For this recipe you will need: a 54 square meter apartment in Sarajevo’s neighborhood of Grbavica, two kids, a mortgage, and a husband in BH Telecom. It’s a classical Sarajevo success story, one we poked fun at back when we were young and stupid, and when we thought characters from videos by Lana Del Rey were real people. Now show me a girl who wouldn’t exchange a dream of a skinny bearded painter living in the attic for a bright and steady BH Telecom guy (who, okay, does some writing on the side.)
Things have changed since I bought an apartment in Grbavica, easily the greatest accomplishment of my life, including that time the reviewer said the paper was really well written. Life is good here, and as a newly-fledged member of Grbavica gentry, I enjoy doing Grbavica things, like on a good sunny day after work walking to the local produce market and fish store, where I walk in and buy one fish — not a statement to my eccentricity and uniqueness, but to my monthly mortgage payment.
The fun stops when you meet the Avocado man. Like any true monopolist (he is the only one selling avocados in the market and he sells them for pure gold), he never smiles, nor does he indulge in the small talk, and he disregards the complaints that avocados are too ripe or not ripe enough, seeing through your pathetic attempt to lower the price. He is cold and unkind and hates his picture taken, but he has what you need. For the salad to be juicy, you will need salt, black pepper, olive oil, lemon juice, and a bitter taste of Grbavica market power games.
Ramen Amen 