Judging by the weather, it is August already. As is my habit during the hottest period in Motovun, I am spending most of my afternoon on the hotel terrace. The only place comfortable enough when the heat is on is in the shade of rustling chestnut trees. The only problem with my ways at this very moment is a bunch of German kids at the neighboring table. Between five and nine years of age, there are six of them. Their parents, three prim middle-aged couples, are sitting at their own table some distance away. All the other tables are taken. The kids are behaving well enough, but they are only kids left to their own devices. Although I am doing my best to read a book I have brought with me, I cannot but hear all the grunts, screeches, and hoots right next to me. And so it takes me a while to figure out that the time has come for an exercise in yoga. I put the book away and sink into the noises that surround me. I let them penetrate my body and soul. Annoyed as I have become, I still calm down rather quickly. Soon enough I crack a smile. “Thank you,” I can almost hear myself croon to my neighbors. And all it takes is a bunch of German kids.