I bumped into Vedran Horvat as I was fooling around with a wad of money in the middle of the street. He is an old friend from my green days. “Going to the Kolding Caffe?” he grinned. “Indeed,” I was a bit surprised, for we met a couple of blocks from my destination, “and I am already getting out the money for my Guinness there.” His office used to be a few doors from one of my favorite watering holes in Zagreb, where we sometimes met, but now he has a new office several blocks away. I asked him about the green association he heads, and he told me that everything was going well. When we said goodbye to each other, grinning all the while, I started ruminating about his correct guess. “Few people know me in the Croatian capital,” I shook my head, “but a few among them know me a bit too well for my taste.” And I met nearly all of them during my green days, which are several years behind me now. “Another argument against greenery,” I pinched my mouth.