, where, in a pleasant environment, as tradition dictates, I flipped through some books, chatted with Rasko and drank coffee. That's when the call from the service arrived.

The last walking tour was also the longest: past the "Morač" Sports Center, over the "crooked" bridge, then through Stara varoš, again to the Clock Tower. All the time I was humming Delic's hit "Podgorice, my brother, Podgorice, I'm your son..."

The bus ticket from Sahat Kula to Golubovac cost one euro.

* * *

Recently, a "head" was a guest at Radio Bar. Previously, his bodyguards came to check our premises, serious, expeditious, professional, even though they know that no one will even look at him in our tame Radio. But they don't do it for the "leader" but for themselves. By mystifying their work, they raise their price and importance.

After all, like all other mystifiers.

* * *

When I was young, I was impressed by the older, gray-haired Barani, who walked upright and dignified, "one foot in front of the other." I hoped that I would be like that one day. But, none of that. I went bald early, and I walk bent over. And quickly, because I'm late all the time and everywhere.

* * *

The biggest authority for me was my father, but sometimes I regret that my mother didn't have a bigger influence. Because then I would not be an agnostic but a believer. I can hardly change at this age, and I would like to, especially because, almost two years ago, a God-pleasing, gentle and prudent man, archpriest Stavrofor, was appointed as the vicar of Bar and the elder of the Temple of St. John Vladimir, near which I live. Slobodan Zeković. They say that his sermons, on Sundays and holidays, during the liturgy, are a feast for the soul.

Such people restore faith in religion.

* * *

I don't know why TV presenters laugh after every, even the most banal, sentence they say. Even Jovana J. from Prva Televizija, probably the most pleasant TV personality in this area, could not resist that manner.

* * *

I have not yet decided who I will vote for in the local elections on May 27. I only know who I won't. But I will certainly vote.