28-VIII-2013.
Neša's first birthday. We walked to downtown (all four of us, him being in a stroller), passed through the Days of beer. It's just gaining momentum, the stalls are still put up, the feast begins in an hour and will last until sunday evening.
We didn't go down štrafta, but turned into Svetosavska instead, the cobbled and curvy one, with the fucked up sidewalks, it's curved vertically too. (... 30 words...) Anyway, we reached zanatlija, passed the cake to the waiter to keep it cool until needed (I guess we dropped by Prleski first to buy it, or perhaps not, it looks like her work and I see Go carrying something in a bag). Soon the others came - Arpi, Višnja, Boba and his new girlfriend Milena (really cute, keeps mostly to herself, probably being shy among so many unknown people), plus a friend of Go's (since gimnazija or maybe even Zmaj) and her husband. Neša was the star of the evening, of course.
He was mostly playing with new toys on the tavern floor. The floor is the standard green synth rug glued on concrete, which are now ubiquitous, but I remember seeing them in the nineties, though not so much.
but then when it came to blowing the candle, he didn't get the technique but got the right idea: he beat the flame with a fork. Mission accomplished.
The dinner was okay, I guess, mixed meat on two ovals or three. The beer was the black Štajger, their hit of the season, a bit sweetish but is really good.
Then the cake. The waiter even brought the bucket with water, the champagne cooler type, to keep the knife in it. Whether the trick is to keep the knife wet, or was the water perhaps hot, I don't need to know, the cuts were perfect. First, of course, the candle had to be... whatever the english for „ugasiti“ is (opposite from „light up“ or „fire up“ or „turn on“ (when applied to appliances)). Neša knew what he was supposed to do, but not quite how. Blowing was not an option, he didn't even try and probably thought that all of us blowing is some kind of enticement, part of the rite. He took a knife, he saw us use those, but then didn't know what to do with it, so he took a fork, and then got the idea. He beat the wick until the flame was gone. Candle ugašena, task performed.
Walked back. Lots of good shots.
On Žitni trg someone pulls my sleeve. The guy who sold us the saxo, asking how is it, how it goes. His Jag (or whatever it was) is also neatly clocking kilometers.
From the end of main street, across the bridge and all over Žitni there are stands everywhere, except for one concert stage. Where there's room for chairs, there's beer and barbecue; where not, there's stalls selling all the fair stuff - sweets, trinkets, even bottles of homemade drinks. One guy sells misshapen bottles of coke - probably refilled, can't imagine the glass being stretched so thin while full. Saw that on buč in Čurda before.
Walked slowly home. This last shot's time is 22:26, we surely got there before midnight.
Mentions: Arpad Gunaroši (Arpi), City doctors (CD), Čurda, Dobrivoj Gunaroši (Boba), gimnazija, Gorana Sredljević (Go), Milena Požarić, Nenad Berger (Neša), Prleski, saxo, štrafta, Višnja, zanatlija, Zmaj, in serbian