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It is 1030 PM and someone is knocking on the door of my hotel room at Talismano in Smeredevo. At first I ignore it, probably a guest at the wrong door. But the knocking continues and gets louder. Yes? This is Nicola, the man other side says. Nicola is the owner of the hotel.l payed for the room this evening because I want to have an early start at 5 AM. Over a glass of rakia we talked a bit. About football, what else? His sons play at Lierse, Red Star and in Kazachstan. He shows me videos of his sons scoring goals. We talk by means of google translate on his smartphone. It works relatively well. I open the door. You took the money for the room from the table as I was getting the rakia, his smartphone translates. I realise he is accusing me of stealing. No, I say to the machine, I haven’t touched the money. Nicola is a big, strong man. Friendly, in a kind of gruff way. Untill now I thought: black out, white inside. Now I am not so sure anymore. “The cook says you took the money”, a female voice tells me in perfect English. I protest, not true! I am going to get to the bottom of this, he says. It sounds threatening. I close the door behind him. What now? Does he want to make me pay double? Will he be back later? Will there be police (or worse) at my door tomorrow morning? I decide there isn’t anything I can do right now and I try to sleep. That works rather well. Must be my mountain crystal.

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