“Five” and a burger with kajmak (Bosnian speciality)
I couldn’t get an appropriate picture for this post, so I uploaded this one that I thought it might have been nice for those who weren’t going to read but just take a look.
Ćevapbdžinica (a restaurant selling ćevapi – Bosnian most exquisite fast food, “five” on the picture above)”Mrkva”, Baščaršija (main street in Sarajevo)
Today I had a break between two lectures so we headed to the pub instead of, God forbid, studying.
There is this nice café, relatively new and the waiter has already noted us. And I like when waiter notices me. As soon as he saw us entering he exclaimed that he had a new betting offer. We took our place and he peeped out from behind the bar and said: - “One large coffee with cold milk, one short coffee with warm milk, glass of sparkling water and an ordinary one?”- “Yo!” – I said, and in a moment or two he reappeared carrying our order.
Then he got back to the bar and brought three pieces of paper, a pencil and the betting report.- --“Take this as well…”
-"Blamey, that’s what I call a service…anyhow, take the report back. I’ve got no clue about sports and I don’t bet usually. That’s just a time-killing activity.”
- “Ok.” – he said and withdrew behind the bar.
So were we sitting, my colleague and I, pondering into the daily betting offer; I looked for the longest names in the Hungarian football league to bet on. Not long after we had finished out drinks and made a new order, the waiter went towards the coffee machine when some guy bumped into the pub, being about right, as one might say.
-“Waiter! All right… get us another round, a drink to everyone else and get yourself something as well. Also, repeat the previous song.”
The waiter got us what we ordered and after he served the guys from outside he said to us:
-“That’s from the guys outside. They got fired so they feel like treating.”
Fuck, that’s how it is in Bosnia, all topsy-turvy. They treat when they get kicked out instead the other way round.
The colleague and I were chatting a bit more, we drank our coffee and at the time when we decided to leave, the guy bumped in again.
-“Come on, the bill please! And another drink for the guys!”
-“Guys?” – said the waiter, and we replied, at the same time:
-“No thanks, we already had ours, we’re leaving anyway.”
The guy then, being about right, shouted at us:
-“Hey, I’m gonna get angry if you don’t take another drink! And it’s a first time I see you…”
- “Sparkli….”
- “Get us some rakija (probably the most famous Balkan trademark, extra strong liquor)” – the colleague cut my sentence.
If we drink, lets drink properly! One doesn’t get fired every day, does he?
-“Get us loza (rakija made of vine) then”
Then the guy complained about his bad luck. He had this characteristic peasant accent and told us how he had come to Sarajevo 10 days ago, how he had accidentally well, got drunk already tonight (that is, the previous night) and lost his car keys somewhere around so the boss had given him the sack that morning since he couldn’t work. The job was to give a ride to the other workers (using his own car), and since he couldn’t do that because he clearly couldn’t get into the car, he was kicked out of job after ten days. But, he didn’t really liked Sarajevo anyway, he only knew his place and way to work.
The second Pub-Story
Nidžo had visited us for couple of days.
So, the last night we went for a drink. Since we couldn’t agree on where to go, Nidžo said – to Avaz.
Avaz, Radon Plaza that is, is this fancy bourgeois hotel that has a rotating restaurant on its top. There you sit and rotate and it’s apparently cool to see Sarajevo all around you.
The first time, and the last one up to yesterday, I was there was on my birthday. I wrote about this shortly already.
The coolest thing then was the waiter running to our table carrying my bag that was left on the window, while we had already moved meters away.
-“Is that your bag?”
-“Yep.”
-“Here you go” – he said and gave me the
bag.
The thing was that I left the bag on the window next to our table
without realizing that the window was steady while we were moving, subjected to
the ruthless rotation. Anyhow, my bag managed to reach some delegation that was
having a business lunch, meeting or something of that sort.
Back to the story, Nidžo works in a company in Zagreb. I’m not gonna advertise it here, all I’ll say is that I usually call it German Imperialistic Boot. Anyhow, Nidžo has, at least comparing to us, poor little students, a bourgeois income.
That evening we sat in the taxi (I never use taxi as much as when Nidžo comes to Sarajevo) that delivered us directly to the entrance of the hotel.
When I got out, I first stepped onto the red carpet. As if I had been to Cannes.
We bumped into the hotel when next to us passed a delegation wrapped up in nice suits and blabbering something in Arabic…if I had been teleported in that moment, I would have thought I’d been to some fancy hotel in Emirates.
We were lucky that we’d learnt how to use the elevator the last time. As we emerged to the top, the waiter appeared immediately:
-“Good evening. How can I help you?”
-“Oh, we’d like to have a drink, so we’d like to sit down.”
-”Oh yes, most certainly, here you go, table number 10…”
We sat down, and I made sure to place my bag on the chair right next to me…I wasn’t planning to make fool of myself again.
-“What would you like to order?”- the waiter asked
-“Large coffee with cold milk, please and, do you by any chance have Cola Light?”
Cola Light is a real rarity in Bosnian cafes. Well, in Croatian too. However, I thought that since it was a bourgeois place they must have had Cola Light as well.
-“Yes, we do have Cola Light…”
So he served us, removed the BOOKED label from the table and Nidžo and I started our discussion.
We discussed quiet fancily- religion, philosophy and politics in the end.
One can’t go to Radon Plaza and then chat about tits and asses. Isn’t it so?
As soon as we started our conversation, Miroslav Lajčak followed by the waiter passed by us.
If you don’t know who Miroslav Lajčak is, here comes a short info: Miroslav Lajčak is a Slovakian diplomat, currently a High Representative for B&H. High Representative is an alpha and omega in Bosnia. He’s got the power of a governor and he can replace whoever he wants and make whatever decision he fancies.
Exactly at that time we were discussing the future constitution of B&H. I suggested Nidžo we could have called him and rearranged Bosnia together.
Since the guy was already there, I mean.
And then, after we’d finished our drinks, being intellectually elated and me being very into this bourgeois story, Nidžo got up to pay and the waiter came and asked:
-"Guys, how did Inter play?"
That remark or question, whatever, completely fucked up our mood and all we’d said.
We went home by a rickety trolleybus.
First time published at Jimblog under the title "I tebe sam sit, kafano", on 3rd of October, 2007 AD
Thanks to Ana Sekulić for translation
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