It is raining so hard that Motovun’s steep and narrow streets have turned into brooks, torrents, waterfalls, gurgling rivers… It is raining so hard I cannot even think of leaving Benjamin’s restaurant in the archway leading up to the walled precinct of the medieval town. In fact, it is raining so hard I can imagine taking a raft all the way to the swollen Mirna below; all the way to the Adriatic brimming over yonder; all the way to the Mediterranean swirling and churning in the mist; all the way to Jason’s world of yesteryear…

Addendum (October 22, 2003)

On a more prosaic note, whence all that water in Motovun’s streets? Many people have provided the answer even though I have not asked for one: the old sewer, which was carefully designed and built to last by the Venetian engineers, has been neglected ever since the Italians fled the town in the late 1940s. “It is all our fault,” everyone agrees. The people who came to Istria in the 1960s were from northern Croatia, which is flat. They knew next to nothing about the hill-towns the Italians had abandoned a decade earlier. Luckily, there is talk in Motovun about money from several sources to fix things up. United Nations are involved, too. The first priority is the sewer. The next are the town’s cobblestone roads, which have been ruined by telephone lines and cars. The last are the crumbling town walls. A couple of clever Venetian engineers are also needed.