There are many beggars in the center of the Croatian capital, and few people are paying them any attention any longer. The economic crisis has lasted long enough for anyone to worry about anyone else. But there is a fat woman in her late fifties or early sixties who has attracted quite a bit of attention lately. If my memory is not playing tricks with me, she has been around for at least six months. Sitting on a bench, she is crying all the time. Her pudgy face red with tears, she keeps intoning the same words: “Help me please, for my grandchildren are hungry!” And she gets quite a bit of money from passersby. “A talented beggar,” I hear from many a waiter in the area. “She’s making a mint.” According to some of them, she is making about a fifth of an average salary in Croatia every single day. Her story certainly helps, but her tears are the best trick in the world. For it is nothing but a trick. I have seen her talking on the mobile phone time and again, and she seems to be in the best of shapes when she is not, well, working. Tears come easily to her, no doubt, but crying for hours is still a commendable feat. A talented beggar, no doubt whatsoever.