Bear with Me: Arrival

Exiting the bus a chapeaued older gentleman approached and inquired "Stephan?" so I shook his hand and followed him to his vehicle - an old, red Renault 4 with 194,000 km. He opened the door for me but I was confused and thought it was right-side drive and tried to get in the driver's seat. Once a passenger, I asked how he was and he quietly said "so so" and then explained that he didn't speak much English, essentially putting an end to any conversation. This allowed me to focus on the car's smoked meat smell and the road's growing puddles, as the pencil sized wipers fought a losing battle. In the dark the headlights beamed an askew angle as we raced the thin winding mountain roads, often falling onto either shoulder - and not only when we met oncoming vehicles. Breaking the silence of the squeaking steering wheel he finally said "Kuterevo" as we entered the village and soon pulled up to the volunteer postaja. Inside I met a flurry of people and a flock of birds (see duckling), was handed a beer, attempted to go to the closed bar, returned to discuss the world over the remainder of a case of beer, and then had to excuse myself at 2am (see Eric/Per).