Spring on a break

I returned to Zagreb for the second time in mid-March. Strangely it felt like I'd come back to a city I know very well. I walked around without the curiosity of a first-time traveller. I knew which corners to turn to get to a destination in the shortest time possible. Heck, I'm sure I could have given directions to a lost tourist as well.

The temperature on the day of my arrival was 15 deg C, the warmest it had been in days, as I was told. Little wonder then that Vjeko was most amused seeing me in a leather jacket when we met in the late afternoon.
"How often do you wear it in Singapore?"
"Never, of course."
"Ah. It's your journey jacket then."
I liked the sound of that.

The mercury dipped the very next day, as I left for Belgrade. Coupled with days drenched in rain or speckled with snow, the temperature hovered between -2 and 6 deg C for the most part of my journey around the region. Everywhere I went it was the same lament:
"This is nasty weather!"
"We're not supposed to still be getting this much snow now!"
"There were days in February when we had sun. Who knew it was because this was coming?!"
"What are you doing here?"
"I feel sorry for you."

It was the same routine everyday: rub sleep off the eyes, turn on wifi, check the latest temperature, peek outside the window for a confirmation.

Zagreb's main square, 3rd Apr '13

I have to admit I was not really perturbed by Europe's meteorological problem. Granted, the most annoying thing about the weather was the fact that I had to spend a few minutes putting on a few layers before stepping out (returning to Singapore and walking around in just jeans and a tee left me feeling naked for some days). Otherwise it was yet another experience for me. One morning in Novi Sad, someone marvelled at the fact that a marathon was to take place in the city. A check on a mobile phone revealed that it was -1 deg C at that moment. So this is what going below zero feels like, I thought quietly to myself. I could have said it out loud to perhaps elicit a few chuckles. After all, I was the only foreigner around from the tropics in the distant East. But judging by the company I was keeping, it was a better idea not to try my luck. The other thing I discovered was how blood quickly rushes back into exposed palms once the slightest hint of heat envelopes it. This observation was more palatable, and whoever I said this to usually responded positively: "You learn something new about your body everyday."

St Mark's Church in Zagreb, 4th Apr '13

I returned to Zagreb on the 3rd of April. On one day while I was away, I was told the city received 15 centimetres of snow (didn't sound too bad to me) and I was forewarned to expect some as well. I suppose the snow got tired of falling by the time I got back. Zagreb was on edge, trying as quickly as possible to melt remnants of the white stuff (get lost! Spring is due any minute!). You could still see big lumps gathered around parts of the city, much like mounds of rubbish in some other part of the world. And as it turned out, the 4th of April woke up to a crisp 11 deg C, inching up at some point to 12 or 13. What a difference a day makes! You could actually see the relief on their faces, and the spring in the steps people took was conspicuous. I even spotted some cyclists in just T-shirts and jeans -- such was the desperation to shed the extra layers as soon as they could.

While we sat down for an afternoon coffee, I remarked to Ognjen how my arrival in and departure from Zagreb had been characterised by sunny days. He agreed and smiled. 'Looks like your city and I have established a peculiar relationship,' I said.

Quite possibly. The very next day, as I was flying out of the city to return to Singapore, the clouds burst forth once again.