As I am walking through the crowded center of Zagreb, I spot an odd couple standing by a shop window and eating icecream. In their late fifties or early sixties, both of them are pudgy and short. He has long, frizzy, and grey hair., and she is a peroxide blonde. Both of them wear colorful clothing and oversized dark glasses. From about twenty paces away, they look Italian or Spanish, but they could be Portuguese or even Greek, as well. All of a sudden, they spot me. “Hello,” they yell in poor English and raise their icecream cones toward me. I get scared shitless in a jiffy. “Gosh,” I start thinking feverishly, “who are these people?” They are already walking toward me, though. “Hello,” he keeps repeating and smiling from ear to ear with his cone raised high, “hello!” By the time they are a few paces away from me, I am almost dead. I can hardly breathe from terror. And then they walk straight past me. I turn around, and see them hugging a pudgy and short woman in her mid-twenties. “Hello,” she exclaims in poor English, “hello!” I keep walking as though nothing has happened, but it takes me some time to regain my composure. “Goodness gracious,” I mumble to myself and shake my head after a while, “I got really lucky this time!” Indeed, I could have known the odd couple in one of my many past lives. And well.