A busload of Italians surrounded us in our favorite restaurant today. Ten of them took a long table nearest to ours. Since they looked exactly like Istrians, I immediately guessed they were from Friuli to the north of Trieste. Short and stout, they were of definite peasant origin. Ungainly and uncouth, they were the pits of tourism, too. “These would’ve been your next-door neighbors in Cividale del Friuli,” my beloved commented with a mocking smile. “I can’t image you ever getting particularly fond of people like these…” I nodded in agreement at once. Indeed, the move just beyond the Slovene border that I contemplated a couple of years ago would have been entirely in vain. There is little except language that distinguishes the Italians, Croats, and Slovenes in the region surrounding Trieste. “But I can’t imagine you ever getting particularly fond of people anywhere else,” my beloved grinned wryly. “Wherever you move,” I nodded in agreement once again, “you come across humans.” And nearly all of them are of peasant origin, as well.