The bus for Umag is pulling into the central bus station in Zagreb. When the door opens, I see the driver and the conductor, who switch rôles half way to their destination. Both of them are in their late twenties or early thirties. “Good people,” I smile at them, “would you be so kind as to drop me off at the bridge below Motovun?” After an awkward pause, one of them says pointedly: “Good day!” This is what I was supposed to say first, that is. “Good day,” I say with a smile. “Now,” he raises his eyebrows condescendingly, “I see no reason for not dropping you off at the bridge below Motovun!” I thank both of them and climb the bus. I have been castigated. By the way, the central bus station in the Croatian capital smacks of the Middle East. It will take the driver and the conductor at least a century to teach their good manners to all.