While I was eating on a bench, the nearest kafana opened, and I went there for a coffee.

At that early hour, it was where the postmen gathered for coffee and a smoke. Every one of them in a yellow shirt, dark trousers and a brown bag. All of them no longer young, grey-haired, some with a decent bald patch. With every minute there were more of them, until there were about ten. It all looked like old friends getting together for coffee as a big group on a weekend morning.

After my coffee, I went back to the station and waited for the bus.

To my surprise, the bus, though small, was comfortable and had working air conditioning. There were few people, and for almost the whole ride I had both seats to myself.

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