All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. It could be argued that Gundulić Square is at the very heart of life in the historic walled city. Dominated by a statue to one of the city’s most famous poets, the square has a busy life, transforming itself like a chameleon many times throughout the day.As the sun rises over the terracotta roofs the square awakens to the sound of barrow loads of fruit and vegetables bouncing over the stone cobbles. The “green market”, as the locals call it, offers freshly picked produce as well as jars of homemade jams, pickles and spices. “How about a kilo of curly kale with some fresh eggs for lunch?” the cheery lady offered. Although it sounded healthy my reason for visiting the square wasn’t to stock up on vitamins. Up until midday there is a constant flow of bartering and business and then a few minutes before the bell tower rings twelve times a new sound fills the square. One…two…ten…thirty, in what looks like a reincarnation of a Hitchcock movie pigeons descend and perch expectedly from every nook and overhang. Gutters, cables and rooftops are a sea of black and grey. And as the final bell echoes across the city the flock glides down into the once busy market. The reason for this invasion soon became aware – feeding time.Rain or shine there will be grain A slightly dishevelled looking man appeared with a bucket full of corn and proceeded to sow the contents over the square. Children scream in a mixture of fear and excitement, tourists mimic paparazzi as if they’d just seen the Brad and Angelina and locals swat their arms over their heads. The feeding frenzy lasted for just a few short minutes and then normality was restored. “Either there are more pigeons or they are eating quicker” he commented with a wry smile, adding that he’d soon have to bring another bucket full. Everyday, come rain or shine, the city’s pigeons are feed in Gundulić Square and always at exactly the same time. In fact the city council of Dubrovnik actually pays for the bucket of corn that’s spread over the stone square. As the last feathers blow away the square enters it afternoon phase, the clink of coffee cups and the popping of wine corks can be heard as Dubrovnik’s alfresco lunch time takes over. “Can I recommend the chicken a la carte” the waitress kindly offers. Out of respect for his feathered friends I’ve just marvelled over I reply “Thank you but I’ll take the octopus salad today.”Not as easy as it looks However pigeons aren’t the only ones perching in the city, humans are doing it as well. A cheering crowd has ringed a section of the Stradun urging on what could only be described as a “human pigeon.” On a section of the wall of the Mala Braća church a stone protrudes out, in fact it is a gargoyle. The challenge is to climb onto the protrusion and whilst standing there take off your T-shirt. I have to admit my first reactions were “How difficult can that be?” That was until I tried it. Firstly the stone gargoyle has over the years become worn and shiny; the glass like surface has the similar consistency of ice. And to make matters even worse it also has a downward angle which makes just getting up a battle. Then there’s the sheer wall in front of you, if you manage to jump up onto the protrusion then the stone is literally centimetres from your nose. After the umpteenth attempt I managed to hold my balance, however I was looking far from elegant, the vision of a kitten clinging to curtains sprang to mind. As the crowd bayed for me to take off my T-shirt another vision appeared of me scalping myself as a slid from my perch. I raised my arms in a half-hearted attempt to remove my shirt, if only to keep the audience happy, and jumped backwards in defeat but with my pride, and in fact my body, intact. Just as I was receiving the customary, “well done” and “at least you tried”, from some onlookers my humiliation was completed. A catlike local boy leaped up on the gargoyle and whipped his T-shirt off in a flash. I was forced to join in the applause; however this wasn’t the end of my embarrassment, as still standing there he skipped onto one leg and proceeded to put his shirt back on. “It’s not as difficult as he made it look” said an elderly American tourist in my direction. I held myself back from shouting “You try then!” and smiled sheepishly.Every corner that you take in the old city promises a new form of street theatre, whether its pigeons or protrusions.Mark Thomas