I am awoken by incredible racket. “An airplane!” it flashes through my mind. “It must be morning!” When I look toward the window, I realize that I am in Zagreb. It is still dark, and my beloved is blissfully asleep next to me. Protected by earplugs that block out the worst of my snoring, she is safe from crazy motorcyclists, as well. Every now and then, and especially during the summer months, a crazy aviator flies around the Motovun hill. On occasion, the roar of the engine wakes me up in the morning. When I check the time on the alarm clock next to me, it turns out that it is only one o’clock in the morning. Cursing the motorcyclist, I go back to sleep.