CALM AND MEASURED (December 15, 2007)
Damir Gregorović, known to all as Greg, moved to a neighboring house on Borgo early this year. Like mine, his heating system uses oil. A few days ago he organized the first delivery of the precious liquid to his refurbished house. He found a company in Pula that has a small cistern carrying six tons only. They told him they deliver heating oil to many small Istrian towns. He told them how wide was the access to Borgo at its most narrow, which he knew in connection with so many construction crews that came to his house in recent months, and they told him there would be no problem. Their cistern goes everywhere, they boasted.
I was quite surprised by all this, it goes without saying. When Greg asked me whether I wanted some oil, as well, I told him that I would be delighted to get it. My tank was almost half-empty. After some haggling yesterday morning, the delivery was scheduled for this morning. Having figured out how much oil I would need, I went to the automatic teller machine left after the only bank in town departed a few years ago. The machine has become quite quirky as of late, but I have never had any problem getting the money in the end. This time it was different. Together with several others from Motovun, I called the bank and told them about the faulty machine. They promised to fix it as soon as possible.
The machine was not fixed by this morning, and so I had to borrow some money for the heating oil. By the time the oil was supposed to arrive, I had the money in my pocket. Everything was going smoothly until the cistern arrived. The gate leading to the lower square turned out to be too narrow. Greg’s measurements were right, but no-one checked the cistern’s cabin before departing from Pula. Panicked, he started calling Gianni Benčić, who brings the oil to Borgo on he trailer of his tractor, which can take a plastic container that takes exactly a ton of oil. As luck would have it, Gianni was not at home. When I mentioned all this to one of the regulars at Klaudio’s, his comment was calm and measured: “Motovun!”