Motovun is getting crowded again. Early in the tourist season, it is mainly the elderly on sightseeing tours, the schoolchildren on excursions, and the bicyclists on treks. I am annoyed by them all, but I am especially annoyed by the schoolchildren. I cannot stand the screeching and howling, the dashing hither and thither, and the thumping of their untold feet. Which started me thinking, as ever. I do not mind the local elderly, the local schoolchildren, or the local bicyclists. None of them annoy me a single bit. Actually, I enjoy seeing and hearing them all, and as often as possible. It is my tribal mind that is at work, I reckon. And tourists are from far away one and all. They invade the world I now belong to in such numbers that I cannot but feel annoyed. Although I feel happy that the local people make money off the tourists, that is their only purpose in this tribal world of mine. Which is why they should be neither seen nor heard except when they are paying for their privilege of visiting this magnificent hilltown. My tribe’s sacred ground, that is.