The encounter wih pong wiffy

I got away from thirty Australian pensioners, its a break.To them its a break from walking, to me a break from them. I sit in a cafe, order a liter of water to quench the thirst that this summer is, and which is forming sandstorms on my skin, and just as the first swallow of the lush cool enters my mouth, a man sits right next to me, and such a mans as can only be described as pong wiffy..

The sudden abruption of the long awaited hydration moment, forces me to smash ice cubes with teeth. He smells of alcohol, and is not leaving.

I slide the chair a little to the left and away from him, whilst he slides to the left and into me.

"Heeey" goes he.

He is familiar as a sort of a stencil for a type of a million similar unknown seaside bar poltergheists, and the only name that seems to be surfacing up in my mind is " Whiskey" . He defiantly smells of the beverage. What is his name for god's sakes," Golden Grouse" "Bell's" is the most I can squeeze out of the brain post having recounted the entire history of StariGrad from palaeolithic to barley mobile grandmas making the city tour twice as long alas the need of facts needed to fill it being double.

" You are familiar,"I simile and apologize, "but I can not at all remember as of where I know you from". I had hoped that was going to defend me from the uninvited, and allow for a quick gossip with a colleague.

Mr Pong stinking wiffy,however, continues to sway his alcoholic corpse towards at me forcing my to pursue guessing where do I know him from, further more his vaguely familiar face seems to be vaguely suggesting that i buy him a drink, but I am not giving in.

"Where were you last Friday" he asks half winking as if he where about to reveal a great secret of ours. " On the Island" I reply. " Yea" He nods me on, " But where on the island?" " I was working. Do you work in a restaurant? I make an attempt . " No i don't work in a restaurant" He sniggers whilst a cloud of alcohol evaporates from his body killing all he flies which had until than buzzed around him.

"Where else had you been that day?". " In town. Do you per chance work on the ferry? " No" He replies waving a grimace of deep offense at the suggestion." And where else have you been" He continues to strum at my patience .

" Just tell me where do i know you from i really can remember" I offer my last offer of politeness." The stinker is not giving up, he is mimicking my movements as a bush does the wind. I decide to give him treatment worthy of a boring dog, i turn my back to him, as rudely as i can.

" On Friday. You where driving around with me." The words he's been very obviously dyig to say splutter out" In the bus"

"Oooh." I answer. " And you are, the, bus driver?" " Yes " He proudly squeezes out the last gush of whiskey stained steam. " I am a bus driver ".

Smrdeljko

Micem se od tridest penzica iz australije, odmor. Odmor njima od setanja, odmor meni od njih. Sjedam u kafic, narucivam litru vode da ugasi ovu zed zvanu lito koja mi na samoj kozi stvara pjescane oluje i taman uljevam onaj prvi guc socno hladnog eliksira, kad do mene sjedne tip po opisu, smrdeljko.

Neocikvani prekid dugo sacekanog momenta hidracije natjera me da zubima smrskam led. On smrdi na alkohol, i ne odlazi. Ja se pomaknem stolicom u livo i dalje od njega, on se zanjise u livo i k meni. "Eeeej". Eto njega.

Poznat mi je onako sablonski, mogao bi bit bilo tko od milijardu polu nepoznatih ljudi, a jednino ime koje mi pada napamet, je Rakija. Definitivno mirise na taj alokolni proizvod a kako se zove majku mu, "travarica" " "Zutuja " je naj vise sto moj mozak moze izcjediti nakon sto sam ispricala cijelu povijest Stari Grada od pra covjeka do danas babama koje jedvice hodaju, cineci turu grada duplo duzu i tim broj podataka potreban da vrijeme ispunim veci.

"Poznati mi jeste ,ali ispricavam se nemogu se nikako sjetit, odakle vas poznajem. " Izgovorim svoju obranu i nadam se da to nepozvanog zadovolji dovoljno da uspijem popricat s kolegom.

Smrdeljko i dalje njise svoje alkoholicno truplo prema meni i prisiljava me da nastavljam nagadat odakle ga znam, cini mi se cak da ocekiva da mu ponudim pice, ali nedam se. Zasto bi netko toga smrada mene prisilio da mu kupujem rakiju.

" Di si bila prosli petak?" pita onako kao da ce mi otkrit neku nasu tajnu. " Na Hvaru "odgovorim . "E" kaze on, a di na Hvaru?" " A radila sam. Jeli vi radite u restoranu? " pitam. " Ne radim u restoranu" Nakesi se on, a oblak rakije ispari mu iz glave i ubije sve muhe koje su do tada letile oko nj. " Di si jos bila" pila. " U gradu, ma jeli vi radite na trajektu? " Ne" Odgovori on mahnuci grimasom uvrijeden, kako se samo usudujem tako nesto predpostaviti. " A di si jos bila" Moj kolega s druge strane stola ceka da nametnik nestane da mozemo iskorisiti deset minuta odmora od baba koje takoder stalno nesto korisno moraju znati.

" Ma recite mi odakle Vas znam nemogu se sjetit" Ponudim mu moju zadnju ponudu pristojnosti. Ali smrdeljko se neda, prati moje pokrete ko grm brnistre kad prati vitar. Odlucim mu dat tretman kao dosadnom pasu, okrenem leda, bas onako nepristojno.

" Ma u petak si se ti vozila samnom " iskoce rijeci koje je cijelo vrijeme suzdrzavao da kaze " u autobusu".

" Aaah." Da odgovorim ja." A vi ste vozac autobusa? "Da" ponosno izdusi ciko u pari rakije" Ja vozim!

The treasure map to all the best summer secrets in Croatia.

Summer time is ripe and fat and moist and squishy and hot. Just walking trough town we are turing in to jam, just like the last of the really fat super-sweet cherries are Turing into jam still hanging off the tree.

My toes are red, my finger nails are red, and the dress is green, sun block factor is 50 , the sun shades are huge, i am armed for a walk in the white reflective stone town like a medieval Knight. The church bells are ringing the midday, different sounds of bells from different sides of the small town.

I have noticed lots of English students about, lots of Norwegians, Swedish, french, Italian, Spanish, Chinese, Taiwanese, Japanese,German, Chinese, Mexican and yesterday i showed some braslilisans frmo the biggest yacht in town around. Yes the season has started, the yacht season has started, the party season is full on, and its time for following scents with your nose down streets of unfamiliar towns and into kitchens which offer unusual local recipes..

Having a weaknes for pleasure and all the good and beautiful things, I have investigated all the best spots for all sorts of activities and have decided to start writing a guide for friends and friends of friends who are going to visit the Croatian shore for the first or the untie-nth time this year.. Keep an eye on this blog for tresure maps which I will post up in the days to come.And if you are not in a sunny spot of the world right now i suggest do a sun dance!

Raditi u skveru.

Raditit u skveru, nije lako. Prvo nema nista za radit. Proracun za koji sam odgovorna mogu napraviti u dva dana, "jadala se prijateljica sveranka", ali imam mjesec dana da to napravim. Glavno je da stjedim tamo. To je prokletstvo kapitalizma. Nemam sta radit ali glavno je da ja sjedim u uredu 8 sati i gubim zivot.

onda moja kolegica. Jesam li ti ispricala o mojoj Martini? Nisam? Moja Martina ima 61 godinu. Svako malo zaspe. Ona ima manje posla od mene, jos manje nego ja, tako da iskoristi posal da malo odspava. Dode uvijek niti sekund prije 8. Onda joj moram pocesljat kosu. Ti joj cesljas kosu? Ti babi cesljas kosu? Jesam jer ona nemoze dobavit jedan dio zada pa joj nastane rupa. Svako jutro cilu godinu ti joj cesljas kosu? Da ali nije koda ju itko ima vidit, sidi sa zidom kraj leda cili dan zatvorena za kompjuterom. Ima onu tanku kosicu pa joj to ja svako jutro pocesljam.

A onda kako dode trceci u zadnji sekund, dode ti na posal sva mokra. Skroz znojna. Onda ti otvori kesicu vec koristenog vece papira i pocme se brisat. Briese pasuhe. Pa digne majcu i brise leda. Sve pokaze. Stomak, sve. Gadljivo je,ali to nije sve. Raskopca ti i gace i cila se tako brise deset minuta pa opet spremi papir u kesu .

I to radi u uredu pred tobom? Odvratno je nas ako mi se gadi. I sta je najbolje nekad onda zaboravi zakopcat gace pa onda sidi tako cili dan s gacama odkopcanim na poslu. Samo joj je u zadnje vrime pocelo smetet svitlo. Zalipila je oko laserom ili nesto i sad ti ona meni gasi svitlo. Do sad bi ugasila svitlo samo u svojoj polovici ureda ali danas molim te, dode i ugasi meni svitlo na deset minuta tako da nevidim radit jer u tom djelu zgrade je mracno. A onda ti pocme trljat lice, trlja ti ga trlja, i melja lice deset minuta, govoreci kako je bode. Sprica ti neku vodu s mineralima na lice i tako ga pred menom melja. Vanja joj inace kaze da nismo mi dom zdravlja da prestane jer joj je gadljivo ali ja nemogu a Vanja je na bolovanju.

Prefrigana je vidis. Stalno govori kako ona zeli svima dobro na svitu , i sazaljuje sama sebe uzme tu bocu pa se poprska pa o licu pa melja tako mokro sjajno lice po ure i dode mi da povratim. A zasto joj ti nestavis nesto u tu vodu, kvasinu, stavi joj kvasinu?.

Ma nije to nista, tek da cujes o klimi. Stalno mi je vruce na poslu.A tek prije par tjedna kad su pukle vrucine. Ona ti je to govorila cijelu godinu proslu ,ona je bila ta koja je ugovarala da svi uredi dobiju klimu, umirala je od vrucine. Onda kad je stigla klima. To ti je nju prokinilo u noge. Molim te u noge. Ja sidim ispod klime direktno ali to ti nju tuce u noge na drugum stranu sobe. Pa smo promjenili puhanje klime prema gore, a onda joj je palilo oko. E klima joj je palila oko. I onda jednostavno mi nismo mogli imat klimu jer je nasoj Martini upaljeno oko.

A u zadnje vrime digne se martina i gleda u prozor izad mog stola. Zalipi se uz moj stol i zurki kroz mene. Tako i samo prica nemogu se koncentrirat.Odgovaram daaa, nee, na sve sto kaze.

A tek da cujes o njenom Toncu. Njen ti sin ima 26 godina, ali ja sam ga jucer morala nazvat da provjerim dali se on probudio kad je ona otisla u zubara. Ona ti njemu napravi sendvic tako da ga ceka svako jutro kad se probudi. A kad mlade kolegice pricaju o tome sto im bebe jedu, ona ti prica o tome sta njen Tonci jede. Njen ti Tonci jede picetu svaki dan. Popije cedevitu. Sve znam. Ma sprema ona tebe da se ti udas za njega meni se cini.

Pa zasto ti njoj nebi stavila u kosu nesto. Recimo onaj prasak za svbez onaj djecji? Ili recimo usenak. Ubaci koj par usenaka u kosu dok ju cesljas ujutro tako da te prestane pitat da ju ceslajs, i obavesno stavi nesto u vodu kojom prska lice.

Gle ovo, kaze moja prija sveranka i izvadi mobitel na kojem snimak ceka da ga se ozivi, ma samo ti pogledaj ovo. Ona pritisne play, a snimak babe u 60 godinama sa pogrbljenom glavom povise testature od kompjutera, pocme svoj neobican ritam, baba zahrce glava joj se pusti prema testaturi, zatim se prene, i povuce glavu, njihajuci ju tako gode dolje povise testature sanajuci tko zna sto. Vidis kaze, ponudila sam ja njoj moj stol da joj ne puse klima u noge i u oko, ali onda bi joj stol bio na vidiku kada se ovore vrata od ureda, odma bi se vidilo kada spava za radnim stolom, a ovako iza vrata uvijek ima moment od kada netko ude u sobu da se probudi i odglumi kao da radi.

Druga polovica.

"Na početku nasatao je prasak. U taj tren svi atomi svemira su se stvorili i od tog momenta nikada više niti manje atoma u svemiru nije postojalo. Kaže fizičar. "Dali je fizički moguče da sam ja sastavljna od atoma koje su pripadale nekoj biljci prije ili cvrčku?" Pita ona. "Pa da je sasvim moguče da si bila dio helija u svemiru, mjeseca, biljke. "Dali je moguče dakle da su moji sada atomi nekoč činili tijelo druge osobe koja je od tada preminula". "Pa", pogleda ju fizičar,razmisli malo po prvi puta o toj temi, thehnički mogu če je, da. " Odgovori.

Večer prije njena učiteljica objašnjavala joj je poantu druge polovice. Druga polovica je osoba koju češ kad tad sresti u životu. Možda samo na tren. Ali prepoznati češ ju intinktivno. Čovjek cijeli život nastoji shvatiti poantu života, i bori se da se obrazuje,oplemeni materijalno ili s iskustvima ali ako ne sretne drugu polovicu ili ju odbaci sve što je uradio bitit če mu uzaludno neće biti sretan.

"Što je druga polovica "pita učenica. " Kada čovjek umre duša se nekada razdvoji u dva djela, muški i ženski dio, a zaparavo to je jedna duša..Sljedeći život provodi se tražeći tu drugu polovicu, i tek kada se te dvije polovice sretnu iznova one oboje mogu osjetiti potpunost, postaju jedno, osječaju se kompletno.To je ljubav, sreća. Čak nekada sretnu se samo na tren u cijelom životu i sretni su jer su se prepoznali. A nekada se nađu i provedu cijele živote skupa. A te dvije polovice nemogu sasvim biti sretne ako obe dvje nisu, ako jedna pati negdje ,i druga če osječati neku tupu neispunjenost možda čak bez da zna zašto.

"Pa kako onda sada ima više ljudi na svijetu nego prije?" To je zato što sa vremenom se polovice duše dijele u druge polovice. To znači da može se u jednom životu sresti više drugih polovica? " Da to znači da se ujednom životu može sresti više od jdne druge polovice ali to je često bolno" Nekada se ljudi ne žele odvojiti od života koje su stekli da bi sve odbacili za tu polovicu . Nekada. zbog ega, Nekada zbog straha, ali ako sretnu samo jednu polovicu i odbace ju nemogu biti sretni, mogu biti usamljeni.

Kako se prepozna druga polovica? Perpozna se po sjaju u očima.

Island clergy

The bishop was this morning coffee theme. I don't know the bishop i say. Oh il show him to you, he's a blondish old chappy says, the old artist who thinks him as self young and hot. Well the bishop seems to love me and on passing by in the streets always says " my respect" on the other hand he can't stand our friend the gallerist who rents gallery space from the bishop and it very funny to see how outraged the galerists gets at the fact he is so openley disliked by the bishop. The fat old artist giggles. Yes. The bishop's daughter lives in Paris. In Paris? I asked struck. Yes in Paris! He confirms. But the bishops has a daughter? Of course he does. Oh well the abstention of the catholic clergy has aways existed along the sides of outrageous leaks of the priests secret love lives. But that's not all.. A week ago a friend of mine a beautiful young women went onto the cathedral and met the bishop there who came all smooth most definitely trying to seduce her. Some new flesh he must have thought. Ah. But listen to this, continues the artist who from his vending position in centre of old town picks up more than a little gossip. Last summer i saw this beautiful girl walking trough the piazza. She had her boobs pushed up generously in a tiny top and was wearing a little mini skirt. Despite this she was as pale as a vampire and of course was curious tio understand why. The girl was in her 30ties ,very well educated, well spoken. She said that she was turned out that she was a nurse and a nun here on holiday. What? I did not quite understand? Yes you did understand, she was a nun from Germany who came on holiday. He giggled happy with his discovery. The nun took weeks off being a nun and came to the party island. And wore her boobs pushed up and a mini skirt? The bast part was the nun said " oh how very conservative you are here"

Pig Slaughter Festivals

I sat down to have a burger. Same guy from last year works in the burger bar. You're back. He says. You're back I reply. Where will you sit he asks? All the tables on the little main square are wet from the rain. He starts placing cushions on al the balcony chairs single table so that i have a choice. I have to hide you see. I tell him. Need a table that cant be seen from the main square. I have just run away from boring company. I order my burger and vine. He prepares the burger and than starts fussing about the balcony hungry to talk. I visited your town this winter, i say to the mousy lonley looking chap. Really? What where you doing?He is surprised i went so far north. What you need to do is come on the slaughter days. Yes the salughter days are the best. In the farming provinces of croatia wihere families breed their own animals, which run about their fields, the approach of winter brings on the necessary preparation of winter food. " The slaughter days start in earley december, with rakiya at 6 am in the moring.. You drink moonshine so early I ask? Oooofff. You should see the amounts.. All the friends of the family gather at the farm and drink rakiya.. Than they sing a song to the pigs and dance a circle dance before killing it. Really? I ask fascinated at this aborigine sense of respect.. Phew. No of course not. The men get an ax and go decapitate the pig. Arrgh.. I am more than squeamish. They go for it with an axe and sometimes the miss. Its awful . But most of the time they decapitate the pig.They let the blood run out. Than they throw it in to the hot water bath, where the pig is washed and spun around, but sometimes the pig spins itself as its still alive. Than they apply the torch to its hair.. After that its hung upside down. Its belly is cut open the intestines are taken out. The women than clean out the intestines of the pig to prepare them for sausages.. Are they full of poo? No they are full of pig food. Than the party happens. Do you eat the pigs? Yes the liver and some of the bacon is thrown on to the grill that day.. And the party carries on in to the night. You need to come in december. --