I am barely back in Motovun, but I am already planning my next departure. In about a week I must run away from the Motovun film festival, that is. Or is it the Motovun beer and kebab festival, instead? The latter is the cultural event’s greatest secret in Istria. The media cover the opening night and a few celebrities present at the former, and that is that. The drunken youth lying prostrate in its own vomit all over the place is never included in the coverage. The damage they make all over the hilltown is also kept strictly secret. What is worse, the festival does not last only five days of the last week in July, as advertised. In fact, it starts several days before and it ends several days afterwards, when all sorts of things, but mostly beer and kebab, are dragged up and down the narrow streets. And by tractor and trailer, too. The hubbub is best avoided, which is why I am doing my best to skip the whole ten days of the mess. Many clever people in Motovun do the same, but on the quiet. They know well enough that complaining is for the birds. Culture is culture.