One calm afternoon, a few months ago, I received a message from my father: "How are you? How is it there? I hear on the news that the shops are devastated, that there is no bread. Come back." At that moment I was in Germany, in a small town some hundreds of kilometers from Munich, and he was in the vicinity of Belgrade. I convince him that everything is fine. His message to me is funny and he is seriously worried.
I looked at the front pages of the newspapers for that day and saved them: "Informer" announced the economic end of the world and wrote about how in Germany they steal fuel en masse - I guess those who can still drive, if they haven't fainted from hunger and got sick from swimming in cold water -, and in France they feed on vouchers. In a later piece, one of the editors of the aforementioned tabloid claimed that there is no hot water in Austria, even for washing hands, that the restaurants are empty, and that the breakfast service in those eerily deserted establishments is extended until 16 p.m. during the day they eat. I guess lunch is expensive, even if the bread fills you up.
I was in Germany for a year, the shops are full - at some point there was a shortage of sunflower oil, so we had to switch to one of dozens of others, and that was quickly resolved -, the restaurants are crowded, and the price of food, according to statistics, has risen is by 16,6 percent between August 2021 and August 2022. Germans have enough, so the price increase is unpleasant for them, but for the vast majority it does not mean a change in lifestyle. The Germans have been making a savings plan for the winter for a long time, because there is a crisis in the whole of Europe, and that's how they normally behave. Illiti, the road workers there are not surprised by the snow in the middle of winter.
I returned to Serbia last week. The price hike here is scary. Many quality foods are cheaper in Germany, and noticeably so. Not to mention the difference in purchasing power and quality of life in general.
On the second day of my return, I meet my neighbor on the way to the elevator.
"You're back, it's good", just don't knock on wood, let's drive out those evil spirits.
"Yes," I smile.
"So how's it going there?" he asks worriedly, clucking, then continues: "I hear there's a disaster in Germany!"
I slowly explain that the disaster there is much better than the streams of honey and milk here.
And as a joke, I take the child to the hairdresser, the child tells about how we came from Germany. The hairdresser, an older woman, looked at me and said quietly: "And there, really bad, huh?"
I can see, she almost feels sorry for those unfortunate Germans who barely overtook them.
I'm already thinking how to continue, and she says: "The son-in-law went to Vienna, now the daughter is also going with the children." I'm worried too, how will it be better for them to stay here, when the situation is like that, but they're stuck..."
I come home, defeated.
What are the dimensions of Vučić's media simulacrum? How many are we mi - who have access to the Internet, speak foreign languages enough to read news from other parts of the world, who are privileged to be able to travel somewhere, who have friends abroad or, through work, at least meet foreigners - are generally able to understand what kind of is the world those who do not have it, who believe that everything will fall apart, but that Serbia will be saved by Aleksandar Vučić.
Recently, in a documentary about Viktor Orbán, a journalist says that it is no longer important how long Orbán will rule, once he will leave power, but that it is much more terrible that he made Hungary according to his own standards, which he will leave behind when he steps down from the throne.
In Serbia, according to the Serbian Progressive Party, young people are leaving, and those who are there, even when they themselves are against the government, believe in the world that it is constantly creating for them. What remains?
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