I am sitting almost alone on the hotel terrace, but the loudspeakers hanging from the low branches of chestnut trees are going full blast. It is a live recording of a concert by one of the more popular Croatian singers. I cannot stand his crooning, it goes without saying. But the worst bit, which is perfectly predictable by now, is the screeching that comes after each and every song. It is nearly unbearable. A couple of thousand young women screeching in concert. The pits. Hey, am I only betraying my advancing age? Well, no. A couple of thousand young women screeching in concert has been one of my visions of hell from my youth. I can well imagine that this vision is not only mine, though. And it is likely to be defensive to boot. Come to think of it, perhaps it goes several hundreds of generations back. Just imagine victorious warriors lurching toward their huddled loot…