A few years ago I asked a number of people from Zagreb, or at least well acquainted with it, to help me identify a bunch of people in the Croatian capital who would be worth befriending (“Bursting into Laughter,” June 11, 2008). I knew this was a tall order, but I still tried, albeit half in jest. Of course, I got no leads worth mentioning. Looking back, I feel fortunate, though. Even the people I asked for suggestions I do not see any longer except by chance. And this is precisely how I like it. My hypothesis that a city of about a million people should harbor at least ten people whose company I would enjoy was palpably wrong. One per million is much closer to it, and I am already with my beloved, whose company I enjoy to boot. Which only shows my eternal optimism about my fellow humans. An incurable optimism it is, too. Or should I call it terminal, instead?

Addendum (September 7, 2016)

Even though I have already written more than enough on this sorry subject, this piece still invites a few punchy words. To wit, I am delighted to know nearly no-one in the Croatian capital. Minus the waiters in my favorite watering holes, I hasten to add. They are my dearest friends one and all. Anyhow, one of the greatest attractions of Zagreb is precisely that I know next to no-one there. Wherever I sit or stroll, I feel free like a bird, for I know that my peace will not be interrupted. I am an alien in the city of my birth, and this is the greatest blessing for me at this stage of my life. An alien at long last!