At the lifts leaving for the airport a stout, unshaven guy in black with sunnies.
Greetings as usual.
Where you from?… Oh. You speak so well. Very well… And where you going?… Oh. Oh…
The heart beating at the mere mention of Montenegro. Monte–negro!
Touch at the breast. Bowing head. Reaching out to pat the stranger.
Yes, yes. Shared. Shared; same. Fifteen years last visit; going down to see remnant family. Melbourne sooo far away.
Oh! Oh! More pats and feeling touches. Feeling strokes.
Zenica himself. Yes.
At one time the Petrović clan of the poet had lived there; originated, man might have meant. Something else about one of the Royals... Always overcome when he found a connection.
Yes, I know a little. Of the poet, at least… Our P. P. (Njegoš).
… Speak so well… Kids in the hotel, large school group, hogging the lifts, having fun... It’ll come. It’ll come. Don’t worry... You know, it’ll be cold outside. You want me to get you some socks?
Oh my! Gasp… Man was staying on the 4th floor too, seemingly.
Oh, gosh. Many thanks. No need. The surgical stocking just for the veins. Puno hvala. Many thanks. It’ll be fine. Many thanks… Pavle.
Oh. Fine name. Nesho… Pavle Djurišić… Yes. Fine name.
(A Chetnik Royalist leader who the Commies might have hung at the end of the war as a collaborator, whatnot. If that was correct. Revisionism big, big time now in Serbia; complete turnaround. Banners and street signs throughout the city. Return to Kosovo. Army to Kosovo. Kosovo is Serbia. Saints had replaced Partizan heroes. Streets renamed, public buildings, squares. Bronze statues.)
Zenica was recalled from one of the theatres of war; must have been Bosnia. Doubtless atrocities of one kind or another; they could not have escaped. There had been mentions of Zenica in those years.
And where are you going from here yourself, Nesho? (Short for Nenad, like Slavo’s nephew in Niš; or alternatively Nebjoša. Fearless.)
Oh. No, no. I live here... In the hotel.
Ah. (What? Really?… €65 per night regular standard room. US$75. Rundown, but still plenty rich. And location, location. Heart of the city.)
Here? In the hotel?… Gee. Hmm.
Hardly fitted the bill. Not likely. The new class had become familiar in ten days in fashionable Vračar. Nesh wasn’t going to fit at any of those fine ala carte resto tables, the boutiques, galleries. Lottsa florists, nail joints.
Specialac. Vojska; army…
Oh. Oh. Gee. Ah…
Da. Yes. Bilo je svašta. Lots happened…
(Particular arrangements at the hotel had been made for Nesho. Plenty pull for a Specialac, guaranteed. They were something else; a category of their own. In all wars. The current included of course.)
Immediately on the 3rd a couple with cases were undecided about entering. It was a small, tight lift, from another era. Nesh in his bulk too not a particularly pretty sight for regular guests.
Welcome. Welcome. We’ll squeeze... (Common expression added too fast to catch.) Sorry, I’m a bit of a fattie...
You like your čevapi, hey, Nesho? Your pleskavice…
‘Tis true. I do. I do.
Vegetarian myself.
Oh, we’d never get on.
No, but we would, Nesh. How not?
Vracar, Belgrade
NB. Return the Army To Kosovo, the banner in the photo reads, with the Ministry of Defence & Army Building adjacent from the NATO bombing of 1999. Interestingly, the site has now been sold to a consortium headed by Donald Trump Junior, slated for luxury apartments. (And in later news, the sale overturned following prolonged public protest.)
https://www.action-spectacle.com/winter-2026-part-ii/radonic
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