Open Heart Street

Do not ask where Svetogorska Street is, and do not look for Lole Ribara Street, nor for Open Heart Street for that matter. Out of sheer spite, ask where Atelje is. The benefit is twofold — you will receive an answer more quickly and spite will put you on the same wavelength as the street’s hosts. A quick bonding may ensue and that can easily lead to spending the evening on one of Belgrade’s raft restaurants or other fun spots.

By Miloš Rajković
Photo by Milan Melka

On January 1, Belgraders came out en masse, as did their guests, to Open Heart Street — this year filled with more vigour than ever before. They turned up wearing red clown noses, a symbolic gesture, perhaps to spite the dire forecasts of concerned analysts and experts. On that day, one of Belgrade’s major arteries resonated more strongly and slightly faster to a perfect beat, without any dissonance. On that day, relatives who have not seen each another in years, despite living in the same neighborhood, met up once again in the Street of Open Hearts, in defiance of the crushing pace of modern life…

People walked about and laughed. Cutting through the large crush were many a baby carriage, and fathers also carried their children on their shoulders. Sampling boiled wine and brandy was widespread, all under the watchful eye of the bronze statue of Zoran (the late Atelje 212 stage actor Zoran Radmilović), the eternal custodian of Belgrade’s indomitable spirit. Zoran sprang from the spirit that was once Belgrade. I am not lamenting, but we shall never again see anyone the likes of him. Open Heart Street is derived from the same source. And it is more alive than ever. One could hear lines from Père Ubu, Radovan III, and The Marathon Family spoken by 18-year-olds. Video tapes were good enough to draw upon, plus the current Atelje crowd for the magic to be complete…

Those making their first wobbly steps moved past those who had arrived straight from celebrating the New Year, still heavy of tongue and feet. And, smiles everywhere, this being the common denominator of a good time and hope, even if developed from spite.

The clever promotional campaign was called Clown-Doctors, as red clown noses were sold for 100 dinars. A fine addition to this year’s magic on Svetogorska Street that opened its heart. There could have been more sales points for the red noses, but this can be a lesson for next year or some other smart and fine campaign…. The money thus collected will make many a child in hospital smile.

Then there were horse-drawn buggies; the youngest ran towards them with open arms and joy, the middle-aged smiled with melancholy as they remembered them on the streets of Belgrade not so long ago. There were also jugglers, magicians, jesters in a joyful bustle that pulsated with the rhythm of Belgrade.

And, in the end – rasol (brine from cabbage). To neutralise the hangover from the previous night’s excesses. Tasty and refreshing, but does nothing for the hangover. There’s no cure for a hangover, according to one of those scientific programs on some satellite channel I watched recently. OK, fine, you can take this as a malicious observation of a teetotaler, but science is science.

Do not ask where Svetogorska Street is. Do not look for Lole Ribara Street, nor for Open Heart Street. Out of spite, just ask where Atelje is. The benefit is twofold — you will receive the answer more quickly and spite will put you on the same wavelength as the street’s hosts. From this could spring a quick bonding that could easily lead to spending the night on one of Belgrade raft restaurants or other fun places. Consequently, you’re bound to end up with rasol. It refreshes, but does not cure. But, if you proceed to put out fire with fire, then you’re well on the way to becoming a true Belgrader. And this is a serious thing, even for people lacking in seriousness... After that, you’re on your own!