The Pig on Death Row
June 16, 2006 – 2:11 pmI’m in one of the villages outside Zagreb writing, cooking and recharging my soul to the sound of chickensong and cherries ripening. On a few occasions, I’ve smelled strange burning aromas and searched the house for flames. Silly me. It was the neighbors every time. People cook, distill and burn things on wood fires here. The silent night breeze often carries the perfume of smoked meat on its back.
The trip to Dalmacija has been postponed several times, but the final word is that I will be southbound on the motorway tomorrow morning. The real deal is upon me. I rather like Zagreb, but I’m more than ready to overwrite my awareness of the urban condition with some peaceful seaside living for a while.
“Pićim, pićim, pići ću, i na more stići ću…”
I had originally planned to be in this village one day, but my host informed me that there was to be a pig slaughter this week. I asked if I could witness the procedure to learn precisely how a pig becomes panceta, pršut, kulen, krvavica and other Balkan charcuterie, I was asked to assist. When I went for a pre-slaughter gander at the creature the other day, it became clear to me why four or five men might be required to restrain him. He’s a rather large pig, and I wouldn’t want to be caught alone in a pen with him either. After several re-schedulings of the murder, the guy with the knife confirmed that he would be able to come and do the hog in tomorrow. Na žalost, I will be gone… I think. Plans and schedules change a lot in Croatia.
In other local news, a man was attacked by his tractor the other day and lost half of the flesh from his left arm. The vehicle was apparently still in gear when he started it with a screwdriver from beneath the front end.
Yesterday was Tjelovo, a national holiday in Croatia. I’m told that many people have no idea what this Catholic holiday signifies exactly, only that Jesus Christ did something remarkable on this date many years ago. To celebrate the mysterious miracle, I went to Samobor for the kickoff of the annual Festival Vatrometa (fireworks festival) held there. Samobor is a rather pretty little town up in the hills outside Zagreb. The wide avenues and brightly painted structures reminded me of a bit of the Istrian town of Poreć, but the slow streams and vegetation in the grassy parks and meadows are more inland-forest than coastal-oasis. The event was held on a soccer field with rides, games and food booths situated all around. A band played, people danced. Mirth and merriment. The fireworks were actually pretty good. I’m not accustomed to seeing large pyrotechnical displays so up-close and personal. They launch the 4th of July display from a barge in the middle of the Mississippi River in St. Louis, and the rockets seem to travel a mile into the sky before exploding. At Samobor, I wondered if I would be showered with burning schrapnel and mineral salts. Thrilling, and the synchronized music bed was a nice touch I’d never witnessed before. The whole thing ended with AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell”.
Speaking of highways, I need to prepare for the trip to the coast. Again.
