The Single Malt Inc Or From Zagreb To Glasgow Without Touching The Motorway

It is a type of whisky at the point of reaching full maturity. It matures in bourbon casks for 12 years, and for the last three years it is kept in sherry casks to achieve an elegant balance between the sweetness of sherry and the fruity and smoky distillery character with a subtle hint of tropical fruit which will bring satisfaction to people who love the traditional Bowmore taste.  The Bourbon casks will give us a subtle hint of vanilla.

Each person in this world keeps a secret. Some of them are big, some are small. Even families have secrets. Xenophobia is, for example, a secret guarded by entire nations. Leaders of these nations, naturally, won't admit that they are afraid of foreigners. Instead, they will disguise it as a political policy of some sort. Then those, who are afraid, are not as scared, thus feeling better.

As much as secrets imply a certain dishonesty, even a type of calculation, they are here to keep you safe from danger. Just as the American opossum, the real walking dead, which, when it feels a predator is near, lies on its back and plays dead to keep itself safe.

This blog has a secret as well. And not just one! That is why the answer to the question: “What is a fifteen-year-old Bowmore doing under the Scottish stainless-steel sky on a deserted road?” might come later, if ever.

Not a millimeter of highway!

I left quickly, actually, the moment the opportunity arose. I felt restless for days before hitting the road. I love this state of mind: restlessness before a trip and the restlessness of a traveler.

I am probably an ordinary consumer, not much different from someone who will spend their extra cash to build an elegant tomb or a pyramid perhaps, instead of just spending it on traveling.

Everybody experiences this world in their own way. Traveling is just one of them, in no way more important than any other.

I am searching for beauty. Naturally, it is not necessary to travel 2,500 km by motorcycle to encounter it. It is always here, sometimes even living within us, or so to speak, living around the corner.

When you slide off Bologna Boulevard (the street in the outskirts of Zagreb) and start meandering through villages up to the Slovenian border and then through Slovenia and Austria, there is so much beauty and it fills your soul with such delight and while you are feeling it, nothing else is that important.

If a traveler opens their eyes a bit wider, they will find beauty even on a highway, among the nervous hustle and bustle of the masses. Each act of kindness that takes place there will add to that feeling. Yet, your eyes must really be wide open to be able to see the charm of the highway even when somebody is overtaking you and the headlights of a souped-up beast of a muscle car keep aiming at your stern until you surrender and let them pass.

That is why I decided, and because I had a few extra days for the journey, to arrive in Glasgow, Scotland by avoiding contact not only with highways, but also with all other multi-lane roads until I reached my destination. To go through with that decision, once you have set a course, it is enough to press a few buttons on your GPS and change the settings to exclude highways and multi-lane roads, and leave the option for, e.g. off-road ride.

That way you will pass through numerous ski destinations in Italy such as Innichen, Cortina and Brunico as well as small towns in the Bavarian Alps, each and every one of them pristine, like a carefully trimmed and manicured moustache.

Then you have Colmar in France and mass grave sites from World War I along the River Somme with occasional reminders of its horrific history.

Before boarding the ferry to England, the Burghers of Calais will escort you with their sad symbolism.

Google Maps’ ETA proved to be incorrect. With some effort you can reach Calais in 22 hours by avoiding highways, no matter how you schedule it: 2 days of an 11-hour-long ride or however long you decide.

The beauty of simplicity in such a journey is irresistible. You don’t worry about anything; you always wear the same clothes, just like astronauts don’t worry about which space suit they will wear that day, you jump into your own and you are at ease; you don’t even worry what you will be doing that day; you simply travel from dawn till dusk and when there is still some visibility left, preferably, you find a place to sleep.

On the English part of the Isle the wheels started rolling more carefully than they did on continental Europe.  Not out of awe because they strode on the ground which Milton, Shakespeare and G.B. Shaw trod, but because the same GPS option of avoiding highways did not have the same effect from the south of England in Kent up to the Midlands.

England is densely populated. In its automobile culture there is a constant need to alleviate the roads of heavy traffic. They do this by adding one or even two lanes to existing small country roads, even though we are not talking about a highway. All those roads connect cities the same way they do in Europe - each of them takes you straight to the town center, but, due to terribly congested traffic, taking these roads is not as nearly as romantic as on the continent. It takes a bit more planning to drive through this stunning English province.

Even Saint Augustine who was sent to what used to be called Anglia by Pope Gregory I  to baptize the people strode through Kent. Before he shone forth with his theology, he wrote geeky letters to the Pope inquiring, among other things, if a woman could go to church if she had had sexual relations the night before. Gregory I responded wisely by saying that there was no obstacle to allow women to go to church, under the condition they wash beforehand. Bertrand Russell made no further mention of that correspondence, although a few more questions could be made regarding this particular topic.

The road took me through the small town of Reigate in Surrey where I was, in a unique way, by a Winston Churchill monument, reminded of our past. Will the followers of the Croatian iconoclasm become active again and take matters into their own hands?

Before going to sleep at a 16th century pub in Stourbridge, I had a pint of ale in a lopsided inn.

While contemplating how to explain the questions of evil and sin in this world and while simultaneously avoiding compromising God's omnipotence, omniscience and his infinite benevolence, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz concluded that in this world evil is a divine necessity, and if it did not exist, we would not be aware of the true concept of good. That is why I accepted the freezing wind and rain which started to pelt me as I was leaving the South of England behind. And instead of floating through the countryside in a superior and indifferent manner, like only a camel would, without moving its head or body, bending its neck in a hypnotizing rhythm; I contracted my head between my shoulders, shrunk like a pork crackling and shivered as my spirit was broken until I was pulled upright by the warmth of my York refuge. In that sense Leibniz is right that this is the best of all possible worlds, because I would not know how to appreciate the warmth and the hospitality of the York harbor without the preceding suffering.

I dedicate this blog to a good man, father Ivan Cebulski, a missionary, who crossed over to the other side earlier this year. He was incredibly humorous. We had interesting conversations during which he showed me that it was possible to be cradled in an infinitely patient and consistent system while simultaneously keeping freedom of thought and healthy skepticism.

I keep traveling further north. The BBC weather report saw me off with a discouraging weather forecast of an uncommonly cold spring with temperatures falling between 2 to 5 degrees for the next few days in the north accompanied by strong eastern winds and rain supercharged by the even colder North Sea. I do not give up on the plan to avoid the M1 motorway or equally congested multilane A1 road. Instead I try to cross over the hilly plateaus of North Pennines and the Yorkshire Dales National Park and choose the most scenic route. I am not very successful at it. The wind is literally trying to blow me off the road and blow the rain under the helmet. My nose is constantly runny, and there is no way for me to wipe it, unless I stopped, which is something I do not want to do. I occasionally sneeze, which makes the mess in my helmet, where my eyes and mouth also reside, very slimy. 6 hours later I throw in the towel and press the “Quickest route” button which will take me to Glasgow in an hour.

I spent ages in a hot shower trying to thaw my frozen body thinking whether Leibniz’s conclusion was incorrect. Isn’t the good in this world, including this wonderful shower, here only to emphasize the evil, sin and the ice cold winds that were blowing my head off, while we are under the control of an evil demiurge and that is why this is one of the worst possible worlds. In that Manichaeistic mood, filled with doubt and my head held low I walked to a pub for a pint of ale. I had a few of them and, interestingly, Leibniz’s logic revealed itself to me in all its iron-clad consistency. I chatted with the barman cheerfully feeling happy and sporting a smile on my face.

This interesting, deeply philosophical effect of beer made it self-explanatory why someone would convert a church into a pub which I saw on my way home. Was the decision about the conversion made by priests under the beneficial philosophical influence of beer during a theological discussion in a pub or church or after a seminar in a pub, it is unknown, but here it is nonetheless:

The next day, thanks to my host and friend, brought an entire bag full of surprises. Early in the morning we take an Uber to the airport. From across town a bike rental team is rushing to the same place and carrying two bicycles. We meet at check-in. Many things could have gone wrong, some of them even tried to, but still the bikes flew with us and landed on the southern Scottish island of Islay.

And that is how a new study tour started. We tried to find out how barley, peat and water in the hands of skillful island craftsmen are merged together into a formula which will, in controlled quantities, help answer many ontological questions.

Lagavulin, Ardberg, Bowmore, Laphoraig distilleries – they are all here. And we visited them in that order.

The effect of enlightenment, after a few tastings, was evident. I started to notice things whose existence I hadn’t even acknowledged before.

Friendship:

Loneliness:

Arrival:

Due to the eastern wind which grew stronger at night the chances of returning to Glasgow by plane had drastically fallen. Since we, the day before, due to strong wind and low clouds, had had a couple of unsuccessful attempts at landing and the pilot had to, as it was his fourth attempt at landing, I think, grit his teeth and land at full throttle. The wings did not fall off, our hearts just started beating somewhat faster. That is why we decided to go to Glasgow by bicycles. Cool! You arrive by plane and return by bicycle.

We left early. We were supposed to catch a few ferries and pedal across the islands of Islay and Arran and cross a few mountains. Well, the bicycles were electric, but they assist you only if you press the pedals. The faster you push, the quicker you go, so covering around 150 km is not that big of a challenge as Google Maps made us believe. What takes 9 to 10 hours on a regular bike, you will cover in 6 to 7 on an electric one. Fantastic! Naturally, I contemplated the subject of good and evil in this world again because of the rain that constantly kept pouring although I felt like I had learned the truth earlier in the journey. Is reality really an illusion caused by the lack of alcohol, which we had been warned about for years by the graffiti on the façade of a building in Jurisiceva Street (a street in the centre of Zagreb).

Exhausted, but bathed and fed, I peacefully awaited the following day and the return to Zagreb by taking the quickest route on the highway. You shift into the “heavenly gear”, as my good deceased friend used to call it, and let the BMW devour the kilometers. All 2,500 of them! It should take two days if everything goes as planned.

And now, what has a 15-year-old Bowmore in and idyllic countryside got to do with a ten-kilometer traffic jam on a highway in Belgium because of a colossal traffic accident?

I got on the highway, after disembarking the ship, with everything I think represents my character: strong individualism, independence, intuitiveness and self-consciousness. Yes, that’s me! Because of this, people’s astonishment on the eve of the journey when they were asking: “What? Why make the entire journey just to spend 48 hours in Glasgow?” only confirms the hypothesis of what I am like: authentic and true to myself! The Bowmore photo was taken with the ease of a free individual. I can do whatever I want!

About fifty kilometers from Zeebrugge towards the southeast, on the way home, there was a massive traffic jam. That is nothing to motorcyclists. You split lanes or use the highway emergency lane, obviously you ride more slowly, but you keep going. I had been splitting lanes through the long line of static vehicles. It was obvious that the traffic had stopped hours ago because some people had left their vehicles and were sitting on the asphalt, lying on their hoods, and truck drivers were sitting on their folding chairs in the shades of their trucks. I reached the front of the line of motionless vehicles. The highway was closed off with police tape and behind it there was a scene of a terrible collision between two semi-trailers. Sand, concrete, cases, everything was scattered on the highway. Cranes, firefighters, the police! You could immediately tell that the delay would last for many more hours. The highway was fenced off, so it was impossible to even ride on the side of the road. I found the nearest highway exit on the map which was approximately 7 kilometers away in the opposite direction. “What’s that got to do with anything, there is no traffic anyway, people are sitting on the road, I will manage to squeeze through somehow,” I thought to myself. I jumped on my bike again, I started it up and slowly turned in the opposite direction.

During that maneuver, one of the bikers I had exchanged a few words with a moment earlier, approached me. Belgian bikers also managed to pull through to the front of the line of vehicles.

He was asking me where I was heading to. I explained it to him that I was going back to the closest exit. “But that is in the opposite direction,” he said. “It is an extremely risky move,” he said clearly upset. “There is no traffic,” I tried to calm him down. “People are sitting on the asphalt. Nothing can go wrong.” “But that’s 7 kilometers,” the biker would not give up. A buddy of his who joined him just kept shaking his head. “Bat z polis mej cum, zej hev sajrens end evrising, zej vil get ju, its rong dajreksn,” finally said the guy who was shaking his head. We were approached by another guy and now all of them, I presumed, were discussing me and my plan in Flemish and naturally were shaking their heads and glancing at me from time to time. The third guy said: “You know, it’s your call. You know what you are doing.”

At that point, I slowly turned the key and shut off the engine trying to delay my self-confidence from draining away as much as possible. I sat on the fence, as weak as a fly, and on the brink of tears started to look at the tips of my boots. A conformist wretch. Three hours later nothing had changed. I was sitting on the fence, occasionally chatting with the Belgians.

A policeman on a motorbike approached us from the direction of the crash. Going in the opposite direction, of course. Someone attentively lifted the police tape, so he could go under it. He had to pass by me.  With the remainder of my usually ever-present initiative, I got up and stood in front of the policeman. He stopped his motorbike. “Please, I am also a biker, would it be possible for me to drive between the line behind you until the exit?” I asked. “Of course, let’s go,” said the police officer. I whistled to the other bikers and all of us, guided by the police, accompanied with flashing lights and sirens, headed towards the exit.

Solomon Asch who was a pioneer in social psychology claimed that group pressure is in most cases stronger than the will of an individual. In the conflict with free will, conformism generally wins. Naturally, it does not always happen, but it happens more rarely that a charismatic individual dominates over a group of people. In Asch’s experiment, a few participants pretend they know nothing of the test and that they do not know each other. They enter an elevator in a multistory building after a man who knows nothing about the experiment. This man, after he pressed his floor button, normally faces the exit. However, one floor down one or two new passengers enter the elevator. They, after pressing their floor button, face backwards, where there is no door. On the next floor down a new passenger gets into the elevator. He also faces the side where there is no exit. After a few more participants who know that they have to face the other, illogical way get on the elevator, the conformist broken down by group pressure will turn around and face backwards, following the example of others.

The Single Malt Incorporated

To je whiskey koji  sada dostiže punu zrelost. Sazrijevao je 12 godina u bačvama burbona, a posljednje tri godine čuvan je u bačvi od šerija da bi postigao elegantnu ravnotežu između slatkog utjecaja višnjevca i destilerijskih karakteristika voćnosti  i prodimljenosti uključujući i diskretnu nijansu tropskog voća koja će razveseliti ljubitelje tradicionalnog okusa Bowmora. Ostaci burbona   prenijeti će nam još i blagi okus vanilije.

 

Svaki čovjek na ovom svijetu čuva neku tajnu. Neke su velike, neke male. I obitelji imaju svoje tajne. Ksenofobičnost je, na primjer, tajna koju skrivaju čitavi narodi. Vođe tih naroda nikada, naravno, neće priznati da ih je strah stranaca, nego će taj strah zapakirati u neku politiku. Tada oni, koji se boje, budu manje prestrašeni, pa im je lakše.

Koliko god tajne impliciraju stanovitu neiskrenost, ponekada i kalkulaciju, one su tu da te sačuvaju od opasnosti. Kao, na primjer, američki oposum, pravi "walking dead" koji se, kad osjeti da je predator u blizini, okrene na leđa i napravi mrtav.

Ima tajnu i ovaj blog. I ne samo jednu! Zato će odgovor na pitanje, što petnaestgodišnji Bowmore radi na pustoj cesti pod kapom škotskog stainless steel neba, ako ikada, doći možda kasnije.

Ni milimetra autoceste!

Krenuo sam brzo, zapravo, čim se ukazala prilika. Danima me prije puta prao nemir. Volim takva  stanja: Nemir uoći putovanja i nemir putnika. Ja sam vjerojatno najobičniji potrošač, ni po čemu različit od onoga koji će višak svojeg novca potrošiti da sagradi elegantnu grobnicu ili možda piramidu, umjesto da ga potroši na putovanje. Svatko na svoj način ima doživljaj ovog svijeta. Putovanje je samo jedan od njih ni po čemu važniji od ostalih.
 
U potrazi sam za ljepotom. Nije naravno neophodno napraviti 2500 km motorom da bi imao taj susret. Ona je prisutna uvijek, ponekad i u nama, živi tako reči iza ugla. Kad sklizneš sa Aleje Bologne u Zaprešić, pa započneš vijugati kroz sela do slovenske granice, pa kroz Sloveniju i Austriju, ljepote ima toliko da ti ona ispuni dušu milinom i tada, dok ta senzacija traje, ništa nije više baš toliko važno.

Otvori li putnik oči malo jače, pronaći će ljepotu i na autoputu, između živčane jurnjave mnogih. Tome će pridonijeti svaka ljubaznost koja te tamo zadesi. Ipak, oči moraju uistinu širom biti otvorene da pronađeš ljupkost i onda kad te kod obilaženja reflektori fara nekog nabrijanog monstruma po krmi mitraljiraju dok se ne predaš i ne propustiš ga. Odlučio sam se, stoga, i jer sam imao par dana više za to putovanje, do Glasgowa u Škotskoj doći ne dodirujući ne samo autoceste, nego i bilo kakav oblik višestaznih cesta sve do cilja. Za provesti tu odluku, jednom kad si odredio pravac, dovoljno je na navigaciji pritisnuti nekoliko gumba i isključiti autoceste i višestazne ceste, te ostaviti opcije, primjerice, offroad vožnje.

Tako ćeš, tada, proći bezbrojna skijališta u Austriji: Innichen, Cortina, Brunnico, gradiće bavarskih alpi, svi do jednoga s precizno poštucanim brkovima, Colmar u Francuskoj i mjesta masovnih grobnica iz bitki I. svj. rata uz rijeku Sommu s povremenim podsjetnicima na stravičnu prošlost.

Prije ukrcaja na trajekt za Englesku, iz Calaisa će te ispratiti "Građani Calaisa" sa svojom tužnom simbolikom.

Googlova kalkulacija nije točna. Uz malo napora do Calaisa možeš doći, izbjegavajući autoceste, za 22 sata vožnje, kako god to rasporedio: 2 dana po 11 sati ili kako već. Ljepota jednostavnosti takvog putovanja neodoljiva je: Ne brineš ni o čemu; odjeća je uvijek ista, pa kao što ni astronauti ne brinu koji će skafander danas odjenuti, tako i ti uskočiš u svoj i miran si; ne brineš niti o tome što ćeš danas raditi; ti naprosto putuješ od zore do mraka i dok se još vidi, po mogućnosti, potražiš neko spavanje.

Na engleskom otoku kotači su se zakotrljali opreznije nego što su išli Evropom. Ne zbog strahopoštovanja jer su kročili na zemlju kojom su hodali Milton, Shakespeare i G.B. Shaw, nego zbog toga, jer ista opcija isključenih autocesta nije dala na jugu Engleske u Kentu, pa sve do Midlandsa iste rezultate. Engleska je gusto naseljena. U kulturi automobilizma i konstantnim zahtjevima da se poveća protočnost puteva, ranijim cesticama dodavani su jedna ili čak po dvije staze, iako se ne radi o autoputu. Sve te ceste povezuju gradove na isti način kao i u Evropi, svaka te odvede ravno u centar, ali vožnja njima, zbog očajno gustog prometa, nije tako romantična kao na kontinentu. Za vožnju prelijepom engleskom provincijom potrebno je malo više planiranja. Koračao je Kentom i sv. Augustin kojega je u tadašnji Angliju poslao papa Gregorio IV da pokrsti stanovništvo. Prije nego je zasvijetlio svojom teologijom, pisao je papi
štreberska pisma pitajući ga, između ostaloga, i može li žena ići u crkvu, ako je noć prije imala spolni odnos. Gregorio IV mudro mu je odgovorio da nema zapreke da ženu pusti u crkvu, pod uvjetom da se prethodno opere. Bertrand Russel o toj korespondenciji ne piše više ništa, iako bi se tu moglo postaviti barem još nekoliko pitanja.

Cesta me odvela kroz gradić Reigate u Kentu gdje sam se na jedinstven način, na spomeniku W. Churchillu, podsjetio na našu prošlost. Hoće li se pripadnici hrvatskog ikonoklastičkog pokreta sad ponovno pokrenuti i uzeti stvari u svoje ruke?

Prije spavanja u pubu iz 16 stoljeća u Stourbridgu, popio sam pintu alea u nakrivljenoj gostionici.

Razmišljajući kako da objasni pitanja zla i grijeha na ovome svijetu, a da istovremeno ne kompromitira Boga kao svemoguće i sveznajuće biće beskonačne dobrote, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibnitz zaključio je da je zlo na ovome svijetu božanska nužnost, jer da ga nije, ne bi mogli znati za dobrotu. Tako sam i ja prihvatio ledeni vjetar i kišu koja me počela šibati kako je jug Engleske ostajao iza mene, pa umjesto da nastavim kliziti kroz countryside nadmoćno i indiferentno, kako to samo deve znaju, ne pomičući ni glave niti tijela, tek svinuti vrat u nekom hipnotičkom ritmu, ja sam glavu uvukao među ramena, skupio se kao čvarak i slomljen drhturio, sve dok me toplina skloništa u Yorku nije ponovno uspravila. Utoliko ima Leibnitz pravo da je ovo najbolji od mogućih svjetova, jer toplinu i gostoljubivost luke u Yorku, bez prethodne patnje, ne bi znao cijeniti. Sličnu je misao izgovorio i Kir Janja, ne okolišajući previše i u maniri diskursa jugoistočne Evrope: "Sve sos mera, sve sos mera, pa ćiš dođiš do velika slava."

I Ivica Puljak misli da je ovo najbolji od mogućih svjetova, iako zbog sasvim drugih razloga koje vrijedi poslušati:

Ovaj blog posvećujem dobrom čovjeku pateru Ivanu Cebulskom, misionaru, koji je ove godine prešao na drugu stranu. Bio je neobično duhovit. Vodili smo zanimljive razgovore kojima mi je pokazao  kako je moguće biti u krilu jednog beskrajno strpljivog i konzistentnog sustava, a istovremeno zadržati slobodu misli i sumnje.

 Nastavljam dalje na sjever. BBC weather report ispratio me je sa obeshrabrujućom prognozom da će se neuobičajeno hladno proljeće s temperaturama od 2-5 stupnjeva na sjeveru zadržati još nekoliko dana uz jak istočnjak koji se nabrijava dodatnom hladnoćom prelazeći preko Sjevernog mora i kišom. Ne odustajem od plana da ne vozim motorwayem M1 ili jednako zakrčenom prometom višestaznom A1, nego pokušavam preko visoravni North Pennines i Yorkshire Dalesa, nacionalnih parkova, izabrati najljepšu rutu. Nisam baš uspješan, jer me vjetar doslovno baca po cesti i upuhuje mi kišu pod kacigu. Nos mi konstantno curi, a nema načina da ga obrišem, osim ako ne stanem, što ne želim. Povremeno i kihnem, što krkljanac u kacigi, gdje stanuju još i moje oči i usta, čini prilično sluzavim. Nakon 6 sati predajem se i stiščem gumb "Najbrža ruta" koja će me do Glasgowa dovesti kroz sat vremena.
Dugo sam pod vručim tušem otapao zaleđeno tijelo razmišljajući nije li Leibnitzov zaključak ipak netočan: Nije li dobro na ovom svijetu, pa prema tome i taj divni topli tuš, ovdje samo da naglasi zlo, grijeh i škuru buru, a mi smo u vlasti zlog demiurga, pa je zato ovo jedan od najgorih mogućih svjetova. U tom manihejskom raspoloženju, prepun sumnji i spuštenih krila odšetao sam do puba na pintu alea. Popio sam ih nekoliko i, zanimljivo, Leibnitzova logika ukazala mi se u svoj svojoj čeličnoj čvrstoj konzistenciji. Sretan i nasmijan veselo sam čavrljao s barmenom.

Ovaj zanimljiv, duboko filozofski učinak pive, učinio mi je konverziju crkve, koja mi je bila na putu doma, u pub, razumljivom samo po sebi. Jesu li odluku o tome donijeli svečenici pod blagotvornim filozofskim djelovanjem pive za vrijeme neke od teoloških raprava u pubu ili u crkvi, nakon seminara u pubu, nije mi poznato, ali eto:

Idući je dan, zahvaljujući mojem domaćinu i prijatelju, donio cijelu torbu iznenađenja. Ujutro, rano uberom na aerodrom. S druge strane grada kombijem na isto mjesto juri rent a bike ekipa i nosi dva bicikla. Sastanak kod checkina. Mnoge su stvari mogle poći krivo, neke su i pokušale, ali ipak su bicikli poletjeli s nama i sletjeli na južni škotski otok Islay.

 I tako je počelo novo studijsko putovanje. Pokušali smo doznati kako se ječam, treset i voda u rukama vještih otočkih majstora sljubljuju u formulu koja će ti, pravilno dozirana, pomoći odgovoriti na mnoga ontološka pitanja.

 Destilerije Lagavulin, Ardbeg, Bowmore, Laphroaig, sve su ovdje. I krenuli smo upravo tim redom.

Prosvjetiteljski efekt, nakon nekoliko kušaonica, bio je očevidan. Počeo sam opažati stvari koje prije kao da nisu postojale:

Friendship:

 Usamljenost:

 Dolazak:

 Zbog istočnjaka koji je noću pojačao, izgledi da nas avion vrati natrag u Glasgow, radikalno su se smanjili. Budući smo dan ranije, zbog jakog vjetra i niskih oblaka, imali i nekoliko bezuspješnih pokušaja slijetanja, to je pilot u četvrtom pokušaju, mislim, stisnuo zube i slijetanje obavio sa zaletom. Krila nisu otpala, jedino je nama srce nešto brže zakucalo. Zato smo odlučili ići do Glasgowa biciklima. Fora! Dođeš avionom, vraćaš se biciklom.

 Krenuli smo na put rano. Trebalo je uhvatiti nekoliko trajekata i pedalirati preko otoka Islay i Arran, prijeći nekoliko planina. Dobro, bicikli su bili električni, ali asistenciju ti pružaju tek ako okrećeš pedale. Što ih brže okrećeš, brže ideš, tako da savladavanje udaljenosti od ca 150 km nije takav izazov, kako bi se moglo zaključiti iz Google Mapsa. Ono za što običnim biciklom treba 9 -10 sati, ti ćeš na pedalecu, uz ozbiljno pedaliranje, napraviti u 6-7. Fantastično! Naravno teme o dobru i zlu na ovom svijetu, zbog kiše koja je lijevala neprestano, iako mi se ranije učinilo da sam istinu spoznao, ponovno su se otvorile. Je li stvarnost zaista iluzija izazvana nedostatkom alkohola, na što je godinama upozoravao grafiti na fasadi zgrade u Jurišićevoj? 

Iscrpljen, ali okupan i nahranjen, mirno sam čekao sutrašnji dan i povratak u Zagreb autoputom i najbržim putem. Ubaciš se u "nebesku brzinu", kako je znao reči moj dobri poginuli prijatelj, i pustiš BMW-u da proguta kilometre. Njih 2500! Možda dva dana, ako bude sve kako treba.

I sad, u kakvoj su vezi 15 godišnji Bowmore u idiličnom prizoru i deset kilometarski zastoj na autoputu u Belgiji zbog masivne prometne nesreće?

 Na autoput sam, nakon iskrcavanja s broda, ušao sa svim onime što mislim da predstavlja moj karakter: jaki individualizam, neovisan, intuitivan i samosvjestan. Da, to sam ja! Zbog toga, čuđenje drugih, uoči odlaska na ovo putovanje, tipa - što, cijeli taj put samo radi 48 sati Glasgowa, služi potvrdi teze kakav sam ja: Autentičan i svoj! Tako je nastala i fotka Bowmora lakoćom slobodnog pojedinca. Mogu što želim!

Samo pedesetak kilometara od Zeebruggea prema jugoistoku, prema kući, masivan zastoj. Ne znači to motoristima ništa. Provlačiš se po sredini ili po zaustavnoj tracci, jasno malo sporije, ali napreduješ dalje. Kilometrima vozim kroz tu kolonu koja se uopće ne miče. Očevidno je već satima zaustavljena, jer su poneki izišli iz vozila i sjeli na asfalt, leže po haubama, a vozači šlepera na sklopivim stolicama u hladu svojih kamiona. Izbijam na početak kolone. Autocesta je zatvorena po cijeloj širini policijskom trakom, iza koje je prizor stravičnog sudara dva šlepera. Pijesak, beton, sanduci sve je rasuto po autocesti. Dizalice, vatrogasci, policija! Odmah se vidi da će zastoj trajati još satima. Autocesta je ograđena, pa je nemoguće proći sa strane. Na karti utvrđujem da je najbliži izlaz sa autoceste otprilike sedam kilometara vožnje u suprotnom smjeru. Kakve veze ima, ionako nema prometa, ta ljudi sjede na cesti, provući ću se nekako. Opet sam na motoru, palim ga i polako se okrećem u suprotnom smjeru.
Za vrijeme tog manevra prilazi mi jedan od bajkera s kojima sam tren prije razmijenio par riječi. I oni, belgijski bikeri su se provukli na čelo kolone.
Pita me gdje ću. Objašnjavam mu da idem do prvog izlaza natrag. Ali, to je u suprotnom smjeru, kaže on. To je krajnje riskantan potez, kaže on vidno uznemiren. "Prometa nema", umirujem ga. "Ljudi sjede na asfaltu". "Ništa se ne može dogoditi". Ali to je 7 kilometara, ne odustaje biker. Priključio mu se i njegov kompić koji samo vrti glavom. "Bat z polis mej kam", "zej hev sajrens end evrising, zej vil get ju"; "its rong dajreksn", napokon kaže taj koji je vrtio glavom. Prišao nam je još jedan, sad svi na flamanskom, pretpostavljam, raspravljaju o meni i mojem planu i naravno vrte glavama, povremeno me pogledavajući. Ovaj treći onda kaže: "You know, it's your call. You know what you are doing".

Tu sam, polako, nastojeći otjecanje mojeg samopouzdanja usporiti koliko je god moguće, okrenuo ključ i ugasio motor. Sjeo sam na ogradu, slab poput muhe, i na rubu plača započeo promatrati vrhove svojih čizmi. Konformistički jadnik. Tri sata kasnije prizor je još uvijek isti. Sjedim na ogradi, povremeno brbljam s belgijancima. Iz pravca nesreće ide prema nama policajac na motoru. U suprotnom smjeru, naravno. Netko mu susretljivo diže policijsku traku da se može provući ispod nje. Mora proći pored mene. Zadnjim ostacima inače uvijek prisutne inicijative, ustajem, stajem ispred policajca. Zaustavio je. "Molim vas, ja sam isto biker, bi li mogao voziti iza vas kroz kolonu do izlaza?". Naravno, kaže on, idemo... Fućnuo sam drugim bikerima i tako smo svi, predvođeni policijom, s rotirkom i sirenama, krenuli do izlaza...

Solomon Asch pionir socijalne psihologije tvrdio je kako je pritisak grupe uglavnom snažniji od volje pojedinca. U konfliktu sa slobodnom voljom, konformizam uglavnom pobjeđuje. Ne uvijek, naravno, no redovito je rjeđi slučaj dominacije karizmatičnog pojedinca nad grupom. Dokazao je to ekperimentom u liftu. Tu nekoliko sudionika ekperimenta hini da ne znaju ništa o ispitivanju i da se ne poznaju. U lift ulaze u višekatnoj zgradi, nakon čovjeka koji ne zna ništa o pokusu. Taj se čovjek, nakon što je izabrao kat, normalno okreće prema izlaznim vratima. Međutim, na katu ispod ulazi jedan ili dva nova putnika koji se, nakon pritiska na gumb, okreću na suprotnu stranu, onu na kojoj nema vrata. Na sljedečem katu u lift ulazi novi putnik. I on se okreće na stranu gdje nema izlaza. Nakon još nekoliko takvih ulaza sudionika koji znaju da se trebaju okrenuti na drugu, nelogičnu stranu i prije nego će lift doći na svoje odredište, na istu stranu, sljedeči primjer ostalih, okrenut će se i konformistički jadnik kojega je slomio pritisak grupe.