It is Saturday and the pedestrian area in the center of Zagreb is packed. In spite of the cold, that is quite normal. On top of that, parliamentary elections are coming up in eight days. Representatives of all sorts of political parties are out in numbers. Wearing scarves of different colors, they occupy the squares or walk around the busiest streets distributing leaflets and shaking hands with the voters. Megaphones are blaring all around. As I am ploughing through the crowd, I see a bunch of people wearing orange scarves coming my way. Vesna Pusić, one of the leading people in her party, which has very good chances in the upcoming elections, is in front of them. She is smiling from ear to ear at everyone in sight. My first thought is to turn around, but the crowd pushes me forward. Passing right by her as fast as I could, I look down. Luckily, she does not recognize me. Relieved, I start wondering about friendship. Once upon a time, we were close friends. To my horror, now she is a politician. Even worse, she is a successful one.

Addendum (October 21, 2016)

I was on my way to the barber’s this morning when I saw Vesna Pusić from afar. Although we were just off the main square in Zagreb, the street was almost empty. Having spotted me from quite some distance, she started grinning. And so did I. When we got closer together, I gave her a big hug. “This is like meeting comrade Tito,” I chuckled. “Gosh,” she chuckled in turn, but it was clear the association was not exactly to her liking. Besides, he is long dead. After a few words, we waved each other goodbye. This time around, I felt closer to Vesna than the last few times I met her or spotted her in the Croatian capital or in Motovun. By now, she is all but retired from politics. And friendship is a bit less farfetched than during her political career.