A sad day

I woke up late, very late. Just time to have a shower, get dressed and go down the 53 steps that are between my hill and the real city life.

It's a sunny day, a warm one. It seems that I brought some sunshines from Dalmatia. Along Zagrebačka, a bunch of cars are moving slowly like every morning. In Grbavička, taxi drivers talk about the weather and the football matches of the last weekend. Ibrahimovic was great against Udinese, one said as he took another drag from his Drina.

The market is already crowded, as usually. It looks like you can collect all the old stuff you have at home, take a carton and put everything on it. All that you need is a packet of cigarrettes, in case you smoke, and patience. Sooner or later someone is going to ask you the price of the iron you got as a wedding present 30 years ago.

As I am late, I go to the bakery to buy my breakfast. I know that eating some chocolate bread roll it's not the healthiest way to start the day. But who cares about that when you're late.

I open the door of the Grbavica Centar Mladih (Grbavica Youth Center), the one that leads to the Caffe Centar. As every morning, I say Dobro jutro (Good morning) to Ajla, the waitress. She replied just Ćao, the Balkan version of the Italian greeting, as she is cleaning a table. She knows that I'm gonna have a capuccino, so she brought it to my table with a shiny smile.

As I am putting some sugar on my capuccino, I realise that something is different today. There is something strange in the air today. The music. Yes, the music. Instrumental music, sad one. Suddenly Pavarotti. There is no trace of the everyday rock or pop songs, or even Mexican rancheras or bachatas by Aventura. Instead of that, Lacrimosa on the Caffe Centar big speakers.

I finish my coffee and I go upstairs. I said 'Morning to my colleagues. Radio Stari Grad is playing a Requiem. Then the soundtrack of Once upon a time in the west. We made some jokes about the music. Please change it or I will jump out the window soon, I said to Chiara. She switches to Radio Sarajevo. Same melancholic stuff. I think to myself: something happened this weekend as I was out of reality in Split. Something really bad.

I ask Lejla, Hey, what happened, why all this sad music on the radio. An helicopter accident in Macedonia, she replies, 11 Macedonian soldiers died whe they were coming back home from their mission in Bosnia. The helicopter crashed yesterday due to dense fog, she says. Don't try to change the station, Lejla says, there is the same music everywhere, it's a sad day.

So that is the reason why every radio station is playing the perfect music for a funeral.

I'm surprised and touched. I have never imagined that all radio stations could change their planning for that reason. They even weren't Bosnians.

Once more, I think that things are different here as some violins are crying on Radio Sarajevo.