As the weekend is approaching, the weather is getting iffy. Heavy clouds are rolling in from the southeast. Predictably, tourists are flocking to the interior of Istria. Motovun is already jammed. The limping elderly, the screaming children, the howling dogs, the young couples dazed and confused in the tumult. Even more predictably, I am seeking refuge at home. And I am praying for a downpour. A deluge, as a matter of fact. The streets and squares of the hilltown need a thorough scrubbing. And a respite from tourism at its most disenchanting.