PIŠE ANTE TOMIĆ

The mystery of the missing tourists: Two out of three police officers reportedly do not know how to solve this task After being filmed by a surveillance camera at the rest area, the families from Düsseldorf lose all trace. They never came to the apartment in Živogošće 8477785 Josko Supic / Cropix Published: August 15, 2020 8:42 PM Facebook Twitter Messenger E-mail RELATED NEWS Ante Tomić A DIFFERENT VIEW Ante Tomić's story that we published in Jutarnji 20 years ago: 'Using tricks or how Serbs disappeared in Croatia' BY ANTE TOMIĆ There’s something comforting in conspiracy theories: When everyone leaves us, Bill Gates is still interested in us Sometimes a Czech tourist wanders on Biokovo, so wonderful men and women from the Mountain Rescue Service tirelessly search for him for five days and five nights, climb vertical cliffs, descend into dizzyingly deep gorges, illuminate dark karst pits with strong spotlights. German shepherds sniff hundreds of acres of rocks, helicopters fly over the mountain longitudinally and transversely winding terribly with sharp propellers. All in all, half a million to seven hundred and fifty thousand is spent on the search for a mountaineering enthusiast in rubber sandals, but in most cases it is all in vain. There is no adventurous Karel from České Budějovice. “It’s always hard when one human life is lost,” the rescue team chief says in a shaky voice on the morning of the sixth day. Until a few days ago, each of us would sadly agree with him, but the experience of tragedy has changed somewhat for us in the meantime. Who would really cry more for a Czech who cannot be found by the GSS in the Biokovo Nature Park, when the Croatian authorities have countless places for countless tourists, their entire army, an endless number of foreign citizens, where they could be. A confusing story came out a few days ago in our newspaper, police officers numbered, by heart, five or six hundred thousand at the border, and tourist workers recorded twice as many in hotels, camps and private accommodation. The guests simply got lost somehow, disappeared like melted ice cream in a sink, evaporated like puddles in the heat. After being monitored by a surveillance camera at the Dobra rest area, where they refueled and ate shepherd's pie, roast veal with baked potatoes and two fried chicken with risibizi, the four-member family from Düsseldorf loses all trace. They never came to the apartment in Živogošće, where they were expected later in the afternoon. God knows what happened here. Some blame the modest intellectual abilities of police officers. They say they are simply not trained to determine beyond any doubt the amount of world entering the country. Two of the three law enforcement officers would supposedly not know how to solve the task: if you have four tourists and I give you three more tourists, then how many tourists do you have? It is necessary, they say, to make a strict check in all stations and to classify people according to their abilities. If it is enough for an ordinary policeman to know how to count to three, and for a sergeant to five, the police inspector in Lijepa naša would have to know all the numbers up to twenty fluently in order to wake him up at two-thirty after midnight. Police advisers would further number up to a hundred, and police chiefs beyond that. It should no longer happen that we have a director of police who does not master four-digit numbers. But that, of course, will not happen overnight. Personnel should be educated, accelerated courses should be organized throughout the country where boys and girls in gray-blue uniforms would master counting with their fingers and a computer with balls and recite aloud: seven, eight, nine, ten ... "Simic, concentrate, you know that" , the president of the sergeant candidate's commission would falter at the final exam. "After seventeen it goes o ... o ... o ... o ..." "Eighty-two!" The candidate would drum brightly. "God be with you, Simic, how are you eighty-two?" How, his mother ?! Come on, again, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen and oh ... oh ... oh ... oh ... Kovacevic, you don't whisper to him. " Still others say that everything is fine with the police, that their simple mathematical knowledge is enough and even exceeds all the challenges of their work, and the trouble is in the greedy apartment renters who do not report tourists. They keep them illegally. If they go from the Živogošće tourist board from house to house, charge a sojourn tax of seven kuna a day for each guest, the landlords can already see them from afar from the terrace, so they advertise with a pre-arranged sign, roar like a hammer or something like that lower on the beach he quickly collects towels and umbrellas and runs into the house in panic, hiding in a secret room. It is estimated that there are at least four unregistered guests for each registered guest. Waiting for the inspector to leave, they squat like Anna Frank behind a fake bookshelf. Finally, there are the third, who hold that law enforcement at the Bregana border crossing correctly counts guests, and apartment owners honestly report them to the last, and the reason why the data does not match is quite special, supernatural, anemic would probably upset. After crossing the border, many tourists reportedly enter a new dimension, a space that coexists with our universe. For example, one of the portals into the comparative universe is in Skradin, at the entrance to the Krka National Park. At the edge of the parking lot are two blue plastic chemical toilets, the left of which is locked, and the right always has someone enter. No one has ever seen anyone come out of the right blue toilet. In the comparative universe, according to stories, winged horses fly and snakes speak in a human voice, and two moons shine in the sky at night. When one moon is full, there is a complete eclipse on the other and vice versa. Others again say that in the comparative universe everything is the same, only that everything is twenty to twenty-five percent cheaper than in us. However, our tourists are still disappearing every day. At one point, the policeman thought they were there, he even went to their Passat to ask for their passports, and then he just blinked, and poof! - There are no cars or cars. "Younger," he tells his colleague, "where are the Swabians who were just here?"