THE SHRIVELLED APPLE

It was August in the summer of 2004 and I was staying in a sleepy little town called Kobarid, set deep in the lush green valleys of north-western Slovenia. I had spent the day travelling by bus to the town via the spectacular Vrsic Pass in the Julian Alps, a steep and rocky mountain road that was once the scene of heavy fighting during the 1^st World War. The road climbed up the mountain, and upon reaching the top I had two hours to walk around, admire the spectacular view and survey old bullet-ridden outposts that once guarded against any German advance upon the front line of the Allied Italians. On our descent on the other side of the pass the bus meandered down the mountain side through a series of hell-raising hair pin bends, before finally the terrain changed from rocks to stunning green forest and the road followed the path of the crystal clear Soca River, made turquoise green in appearance due to the colour of the unique rock beneath its path.

I had read about Kobarid in Ernest Hemmingway’s A Farewell to Arms, and upon arrival I was struck by the town’s likeness to his description in that magnificent book. The quaint little town square with picturesque church bell tower was surrounded by whitewashed old-style buildings that gleamed brightly in the hot summer sunshine. I made my way on foot to a campsite located just outside the town and ordered a beer at the reception before setting up my small tent and venturing out to visit a variety of places including old 1st World War trenches, a huge memorial monument and the town’s enthralling war museum. In the evening I found a friendly little bar called Cinca Marinca in the town square and had some food before pulling up a stool at the bar and ordering a couple of beers. I got speaking to a Dutch guy called Fritz who was also staying in the town and whose 36^th birthday it happened to be. We talked for a few hours with the barman, as the beer flowed freely. Fritz was having marital problems and seemed to be on a mission to get as drunk as possible whilst he rambled on about his wife, who was back at the hotel room. They’d had some kind of argument and he had stormed out of the hotel and decided to get a few beers in the bar to think things over.

The evening wore on and we became merrier from the beer. After an hour or two a man entered the bar with a dog on a lead. He was of medium height and build, looked as if he hadn’t shaved for a while and had long black hair down to his shoulders that was unkempt. He seemed to be a bit wasted and was speaking to some of the other drinkers in quite a loud voice. “Who is that guy?” I asked the barman. He laughed and said, “He is a special guy.” After a while the newcomer started speaking to us at the bar and became involved in our conversation, although he seemed to speak very little English. His name was Daniel and he was a local guy who lived in Kobarid. When the bar closed at the end of the night the barman said that the three of us could continue drinking out on the terrace overlooking the town square. Fritz was extremely drunk and soon vomited all over the wooden floor of the small terrace. He then started arguing over something with Daniel and I was suddenly aware that the conversation had become quite heated. Daniel started speaking in Slovenian to Fritz, who obviously had no idea what was being said to him. When Fritz ignored him and continued talking to me, Daniel fell silent and only spoke the occasional word in English. The conversation was still focused on Fritz’s relationship with his wife and I was saying that he should just sit down and talk to her so that they could sort out their problems. I told him not to worry about it too much. After a while Fritz made some comments about Daniel, obviously thinking that Daniel didn’t know enough English to understand him. “This guy’s a bit of a nutcase, don’t you think?” he said. He was very drunk and was speaking much louder than I think he meant to. I could see that Daniel understood what he was saying and watched his eyes narrow as he butted into the conversation, this time more aggressively. The hostility was clearly directed at Fritz and not me but the look in the Daniel’s eyes told me that he might lash out and attack the Dutchman at any second. Fritz didn’t seem aware of any danger and continued talking in his drunken slurs, but I was becoming more and more concerned that this might end in an outburst of violence. As Daniel’s anger was clearly directed at Fritz, I thought that if I could take the Dutchman out of the equation then I would be able to talk Daniel down and we could all go home without any lasting trauma. “Fritz” I said. “I really think you should go back to your hotel now and chat with your wife. It would be a good time to get all that stuff off your chest, sort it out once and for all.” Fritz, glancing over at Daniel, suddenly seemed aware of the danger facing him, and taking my hint stood up and took the opportunity being offered to him. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here?” he asked. “Yeah, I’ll be fine man. Just go on and speak to your wife and get some sleep” I replied. He looked at me in the eye and said, “You are wise beyond your years”, before mumbling a drunken goodbye and stumbling off towards his hotel. The tension had been defused, a savage brawl averted.

Daniel seemed much calmer now that Fritz had gone. We finished our beers and I said I’d better be off back to my tent as I had to catch the bus to Postonja in the morning. “Why don’t you come back to my house for a smoke? I have marijuana”, he said. “I’d better not, I have to be up early” I replied. “Oh come on, just one joint!” he protested. At this I agreed. What harm could it do? If I kept him happy by having a joint with him then there would be no problems and I would get a smoke into the bargain! “Yeah okay” I conceded. “But just one as I really have to get the bus tomorrow and there’s only one a day to Postonja”. We walked the short distance to his home, Daniel leading his dog who had been waiting patiently throughout the entire drinking session. From the outside the house appeared derelict, with boards covering some of the windows and the walls in various states of disrepair. He opened the front door which took us into a small passageway. A staircase led up to the next floor, and as we ascended I noticed a huge amount of junk. There was random stuff lying all around, seemingly with no organization at all. The place looked as if it had never been cleaned. There seemed to be no order whatsoever with old books, clothes, unopened tins of food and all manner of strange things scattered everywhere. We entered a room which seemed to be the main living area. There was an old piano in one corner, an antique clock, stacks of old books and newspapers, a large wooden table and chairs, and everywhere, over all the available surface space was a huge amount of disorderly junk.

Daniel pulled up two chairs at the big table and offered me a seat, which I took. He reached over to the piano and lifted a small plant pot from the top of it. Clearing a space in the mess of stuff on the table, he set it down. “Here. Marijuana”, he said. I looked at the small plant, and sure enough it was a weed plant, but it was in such a stage of infancy that it would be no good whatsoever for smoking. He started to rip leaves off it and began to prepare a joint. “It’s too young. You can’t smoke that. It needs to be dry as well”, I said. “No. No. its fine”, he said back in an agitated voice. I was very, very drunk and the fact that this random guy wanted to smoke a tiny, totally unprepared weed plant made me suddenly realize that he might be completely crazy. Just at that moment and as if from a scene in a horror movie, with the light from the candle flickering in the room full of junk, a huge crackle of thunder boomed from the night sky outside and the room was lit up by a flash of lightning. I saw Daniel’s face illuminated over the table, staring back at me with a strange and crazy look on it. I suddenly felt that I might be in real danger and decided that I had to get out of there immediately. “I have to go”, I stammered. “What about the joint?” his surprised voice replied. “No, I have to go now. I’m really drunk and it’s starting to rain heavily out there” I explained. When I stood up to leave his behavior seemed to become more threatening. I asked how to get back outside and he pointed to a door on the other side of the room. This confused me because we had come up a flight of stairs from the ground floor which was level with the road outside. Thoughts of panic began running through my head. Was he trying to trick me or lead me into a trap? He opened the door and to my relief, it did lead outside. There was an uncovered metal staircase leading down to the road.

It was raining heavily outside and there was another burst of thunder and lightning. Then Daniel turned to me and said, “I’m not going to let you leave”. By now I was absolutely terrified. There was no way I was going back into the disorderly house again. “No. I’m going. I really have to get back to my tent”, I said in a strong voice. A kind of stand-off commenced whereby he said that he would stop me from going if I tried to leave and I told him that I was definitely leaving. Finally, seeing no other way out of the situation and being totally against the idea of going back into the house, I told him that he would have to physically stop me from leaving because I was definitely going. “I really don’t want to have to fight with you out here in the pouring rain, but I’m going now”. I said goodbye and began walking down the steps to the road, half expecting Daniel to jump on me and attack me as I left. He didn’t though and went back into his house, closing the door behind him. I walked back to the campsite in the driving rain, fearing that he might follow me down the dark, unlit winding road. I got back to my tent, unzipped the door and got inside. I looked at my watch and it was after 4am! I had to catch the bus in just over 3 hours! How was I going to wake up in time to make it back to the town for the bus? I was totally wasted and had no alarm clock with me. I just lay down and hoped that somehow I would wake up. I closed my eyes and was out for the count immediately.

The next thing I knew I had woken up and there was a noise coming from outside the tent. Suddenly the tent was shaking. Someone was shaking it from the outside! I unzipped the door and peered out. The rain had stopped and Daniel was standing in front of my tent staring back at me. “Wake up. It’s time to get your bus”, he said. He had cycled all the way from the town to the campsite and had somehow found my tent in order to make sure I didn’t miss the bus! Still half drunk and half asleep I started to pack up my things and get ready as quickly as I could. “This is for you”, he said, “Breakfast”. He held out his hand and in it was a small piece of cake which he said contained weed, and an old shrivelled apple. I looked at him to see if he was serious and when I realized that he was, I took the provisions from him. “I’m not hungry just now but I’ll save them for later and have them for lunch. Thanks very much”, I said. I packed up my wet tent with great speed and we both walked back to the town centre as quickly as possible, Daniel pushing his bike along as we went. We got to the bus stop just in time and I said thanks and goodbye to Daniel before jumping onto the bus. I sat down on the back seat, and as the bus pulled out of Kobarid I looked out of the back window to see him cycling off into the rain. I looked down at my hand which still held the shrivelled apple and thought how strange and unexpected life can sometimes be. I remembered the words of the barman from the Cinca Marinca the night before: “He is a special guy”. Yes, I thought, there is definitely something special about Daniel.