“Well, well,” comment some of my acquaintances gleefully as they browse through today’s newspapers in one of my favorite watering holes in Motovun, “Bon ain’t around!” “He’s been around this morning,” answer my friends with a mock frown and point at my oversized picture next to the mayor’s, “and for quite some time.” “Oh,” the good commentators raise their eyebrows apologetically. In fact, it is the mayor who has been nowhere around today. On weekends, he stays at home in Vrsar. “Fuckety fuck,” I chuckle as I listen to the Motovun gossip under my friends’ breath. The hilltown is the size of an anthill, anyhow.