Just in case

I was on vacation for about fifteen days, which I used, among other things, to do some family administrative work or, to put it simply, to pay the bills. Since it is increasingly difficult to find a place to park a vehicle in the city, I drove around the center several times. But it was as if I was in an unknown place.

My circle of life in bars is reduced to the way to work, a walk by the sea and coffee with friends in the same bars. On weekends, we go shopping by car to one of the two large local markets or, possibly, to our in-laws in Šušanj.

And bar streets and neighborhoods change from day to day. They are overwhelmed by new shops and advertisements. Buildings are springing up on every corner.

I ask a passer-by (I choose, of course, an unknown one): "Excuse me, which city is this?"

"At least!" he said proudly.

Possibly, it looks like…

* * *

You can only expect negative surprises from mobile operators and banks, never positive ones. And they don't forgive anything. As if they are led by machines, robots without a soul, and not by people. True, we can choose operators and banks, but that is choosing as in Montenegrin politics - the lesser of two evils.

In the specific case, these are, after all, banks.

* * *

Once upon a time, communists inserted "action unity" into every sentence. Now I often hear: "meritocracy, not partitocracy".

Niko, the late Bar original, would say to that: "Tandara broć."

* * *

Nothing can surprise a man today. That... to say: "Well, that's impossible!" Everything is possible. And that side of little Danka Ilić.

The most tragic thing in this grave tragedy is that it is possible that the unfortunate mother, even for a fraction of a second, thought that it was better that her daughter was dead than perhaps alive, but kidnapped and lost to her forever on the other side of the world. Because, from media bloodsuckers who would continue to accuse her of selling her child, she would not be able to live her already ruined life.

Tabloids are the great evil of the modern age.

* * *

My mother sometimes quoted old Montenegrin women: "God, don't give me childless summers!" And really, only then, in the "blessed state", were women more or less protected. What meant the most to them was being spared from hard summer field work. Even the biggest "cats" - mothers-in-law, were shy of their pregnancy. And as soon as they were born, the arduous life continued as before.

The cult of pregnant women has persisted to this day, as most people are emphatically kind to them and look at them with undisguised sympathy.

* * *

"I remember my brother and I running after the airplanes and waving at them as children. We were sure they saw us. My brother swore he saw the pilot wave at him once. We hoped that one day the two of us would get on a plane and reach the country of Foreigners, although my brother doubted that it even existed. Now, after so many flights, that whole miracle has broken to pieces, the plane is just a little more luxurious taxi, after all it's not even luxurious, but some kind of overcrowded marshrutka (line taxi in Sofia). Abroad turned out to be a non-existent country (my brother was right), but I still sit by the window and look out in the hope that one day I'll see two boys running and waving. If the passenger on the seat next to me is sleeping, I wave excitedly by the window. Just in case."

I was drawn to the title of this story by the excellent Bulgarian writer Georgia Gospodinova (56), "Just in case", and in the context of our recent trip. How many things do we put in our bag before the trip? just in case?! An extra sandwich in case the transport is delayed, pills for headaches or nausea, spare shoes if it rains, an extra jacket and another sweater in case it's cold, two books in case we read the first 500 pages, a little extra cash for each the case…

* * *

During the beautiful March bar nights, the full moon often appeared in the triangle between Rumija and Lisinje.

An old bar doctor (and chess player) explained to me that this means that fish also fall in love.