“Do I feel lucky?”
– Harold Francis Callahan
Days before the Creative Days of Faust Vrančić festival are the worst.
Not only does every venture out of bed carry an inherent risk of breaking a leg or catching a disease (the world is a dangerous, hostile place), one has to take extra care of the loved ones so they don’t break a leg or get run over by a bus. The phone turns into a device of absolute dread, and no email can find you well. Everything and everyone, from a loose roof tile to a passerby with a concealed knife is a part of a global, vicious conspiracy that exists for one purpose only:
to prevent you from going to Prvić Island.
It’s true. Just because you are paranoid, that doesn’t mean they aren’t after you. They got Ivor with bloody perfect weather, bastards. On Thursday, the last day before the departure, when one is prone to let their guard down and relax, for tomorrow we leave for Dalmatia, la la lalala …
“Oh, the weather this weekend will be perfect for shooting that commercial, and we really need you on the set!” … Dirty bastards.
Gregor and Saša felt bad for the friend who had to be left behind, but better him than me: let’s roll!
Slowly and carefully, there was still an almost 400 km drive ahead …
“There will be wind at night!”
– the resident optimist
It was kinda weird arriving in Srima (it’s where the boat picks us up and delivers us to the island) while the sun was still up. We’ve always reached the pier after sunset, the mysterious Prvić barely perceptible in the night, the boat gliding over the black sea.
We had two reasons for coming early. One was a simple and logical one: they say less is more, but more is much more – every extra hour on the Island at the End of Summer is worth at least ten at home.
The lying meteorologists were predicting perfect wind conditions (they weren’t believed, of course, but a kiter’s heart is gullible – and even from the mainland we could see a couple of strange creatures in the air above the island).
Kites!
Žuža and Žare from the Croatian Kite Association were already hard at work, flying a couple of monsters in the pleasant afternoon breeze. It was Prvić at its best: a warm sun of a Dalmatian October, a solid breeze from the northwest, a blue sky adorned by ethereal, wispy clouds.
“Night flying is on!” blurted Žare immediately after all the hugs and kisses.
Sure, Jan …
Well, it was on, if by night flying one means running up and down the riva like a madman.
But the kids went all crazy for the monster lighting up the night, and all the phones on the island were pointing at it. So, a success, right?
“… nine, ten, eleven, twelve … the other twelve, fourteen, fifteen …”
– superstitious sickos
It was bound to happen. When you create something so good it becomes traditional, you will encounter its 13th edition.
The Unlucky one.
The Creative Days of Faust Vrančić, a unique festival dedicated to the memory of a fascinating Croatian Renaissance man, polymath, poet, and inventor – he made the first parachute ever! – are, to quote everyone who participated, simply too short.
What the ladies of Prvić (not to forget the guys, but ladies first!) created is beyond amazing: three-day celebration of art, creativity, history, culture, and science – and kites! – that brings hundreds of visitors to the island reeling from the onslaught of tourists; a festival of life that is fighting against the inevitable desertification that the end of the season threatens with; a show of force, of ingenuity that Prvić has always had, has now, and will have forever.
For thirteen years in a row, on the second weekend in October when all the other islands in the Šibenik archipelago are slowly slipping into long winter hibernation, Prvić explodes with life. Workshops, lectures, guided tours, science shows, concerts, exhibitions, theatre performances …
…and kites.
Žuža and Žare held their regular – and most popular with the kids! – kite workshops, and we helped … by staying out of the way.
Unlucky thirteen? Well, sort of – the regular boat was missing in action, stranding some kids on the mainland; the budget is always too low; it was a bit colder than usual; a couple of regular participants were missing (it was our sixth visit to the Island at the End of Summer, and those guys are now friends); some shows unfortunately cancelled …
And there was absolutely no wind.
“It will fail and the whole thing will fall into the water.”
– the resident realist, to Gregor, about the velcro holding the spine of the MASAG β rokkaku
To a true kiter the sentence “there is absolutely no wind” means “surely there is wind up there, I just need to pull hard, do all the tricks I know, and coerce the kite to find the breeze that must blow over Vitković hill”.
So Žare and Grega pulled and ran and covered the main square with loose kite line and bumped into kids, and after some half an hour of what seemed to be disoriented running up and down the riva in vain, Grega shouted:
“Bring the picavet!”
He really managed to lift his rokkaku kite high enough it caught that semi-mythical wind above the hill, and suddenly the pull on the line increased. It was time for some kite aerial photography!
The camera went smoothly up, rising above the spire of St. Mary of Grace …
… reaching the top of Vitković, and just when the vistas of the archipelago were about to open, something snapped.
It was the velcro holding the spine of the MASAG β rokkaku. The kite collapsed, the lift was instantly lost, and the camera went plummeting towards the sea.
Seconds from disaster …
With some hysterical pulling – see Žare running to help! – we managed to land the camera on a parked boat, saving it. But MASAG β dropped into the middle of the port, getting a well-overdue washing.
Well, it was the thirteenth festival …
“I just need to sit down for a sec …”
– the bassist, at 2:45 AM
The best part of the Creative Days of Faust Vrančić is meeting all sorts of weird, interesting, and cool people. The ladies – and guys! – of Prvić. Various masters of ceramics, of 3D printing, STEM wizards, henna artists, fashion designers, silk dancers, photography geniuses, history buffs …
And Zvonko – Zvonimir Varošanec, a poet, a preserver of languages, a man who now writes, composes, and performs songs for children, and who was as a journalist present during pretty much all the defining events of the collapse of Socialist Yugoslavia (the guy was in the mines of Kosovo during the great strike, and covered the fateful 14th Congress of the League of Communists). One could spend days – and especially nights! – just listening to his stories …
And there were parties – the one in ‘our’ house with Viktorija we barely remember – and a fantastic concert by a fantastic band we fell in love with two years ago:
We kinda threatened to steal their show during the tuning-in … yet again, we ran like madmen pulling the LED-laden monster around the riva …
… but it was they who really lit the night.
Prvić was bouncing until beyond late …
… and we shan’t tell you when this photo was taken.
“Was this photo taken by a drone?”
“No.”
“Ha! I knew it!”
– mesmerised KAP admirers
But we weren’t there just to mingle with cool people, to party, and to fly kites (and to eat). The second reason we came to Prvić earlier than usual was that we were ordered to do so by Antonia. And when Antonia tells you to jump, you ask how high.
See, our kite team is more than just a kite team. We are a non-governmental organization working in the public interest, a status conferred to us by the Ministry of Culture of Slovenia. This prestigious status is not easy to get, and it’s not easy to sustain: every two years we have to prove we are worthy of it, and the evaluating committee of the ministry is very strict.
In order to have as many cultural endeavors to show to our Ministry as we can, we asked Antonia if the festival would be interested in organizing an exhibition of our kite aerial photos of Prvić. And Antonia just said:
“Send me the photos.”
And we did.
There is a huge, now semi-dilapidated edifice at the end of Prvić Luka that used to be a vacation home for kids during the times of socialism. After the collapse and the war the immense building turned out to be simply too expensive for the town of Vodice to maintain, and it slowly slipped into disrepair. Now the intrepid people of Prvić Luka decided enough is enough of this decay and indifference, the building is sound and salvageable, and now they strive to breathe life back into this sad place that was once bustling with joy.
The first event there, marking the start of a new era: an exhibition of kite aerial photos by KAP Jasa – kite team Slovenia!
The building is electricity free, so the opening was scheduled at six PM, but then they found a long enough cable, and the gala event started at seven. The uncountable crowd (ok, a lot of people) gathered to see the show, we were beaming on the red carpet (ok, a green mat), the champagne (ok, beer and local wine) flowed, the conversations about art were long and profound.
“Not with a drone? Really?”
“Yes! See the kite line here on the left!”
Just wait, the Ministry of Culture will be totally shocked by our incredible international cultural success!
“Meow?”
– Biscuit (real name Keksić)
The saddest view:
What do you mean, it’s time to leave? Antonia, Toma, Drenka, people! Please – don’t make us go! Why don’t you transform the Creative Days of Faust Vrančić into the Creative Weeks of Faust Vrančić?
No. Toma and his boat were already there, the stuff was all packed up, the keys to the fantastic old house we stayed in returned. We were just waiting for the cat, Antonia’s Biscuit, who was to go to Zagreb with Žuža and Žare.
Sitting on the terrace of the Maestral Hotel, catching the final sun rays on the Island at the End of Summer, waiting for Biscuit. We know – when we step off the boat on the mainland, the Summer is gone. Just a couple of minutes more … Biscuit, take your time …
“Meow?”
“Yeah, Biscuit. Meow.”
How can we thank you enough, people of Prvić and all of you who made the unlucky thirteenth edition of the Creative Days of Faust Vrančić so special and unforgettable? We can’t.
Prvić, the Island at the End of Summer, remains in our hearts – forever.