Archive for the “Stories” Category

Serbian Ministry of (mal)education has published “A collection of exercises in Serbian language” for the entrance exam for enrollment in secondary schools. Questions are related to the school textbooks that children use every day. So is the national fairytale “Mute tongue” also in the textbook for the eighth grade (13 years old pupils). This is a story about a shepherd who, after rescuing a snake, received as a gift from her the ability to understand animals. So he learns from the mare that his wife is pregnant and smiles on hearing it; his wife, however, wants to know why is he smiling, but he must not disclose the secret of his gift. As the woman persistently continues to question him, shepherd, advised by the rooster, takes the club and beats her.

So far, so good. A fairytale is a fairytale and we can not question the attitudes of medieval narrators. But in the collection of exercises (which the Ministry has approved) the correct answers to the following questions are these:

1. Shepherd’s wife in the fairytale deserves to be punished because of
her inappropriate curiosity and negligence (fantastic)

2. Reader would have wished to have the power of the main character in order to
deal with every situation correctly and therefore always be in the service of justice and good (even better)

3. Shepherd shows the following characteristics:
curiosity, devotion and loyalty, persistency, honesty and kindness (aggression is not mentioned)

-> Read the whole text from Marija Dimić on Kiklop’s blog (in Serbian)

Happy Easter: scenes from the game Bible Fight:

Jesus vs Eve

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Jesus vs Eve
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Jesus vs Eve
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Jesus vs Eve
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Jesus vs Eve
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Jesus vs Eve
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Jesus vs Eve
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Jesus vs Eve
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TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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Beograd, 2009.

Draga moja,

Mi smo dobro, preko dana je skoro normalno ali nocu
udaraju. Juce smo proslavili mali jubilej:
komandu su pogodili pedeseti put. Opet je ispalo ono
staklo iznad ulaznih vrata. Tata je rekao da ce ga jos
sad staviti, a sledeci put cemo zazidati.
Sve je sada mnogo lakse, kada se samo setim 1999. dok su
oni jos imali rakete i avione, onda je stvarno gruvalo.
Onda su presli na gadjanje dinamitom iz aviona
(kako smo ih samo gadjali prackama) i konacno nas gadjaju
kopljima i sekirama (vrhunske izrade). Inace
vode imamo dovoljno, svaki put kad pada kisa skupljamo je
u burence. Sto se hrane tice, sada je prolece pa ima
narcisa. Juce smo rucali divnu supu od domaceg vrapca,
bareni bastenski korov sa macjim filetima.
Pili smo divno vino (neidentifikovanog porekla),
a na kraju smo se pocastili sa kolacem od narcisa sa
malo blata (umesto cokolade). Milica i Teri su sa
zadovoljstvom polizali ostatke (mada znas da posle
Lekica malo sta ostane). Jutros sam se setao gradom.

Rov Kneza Mihajla je pun ljudi, bila su i neka dogadjanja
u Terazijskoj rupi.Najgore mi je sto sam svaki put
mokar jer moram da preplivam Savu. Inace u krater na
Slaviji su postavili neke kioske pa sada mnogo lepse
izgleda. Dobro je da nocu ne trebaju svetiljke jer
sve svetli od one trece atomske bombe.Steta sto su onu
cetvrtu ispustili u Francuskoj, pa em sto nema vise
Francuske, em bi nama bilo nocu jos svetlije.
Inace sutra je isplata drugog dela penzije za novembar
2004. Mama rece da ce obe marke da da za hranu.Videla je
divne macje polutke. Inace u skoli nista novo,
mnogo je lakse raditi sa odeljenjima od po 7-9 ucenika.
Izgleda da je radijacija ucinila svoje, pa su i djaci
bolji. Olgica treba da ide sa svojim maturantima na
ekskurziju,verovatno ce ici na Karaburmu da gledaju
najveci krater na Balkanu. Zao mi je sto se pobise
Rusi i Ameri pa smo mi nekako pali u drugi plan,
a i nivo mora je nesto visi otkako je Amerika potonula.
Nasi kumovi su na vreme otisli, sada su na ostrvu
Brace Jerkovic (jedino sto ratuju sa Vozdovcem,
hoce samostalnost za svoje ostrvo sa 213 stanovnika).
Ali ni ratovi nisu ko sto su bili, nema vise krupnog
kamenja. Svakodnevno gledamo TV (imamo neki stari ram,
pa svaki dan neko drugi stane iza njega pa kao
pravi program). Kao sto vidis nije tako strasno,
pisi kako je na vasem malom ostrvu.

Ja sam O.K. sto se ne bi moglo reci i za stakla na
mojoj kuci. Puno te pozdravljam i nadam se da ste ti i
tvoji takodje dobro!

Humor iz vremena NATO kampanje. Autor: nepoznat

————————

F-117 “Stealth” shot down

During the NATO bombing of Serbia between March 24th and June 10th 1999, Serbian army managed to shoot down one F-117 “stealth” aircraft in the fields some 50 kilometres north-west from Belgrade. For a few days all media in Serbia was full of reports about this great “success”, many people were ridiculously happy about it, and some even visited the site to express their joy by dancing on aircraft’s remains.

As it always is, after some time no one was interested any more in this pile of scratch; as I heard, it seems that some nearby Roma took the remains of F-117’s tail and wings to renew their shabby housings. But they were not to enjoy its protection for very long, for Russian intelligence was just as much interested in it: materials used in this most advanced killing machinery were NATO top secret. Despite of the protests of F-117’s new proprietors every single peace of metal was consequently taken away, and ended – if you want to believe in it – in Russia.

Dancing on remains of F-117

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Author: unknown

TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (No Ratings Yet)
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There are no seats with row number 13 in Lufthansa airplanes. In fact, not only row 13 but also the row 17 is missing. If you thought that this was the case only with Lufthansa then you are dead wrong – many other airlines avoid certain numbers in their aircrafts. As the matter of fact, Japan-based All Nippon Airways omits rows 4, 9 and 13! Why? Of yourse, the answer is clear – because all these numbers are generally considered “unlucky” in different cultures. In Christianity and Viking folklore for example, the number 13 is associated with bad luck, and even has a specifically recognized phobia, “Triskaidekaphobia”, a word which was coined in 1911. Seventeen is considered unlucky in Italy because rearranging the letters in the Roman numerals for 17 could spell “VIXI” which means “I lived” in Italian. Number four is generally avoided in Japan because it sounds like the word for death in their language (“Tetraphobia”) and the word for nine sounds like the word for torture.

But how about the fact that number 13 is actually considered “lucky” in Sikhism, since 13 is tera in Punjabi, which also means “yours” (as in, “I am yours, O Lord”)? Or the fact that Italian Alitalia’s Boeing 777s have thirteenth row while the rest of their fleet does not?!

I believe that education against superstition should be a part of common school programme, as well as education against religious, nationalistic and other ideological rubbish: as long as people are ready to believe that numbers, black cats or broken mirrors can bring misfortune, or that a horseshoe, knocking on wooden material or saying some special words can keep misfortune away, they will never be truly free and never be real masters of their own destiny. It may sound unimportant in comparison to a number of significant and disputed issues in the world today, but I am sure that connection between superstition and many cases of human suffering is much deeper than it may appear at the first sight.

Slaves of superstition

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TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (No Ratings Yet)
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Shandor looked very much like my father, and I was the same age as his son. His wife just threw him out after a heavy fight, so he brought some wine to the Danube pier and drank it while watching tourists passing by. Few coincidences, one bottle of sweet wine, one night in Budapest. And two sentimental fools.

Don't stop the alternative way

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Don't stop the alternative way
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Photos: Maya

TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (No Ratings Yet)
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What you give to others to make them
happy is not nearly as meaningful as
what you are willing to give up for their
happiness.

from “Mostpeople are Nuts: The Wit and Wisdom of I.D. Garuda

TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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Pancevo 1941

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Visiting Berchtesgaden, a little town in southern Germany where Adolf Hitler had his summer residence, Solana and I found a small museum, “Documentation centre”, high in the Alps, at the place where one of the houses that made up this huge complex of buildings and tunnels connecting them once stood. The day was a perfect autumn day, with warm sunshine, clear blue skies, and green, orange and brown slopes of the mountains all around us: the view from the terrace was almost as copied off the colorful postcards of this silent places where Hannibal once lost almost all of his elephants; but we both sat there depressed, as it always happens when one is confronted with evidence of man’s infinite will for barbarism. The sunshine, the blue skies, endless mountains painted in autumn colors: impotent contrast to piles of dead bodies puoring out of black and white photos, to hundreds of documents describing the building of the highway to catastrophe costing over 50 million lives, to recorded voices of villains shouting, threatening, preaching hatred and violence. And there, in the middle of this grim exhibition, I discovered two documents bearing the name of my hometown: a photo of hanged men in Pancevo in April 1941, and a report, already known to me, about the executions of Jews and Roma near Pancevo in October 1941. Strange, I thought, that out of thousands of other documents and “famous” places from that era someone has choosen these two documents for display here, in Hitler’s favorite vacation place, and put up the name of some small Serbian city alongside Auswitz and Treblinka. More importantly, it immediately reminded me that I have translated this morbid report from First lieutenant Walther more than a year ago, wanting to publish it on photobunt, but postponing it until October comes and eventually forgetting to do it, as it often happens in life; I even have in my car a plastic rose from the memorial built after the war on the executions site. Discovery of Pancevo in Berchtesgaden reminded me that now it was October again; so I knew what I have to do when I come back home.

Executions in Pancevo on 27-30th of October 1941.

Classified

4th November 1941
Infantry regiment 734
Br. B. Nr. 437/41 geh. Ia
704th Infantry division
S u b j.: Sanction measures
1 enclosure

In this enclosure First lieutenant Walther presents a report to the Regiment 9./I.R. 433 about the execution of Jews and Gypsies on the 27th and 30th of Oct. 1941. Please take note.

leg. Signature

———————————————————————-

Secret

00 Hours, 1st 11.1941
First lieutenant Walther
Chief 9. /I.R. 433

Report on the execution of Jews and Gypsies

In accordance with an arrangement made by the SS department, I took the selected Jews and Gypsies from the prison camp in Belgrade. The trucks provided to me by Field Command Unit 599 proved to be inappropriate for two reasons:

1. They were driven by civilians. The secrecy was therefore not guaranteed.

2. They all were without cover or tarpaulin, so that the population of the city saw whom we had on the vehicles and where we drove. Wives of the Jews gathered in front of the camp and howled and screamed as we drove off.

The location where the shooting was carried out was very favorable. It was situated north of Pancevo, directly on the road Pancevo-Jabuka, with an embankment so high that a man can only climb up with considerable effort. Opposite to this embankment was a swamp area, and behind it a river. When flooded (as it was on 29.10.), the water nearly reaches up to the embankment. Escape of the prisoners could therefore be prevented with only a few men. Also favorable was the sandy soil, which eased the digging of the pits and thus shortened the work time.

After arrival, about 1 1/2 – 2 km before the selected location, the prisoners got off and reached it by foot. The trucks with the civil drivers were sent back immediately, in order to provide them with as few as possible reference points for suspicion. I then ordered that the road be closed for all traffic, because of safety and secrecy reasons.

The execution place was secured by 3 IM.G. (heavy machine guns – translation note) and 12 guards:

1. Against escape attempts by the prisoners.

2. For self protection against any assaults of Serbian gangs.

Digging the pits required the longest time, while the shooting was very fast. (100 men 40 minutes)

Luggage and valuable items were collected before and transported in my truck, in order to hand them over to the NSV.

Shooting Jews is simpler than gypsies. One must admit that Jews go very calmly into death – they stand very calmly – while the gypsies howl, cry and continuously move, even if they are already standing at the place of execution. Some have even jumped into the pit before the salvo hit them and tried to pretend as if they were dead.

Initially my soldiers were not impressed upon. On the second day however it became already apparent that some of them do not possess the nerves to take part in executions over an extended period of time. My personal impression is that one has no mental inhibitions during the shooting; these however emerge some days after, when one is able to reflect on it in the evening and in peace.

W a l t h e r
First lieutenant

The paragraph in bold was emphasized by me. The transcript of the original “Walther report” in German language is to be found here.

Many thanks to Allison and Solana for correcting the translation.

TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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Once there was a man who had a beautiful horse. But one day the horse broke out of the barn and escaped. The people said “Oh, what misfortune, your horse is gone!”; but the man just shrugged his shoulders and answered “Fortune… misfortune… what is it?”. Several days after, the horse came back, followed by the herd of wild horses. Now everybody said “Oh, you are so fortunate, you have many horses now!”; but the man just answered “Fortune… misfortune… what is it?”. After a while, the man’s son decided to tame the horses. But on attempting to do so, a wild horse threw him down and he broke his leg. “Oh what misfortune!” everybody said, “Because of the horses your son is now injured!”; but the man only answered – “Fortune… misfortune… what is it?”

After some time solders came into the village. A war was going on, and they took all young men with them to distant battles. They took everybody, but they left one boy behind – the man’s son, because of his broken leg.

“Fortune… misfortune… what is it?”

Me injecting anti-thrombosis medicine, three years ago as my leg was broken

Me injecting anti-thrombosis medicine, three years ago as my leg was broken Previous Next Close
Photo: Andjela, 6 years old

TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (No Ratings Yet)
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This is a “self-buy” pumpkin field shop, near Regensburg. For all the pumpkins you want to buy, you should put the money in the metal box that is fixed to a concrete-filled blue barrel. The prices are listed on the table above the cash box.

Meli buying pumpkins

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Meli buying pumpkins
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Meli buying pumpkins
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TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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Goran has no fear. Not in life and, as this story illustrates, also not in dreams. A few years ago he told me this dream; I find it so interesting that I must share it with you. With his approval, of course 🙂

Goran’s summer dream:

Goran and his wife are on vacation, in Montenegro, in wonderful Bay of Kotor (I strongly recommend this place, if you haven’t yet seen a lot of the world: some years ago I was almost in love with this piece of Montenegro coast. A real nature’s pearl. And Montenegro people can really be very nice). So Goran is walking along the shore, alone, as he notices that everybody escapes from the water in panic. “What’s going on?”, he thinks, as the people are running by in despair. Then he sees a big shark’s fin in the sea. Not one – several of them. And big. So, brave and noble as he is, without thinking twice, he immediately jumps in the waters, swims to the beasts, and kills them all with a knife that he somehow has with himself (it is dream! in real life he never carries a knife. So after this dream I gave him one Swiss Army Pocket Knife as a present. A man can never know. And anyway, it can be very handy for shortening nails and opening bottles).

As he swims back, he notices that the crowd ashore is still very upset: it seems that there is still something in the waters. Maybe one of the sharks survived? So he turns around and what can he see: another big shark is coming, a really big one, bigger than those that he has just sent away to the Eternal Seas. So he goes back again, directly towards the beast, and as the shark opens its huge jaws with hundreds of sharp teeth, he just places a big stick with knives on both ends directly in its mouth and – snap! – as the shark shuts the mouth it simply kills itself! (Of course he had the stick with him – it is a dream! But I did not present him with a stick afterwards).

So now Goran swims again back towards the shore, content as he only can be, when a big shadow casts over the entire Bay. “What is now going on?”, he thinks, irritated, as he slowly turns back again. “What could it be now – another shark? No way.” But this time there is something truly terrifying in the Bay: one really, really big shark fin in the middle of the sea. BIGGER than all the previous ones. MOTHER SHARK. Just BIG, BIG, BIG. With a fin as BIG as the Vrmac hill behind it. And angry, also, because her children are dead. So Goran swims back once more, fearless, determined to join her with her children. When he comes near, the mother shark opens her enormous jaws, ready to swallow him in one bite; but he just – jumps inside. And as the mouth closes behind him he starts thrusting his knife above himself, and in all directions, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, until the shark gives up and dies. Then he just swims ashore, not looking behind, to the beach where no one can see him, and walks back to the hotel room.

His wife Emina, all crying and dressed in black, has already heard that he died in the uneven battle with the sharks. As he enters the room, she weeps: „You… no… it cannot be! You are… they told me… you are… dead!“. „Who? Me? Dead?! Come on! Don’t cry, it’s all right… And give me something to eat, I am starving!“.

Goran's summer dream

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Big Goran
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TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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The name of the Castle Neuschwanstein consists of german words for New, Swan and Stone. I still do not know if it means “The new swan has a stone”, “The swan has a new stone”, “The new swan out of stone” or “The stone like a new swan”? Maybe you know?

When I visited Neuschwanstein seven years ago I was new in Germany and, not speaking German language, I did not differentiate between the words “Schwan” (Swan) and “Schwein” (Pig). So when I was asked where I was I answered something like “neuschweinstein”… “new pig stone”… wich has been a bit amusing to my german friends 🙂

New+swan+stone

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TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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In Serbia, the business is booming. Across the street from Pancevo City Hospital there are two undertaker offices, clearly visible from patient’s rooms. So that the relatives of a patient wouldn’t have to search for one, if the need comes.

The competition in this business is fierce, like in any other. When a patient dies in a hospital the relatives will get a call from an undertaker, offering his services to the shocked family, in a matter of minutes after the loved one died. The undertakers have doctors and nurses on their paying lists; they are buying information about the deceased immediately after exitus letalis has been diagnosed. The competition is so brutal that in some cases an undertaker will call a patient’s family even before the poor one really died, which can have tragicomic implications. At the time when the official telegram from the hospital arrives, the fastest undertaker has already long ago booked a funeral.

I heard that in some other small Serbian city two undertakers also have their offices in the same street. The stores are facing each other, and big shop windows are full of different articles. Among black pillows and silk cloths one of them has displayed a small child’s coffin, in order to attract customers to his shop. About 60cm long. And in white, of course.

Take a look at this post from Kiklop Nandor’s Blog: Stone cutter’s business card on graves in Pancevo Cemetery (or “What do you wait for, order a tombstone”).

On the picture is an advertisement for a funerals band in the old Zemun’s cemetery, Belgrade. Everybody is invited to pluck off a small excerpt with a telephone number.

Funerals Band

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Vanja & Pezza Pan

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One evening in 1991 Vanja was showing me photos from her childhood. She took one after another out of an old shoe box, and eventually she took this one out. I glanced on it, and thought how strange it was that she had one of my photos. She said: “The girl on the right, that’s me.” “It cannot be!” I thought in disbelief: I definitely had the same picture. “And the boy on the left – that’s me!”, I said. We looked each other in astonishment. Than we started laughing… and the picture was laughing back at us. After many years, we discovered that once we have already been holding hands. And never knew it.

On the back of my photo, in handwriting of my grandmother, stands “2. IV. 1977”. We were both about 4 years old.

—-

Many years later, near Klismerina in Montenegro.

Pezza Pan & Vanja

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It was the hottest day in history of Serbia. The temperatures were over 40 degrees for some days before, but this was the absolute record.

Nandor and me drove through Belgrade as the asphalt was burning. My car has no air conditioning system; all the windows were opened, and the wind was as hot as from a hair dryer. The outside thermometer had actually shown 46,5 degrees (take a look on Nandor�s Blog) few minutes earlier, but my camera just did nothing as I was pressing the release button. Only some moments later it started working again, as the temperature lowered to 45,5.

At 1 AM on the next day, it was 24 degrees. Perfect living conditions.

45,5 Degrees Celsius

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24,0 Degrees Celsius
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As I was bicycling through the park I noticed a man sitting on a bench and drinking beer, dressed in white linen shirt, who was just about to roll a new cigarette.

I stopped and started to talk with him. His name was Norbert; he had no work, no money, no house and no wife, and he didn’t seem to miss them either. He was just sitting there on the bench, drinking his beer, rolling strong tobacco, and watching the world goes by.

I asked him if I could take the photo of him. “No” he said, “I was in jail”. Interesting, I thought: “Really? In jail? Why?” – “I got drunk, made some shit. They put me there for two months. It was not bad. Me and my fellow man, we had a TV in the cell. Every day the same: in the morning they unlock the doors. In the evening, they lock them. That’s all. Nothing else. The real criminals, they put them in other jails.”

“Jails in Serbia are different” I said. “If you get there, you are sure to be fucked.” He looked at me: “I am a catholic! I am a catholic, and nobody dares to touch me!” Nice places, I thought, these german jails. You just say you are a catholic and they leave you alone. I wondered if it also works for atheists and muslims.

“Do you know which date is today?” he asked. “No, why?”, I said. “It is 20th July. TWENTIETH JULY. On this day in 1944 they tried to kill Hitler! I heard it on the radio today. I woke up, and I heard it. This man, what’s his name…? He did it… with a bomb…”

“Staufenberg”, I said: “Grof Staufenberg.” – “Yes! Stauferg! He was it. He was a BIG officer. And some doctor too, he also helped, but I can not remember his name. But the damn bomb did not kill Hitler. It just did not. Imagine that it did. Just imagine that it did. He should have done it with a pistol, this man Stauferg, I tell you. With a pistol.”

“Yes”, I said. “He sure should have.” Funny, I thought – you just can not escape Hitler in Germany. Even 60 years after the damn war. On a sunny day, in a park. You just can not escape this shit story.

“Do you know that they are going to make a film now about this Stauferg man?” – I asked. Norbert looked at me “No, really?” – “Yes. And guess who is going to play him?” I paused for second: “Tom Cruise”.

What Norbert did not know was that another man, a carpenter from Hungary named Georg Elser, tried to kill Hitler all the way back in November 1939, five years before Staufenberg and just two months after WWII even started. He planned, organized and executed it all alone, on his own, without any complices. His bomb went off exactly on time, killing many nazi-veterans and totaly destroying the inside of the Münchener beer garden where they celebrated the anniversary of Nazi party. But Hitler unfortunately left only minutes earlier; he was occupied with his war plans and shortened the speech to only 15 minutes. Georg was captured, held imprisoned in Dachau during the whole war and was finally executed in April 1945, just a few days before the liberation of camp. Today, I wonder if anybody remembers him.

I told Norbert this story. He nodded. If Georg had succeded, the history would have REALLY been different.

It was about time to return to contemporary topics. I went to buy some beer and got back with two warm bottles (you can not buy cold beer in the supermarket here in Germany). As we drunk it, Norbert told me that he must pay a fine for insulting the city klerk. 320 EUR total. And he gets from the state only 345 EUR a month for being unemployed. So they substract from his welfare 60 EUR each month, until it is payed off.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I told him he is an asshole. ASSHOLE! In Düsseldorf, where I come from, it’s nothing. You say ‘asshole’ every now and then, to everybody. Just like that, no big deal: ‘Hey, Petar, you old asshole! How are you?’ You see – it’s normal.”

As we spoke, a guy dressed in black came along. I learned that his name was Harald, and that he was Norbert’s buddy. One that was still alive. As Norbert told me, in last two years over twenty of his street friends died – because of liver cyrosis.

Harald smelled bad. He was sweating like hell and speaking fast, as if he wanted to tell you everything in one sentence. He was from Eastern Germany, from Rostock. He was one of those germans who sped up the destruction of The Wall by fleeing over to Hungary. When the government of Eastern Germany realized that thousands were crossing over to Hungary and then to West Germany, it was already too late. They had no choice but to open up the borders and sign their own political suicide.

Harald was laughing all the time. I liked him. He said, “I have only 7 cents.” – “No problem”, I said, “Take this money and buy some beer for us all”. “Why me? Can’t you go?” – he asked. “Because I already went to buy it before. And because Norbert went there already three times, always for one beer. If he appears again they will throw him out.” So he took the bag from Norbert, emptied the bottles of orange juice out of it, and came back after a short while with as much beer as he could have bought for 5 EUR. As we opened the bottles and cheered, he said: “I bought the cheapest beer, that you know, the cheapest one!”

Harald told me how he spent three months in some army garrison somewhere in Bavaria, where all the refugees from the East were temporarily housed. “It was quite ok there”, he said, “men and women were separated.” It took a while before all the paperwork was finished and he could get some money from the German state. Meanwhile he kept asking for some; they asked him what does he need it for: “You have all you need here” they said. “But I need to smoke, man, I need to smoke!” So he got some money and left the garrison and came to Regensburg.

Harald was also unemploeyd, like Norbert. He was unemploeyd since 2004, when he lost his job in the big computer factory where he worked in the department for “cooking” computer chips. His job was to put those silicon wafers in the acid, and then take them out when the machine starts beeping. Not really a job you could call stresfull. But it was all terribly sterile there – he had to wear a special white suit, with a mask and glasess and gloves and all. Because of this all the employees there looked alike – you could not tell who is who. So they all had their names written in big letters on the back.

“He was earning 1900 EUR in month! Can you imagine it?!”, Norbert said – “Thousendninehundred! Hell of a good money. And he got 13.000 EUR as a pay-off from his company for being fired. Ask him what he did with it.”

“Harald?” I asked.

“What could I’ve done with it? I drunk it. I drunk it all with my buddies”, he said. “In 3 months.”

Norbert looked at him in suprise: “No, that is not true! You did it in 2 moths, you alcoholic… WE did it in two months, together. Don’t you remember?” Then they both started laughing, and I laughed also. It was funny to tnink of it, to think of all that money just drunk up in few months, with some people that are not alive anymore. It was funny to think that one can do just exactly what he is not supposed to and then laugh over it.

We drunk some more beer, we talked, we laughed, I took some photos of them, they wondered over my camera, how expensive it is, how heavy it is, but also how good it is. Harald said “If you want to do somehting, do it right, no?” and Norbert and me both nodded and cheered. We drunk some more, laughed again, cheered, and drunk again. They remembered that they both have some grown up children somewhere, who will not be happy if they died, because they will have to pay for their funerals. We laughed again.

“You know that I also must pay a fine?” Harald said. “You also?”, I replied, “how much?” – “120 EUR”. I saw something interesting coming: “Why’s that? You have also insulted some official by telling him that he is an asshole, or…?”

“No!”, he looked at me jokingly, “I told him that he is a CLOWN!!! Ahahahahaha….”

TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (4 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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On February 22nd, 1519, shortly after the death of Emperor Maximilian, the city of Regensburg expelled the whole community of 500 Jews.

Emperor Maximilian had long been a protector of the Jews in the imperial cities, extracting from them substantial taxes in exchange. Only few weeks after his death, the Regensburg community organized the expulsion of Jews. Citizens blamed their prosperous Jewish neighbors for their economic troubles; the rumors were also spread that Jews slaughter and sacrifice Christian children in their “obscure religious rituals”.

All Jews had to leave the city and were allowed to take with them only what they could carry.

The whole Jewish Quarter in the very centre of the city was thoroughly destroyed, including the Synagogue. Around 400 tombstones from the Jewish cemetery were destroyed or used as building material. On the grounds of Jewish Quarter the “Neupfarr” (new religion) church was subsequently built, in honor of the “Virgin”.

I photographed the following painting on the ceiling of St. Cassian church, not far away from Neupfarr Square in Regensburg, where Jewish community once existed. The painting depicts “glorious” victory over Jews in year 1519. On the right of “Victoria” you can see people destroying the synagogue. Under her foot lies an old Jew, with a knife in his hand, who has just massacred some children – their bodies lie further down. The bags with coins (1000!) are spread on the stairs.

A ceiling painting from St. Cassian church in Regensburg, depicting expulsion of Jews from Regensburg in February 1519

A ceiling painting from St. Cassian church in Regensburg, depicting expulsion of Jews from Regensburg in February 1519 Previous Next Close
A ceiling painting from St. Cassian church in Regensburg, depicting expulsion of Jews from Regensburg in February 1519 - detail
A ceiling painting from St. Cassian church in Regensburg, depicting expulsion of Jews from Regensburg in February 1519 - detail Previous Next Close
A ceiling painting ftom St. Cassian church in Regensburg, depicting expulsion of Jews from Regensburg in February 1519 - detail
A ceiling painting from St. Cassian church in Regensburg, depicting expulsion of Jews from Regensburg in February 1519 - detail Previous Next Close

Here is an excerpt from The Excavations at Neupfarrplatz Square:

The Jewish Community in Regensburg

The Jewish quarter in Regensburg is first mentioned in a document dating from c. 1000 A.D. This is also the earliest mention of a Jewish settlement in Germany. For more than 500 years Jews lived here, largely free of persecution and pogroms, and left their mark on the history of Regensburg.

The Jewish quarter comprised about 39 houses and several public buildings, such as the synagogue. The community had its own administration, seal and judge. By the end of the 15th century, tension between Jews and Christians was beginning to increase. A few weeks after the death of Emperor Maximilian I, under whose rule Jews had enjoyed protection, the town council decided to expel the Jews from Regensburg.

TjahYou can do it betterOkGoood :)Wau! :))) (No Ratings Yet)
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