I have already talked about the GOM next door who claims that the fence surrounding my terasa is his and that I cannot pass through the space in the rail to exit my space – he has done a similar thing on the other side, constructing a fence over public property where a through road is planned but not yet constructed, and then planting olive trees on land outside his boundary. He has planted a climber on the fence so that eventually it will become impossible to climb the fence, which is what everyone does, including his wife. I can only imagine that his world is small and so he is trying to ensure that he doesn’t lose an inch of it.
People are down on the beach early in the morning – as soon as the beach sweepers have finished their job (and it was a big job this morning because Bura is blowing and there is a carpet of pine needles everywhere) they tumble out of their apartments and lay out their towel and mats, weighing them down with stones so that they don’t blow away. It is only 7 in the morning and the sun hasn’t even reached the beach yet. They are making sure that they get a ‘spot’, staking their claim.
Yesterday Ivana and I went to our ‘bomb’ spot - a couple had put their towels right where the bombers jump from. Eventually they went to the shop to buy something, they left their towels there (of course) weighed down by stones so that they wouldn’t lose their spot. They were gone for over an hour, during which time we merrily jumped into the sea (I didn’t mean to make such a big splash, but things happen… and it was a good bomb) and when they returned, they yelled at the kids for splashing their towels – (they didn’t suspect me for a moment!).
What I am thinking is that there are visible (and invisible) lines everywhere as people frantically try to stake claim and make sure that no one gets any more than their fair share (defined as ‘slightly less than my fair share if at all possible’). If a café owner spreads his chairs and tables slightly out of the defined area, a neighbour may either match the incursion or suddenly the ‘redarstvo’ inspectors may pay a visit to check permits.
So… Is this because the pie is small and slices are fine, or is it the result of a geographical history where boundaries have been drawn and rubbed out with such frequency, and visible and invisible lines have been imposed externally, that the importance of the area upon which you can put your feet and stake your claim has become more important. (Or am I just observing a normal phenomenon in a situation where space is at a premium, viz, somewhere to lay your towel on these incredibly crowded beaches).
As I said, I’m wasn’t sure where the narrative would lead, but this is where it has ended up.
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