Two days ago director Ivan Peric brought ower a team to shot a music video at the kastel house. The 500 yr old building has the kind of mediterranian feng shui which resulted in her posing in calendars, films, paintings, this being her her first in 2012.
Actress of volomptuous curley hair posed above in the three story window of the stone house, whilst the classical guitarist Petar stood outside the kastel gate, downstairs, seraenading sadley his first commercial romance.
The house faces the central square of the town and little old sea port. This is the heart of the and the livingroom of the small town.
Each night men group next to the sea, drink beer and wine and chat, mock one , have political, football- vine- fish arguments or sailors tell their tales of far away continets, tropical heats, north sea colds, prostitutes poverites and riches. They all conclude, after all they have seen, it is best exactely here, home where they are. Trusting this mantra, many who have never left their little town, never wish to or do, learning about the world from the stories here heared.
Women are in the house, baking pancakes, watching soaps, peeking out of windows from behing shutters, every so often walkng to the shop on the square as to have reason to see what is going on there.
The moment lights where aimed , and Peric said "Action" to his team, a parade started.
The locals, within seconds zoomed in trough the night, squeased out of houses ,bars, and migrated to, and into, the film set of course, young, old, cats, dogs, babies in prams.
In Kambelovac people feel it their job to monitor for news and oddities, which they always investigate, and gossip about, after which those who belive them selfs normal and superior, revert to proving their own saness talking about their pension scheeme starting as young as the age of 19.
I estranged from home by a winter in Zagreb and a summer on the island Hvar, retreated to a bench in the port and a glass of local red vine to observe and enjoy this sea in front and a huge still sky full of stars . One by one the port boys seaguled their landing to this bench too, joined in the wine and let me know all their news as usual resulting in gigels. Old boats in front of us rocked. Stars above sparkeled. It was as always. So good, so same, comfortable and homy.
Everything that happens there once happens a milion times. The action is repeated like the reverb of a sound, or a drop which hits the sea. The town is always in a lulaby, of safe, sameness, safe very comfortable samenes, trough out decades and lives withing its own laws and very relaxed rytham.
Peric fhinshed filming. My homy socialising with seaguls came sadley to an ending. We packed up the lights and cameras, switched off the towns curiosity, left an ordinarty night, and got in to the car.
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