Sitting at the hotel terrace, I am talking with an American couple visiting Motovun about Yugoslavia of my youth. Both of them academics, they know a great deal about esoteric subjects such as socialist self-management and self-government. Teaching sociology and history at two universities in the American capital, they are intimately familiar with much that has been long forgotten in countries they are visiting on their study tour: Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia… As we are talking, I am more than delighted to have a chance to revisit so many things that are now lingering in the back of my mind. At the same time, I am ever more frustrated by all the things I have already forgotten. Even the names of my erstwhile friends from Belgrade, Zagreb, or Ljubljana now strike me as vaguely familiar at best. Their names ring many a bell, but all that ultimately comes through is persistent ringing.