07-II-1976.
Four days ago enrolled into 4th semester. Yesterday the faculty approved my request to pass the exam on english language prematurely, i.e. in april instead of waiting for june, when I'll be busy. The second year is so unreasonably harder than the first - some material should have been pushed into first, which was too easy (and yet we lost perhaps a quarter of attendees to attrition... those who couldn't take it just vanished). The request was approved today.
The winter holiday is from 15th of january to 15th of february. I'm taking the chance to make my european trip, which was kind of customary in my generation, something to do between high school and college. Well, year and a half later, as circumstances allowed. Three years ago, Pop and another guy went on a motorbike all the way to Sweden.
Flew from Belgrade to Düsseldorf. I got the tickets few weeks in advance, at putnik. Never went in before, had no need - we always traveled self-organized, never needed hotel nor airplane. Well they did make it cute inside, all in dark blue itison except parts of furniture which were in milky white ultrapas. We got smart designers, truth be told.
Rudolf met me at the airport. I got there early in the afternoon. The weather was shitty, dark cloudy and just between the last and the next rain. It would stay so the next three days.
Drove for a while, getting out of Düsseldorf and then into his little town. He said he had to go back to work, yeah, a real cop now, and left me at his place to just sit, smoke, listen to music and occasionally talk with his mom, with whatever german I could muster. It all looked rather dull and gloomy, just as on this picture.
I brought him a carton of Ibar. The worst and cheapest cigarettes I could find, but their tennant or whatever loves them. The guy was from Morocco or thereabouts, these were strong enough to what he was used to.
Then we visited some of our folks in the vicinity, so I could exchange dinar for marks. The guy is our butcher's son; the said butcher works where dad does, and we know him personally - occasionally we'd buy a whole slaughtered pig and he'd come to carve it up. In the following years we learned how to do it ourselves.
A real gastarbajter in its natural habitat, some adapted attic apartment. Didn't look like complaining of anything, except the gloomy weather. At least there's someone from the old grounds now, even so hairy.
The beer on the table is german (I'd guess the same Hannen Alt that Rudolf was drinking), but the vinjak (if that's what's in the liter bottle) is from home.
Later in the afternoon (Rudolf had to work a half shift or arrange a swap) he took me to some place on kind-of main street, slightly dug in but not quite a basement - its windows were at sidewalk level, but they weren't small. This is the first time I saw their way of keeping tabs - you get a krüg of beer and a coaster under it, and the waitress just marks a stripe on the coaster. Next beer, 2nd stripe. In the end she just counts the stripes and charges accordingly.
When it got dark we went to a different place, where they had some kind of podium, or something that looked like a theater stage (but then couldn't have more than six rows in the audience), with a pool table on it. Didn't give it a shot, never laid my hands on a cue and balls, didn't want to waste my time being clumsy without thinking the whole physics of it first. While still on the first beer (dark! had to try that!)(liked it and henceforth always checked whether there's any dark beer, went for light only if none) we went into a sideroom, which turned out to be a movie. With perhaps only twenty chairs, and I'd say a 16mm projector but still with a good sound. The movie was Billy Wilder's "Front page", dubbed in german. Rudolf or the one other guy (whom I knew from last year) translated for me some bits, so I generally got the plot and also learned some more german at that.
I asked about Bruno. Said he got involved with some rich girl, then smashed her dad's mercedes, now works for him to pay it off, may be getting married.
Mentions: Bruno Kessler, gastarbajter, Marko Popović (Pop), Putnik, Rudolf Ochsner, vinjak, in serbian