Last year I was among those who come to Motovun for Christmas and New Year’s and then leave. This year I will be among those who stay. The few who stay, that is. Yes, I will be among the precious few.

Addendum I (August 24, 2017)

For years now, I am among those who leave Motovun after Christmas and New Year’s once again. Ever since 2009, I spend my winters with my beloved in Zagreb. Sadly, the precious few celebrated in this piece are shrinking at a clip. In about a decade, the hilltown will be another ghost town typical of Istria. The young are leaving in droves, and the old are dying at a steady pace. Soon enough, this will be a ghost peninsula. With the exception of a single small city and a few larger towns, it will become nothing but a tourist attraction. Returning to the precious few, they will become ghosts like me. At their best, they will be howling in the dark just as I do.

Addendum II (January 17, 2020)

As of last year, I am among those few who stay in Motovun after Christmas and New Year’s once again. This is where I am spending my winters. The last few years, I am also spending ever less of my time in the city of my birth (“Zagreb versus Motovun, Again,” October 1, 2016). Chances are that this is how things will stay for many a year to come. The only question is where I will die. If everything goes reasonably well, I will die in Motovun, as well. This would be very to my liking at this stage of my life. Although I sometimes complain that I am bereft of neighbors on top of the Motovun hill, I do relish its peace and quiet most of the time. Slowly but surely, I may end up as one of the last permanent residents of this tourist attraction. By then, the peace and quiet will be mesmerizing. Alas, there is charm to ghost towns!

Addendum III (January 6, 2024)

Now that the holiday season is over once again, there can be no more doubt that I am among the precious few in Motovun. Predictably enough, the little town is nigh deserted by now, and I am enjoying the peace and quiet to the hilt. Regarding the Croatian capital, it surely is the loser by now (“Zagreb versus Motovun, Again and Again,” December 5, 2020). I do go there every now and then, by I never stay for more than a week. Motovun is the ultimate winner beyond any doubt. And this cannot possibly change in the years to come. The longer in the tooth I get, the more I appreciate my last hometown bereft of tourists. If I end up one of its last permanent residents, I will have no trouble enjoying my solitude. By comparison, the city of my birth strikes me as ever-less appealing, which is why I am ever more often eager to leave it as soon as possible (“Dying to Leave the City of My Birth,” July 1, 2023). The noisy multitudes repel me in just a few days as of late. Three cheers for the blessed solitude!