17-VI-1976.
The merry times... Did just one exam, the Fundamentals of generally-people's defence and social self-protection (just knowing the full name of it was enough to pass, but got a 10 anyway, read the book once). Linear algebra too. The rest, later.
True story. His outer tyre tore, and he's stitching it with thin insulated wire.
But we had lots of fun. Franci brought a fish-eye adapter for the lens, and also had a tele (lens, not adapter), so we went through one or two rolls of slides. Even went swimming at some point.
Me lying on the beach, them all over me as if over a toppled elephant.
One afternoon we found ourselves somewhat early downtown, classes were over and the weather was just made for a stroll... and somewhere around the cathedral we fly into B. (son of the director of Zmaj), and he went on to invite us to his place, I'm right here... and showed us a terrace, third floor, facing the katolička porta. Okay, if it's so nearby. Don't know what were we drinking, I think nothing serious. Sat, smoked, I think I had that "767" without filter, cuban, what Jorge got at the fair when he was the interpreter at the cuban stand, and I think we also tried his pipe. Which didn't quite work, it died often.
The room was largish, fina atmosphere, he even had a record player. He played Eric Burdon until pass out, specially the „Sky pilot“, which I did memorize and verified some thirty years later. Another ten years later I had enough of Burdon and the whole fake and bluffing called british white blues, well the white blues as such, well blues as such, any blues with singing... So stopped listening to that, mostly. But at the time it was some discovery, so I listened diligently and paid some attention.
Then the question of pathology, or was it microbiology came up, which was held by one professor Travec, the awe and fear of all medical students, one of those who let you pass the seventh time. She had the exam scheduled some time next week, but B. said that „Travec threw the spoon“. Okay, I guessed the meaning of the expression correctly, somehow remembering that it must be connected with the legend of lapot...
It is unknown whether the medical students celebrated the event, there was no news of parties... All the same, the college quickly found some professor from the belgrade [college of] medicine to come and hold the exam, (... 13 words...).
Doesn't dawn for one, until it darkens for another.
And we saw B. a couple more times, then heard about him once more, some twenty years later, and then no more.
(the actual order of events was first this afternoon with him, then Danube beach in the following days while we were waiting for the decision on the microbes exam)
I don't cook, ergo dishes. The pattern on the wall has the metallic sheen, so popular in the sixties until you try to paint it over.
A staged photo. He's posing.
At home, we'd be visiting the swimming pool. I went to donate blood some time this month, and the nurse hit the curve in my vein, so the needle went in, then out, then in again on the other side of the curve. It happens, and nothing big to worry about, it only left an ugly bruise in beautiful colors. It went from blue to purple to something greenish with yellowish outline, and often there were many colors at the same time. Took maybe ten days to go away.
One of those days we were just lying by the pool, and there goes Đuđa's son, and starts mocking me for just lying around, I'll get all soft, I should go swimming, exercise, bla bla. Sure, he was a hunk of a guy, built like a three wing cupboard, he could carry us both in his teeth. I told him I'm spared that for a few days, having donated blood... and showed him the bruise. He turned pale, then a few more colors, some of which he borrowed from the bruise, then ran away without a word.
When I retold this at home, only then I was told that the guy is shit scared of needles.
Mentions: Đurđa Rođanović (Đuđa), Franc Bauer (Franci), Jorge Delgado, Zmaj, in serbian
10-III-2020 - 14-VII-2026