BRODIĆ RODIĆ

Built according to the plans of great-grandfather Čeda, the Brodić floats with dignity in the anchorage among a flotilla of speedboats, sailboats, dinghies, canoes, and kayaks, resembling some sort of reptile that has accidentally survived from the pre-plastic era, and looking more like a fairy tale boat than a leisure vessel.

Just as no modern interior can provide the cozy warmth of grandpa’s reading chair, the cabin of the Brodić possesses a great advantage over the interiors of modern boats, which are cramped in space and arrangement of things, as if the river preserves its history from oblivion. The Danube transforms everything with a thousand shimmering lights, and when I stretched out on the hard boards, listening to the gurgling of water in the boat’s belly and its loud splashing from one side to the other, I wondered if there was any more magical music for someone so inclined to daydreaming.

On the deck, in the drawers and the boat's cabinet, in the cabin and below it, the Brodić hides all the good and bad traits of my grandpa and great-grandpa. Boatman’s madness is a phenomenon that only river maniacs can fully understand. The little boat has retained much of the river's romance. In a word, it is a reliable man’s boat, without any effort to approach luxury or to surpass others in speed. And although everything on the boat is reliable and solid, there was always a bit of water under its deck, no matter how much you bailed it out; the boat is full of secrets.