Waking up. Saying dobro jutro in fifty languages. Brushing my teeth behind the parking lot, in my jammies. Baster realized a long time ago that my breakfast doesn’t include a salami, so he doesn’t even bother to come near me anymore. Life is silently dancing on both sides of the Dead Canal.
It isn’t difficult to wake up early and go to work in Rijeka. Nothing is difficult and nothing is “work” in Rijeka. At 9 a.m. I have already woken Zoki up with new techno-logistical troubles at Ivex. To soothe the situation, I am giving away almonds to tutors and participants. I warmly greet Mr Turato through the crowd and assure him that everything is in perfect order. I am writing down songs I would like to hear at the EASA.fm music van until the ink in my pen runs out. Old railway tracks lead me to lunch. On the entrance hall staircase, a crying girl is watching me eat my sandwich.
Asking Luca if she needs an angel. Wishing a dobar tek to Kiki. Opening the entrance gate only for Enia. Forgetting to wish Filip a happy birthday. Bothering Vana when she is enjoying Malinska. Overloading Marin with irrelevant questions. Secretly making free coffee for Elizabeta. Saluting a humming Mario. Sending Alma a few requests and a lot of pusas. Massaging Vili’s tense back. Promising Dora that everything is going to be okay. Meeting Ivan on the last day. Looking for Bruno to take me out for some ice cream!
Hearing the call of the Adriatic. Seagulls are flying above electric grinders, while I am catching the first bus and heading to the farthest and the most beautiful beach. In one pocket I have a sunscreen and in the other – a raincoat, just in case. The water is clear in spite of the omnipresent harbours and shipyards. I forgot about the clock and the calendar. I let Rijeka lead me as it flows. I brought back the sea in my beard, the salt in my eyebrows and a glimmer in my eyes to Exportdrvo. Rushing to Ivex to be the first in line for Tapaland. I urgently requested the kolokythokeftedes recipe from the Greek team.
Delta is at the heart of the city. All around us, the Mediterranean vernacular architecture is in a cold embrace with the Modernist industrial plants. Towers bizarrely surge from the panorama as monuments to a more just society. The colour orange appears at random places – from the oldest buses to the newest pavement tiles. Rječina cuts the hill all the way to Hartera. Engraved in the sci-fi landscapes are the Spanish sounds and the scent of sangria which was the creation of the [x]rite squad. They are awake during the day and hyper-awake during the night. I am giving out Cyrillic tattoos with a marker stolen from the bar. As the ancient Balkan tradition ordains, after the drinking spree comes the collective trip to the nearest bu re: k. Following your arrival at Exportdrvo where a sober person authorizes your entry through the gate, vomiting is allowed, but only and exclusively in the slav squat position. I am ending the night with a sip of barberry zirinc and dreaming of a nice beige Yugo.
At the EASA Living Room on the first floor there is an ephemeral 303 Corner. Over there, our friends and future correspondents can treat themselves with the latest issue of the magazine, new business cards, as well as the legendary orange vests re:created with 303 stencils. In the Corner one can also find the 303 Diary full of anonymous masterpieces. A mini pop-up workshop was held, where we talked about the past and the future of the magazine. In return, we got precious advice, support and hope that others will launch similar publications and platforms in their home countries. We found out that some already did – Tonic (Scotland), Polemik (Denmark) and Klin (Belarus).
Fifteen days and fifteen nights later and we’ve made a monumental aluminium entrance door, a library of memories, a pedestrian rope bridge and even a new world currency. Architects are not here to play games.
Barbeques in the park, lollipops after dark.
You know what I’m sayin’.
303 crew:
Bruno Lang-Kosić, Kristijan Mamić, Vili Rakita, Mihaela Sladović, Andrea Stanić, Dino Jozić, Nedžla Seferović, Igor Rajković, Andrea Aleksić, Dragan Petrović and Igor Vukičević
Author of the photo essay: Igor Vukičević
