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'Sometimes you have to go halfway

around the world to come full circle,

everyone wants to be found'

                   - from 'Lost in translation'

The so called dinner was reaching its peak. I was starting and finishing conversations as if I were on one of those speed dates (not that I ever was, scouts honor!) where you get your few meaningless minutes with one person only to move on to another person. Yes, you can say I was dying of boredom. And then I bumped into this funny Hungarian girl.

After she saw my name tag and where I was from, she said she had seen a guy from Slovenia somewhere around. In the back of my mind I could hear Cranberries screaming: "Salvation, salvation, salvation is free. . .", but to me it went: "salvation is here!" Five minutes later he appeared.

What surprised me most was that he spoke perfect Croatian, which is rare for people from Slovenia. And what a breath of fresh air it was to be able to speak Croatian without anyone understanding you. So we hit it off immediately. He was slightly taller then me, had scruffy blond hair and a little overgrown goatee and he had a camera in his hands – the ultimate aphrodisiac! Some girls love big expensive cars or a guy in an Armani suit – me, just a guy with a camera!

So he kept snapping away during the whole time we were hanging out, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He did seem completely oblivious to my attention, though. You know, the usual scenario! But this guy had a taste for good restaurants, let me tell you. Let's just say I've never lived solely on prosciutto (Jamon in Spanish), until I met T.

Jamon was something I ate for Christmas or New Year’s and found nothing to it, really, but coming to the Jamoneria (www.elcortadordejamon.com), and tasting 'the best of the best' made me a fanatic for it! I guess the best part was meeting Felix, the owner of the place, who’s actually a real, live champion in cutting Jamon. He told us the whole story of Jamon, how it’s made and the secret of its taste. His words made sense alright when the Jamon started melting away. . . and into a pure orgasm for my taste buds. Top this with a glass of red wine and you'll shoot straight to the top of the world.

I know after declaring all this my fellow Croatians will be infuriated by the notion that there could be a better prosciutto outside the borders of Croatia, but Your honor, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, all I can say in my defense is: go and check out what Felix has to offer and then get back to me!

Well after the feast and night on the town, another day of lectures was ahead of us. It was there that I made the cardinal mistake of spotting yet another lost case and inviting him to join us for lunch. When will I ever learn?!!! You know that song by Aimee Mann: "It’s not going to end…"? Well, that is how I felt.

This guy was Chinese who lived in the States and worked for a large software firm which we will fondly call IMD. All he could say was: IMD this, IMD that. . .  It’s like he couldn’t start a sentence without uttering IMD first! Obviously a prerequisite for working for the company!

The lunch dragged on through this lazy afternoon and it seemed there was no light at the end of the tunnel for me. It is, however, fair to say that IMD did pay for our lunch and ice-creams, so I guess it was right to be grateful to the almighty giant of a corporation for feeding us!

Finally, I saw a way to escape. And I did. Well, almost. The insistent fellow went after me. He  actually, cunningly, I might add, left his work bag in my room "because it was on the way to the College grounds where the conference was being held".

So, just before I eagerly gave him back his bag, he asked me if I had plans for later. Oh please, the audacity of this person! I guess there’s something written on my forehead saying – Camp Yard for Losers Ltd. Well, I made my finest excuse and went to bang on T’s door for salvation!

After all this what better to do then go out on the town again, down some tapas (tinny bites of food people here actually live off) and some beers. Folks, I hardly ever drink beer, but just try and order something else. . . like when I tried ordering a Bacardi breezer and got half a glass of Bacardi with no notion of any breeze whatsoever. Trust me, ordering anything but beer is not even an option!

Anyway, by this time there were 6 people in our company, we were laughing, taking loads of pictures . . . T’s eyes were getting smaller by the minute indicating gallons of beers had been downed. The guy sitting next to me kept reminding me of someone and then it hit me: he was the spitting image of Alan B'stard from the New Statesman (played by Rick Mayall). Yeah, he had that naughty look in his eyes. It made me laugh so much I had to tell T about it and then we both started laughing and couldn't stop for ages. Then I thought I saw T was giving me “the look”. Nah, I decided , it's just my imagination.

The night was still young. We were bar hopping, checking out all the places this city could offer, the crowd growing smaller by the minute. In the end it was down to the three of us: T, A (in case you were thinking for a second that A wouldn’t be there, think again!), and me to defend the honor of the group and stick through the night without falling over! Well half an hour later we were on our way to our hotel rooms. So much for defending the honor!

And this whole adventure ended faster than I could imagine. I was catapulted back onto the ultra modern train station.

What happened with T? I know you’re dying to ask. Well, not much, though it could have been lethal. He certainly was in the mood for a little flirtini, and the atmosphere was inviting but I couldn’t go through with it for some reason. It just wasn’t right.

Was it the catholic guilt that kicked in once again? Beats me! The opportunity was there - clear as day - but this gutsy girl just didn’t have it in her to do anything about it. Yeah, go ahead and call me sad, pathetic or whatever springs to your mind, but sometimes you step on that brake and the whole world stops for a moment!

So back on the train station, it was time to say goodbye to T. It was brief. I hugged him, turned away and went down the stairs. I was thinking what a sad excuse for a woman I was, couldn’t quite do anything right, I then started asking God if this state of mine would last forever…

The train came rushing in and stopped right in front of me. The door opened and what do I see? I see a guy I used to know back in college. He just stood there and starred at me.

Well, you gotta get a little background story to appreciate the situation I was in. Not only did I know him, but I couldn’t stand the sight of him! Anyway, the shock in our eyes was mutual and short-lived, and we started laughing and asking one another what we were doing there.

My train was leaving in 5 minutes, and I had to board. We said our goodbyes. Just before I stepped on the train I shouted out to him:  "Hey! Let’s meet up when you get back!" He just waved and went his way.

My mind was racing and all I could think of was: Is this some kind of sign?, Did I have to go halfway around the world to come full circle?, Was this just another prank to keep me on my feet? . . . ? 

NO ANSWERS!

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