Spitting

Some people, who cannot be said to be uneducated, with incredible ease, on Facebook and other social networks, comment on the political situation in the world, in Serbia and Montenegro. And they know everything and everything is clear to them. And they sneer at anyone who does not think like them.

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Urbanization used to mean progress, in the form of the construction of housing and hotel facilities, water supply, sewage, roads, factories... today, at least in Bar, it is synonymous with concreting. Everything is being concreted, from the seashore to the Old Olive Tree.

From the half-empty, huge, residential and commercial buildings, the pearls of Bar, the mountains Rumija, Lisinj and Sutorman, are no longer visible. Our eyes are "drunk" with their charm only along the coast, on the King Nikola Promenade, which has long since become the trademark of Bar, by which this city is recognized in Montenegro and the countries of the former Yugoslavia.

Urbanization has destroyed the village, which fed the population and preserved nature. Now some people are becoming aware and returning to nature. Here, above all, I am thinking of the Germans, of whom there are more than a thousand in the south of Montenegro, says one of them. They buy land mainly in Mrkojevići, the most beautiful part of Bar.

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And the good old urbanization, which ennobles the space and strengthens the spirit, includes the recently erected monument to the great painter Uroš Tošković, near the "Princess" hotel and the city beach, where this ingenious Bar original, originally from Pelevi Brijeg, "tabled" both summer and winter.

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I don't know who has contributed more to the costliness that is like in the West, where wages are significantly higher – the government with (unrealistic) margins or the insatiable merchants, but a boycott, at least to draw attention, is a good thing.

And pharmacies where prices are also indecently high should also be scrutinized.

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From the balcony I noticed a new "game" in the nearby schoolyard - spitting!? And that, juicy, in each other's faces. Of course, not all children do it, most of them wouldn't even think of such a thing (for now). But who knows...

True, they say that this "game" was a hit a few years ago, so it passed.

I don't believe that children who spit on other children have ever been to the theater, and neither have their parents...

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Finally, an excellent theater play was performed in Bar. It was a production of the Zvezdara Theater from Belgrade, "The Widow of a Living Man", based on the text and directed by Dušan Kovačević. Dynamic from the first moment; witty and harsh; full of sparkling lines, but also swear words; topical and deja vu; and with actors (Jelena Đokić, Nela Mihailović, Miodrag Krstović...) who "eat" both the stage and the audience, this play, as a typical "Kovačević" amalgam made of laughter and tears, for about a hundred minutes makes you not know where you are, nor what day it is and what awaits you tomorrow. And that you are happy when you leave the theater, as if you have done something very useful not only for yourself.

For local patriotic or personal reasons, I sometimes write that mediocre plays that I forget about as soon as the curtain falls are good, and only when one like this comes to our (still) small town do I realize how sinful I am.

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Another famous Baranin closed his eyes. He was neither a professor nor a businessman nor an artist, and yet my generation had great respect for him. How did Bato Lekić (83) earn our respect? First of all, his attitude towards people and life. We were silent when Bato was in his prime. He was equally distinguished, both in the hotels of Sutomore and in the smoky cafes of Bar, by the nobility that had been attached to him since birth and which he easily carried. But also by the bohemianism that he acquired in those same hotels and cafes. He seemed to us as striking, polished, charming, and serious as Andrei Bolkonsky and, seemingly, uninterested in everyday trifles, as a man who knows the secret of life. Like someone who has already crossed his destined path in life once and has now returned to explain to us how simple it is to subordinate life to oneself, and not to fear each new day. He didn't say much, but whenever he did speak, it was a humorous and precise, occasionally cynical, diagnosis of our everyday lives.

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Many years ago, in New York, at a farewell party, Lara asked me: “Dad, is it harder for the one who leaves or the one who stays?” I didn’t know what to answer. Now I know: for the one who stays…