The headwaitress on the hotel terrace brings me white wine, mineral water, and ice. “Forty-three Croatian kuna,” I say with a smile and give her the money plus a hefty tip. She is not sure of the price, though. “In this I’m a pro,” I assure her with a big grin. “Indeed,” she grins back at me, apparently convinced. “In this!”

Addendum (June 15, 2010)

Less than a year later, not to mention the global economic crisis, the price of the same pleasure on the hotel terrace is forty-six Croatian kuna. Three kuna more. For me, the price is actually exactly the same, but the tip is no longer as hefty as it used to be. Why is it that the wrong people always suffer for all the world’s wrongs?