A merry company gathered at Klaudio’s early this evening. We felt so good together that most of us stayed around the same table well after midnight. There was no end to stories. And no end to laughter. We were all newcomers—most of us quite recent ones, too. Coming from far and wide, all of us had decided to move to Motovun out of sheer love of this magical place. And it was love at first sight in most of our cases. As we were breaking up, albeit rather reluctantly, it crossed my mind that our town would be a wonderful place with a few more newcomers just like us. It would come to life once again. It would have a future. Not wishing to break the spell of the evening, I let the future be, but I am sure such thoughts were not far from all the others’ minds. All we need now is a bit more luck with newcomers. Newcomers just like us.

Addendum (July 17, 2016)

Idle thoughts, to be sure. A bit more than a year after this piece was penned, the real estate market collapsed following the financial crisis that engulfed the entire world. Soon enough, many of those who had already bought their houses left one after another. For better or worse, locals turned out not to be welcoming at all. Crazy Croatian laws were not welcoming, either. The remaining newcomers got into all sorts of tiffs with each other within a few years. Not surprisingly, most of them are gone by now. Unable to sell their houses, for the real estate market is still moribund, they are renting them to tourists. By and by, the few newcomers who stood their ground in spite of all of the above stopped gathering at Klaudio’s or anyplace else. The few that are still around stick to their own houses ever since. Newcomers, schmucomers. Magical as it surely is, Motovun is not likely to come to life ever again. Destitute migrants or refugees from Africa or Asia are the only possible exception.