After nearly two months in Zagreb, we are on our way to Motovun. Hooray! Only kidding, of course. We are attracted by just a few things, but the fireplace is foremost among them. And there is plenty of dry wood waiting for our return. Oak, no less. If the weather between Christmas and New Year’s permits, we also look forward to a few hardy walks around Istria. With some luck, we will pick up an unspoiled bit of the peninsula, of which not too many are still around. My beloved needs as much rest as she can get, and these are welcome attractions. But every other shared memory of my erstwhile home brings only grimaces of distress. Nay, disgust. All sorts of unpaid bills have piled up in the post office. Among them is the court fine for supposedly insulting the mayor of Motovun, as well. The food store is pitiful at best. Even the foremost of restaurants in town is no fun after several days. The dishes we truly enjoy are quite rare. There are few friends who are still around. And there is no place for a good cup of coffee in the morning. Yuck! If only I was kidding once again.