Thus an Australian colleague and a dear friend of mine, half in jest, to the applause of many of us around the bustling table. But it was still a joy watching him fidget as I took his words down. One by one. “History in the making,” I repeated a few times in mock seriousness as I carefully recorded each and every word of his. But I was far from kidding. Both of us retired professors for quite a while, and neither of us really old so many years later, we know more than well that we are far from stupid.

Addendum (November 4, 2016)

For the record, Julian Pefanis was the good professor’s name. Together with his family, he used to live in Oprtalj not far from Motovun. Most of the people from around the bustling table were from the two neighboring hilltowns, as well. But few of them are still around so many years later. Very few. And the good cheer captured in this piece is nigh unimaginable right now. In fact, now it strikes me as pure fiction. Having come across it purely by chance, I read it over and over again to get my bearings. Seven years ago… Alas, there was much hope in this part of Istria at the time, but that hope has vanished as if by magic in the meanwhile. Whoosh! In retrospect, it is hard to imagine that I am still in Motovun. Or anyplace else in Istria or Croatia, for that matter. “Just because I’m a professor,” I keep repeating in a hushed voice after Julian, “it doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” For some reason, though, I cannot but feel that the joke is on me.